Tag

Avoid this story if the subjects of child abuse and prejudice offend you. It deals with disturbing events, ugly people, and uses frank and explicit language. On the bright side, it also deals with love, both spiritual and sexual, between two gorgeous men.

Work Text:

Tag

by Grey

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

Author's disclaimer: They're not mine and never will be, but that's just a small detail.

Tag
by Grey

Jim lifted the fresh toast to the plate, his sense of touch dialed down from the heat. He heard another sneeze followed by the cardboard and paper sound of Kleenex ripped from its box just as he poured the orange juice.

"Oh, man."

"Chief? How you doing?"

"Nasty, that's how I'm doing." Another sneeze rounded out by coughing punctuated the gravely voice. "Man, having a cold sucks." Blair came down the hallway, his nose red and runny, a wad of white tissues pressed to the middle of his face. Bloodshot eyes and dark circles added to the flushed cheeks painted a picture of fever and growing congestion.

"You look like shit, my friend."

"Morning, Jim. Good to see you, too, man." Slumping down in the chair as he sneezed again, he rested his forehead on his right hand. He sat there several moments just wheezing before clearing his throat and spitting into the Kleenex. "Gross."

Jim registered the increased temperature and readings and shook his head. "No way you should be going out in the rain today. You need to stay home and get this thing under control before it gets any worse."

"Thanks, Mom, but some of us have to make a living, too." Blair reached for the offered juice, drank some, and then put the glass on the table. Picking up the fork, he shoved around the scrambled eggs a few times before stopping and closing his eyes, his left hand massaging his throat.

"Chief, you won't do anybody any good by going into work like this. You look like death warmed over."

"I know. I was hoping to feel better this morning, but I feel worse. My head is really pounding here and my throat feels like I'm swallowing melted glass."

"Just call in sick or something."

Blair glanced across the table, his normally clear eyes dull and cloudy. "Or something. I have to at least go in to teach class this morning, but I think I'll cancel my tutorials. Maybe Kevin can get the notes from Dr. Grandley's seminar. But I'm still supposed to help with your files this afternoon and Simon wanted me to do a diagnostic on that new software he got for the linkup system with Washington."

Napkin to mouth, Jim finished off his breakfast before leaning forward against the table, his arms templed. "The stuff at the station can wait, Chief. I can do my own files and that stuff for Simon is no big hurry. He told you that yesterday when you were busy sneezing it up in the bullpen."

"Sneezing it up? Cute, man. Make fun of the sick guy."

"Sick is the operative word here. You need to take it easy, rest, drink plenty of liquids. All that good stuff they tell you to do on those commercials. By the way, I've got some cold medicine left over if you need any."

"Yeah, I remember. No thanks, man." Blair raised another Kleenex to his face, coughed, and then blew his nose. "God, this sucks."

"Yeah, it does. Won't get better by ignoring it, Chief. Cancel the class and go back to bed. You don't need to be out in this freezing rain anyway."

"You can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. Look, I promise I'll come home right after classes."

Nodding, Jim stood and took his plate to the sink, turned and braced himself against the counter. "Okay, but promise me if it gets worse, you'll stop by the clinic and get something."

Shaking his head, Blair pushed back a stubborn tangle of curls behind his right ear before he spoke. "It's just a cold, Jim. No big deal."

"It is a big deal when you're miserable. Besides, while you're there, maybe you could talk to the doctor about why you're not sleeping worth shit these days."

All movement at the table stopped for a few moments before Blair turned, his eyes locking with Jim's. The older man stood, arms crossed, determined. "What the hell are you doing, man? Spying on me?"

"Blair, I live here. Your light's on almost all night. You're working on something or pacing most of the time you should be sleeping. Last night between all that coughing and sneezing you were either working on the laptop or writing something by hand."

Looking away, Blair got up and walked to the window, his body stiff. "I didn't mean to keep you awake. Why didn't you say something or use the earplugs?"

"That's not the point, Chief, and you know it. This has been going on now, off and on, for a couple of weeks. No wonder you're rundown enough to get a cold. You're not sleeping again. What's going on?"

Scratching his head, Blair stared out the window. Beyond him the huge expanse of dark rain clouds blotted out the world. Jim stepped closer to his friend, his body tense from watching the slow struggles that twisted the already rough features. He repeated his question. "What's going on, Chief?"

"Nothing really, nothing big anyway. You know, man, just stuff."

"Just stuff? Could you be a bit more vague, Sandburg?"

"Listen. I'm serious, it's nothing. I've just got some things to work through, that's all. I really didn't mean to keep you up at night. I'll try to do better."

Reaching a hand out, Jim touched his friend's shoulder lightly, the slight increase of body heat along with the fever recorded. Blair's restricted breathing got more labored as he stepped back. "Don't, man."

"What's wrong, Chief? I'm starting to get worried here."

"Don't want you to catch anything."

As he turned to walk away, Jim grabbed his arm again, this time ready. "Don't lock me out, Blair. I need to know if something's wrong with you. Is this more than a cold? Are you in some kind of trouble I should know about? What?"

Glancing down at the restrained arm and then up at Jim, Blair's eyes telegraphed a world of sadness, the blue almost teal swirling into swallowed light. "Let go, Jim."

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried." He released him but didn't let his focus wander.

"I know you are. It's just a cold. As for not sleeping, don't worry about it. This kind of thing happens sometimes. I go through phases like this."

"I know. About every few months. I don't like it."

"I'm sorry. It'll pass. It always does."

"What kind of phases?"

"Jim, do me a favor."

"What?"

"Treat me like an adult here, and not some punk who needs to confess, okay? Just leave it alone. Please." The last word added at the end of the request edged Jim's need to know the answer even more. Despite that, he recognized his friend's boundaries.

"Sure, Chief. If that's what you want. I just hope you know you can tell me if there's a problem."

"I already know that, Jim. Now, I'm going to take a shower, pray I can keep breathing, and go to work." Blair motioned at the clock and added, "Better hit the road, man. Traffic's going to be a bitch with this weather."

"Don't I know it. At least in Major Crimes I don't have to direct traffic in this shit."

"No, you just have to solve murders."

"Oh, yeah, that." Jim grinned and tried to bank back the wild scream of questions rearing up in his brain. "Well, if you're going to work, at least take the cell phone."

"Okay, sure. I can do that."

"And, Chief?"

The young man stopped and turned right as he started in the bathroom. "Yeah?"

"Don't turn the damn thing off this time."

"Go to work, Jim."

"Yeah, I'm going. I'll tell Simon not to expect you later."

"No, don't tell him that. If I start feeling better, I might come in this afternoon."

"Blair, you need to rest."

"Yeah, I will, man. Just later."

As Blair closed the bathroom door, Jim heard the lock click. The detective reluctantly got his coat and wondered what the hell could be scaring his partner. On his way to the elevator, he pulled out his keys, the whole time working through all the plans he could think of to get his stubborn guide to finally tell the truth. Sandburg's historical obsession with obfuscation made it a very long list, with some of his imagined techniques less than legal.

Rubbing his hand over his mouth while he waited for the ding, Jim tried to wipe away the smile as he thought of bending his naked partner over the sturdy interrogation table and pumping him for answers. The velvet soft grip around his cock by the narrow tunnel flashed a surging rush of firestorm up his belly. Grateful the elevator arrived empty, he got on and pressed one. He closed his eyes concentrating on the icy rain and boring details of police work as he willed his bothersome erection to quit nagging.

Captain Simon Banks roared through the bullpen, his trench coat spraying rain water all over the place as he took it off while still walking. "Damn, politicians." The grumble, not the least bit muted or muffled, brought a grin to Jim's face before he could stop it. "Don't laugh, Ellison. My office. You're going to get a real kick out of this one."

"Yes, sir." Humor gone, Jim followed his friend. He sat on the table's edge while the captain shut the door and hung up his coat.

"Jim, if I ever decide to run for office, just shoot me."

"Is that an order, sir?"

"Damn straight." Simon ran a hand over his head to wipe away the wet sparkling remnants of his earlier trek through Cascade. He stood behind his desk and picked up his cigar before taking a deep breath. Sitting down slowly, he grabbed a mug and then motioned to Jim. "Want some?"

"No, sir. I'm fine."

"Yeah, well, glad someone around here is." He poured the coffee, milk and sugar before he lit the cigar.

"You want to tell me what's going on, Simon?"

"Jim, do you have any idea what I hate most about bureaucrats and paper-pushing assholes?"

"No, but I'll bet you're going to tell me."

"They don't have a clue what we do. Not a damn notion of what it's like to fight the odds we go up against. No, those bastards only care about the bottom line."

"Bottom line?"

"Yeah, money and image. How much does it cost and what's it look like to the public. Damn fools."

Clearing his throat, trying to be patient while his captain finally calmed down with caffeine and tobacco, he asked, "You want to tell me what happened?"

"They've hired some efficiency expert to evaluate the department. They're going to spend a small fortune for some guy to tell me I have to work with an even smaller budget and cut back on overtime and staff. Hell, Jim, we don't have enough people as it is. Not enough hours in the day for what we have to do."

Jim stood up and stepped closer. "Maybe I'll have some of that coffee after all."

"Sure." Simon poured and served the drink before starting in again. "It pisses me off to have these guys sit there and tell me I've got to do whatever this guys says when I know the whole time he's going to cut the budget."

"So, when's this guy coming?" Jim sat down at the table while he spoke.

"Some time this week. Name's Garrison. We're supposed to give him access to all the files and statistics." Simon ran a huge hand over his face. "Man, I am so tired. I'm going to be here all night getting this shit together."

"Why not put a team on it?" Sipping his coffee, Jim visualized some poor bastard from records trapped behind a precariously tilted wall of files.

"Oh, I plan to, but I'm in charge of the final report. I don't need this right now, Jim, not with all the cases we've got and so many people out with colds and flu."

"Yeah, I know."

Simon's head came up as he locked on target. "So, how's the kid? Still sneezing?"

"Yeah, as of this morning he was. He probably won't be in this afternoon. He promised to try and get some rest." Uneasily, Jim glanced out the window as another roll of thunder rattled the glass before the flash. The vivid sparkle and swirl of blues and reds permeated the very air, exploding clear mists, each captured bubble a fantasy of powerful current.

"Jim? You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just watching the storm, sir."

"Just don't zone on me, not with Sandburg away." Jim saw the grim smile as Simon took another drink.

"So, what else happened at the meeting? You didn't call me in here to just tell me about this Garrison guy."

The dark features grew even more serious, the words straining through the jaw. "No, you're right. I didn't. That was an important part because I wanted to ask Sandburg to help collect the data for me, but that's not the whole reason."

"Then what is?"

Simon leaned forward against his desk, his dark brown eyes clear but angry. "You remember councilman Samuels?"

"Not easy to forget." The quick tightness in his chest testified to his own memory. "He's the one who had the balls to ask me about fucking my partner."

"Yeah, he's got balls all right, greasy little bastard."

"Damn, Simon, what'd he do this time?" Jim pushed the mug away as he struggled to keep his growing concern reigned in.

"Look, Jim, I don't want to start any trouble. We both know he was out of line before, but I have to warn you that he's still got it in for you and Sandburg for some reason."

"You don't know the reason, Simon? It's pretty simple. The man's a homophobe, a racist, and a wife beater."

Simon shook his head, his face baffled and confused. "Yeah, I know. It's still amazing to me that people actually elected the man."

"Come on, Simon, he represents the richest section of Cascade. Tell me you don't know the answer as to why he was elected."

"And when did you get to be so cynical, Jim?" Simon sat back just watching.

"I prefer the label realistic."

"Whatever you call it, it's depressing." He took another drink and chewed on the end of his cigar.

"But you know I'm right. So, what did the guy have to say this time?"

Frowning, his eyes avoiding Jim's, he looked down at the stack of papers on his desk. "I'm not sure what you can do about it, but I think you should know that he's trying to get Sandburg's consulting pass revoked."

"What?" The fear of losing his partner clenched his gut as the rage swelled up, his tongue too angry to form calm words. "What did you find out?"

"He said he doesn't think it looks right that you two live together and that's he's virtually your partner on the job even though he's not a cop."

Coming up out of the chair, Jim slammed his fist into the wall, the loud vibration stinging both ears and muscles of his hand. "Simon, that's bullshit and you know it. I've got the best arrest record in the city. Hell, the whole state. Where does he get off?"

"Jim, settle down."

"I can't, Simon. I can't afford to lose him." The words slipped out before he could catch them, shocking both men.

"I realize that, Jim. I'm kind of surprised to hear you say it though."

Wrapping his arms around his chest, Jim braced himself to speak clearly. "I don't like to admit it, but it's true. So, what am I supposed to do to get Samuels to back off?"

"I don't know. But when I was leaving the meeting, he asked if you were still shacked up with that pretty boy Sandburg."

"Pretty boy Sandburg? He actually said that? Damn."

"Damn is right. He waited until there weren't any witnesses around. He knows that if we make a big deal about it, it only makes it worse. Draws attention to what he's saying."

"Son of a bitch."

"Yeah." After a long pause in conversation, Simon asked, "So, I was thinking, Jim, since the best defense is a good offense, that we could slam him with statistics."

Turning, he caught the amused flicker in his captain's eyes. "What are you talking about, Simon?"

"Well, you mentioned a team of folks to help me with gathering data for Garrison, right?"

"Right."

"I was thinking that this team could also put together all the figures that show the improvement of your record since you teamed up with Sandburg. We can beat him at his own game if we can show that you were not only the best man in the city before, but with Sandburg, you're now the best in the state, maybe even the country. That should give us enough ammunition to head off any kind of thing he wants to push about the two of you living together or any rumors he puts out about you two being gay."

"Is he still doing that?"

"Yeah, and as long as you two are living together, it probably isn't going to go away, not with assholes like Samuels around to stir things up."

"But legally he doesn't have a leg to stand on."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't do much if enough of the bottom line guys want you out. You and I both know the real world better than to think legal action is much help with this kind of poison."

Just as he started to speak again, he heard his guide's congested voice at a distance. The words and background sounds headed him toward the door in a hurry. "Damn."

"Jim? What's going on?"

"It's Sandburg, sir. He's downstairs in the locker room."

"Locker room? Is the kid okay?"

"Not if I get my hands on him."

"Come on, Rafe. Hand'em over. I'm soaked to the bone here and I'm freezing." Blair stood with the towel wrapped around his middle, his wet clothes draped over the long wooden bench.

"No way, Blair. Not until you tell Jim what happened."

"Tell Jim what, Rafe?" His voice boomed into the locker room as Blair looked up over the younger detective's shoulder.

"Hey, Jim. I was just leaving." He put the grey sweats on the table next to the grad student, taking a quick exit as the best road to survival. The other two cops followed right behind him in a hurry, leaving the two men facing off.

"What's going on, Chief? How'd you get all wet? What are you trying to hide here?" Jim took in the whole picture of Blair standing there, his hair hanging down in long tangles, his skin flushed with a low-grade fever.

"Just stop it, man."

"Stop what?"

"The super cop mode. I am so not in the mood. I'm not hiding anything, man. I just didn't want to bother you." An involuntary shiver ran through his whole body.

Pushing away his own impatience, his own hurt at not being trusted, he focused instead on the present situation. "Look, just go dry off and put some clothes on before you catch pneumonia. I'll see if I can round up a hair dryer." The too easy nod just reinforced the terrible ringing, the alarm that something needed fixing and soon.

After a few minutes, dryer in one hand, hot coffee in the other he returned just as Blair finished dressing. Stunned at what he saw, he practically barked. "Stop there, Sandburg. Lift that shirt again."

"What?" Blair turned around, his eyes rounded.

"You heard me. Let me see those bruises." Jim came closer, putting his things on the table, his own hand ready to lift up the cloth.

"Don't, man. It's nothing."

"Listen, I want to see for myself what you're hiding."

"Jim, it's just a few bruises. I fell, okay? Don't make a federal case out of it."

"So, why can't I see?"

"What's the point? Just leave it alone."

"Damn it, Sandburg. You're really starting to piss me off here." Jim paced back and forth in the narrow area between the two rows of lockers while his partner just stood his ground and watched, not speaking. "Okay, you can tell me about this alleged fall later. Right now I want to know how you got here looking like some drowned rat."

"God, Jim, where do you come off being so damn bossy and it wasn't an alleged fall. I fell. Period."

"Quit stalling."

Blair sat down on a stool while he worked hard to pick and comb through his messy hair. He drank several loud sips of coffee before he finally talked, his voice still scratchy and nasal. "I was on my way downtown, but my car broke down."

"I thought you were going home after your class."

"You want the story or do you want to interrupt?"

"Sorry." Jim bit the side of his lip as he sat down on the bench in front of his partner.

"Anyway, when I went to change the tire, I found out both tires were flat, not just one. I tried to use the cell phone, but the batteries were gone."

"Gone?" The same anxious tingle prickled the back of his neck. "How do batteries disappear out of a cell phone, Chief?"

"I don't know. They were there this morning. I left my pack in my office. I guess someone must've stolen them."

"Why steal batteries and not the whole phone? That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. I'm just telling you what happened." Jim glanced up from his own work at sorting through the puzzle to catch the weary expression distorting his friend's face.

"Okay, so what else happened?"

"I locked up the car and came here. It was only a few blocks away. I thought maybe you could call a tow truck or something."

"Sure, but, Chief, those tires are brand new. You just bought them last month. How could they both go flat at the same time like that? What is it you're not telling me?"

Blair finished off the coffee and picked up a dry towel to rub over his hair. He spoke quietly, his head down, the words only slightly muffled though the white terry cloth. "The tires were new, yeah. The batteries were stolen. The bolt in my office chair was rigged to fail when I sat back too far. The thing is, I'm not sure who's doing it or why. I was hoping it was just some prank, maybe a kid who failed my class getting back at me or something."

"You're saying you're a target of some kind?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So, why didn't you tell me?"

"At first I didn't want to think someone would do that, but things are escalating. The tires weren't just flat. They both blew out while I was driving. I'm not a cop or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's not just coincidence."

"Shit." Jim stood up, the rage barely contained. "Tell me what happened."

"Luckily there wasn't much traffic. I was driving and I heard this loud popping sound just when they went. I managed to get over to the side of the road without losing control." He tried a weak smile. "I've been watching this maniac driver for tips on driving under pressure. I guess all those car chases came in handy after all, huh?"

Not the least bit amused, he marveled at the calm tenor of the words. Jim filled in what his partner left out. "But you could've been killed. If you'd been on the highway when it happened, you could've spun out or been hit or hit someone else."

"I know." Blair pulled off the towel and combed his hair again, slowly with patience, his steady, even movements almost soothing.

"God, Chief, you could've been killed." His whole body whooshed into numbness from the terrible magnitude of the words.

Hands came to his lap as Blair stared up, his eyes wide and much clearer than earlier. "I'm okay, Jim. I wasn't hurt."

"I know, but, damn." Frustration building, Jim sat back down, the muscles in his body tensing like the pulsation of winding coils. "And the bruises?"

"When the chair broke, plus when I fell down the steps at the back of the library."

"Fell or got pushed?"

"It's hard to say. I mean, there were people around, it was wet and raining, my hands were full. I could've lost my balance."

"But you didn't, did you?"

"No. About halfway down, someone came up behind me. It was all so sudden, I wasn't really sure at first. I've just been going over and over it in my mind and I can't figure out what happened exactly. Who it could be, you know."

"You didn't see anybody then?"

"I saw a lot of people, some I knew, some I didn't. It was all too fast, man. Anyway, I wasn't hurt much. Just a few bruises." Picking up his soaked shoes, he held them up, one in each hand. "I don't think I can wear these, Jim. You think anyone has extras I can borrow?"

The quick shift from one story to the shoes alerted the sentinel to check the heart beat, the sudden increase a clue. "Don't worry about the sneakers, Chief. I'll find something. Hell, I'll even buy you new ones if I have to. Come to think about it, I think I still owe you a pair."

"Thanks, man." His face suddenly less dark, Blair put the shoes down and lifted a still wet curl. "Think I'd better dry this stuff and then see if I can get a ride home to change. Tell Simon I'll help him out tomorrow. My head's just too mushy to do much more today."

"No problem, but we're not finished here yet." Glancing up, Blair cocked his head, confused. "Chief, you still haven't told me the rest of it. What else happened?"

Taking a deep wheezing breath, Blair sat back down shaking his head. "Man, you're not going to let this go, are you?'

"Not until I know what I'm letting go. Now cough it up."

"Funny, man."

"I mean it."

A deep frown scarred his features, his lips twisted with hesitation. Finally the words strained out as a hoarse whisper. "When I fell, I heard someone say something."

"Damn it, Chief. What?"

"Tag the fag, man."

No heat would stop the chill that froze Jim down to his very deepest bones. "Shit."

"Yeah, man, you could say that."

"So, how's the kid, Jim?" Simon sat behind his desk, the worry deepening the long lines across his forehead.

"I had Davidson take him home. Getting soaked like that isn't going to help his cold. I made him promise to stay there, maybe try to get some sleep. " Jim stood by the window, his fingers pinching the bridge of the nose, the throbbing in his temples building.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I had the car taken to forensics. I want a full investigation. He could've been killed."

"Thank god he didn't take the expressway. Damn, this is serious, Jim."

"I know, Simon. He said he thought all these things were pranks, but I don't get it."

"What's that?"

"Why wouldn't he tell me? If someone's harassing him, why would he keep it to himself?" The hurt edged the words like razors against the soft sides of his tongue.

"Maybe he was afraid you'd overreact. Besides, it might have started out like that and just got out of hand."

"Just got out of hand?" Jim came around and settled at the table, his body shaking from the strain for control. "How could anyone think something like this was a prank? Worst, why would he act like it's just something to deal with like the fucking weather?"

"Jim, you've never really been a target for discrimination, so maybe I can help you out here."

Lifting his head, he met a pair of dark brown eyes with a hard focus. "I know about bigots, Simon."

"Yeah? Ever been called nigger? Ever been spit at or had white wash and oreos put in your locker by your so-called brother in arms when you got a promotion?"

Swallowing hard, Jim shook his head. His voice had to work to push past the constricted throat. "Damn, Simon. I'm sorry. People are damn shitty sometimes."

"Yeah, some are, some aren't. The thing is, that Sandburg knows that. He knows that some people are going to look at him and just see a Jew or jump to certain conclusions."

"You mean because he's got long hair he must be gay? Come on, Simon. Surely we're not that backwards."

"Jim, you see him differently than the rest of the world."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Simon leaned forward, his voice still firm, but somehow softer. "He's a good man, Jim, but he's not your typical guy. He's kind and gentle and, don't you dare tell him I said this, but he's really beautiful to look at. Not handsome, but beautiful. That alone could get him tread marks from the homophobe crew."

"You think he's beautiful?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

Looking away, the blush too quick to control, he didn't answer. Instead he tried a diversion. "What's that got to do with him being harassed?"

"It's got everything to do with it. You've been around long enough to know how some men are when they get together. The military, fraternities, even cops, they all have factions that are threatened by anyone who doesn't measure up to fit a certain standard. Blair's a perfect target."

"That's bullshit."

"I know that, but that's the way it is, Jim. Don't pretend like you don't know how it all works."

"I know, but I hate it."

"So do I, but we can't ignore it as the possible reasons behind what's going on. Anyone who knows Sandburg, knows he lives with another man. Put that together with everything else and he's game for anyone who wanted to bother. But, Jim, we've got another problem to deal with here, too."

"What's that?"

"If this is a hate crime, it could go federal."

"I'll worry about jurisdiction after I catch the son of a bitch."

Nodding, Simon puffed a little harder as Jim got up to leave. "So, what are you going to do first?"

"I'm going over to the school and ask some questions, check out Blair's office and then see what forensics pulls off the car. I'm going to get this guy, Simon and when I do, he's going to get a close up inspection of seriously pissed."

"I don't doubt that, Jim. Just don't go crazy and blow the case."

"Don't worry, sir. Everything will be by the book."

"Yeah, well, just make sure it's not the book that says an eye for eye. I'd just as soon keep you working here."

The smell of melting wax drifted into the hallway as Jim got off the elevator. Stepping closer to the door he heard the aboriginal drums and earthy sounds that soothed the heart of his troubled partner. Slipping the key in the lock and going inside brought no surprises. Blair sat cross-legged in the floor, his eyes closed, meditation at full force. He walked to the kitchen quietly after hanging up his coat and then just stood there entranced. Watching the flicker of light play across the outer edges of the dark hair stirred his body, made his cock twinge with hunger.

"Jim?" The younger man spoke as he relaxed and scooted back to brace himself on the edge of the sofa.

"Yeah. How you feeling?"

"Better, thanks. Why don't you turn off the music and bring me a beer. I'm thirsty but I swear I'm too tired to move."

"No problem." Jim did as requested and handed Blair the bottle while he sat just to the side. "Did you get any sleep yet?

"I tried, but I just couldn't, man. My head was working overtime, you know?" He took a deep drink and then held the beer between his upraised knees with both hands . "Jim, I'm really sorry about not telling you sooner. I swear I thought I could handle it."

"I know you did, Chief. I'm just not sure why you think you should have to handle this kind of shit."

"Well, it's not like it's the first time anyone's done it." His less congested breathing still sounded hoarse and uneasy.

"You saying this happens a lot? People think you're gay and harass you?"

"I wouldn't say a lot, but yeah, sometimes."

"Since when?"

"In most male-dominated cultures, it happens a lot, Jim. Certain behaviors are expected and if you don't try to fit the social norms, well, tag you're it, man." The quick taunt of memory at the word played across his features while he took another quick drink before speaking. "I have to admit, it gets harder to deal with every time it happens though." He used one hand to rub the back of his neck as he rolled his head forward. "God, my head's killing me. Could you get me an aspirin?"

"Sure." While Jim went for the tablets, Blair shifted up to sit on the couch, his legs tucked under him. A shaky hand took the pills while the larger man sat down.

"Have you eaten?"

"Wasn't hungry." The younger man barked a hoarse cough several times and worked at clearing his throat."

"Damn, Chief. You sound awful. Sounds like you could be getting bronchitis."

"I know. My chest hurts, too. I swear if it's not better tomorrow, I'll go to the doctor like I promised. I just didn't get a chance today."

"You sure you don't want me to get you something, tea or some of those magic herbs you shove at me whenever I get sick?"

A weak grin got weaker as Blair sneezed. "Already took some, but I have to admit they didn't do much. I'm just going to bed early and hope I'm better in the morning." His hesitation got longer as he wheezed a few extra times before he spoke. "Look, Jim, I'm really not sure how to say this, but there's something else you've got to know."

"What's that?"

"I got a letter from Councilman Samuels."

"Yeah?" Jim gripped the back of the couch as he tried to control his reaction.

"He wants me to stop consulting. He says that my presence is a danger to the image of the police department."

Too angry to stay still, Jim got up and paced, his lungs so hot he could barely speak. "Did you keep the letter, Chief?"

"Yeah, I kept it, but it's at school. What's going on, Jim?"

"Nothing to worry about. He's just trying to cut corners."

"And he thinks my stipend from the department is a corner? I know money's tight, man, but that makes no sense. And why are you so pissed? What's this really about and don't lie to me. As soon as I said the name, I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"That look you get whenever I catch you doing something to protect me. What did he tell you? What's Samuels really up to?"

Rubbing his forehead with his open palm, he fought the groan that wanted to rumble up from this chest. "This couldn't be worse timing."

"What, man?"

Jim came to sit back down beside his partner, his voice still tense, the words harder than usual. "Remember last spring when I had the run in with the mayor?

"You mean when you called him an dumbfuck for calling off the O'Malley stake out and he heard about it? Yeah, I remember."

"Well, councilman Samuels and I had words."

"What kind of words, Jim? Help me out here."

"I won't say the exact words, but basically he wanted to know if we were sleeping together and if we were, he wanted me to resign."

"Damn. You're kidding?" Blair leaned back hard into the corner of the couch, one arm up on the back, the other fighting to push back his hair.

"I wish I were, but no. He said it. Guess that's what the letter's about."

"Jesus, Jim, why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, that's sort of an ironic question considering the situation this afternoon."

Grimacing at the direct hit, the younger man nodded. "Yeah, you're right. It's just that it makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"What are all these people seeing that we're not?" Dark blue eyes focused on Jim, his gaze searching and intense. Blair's fever blazed across the space, the heat like spark to dry tinder.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why do you think that everyone seems to think we're a couple?"

"A couple of what?"

"Jim, don't make jokes, man. You know what I'm saying." The frustration carried unevenly on the rasping words.

"Yeah, I do, but I can't help you on this. I don't know why they think that. I just know that it wouldn't matter if we were. There's no excuse for any of this shit, not from Samuels or the bastard at school. It's nobody's business what goes on between us. I could give a shit what any of them think."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

A brief wrinkle of brow and several blinks later, Blair nodded. "Cool, man."
"Right. Now, why don't I order us something to eat and you can get a shower and go to bed early. You've had a rough day."

"I have to admit the sleeping part sounds about right. All of a sudden I'm exhausted."

"I'll order us some Chinese then, okay?"

"To tell the truth, man, I'm not all that hungry. Whatever you want's fine."

"You have to eat, Chief. Starve a cold, feed a fever."

"I thought it was feed a cold, starve a fever." The young man scratched his head a few times and rubbed his red nose and bloodshot eyes, the words sounding like a sleepy stuffed up kid's.

"All I know is you need to at least try to drink some more liquids."

"Yeah, man, later." Blair swung his legs over the side of the sofa and headed toward the bathroom. As Jim watched him close the door, he leaned his head back, fatigue washing his limbs with cold iron. He wished away the yapping questions that plagued his hearing, the awful worries nagging and shredding at his heart. He needed his mind clear and focused, but instead he fogged over with the image of his partner's naked body glistening in the steamy room a few feet away. Jim Ellison knew danger well enough to know he was in a hell of a lot more trouble from the fear in his own soul than any bigot outside the loft, and he hated himself for it. Damn coward, anyway.

The strong steamy scent of eucalyptus filled the loft as Jim came down the stairs, his eyes stinging from the sharp, clinging oils. "Jesus, Chief. What's going on down here?"

Blurry-eyed and still snuffling, Blair looked up, his voice choking in a clogged throat. "Man, I can't breathe." Leaning against the stove, the young man stood at the edge of a heavy cloud rolling up from the pan of boiling water. His hair pulled back at the base of his neck, but limp wisps sprang up around his drooping head. His own high fever added to the rising temperature in the kitchen.

"Damn. Sit down before you fall down." Gently Jim guided his partner to the chair and then turned off the water. "You're burning up. How long have you been this bad, Chief?"

"A couple of hours. I tried sitting up and nothing helps. My chest hurts really bad, too, man." Every word worked with a wheezing labor.

"Shit. Come on then."

"Come on where?"

Jim came out of his friend's room holding out his shoes. "Put these on. I'm taking you to the emergency room."

"No way, man. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Fuck, Chief. Your lips are blue for godsakes and you've got a fever. Now put on the shoes and let's go before I carry your skinny ass downstairs myself."

"You wouldn't do that, man."

"I wouldn't?"

Eyes closed only briefly before Blair reached over and grabbed the sneakers, his defiance only half-hearted. He slipped his feet inside, but didn't bother to tighten the already tied laces. "God, man, I feel like shit."

"No kidding. Come on. Here's your jacket."

Standing slowly, steadying himself a few moments before he slid his arm into one sleeve and then the other while Jim held it out for him. "That's a good boy. Now, come on."

"Don't patronize me, man. I'm sick, not six. I really hate when you do that."

Sympathy overrode his fear. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'm just a little scared here. Why didn't you call me?"

Going out the door, Blair waited while he locked it. "I don't know, but why didn't you hear me?"

Jim stopped stock still for a moment before he answered. "You're right. I should've heard you. I must have had the white noise generator on too high or something. Doesn't matter right now though. Let's see what we can do about getting some air into those puny lungs of yours."

"Okay." Blair walked ahead of him, his shoulders slumped, the extra heat of his body sizzling the air. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"I'm not feeling too good here, man."

Before he could say anything else, Blair's body buckled beneath him, his breathing suddenly shallow.

"Hell, Chief, please don't pass out on me. Damn."

As Jim's hand touched his shoulder, Blair's eyes closed. "Sorry, man."

Lying very still, he couldn't help at all as Jim lifted the lighter body up in a one single movement and carried him to the truck. Jim bit his lip as he secured his friend, started the engine, and drove, his lights and siren wailing his own incredible panic to the world.

"So, is he going to be okay?" Jim stood in front of the physician, an exhausted man only a few years older than Blair.

"You're his next of kin?" He glanced down at the chart, scanning for details.

"I'm his partner, Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD. How is he? It's been three hours already."

"I know that, Detective. Why don't we go sit down over here for a minute?" The blond held a hand out to direct the larger man to a corner chair. As soon as Jim sat, he positioned himself next to him and started talking. "By the way, Detective, I'm Dr. Manning. As of right now, Mr. Sandburg's doing a lot better than he was when you first brought him in, but I'm afraid he's got pneumonia. We haven't figured out which strain yet, but based on his symptoms, he also has a secondary pulmonary infection. I've got him on oxygen and antibiotics. I want to keep him several more hours at least until his blood gases improve and his fever's down."

"Then what?"

"Well, when he's breathing's better and if his temp doesn't go higher, I can send him home with some oral meds and instructions to rest. Do you know if he lives alone or if there's someone who can help out for a few days until he's feeling better?"

"I'll take care of him. Like I said, he's my partner."

"Oh, I see. I thought you meant his partner at police station." Dr. Manning nodded to himself, a glanced down at his chart, scanning through the test results.

"He is my partner at work, doctor, but we also live together. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, if Mr. Sandburg's gay, I need to know that."

"He's not gay, and even if he were, what's that got to do with his pneumonia?"

Dr. Manning turned, his knees nearly touching Jim's as he spoke quietly, his tone even. "Detective, it doesn't make any difference to me, but you should know that there are certain strains of pneumonia that are common in AIDS patients. Now, I'm not saying Mr. Sandburg has AIDS or anything like that. In fact, based on what I've seen that's not the case here at all. But, I do need a complete a medical history until I can get all his records. Plus, I just want him to have the best care possible. His personal relationships, other than background for his medical care, are none of my business."

Jim swallowed hard before he could speak, his tongue lazy. "I'm sorry. It's just we've had a lot of trouble lately. I'm worried, that's all."

"I understand that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check on another patient. I'll let you know when he's ready to go home. It may be a several more hours though. He's a very sick young man. Right now it's a toss up on whether to release him or to admit. I'll just have to wait and see how he responds."

"Could I see him?"

Kind green eyes met his briefly before glancing away. "He's in exam room Four. See if you can get him to relax a little and get some sleep."

"I'll try. And Dr. Manning?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Before he went in search of his guide, Jim watched the hurried pace as the young man walked into another cubicle. Just down the hall, he found Blair sitting up, dressed in a hospital gown, an oxygen tube around his face. An IV and monitor took up the room on his left side and showed less than healthy readings. Dazed blue eyes opened and stared. "Hey, Jim."

"Hey, Chief. How you doing?"

"Better." The croaky word lacked conviction.

"Yeah, I can see that." Pulling up a stool, Jim sat beside the bed, his hand on the raised metal rail. "The doctor said you should try to sleep."

"I know. I'm tired, but it's too noisy. Every little sound makes my heart jump."

"Do what I do, Chief. Dial down."

A weak smile flashed briefly, but faded just as fast. "I wish, man. Look, Jim, I'm sorry for all this hassle."

"Stop that. You can't help being sick." Jim wanted to reach through the rail and take his friend's hand, but held back. "Besides, the doctor said that if you start breathing better, he'll let you go home in a few hours."

"Really? Good. Because, I have to tell you, Jim, this place sucks. Stuck the needle for blood down to the damn bone, man, and don't even ask me what kind of samples they made me give." Eyes closed as Blair scrunched up his face. "Way gross."

"I'll bet." Smiling, glad his partner could make even a weak joke, he relaxed. "Why don't you keep those eyes shut and try resting some? I'll stay here until they're ready to release you."

"Okay." Blair lifted his right arm and rested his hand on Jim's. "Thanks for being here." The heated touch tingled the very flesh, the fingertips searing sentinel skin. "I hate to admit it, but I was a little scared there for a minute. I couldn't breathe, man. I guess I just kind of panicked."

Jim wrapped the younger man's hand with his own and brought his other one up to join them. "Me, too, Chief." In a softer voice, one he rarely used anymore, he added, "I'm glad you're going to be okay. Now try to sleep some for me."

Blair's eyes locked with Jim's as he squeezed his fingers. "Sure, Jim. I think I can do that now."

As soon as sleepy eyes shut for a few minutes, Jim realized that Blair indeed managed to drift off to sleep. Steady rhythm registered both by the monitor and sentinel senses made warm comfort chase away the cravings he had to rip apart anyone one or anything that hurt the man he loved.

"Face it, Chief. You're out of commission for awhile. Now sit down and behave."

"But I need to make some phone calls first. I just can't not show up for the classes and meetings." Blair sank down on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"I know that. I've already called Michael at the university. He's going to take care of that, tell the dean about you being sick, and cover today's classes. He said he'd call later tonight with a list of volunteers after he rounded them up. It's all handled."

Pulling the cover up tighter, Blair let his head rest on the back of the couch. "Man, I hate asking people for favors."

Sitting beside his friend, Jim nodded. "I know. But, all those times when you helped everyone else out, did you ever think twice about it? I mean, when someone needed you, you just did it, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, then, it's your turn. Besides, it gives all those people you've helped out a chance to pay you back."

"I don't need them to pay me back, man."

Jim shook his head before he moved to lift Blair's outstretched legs up and across his lap. Despite the obvious drowsiness, he still resisted sleeping. "Remember the social contract speech you gave me once, Chief?"

"What?"

"You know the one about how if you do someone a favor, you need to give them an opportunity to pay back the debt so they don't resent feeling obligated?"

Eyes closed, face more relaxed, Blair smiled. "Oh, yeah, the social contract speech. I remember. Okay. You're right. Man, I don't think I can get to bed, Jim. Too tired."

"I know. Doesn't matter. I don't care where you rest as long as you do it. Now, I've got to go downtown for a couple hours. Your next round of medicines isn't due until five and I'll be back by then. The phone and a pitcher of water's right here on the coffee table. You can call me if you need anything."

Blue eyes opened, suddenly concerned. "But you haven't slept either, man."

"I'm okay, Chief. Just calm down. I promise I'll be back in a few hours. Plus, I'll tell Ms. Donahue from downstairs to keep an eye on you if you want."

"Hell, Jim, she will anyway. You KNOW Ms. Donahue."

Smiling, the older man laughed. "Damn shame she's 70. She'd make a great cop."

"One cop in the building's enough, man." Taking a deep breath, the air still raspy, Blair settled back. He pulled his legs out of Jim's lap and then curled up as he lay against the pillows all around his back. "Tell Simon I'm sorry about not being able to help out with the software deal, Jim."

"Don't worry about it. I called this morning and he understands. Says to just get well."

"Tell him I'm trying, man. Oh, and would you pick up my car from where ever you towed it? I don't want to have to pay for storing it after the tires are fixed."

Jim stood up and headed for the door. "You don't have to worry about that, Chief."

"Why not?"

"It's at forensics. I'll pick it up after we get the results back on how they were tampered with. I'm hoping to get some good prints, too."

Blair jerked straight up and turned to face Jim just as the older man reached for the doorknob. "What the hell are you talking about, Jim? You took my car to forensics? Tell me you're kidding." The angry tone graveled the air, the sound unnaturally deep.

Confused, Jim walked back to the sofa as he spoke. "Of course, I took it to the station, Chief. We needed evidence to figure out what's going on. Why are you so pissed?"

"Pissed? Jim, it's my car, man. You should've asked me. I just want to forget about it."

"I don't get this. Someone tried to kill you. Blew your tires out while you were driving. Why wouldn't I try to find the people responsible? Better yet, why wouldn't you? What's going on?"

"What's going on is you've jumping ahead doing your own thing as usual. I don't believe this. They're just stupid kids, man. Besides, even if you find something, you'll never be able to prove anything. It'll just be a lot of hassle for no reason. I don't want any trouble, Jim. Just let it go, man."

Blair's breathing labored harder with each passing word. He sat stiffly, a hand to his chest, his face drawn and haggard from the effort of talking and still taking in so little air.

"Just settle down, Chief. I'm sorry. You're right. I should've asked you first. It just never occurred to me that you'd have a problem with me finding out who's responsible for trying to hurt you. Explain this to me. Why is that such a problem?" Jim sat back down, waiting, still bewildered at his partner's strange behavior.

"You don't understand, Jim."

"Then explain it."

Meeting his eyes, Blair nodded. "I'll try, but you're not going to like it."

"I already don't like it, Chief. So, give me your best shot."

Nervously, Blair cleared his throat and swung his legs to the side of the sofa as he sat up, moving away from Jim as he spoke quietly. "It's possible that the guys doing this have reason to think I'm gay."

The loft suddenly became a very small place, every word much larger than before.

"You know who it is then?"

"I think so. Yeah. Maybe." He pushed the stubborn veil of dark curls back away from his face. "There are a couple of students from last semester."

"Names, Chief."

"Tommy Bond and Derik Patterson. They saw me coming out of Chaps once. Made a big deal out of it. When I got pushed down the stairs, it sounded like Derik's voice."

Standing up, anger boiling his blood, Jim walked to the window, silent. Time dragged like too many rusted chains. Finally his tight voice formed words. "Why protect them? Why didn't you tell me who they were from the beginning?"

"I'm sorry. I thought if I ignored them, they'd stop."

"But they didn't. Those kind never do, Chief, not when they think they can get away with it."

"I guess. I just wanted them to leave me alone, man." Blair reached over and poured some water, drank it, and remained quiet. Jim watched each movement, still graceful despite his obviously weak condition.

"Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Chaps? It's a gay club, right?"

"Yeah." Putting the glass down on the table, Blair scooted back, pulling the covers up around him again. His eyes never glanced up as he cocooned himself against Jim's stare.

"So, are you saying you went there for research on some subculture or what?"

"Or what, Jim. I'm not gay, but I'm not exactly straight either. I was just lonely that night, but I didn't go home with anybody."

"I didn't ask that."

"I know, but you wanted to. I just went to talk some people and to dance a little. You know, have a good time."

Stunned, Jim rubbed his hand down across his whole face as if he could wipe away his astonishment.

"I've known you for all this time and you've never once said anything, Chief. What am I supposed to think here? Couldn't you talk to me? Why go to some stranger? Where was I when this happened anyway?"

"A few weeks ago when you were working with Rafe, I went with a friend of mine, David. He's a graduate student in psychology. We just talked about things, you know."

"What kind of things?"

"Relationships mostly. Look, Jim, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"You keep saying that and then I turn around and find something else that you didn't tell me. I thought I was the one with a closet full of secrets, Chief. Not you."

"What?" Blair's head came up for the first time, his eyes more blue despite the fever.

"Secrets, Chief. When I was in covert ops, I learned all about keeping things to myself. It's a hard habit to break, but I was trying hard to get over that. But with you, my friend, I think it's some sort of life style or something." Arms wrapped around his chest, Jim stood his ground in front of the window, the afternoon light blazing around his dark silhouette.

"I don't like keeping secrets, man, especially from you, Jim."

"Then why do it?"

"Jim, you know how much trouble we're having now. Imagine how much worse it would be if it were partly true. If people find out about me, then they'll take it out on you."

Biting his lip, Jim released it and then clenched his jaw a few times before he finally stepped to the sofa to sit down. "Okay, that explains why you want to keep it from them, but it doesn't begin to explain why you didn't tell me. I thought I was your my best friend, Chief. If you've got troubles, if you're worried about something, why can't you tell me? Don't you trust me?"

"It's got nothing to do with trust, man. Of course, I trust you."

"Then what?"

"I also love you."

"Damn. Really?" Jim stared as Blair risked a sidelong peek in his direction.

"Yeah, really, man. Stupid, huh?"

"No name calling, Chief."

"What?"

"Well, if you call me stupid, I'm going to have to return the favor."

"Oh, man, you're kidding?"

"Nope. Stupid pretty much covers it."

Shaking his head, Jim drew his partner in closer and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "Man, I don't believe this, Jim. How long, man?"

"Couldn't say. I'm stupid, remember?"

The heat from Blair's body fevered his chest, the added temperature like a blister rising. "Jim, why didn't you tell me?"

"Old habits and secrets, Chief. I'll explain it all later. You're still too hot. You need to rest. Why don't you go into bed and I'll go see Simon. When I get back in a couple of hours we'll figure some things out."

"What things?"

"Things, Chief. Right now, let's get you to bed."

"Oh, man."

"What?"

"I've dreamed of you saying those words, but I wasn't too sick to stand up when I dreamed it."

"Well, believe me, Chief. When you're well, you're going to hear it a lot more."

"Oh, man."

"What?"

"Even my cock hurts. Damn."

Jim chuckled as he kissed the top of his guide's head, the salty sweat a pleasant tingle to his tongue. "I'll take care of that later, too, Chief."

"Promise?"

"You bet."

Lips curled up against his chest, the vision of his partner's smile forming in his mind. "Man, I love your bedside manner, man."

"Just wait until you get a load of my in bed manner, Chief."

"Oh, man. Stop. I'm sick here."

"Sick, but with a reason to get better, right?"

"Oh, yeah, man. Definitely."

"I don't get this, Jim. Are you saying he knew who it was all along and he didn't say anything?"

Jim sat down at the long table in his captain's office, the coffee mug hot inside both palms. "Apparently he thought if he didn't do anything, they'd leave him alone. Of course, that didn't happen."

"Damn, I hate this kind of thing. So, what are you going to do if he won't press charges?"

"Neither man has a record, but I want them picked up. If their prints match any of the ones we took off Blair's car, it won't matter if he testifies. We could get them for attempted murder, but I doubt if the DA would go for that. Doesn't matter, I'll get them for something. They're not going to get away with this."

"Maybe you should slow down for a minute."

The cautious tone brought his head up to find his captain staring at him, dark eyes intent. "What are you talking about?"

"Look, if they go to trial, the thing about Blair being in a gay club's bound to come out. Maybe the kid wants to avoid that. I mean, he was willing to take this harassment rather than let you find out about it."

"But I know about it now, Simon, and it doesn't matter. These kids can't go around endangering people because they think someone's gay."

Nodding, Simon puffed a few times on his cigar and drank some coffee. "Okay, then, pick the bozos up, but just be careful. Be sure this is what Sandburg wants before you go charging ahead."

"Whether he wants it or not, he'll know it's the right thing, Captain."

Just as Jim started to stand, Simon held out a hand. "Wait a minute, Jim. I need to talk about something else."

"What?"

"This thing about Sandburg. Is he really gay?"

Biting his lower lip, Jim walked over to the window, his arms crossed, the debate of whether to answer or not waging a fierce battle. After a few moments, he finally spoke, his words came out measured and even. "I think the term's bisexual, Simon. The thing is, for the first time in my life, I think I might be as well."

"Oh, lord."

Jim turned to see his captain shaking his head, rubbing his forehead already beaded with new sweat. "Sorry, Simon."

"I was afraid this would happen."

"Excuse me?"

"You and Sandburg. I saw it coming. I swear I've let the thought of you two together run through my mind a hundred times and dismissed it."

"You're kidding."

"I wish."

"Then you don't approve?" The hardness surrounded him as he prepared for the answer that would start the tally of losses.

"Hell, Jim, it doesn't matter what I think. It's just going to be damn hard to keep you two together on the job if it comes out that you're more than just working partners. I mean, I haven't jumped the gun here, have I? That is what you were telling me, right?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Oh, lord."

"Would you please stop saying that. It's a little bit disconcerting."

"Not as disconcerting as it's going to be if Councilman Samuels finds out."

"I'm not exactly planning on making a public announcement, Simon. I just wanted to tell you because you have a right to know what's going on."

Taking a very deep breath, the captain put down his cigar and then leaned forward, both hands in a fist. "And I appreciate that, Jim. Okay, I'm over the initial shock now. Would you please tell me when this happened? I mean, have you two been keeping this thing a secret for long now?"

"We told each other today, but I've been thinking about it for awhile."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Shocked the hell out of me, too, sir. I've never really thought about a man like I have Blair. I really can't explain it. I guess it just sort of sneaked up on me. I'd be standing there talking to him and he'd smile and I'd suddenly see him closer, next to me. Or I'd walk by and smell his scent and then I'd think about him in a way that wasn't exactly the way a guy's supposed to, you know?"

"His scent? Oh, lord, Jim, you've got it bad, huh?"

"Really bad, Simon. I mean, I can't give you the details, but this is a whole new thing for me. I don't understand it, but I do know I can't ignore it anymore. The thing is, I don't want to ignore it. When Blair told me how he felt about me this afternoon, it felt so right."

"And there's no way to turn this thing around before it goes too far?"

"I don't want to turn it around. Why should it matter that he's a guy? I just can't stop thinking about him. I can't help it, Simon. I love him."

"Shit."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"Seriously, I'm happy if you're happy, but you know this is going to cause some major problems."

"Yeah, it could, and normally that might bother me, but for some reason, I don't even care."

"Bad ass Ellison in love with his partner. Go figure the odds."

"Long shot wouldn't even cover it."

"I hear that."

"Well, hear this, Simon. If Councilman Samuels tries anything to break us up, he's going to get a fight."

"Tell me something I don't know, Jim. Look, I think the best thing to do is keep a low profile. Do you think you can do that and still bring those kids in from the university?"

"I can try."

"Please do. I swear, sometimes I wonder how peaceful my life would be without the Ellison/Sandburg routine."

"Damn dull, probably."

"Yeah, probably." Simon paused a while longer and cleared his throat before he finally spoke, his eyes clear and very serious. "Jim, don't take this the wrong way, but I've seen you in a relationship and I know Sandburg's history with women. Are you really sure about this?"

"Absolutely, Simon. He's it."

"Then you'd better get busy and clear up this mess then."

"Sure thing. And, Simon?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Just don't screw this up, Jim. I hate to admit this, but he's a keeper."

"Yes, sir, he is."

"Lucky bastard."

"Yep, that, too."

"I was talking about you, Jim."

"Yeah, I know."

Jim glanced down at his watch, anxious as the answering machine clicked on. "Chief, listen. I know I'm running late, but come on, pick up the phone." Silence on the other end unnerved him. He hung up and headed for the door.

"Jim, wait a minute. I need you to meet somebody."

"I can't, Captain. I told Blair I'd be home by five and it's after seven. He's not answering the phone. I know he's probably just sleeping, but he's still sick. I need to be there."

"He'll be okay in another five minutes, Jim." Simon turned to the blond woman standing next to him. "This is Pat Garrison, the efficiency expert I was telling you about. She's here to look through our records."

He offered a quick hand as he pulled on his jacket. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Garrison. I'm sorry about rushing out like this, but my partner's got pneumonia."

"So I heard. I know that's a rough one. A close friend of mine had that once and it took her weeks to get over it. I hope your partner's luckier."

"I hope so, too. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Certainly, detective. If it's all right, I'll start with your records first."

Something in the tone alerted him and he glanced back. "Why my records first?"
Smiling as she ran her finger along the desk edge, she spoke more softly. "That's a good question. Maybe you should be asking Councilman Samuels. He's the one who hired me and suggested that I pay particular attention to you. He was extremely insistent. If I were a detective instead of an efficiency planner, I'd be suspicious. Since I'm not, I'm just going to do my job and make a fair report on whatever I find."

"And you're sure it's going to be fair?"

Hazel eyes met his, the sparkle in the message very clear. "It'll be fair, Detective Ellison. Now, how the council will use it, that's a different question. My suggestion would be to just be careful. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but as I told your captain, I don't like being told what I'm supposed to find before I even go looking."

"Is that what Samuels did?"

"You might say that, yes." She shrugged off her suit coat and hung it up where Jim had left an empty hook. Putting her attach on the desk, she added, "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I'll get started. Hope your partner's feeling better, detective." The young woman sat down and put on her glasses as she started reading the first folder on the stack that Simon provided.

Just as Jim started to speak, the captain shook his head. "Jim, go home and check on Blair. I'll call you later if we need anything."

"Okay, but this isn't over, sir."

"I know, but remember what I told you about the best offense?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've been working on that and I think we're okay here. So, go do what you have to. I'll have Brown and Rafe pick up those kids in the morning and you can talk to them then."

"Thanks."

"It's going to work out, Jim. Now, go take care of the kid."

Jim leaned in and whispered. "I wish you wouldn't call him kid anymore, Simon."

The older man pulled back, puzzled. "Why not? I've always called him kid. I mean, he acts like a kid compared to us."

"I'm not THAT much older than he is, sir."

Suddenly clued in, the captain nodded. "Oh, I get it. Sorry." Pulling Jim over to the side of the room, he kept his voice low. "I'll tell you what. I'll try not to call him kid anymore if you promise not to get too pissed at what I'm going to tell you."

"Damn it, captain. What is it this time?"

"Samuels called the mayor. Apparently he heard about the investigation over Sandburg's car. We've got a leak somewhere." Just as Jim pulled away, Simon snatched him back. "Hold up. I'm working on it. I just wanted to warn you. Now, take a few deep breaths and then go home. You haven't slept in about 36 hours and it shows. I don't need both my best men on sick leave."

Trying hard not to yell, Jim nodded, his jaw clenching on fast speed. "You're right. I am tired, tired of all this shit from Samuels. Son of a bitch needs to back off and get his own life and leave mine alone."

"Yeah, well, you could say that about a lot of folks who like peeking in other people's bedrooms. Even so, I want you to promise me to just go home, take care of Sandburg, and get some rest. Come back in the morning and we'll try to straighten some of this out."

"I know an easier way."

"What's that?"

"Samuels and all his kind could fall off the fucking face of the earth."

"Like we should be so lucky. Go home, Jim, and get some sleep. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." As he headed out the door, he heard his friend mutter under his breath, "Lucky bastard." He couldn't help but agree one more time.

"Blair?" Jim took off his jacket and dropped his keys in a hurry as he went directly to his partner's bedroom. Wrapped up in blankets, Blair lay sound asleep, his breathing still wheezing. His dark curls clung to his forehead and face, the sweat dripping down his cheek. A pile of rust-stained Kleenex littered the floor near the bed, the smell of blood strong. "Damn."

Jim sat down and pulled back the covers, the heat from the fever shimmering the air around the body. "Chief, come on now. Wake up for me."

Soft moans came with the flutter of eyelashes. Slowly, blue eyes washed in fever opened and met his. "Jim?" The raspy voice grated the air, its roughness painful.

"I'm here. You're burning up. I need to take you back to the hospital."

An involuntary shudder wracked the body in his arms as he coughed, a long deep pull of air through congested lungs. Bringing his knees up, he turned away from Jim and dragged at the covers. "I'm freezing, man. Just leave me alone."

"It's the fever, Blair. It's too high and you're coughing up blood. Now, can you get up, or do I need to carry you?"

"Oh, man, please, Jim. I'll be good. Don't make me go back. Please." The child-like voice, almost a whimper, tore at him. He should've been home sooner.

"I'm sorry, Chief. You're really sick here. I won't make you stay any longer than you have to."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now, help me out. Come on. Let's get your shoes on."

"Okay." As Blair sat up and put his legs over the edge of the bed, his arms shook from the effort of bracing against the mattress. Jim pulled the sleeves down on his sweat shirt and pushed back his wet curls. Fever-glazed eyes stared back as a weak smile curled too pale lips. "Where you been, man? Missed you." The younger man leaned his head on Jim's chest, his eyes shut again, his breathing so tortured, it struggled to even move the air.

"I'm right here now, Chief. Just keep breathing. God, please, just keep breathing."

The lack of an answer prompted Jim Ellison to rush faster and carry his partner to the truck for another hospital run. The whole time he worked on staying focused, forced himself not to zone as the young man's vitals got harder and harder to hear and even harder to ignore. No high speed car chase could touch him as he gunned the engine and raced to save the man he loved, the man he'd failed to protect one more time.

Sitting by the hospital bed, Jim Ellison sucked on the edge of a useless finger, the nail ragged and brittle. As the low hiss of steady oxygen filled his partner's clogged lungs, he watched as though his raw will could force the air to heal the damage faster. All around him the world ached and narrowed to the man in the bed.

The slightest move and moan alerted him to Blair's slow shift closer to the rail.

"Hey, man." The croaky voice played velvet across his starving ears.

"Thank god, Chief. You scared me."

"Yeah?" The young man closed his eyes while he repositioned his butt a little straighter. When he opened them again, he stared directly at Jim. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Taking several long breaths, he rubbed his right hand up and down his chest. "Jesus, that hurts." He reached up to massage his neck and wrapped his fingers around it. "They stuck a tube down my throat, man. Damn. I remember that much."
"They had to suction some of the fluid off your lungs. I'm surprised you remember though. I thought you were completely unconscious most of the time."

"It's all foggy, disjointed, but I remember that part, man. It hurt."

"I'm sorry, Chief. Seems like whatever bug's causing you to be sick is a major badass."

"Tell me about it. This really sucks, Jim." He glanced at the window and licked dry lips. "What time is it?"

"Thursday morning. Around ten, I think."

"Thursday? Damn. How'd that happen?"

Jim stood up and stepped to the side of the bed, his hand taking Blair's, holding and stroking it like a beloved treasure. The thin flesh still heated, singed his finger tips, the rare sensation like oil touching a tight series of wires. Veins laced over the fine bones as they textured and ridged the surface, each one a vital new memory. Turning it over, he lifted and kissed the palm, the same tingle firing through his lips. Blue eyes watched every move, the stretch of color growing thinner around the pupils.

"You really scared me this time, Chief."

Blair reached over and gently caressed his cheek. Suddenly his partner's flesh became a center, a calling focus to reality and all things good. Closing his eyes, the sentinel drank in the scent and pleasure of knowing his guide lived and loved him. He bit his lower lip to fight the growing sting, the terrible guilty flood of knowing he'd failed to be there.

"It's okay, man. I love you. I'm going to be fine." The hoarse voice still managed tender words, each one a cushion to his own fears.

"I should've been home sooner."

"Is that what the doctor said, that it was your timing?"

"No. He said he'd have been surprised if you hadn't gotten sicker. The antibiotics he gave you don't really do much for this particular strain. He put you on something else as soon as I got you here last night."

"So, it's not your fault, Jim. Even if you'd been there, I'd probably be here anyway, right?"

Still holding Blair's hand, he shook his head. "But I still should've been there when I said."

"Then next time do better. That's all you can do, man. Don't waste energy feeling guilty about something you can't change."

"It's hard to do that, Chief." He ran his hand up the younger man's arm, the hint of the alcohol used to bring down the fever still there, still too strong, the harsh odor scraping and stripping Blair's natural scent. "I don't want to ever lose you. Even the thought of it makes me crazy."

"Jim, I need you to just forget about that and get some sleep. You look worse than I feel and that's pretty bad. You're just tired. Go home."

"No way. I'll sleep here later. I'm not leaving, so don't even ask me."

Blair smiled, the curl of his lips weak, but his satisfaction obvious. "Okay. Thanks, man. I know it's pretty selfish, but I'm glad you're here. You know how I feel about hospitals."

"I know."

"How long did the doctor say I'd be here?"

Pushing back the stands of hair, Jim carefully brushed the back of his hand against Blair's whiskered jaw. "Too early to tell yet. A few days maybe. Have to be sure this time."

"Damn." Blair tilted his head toward Jim's graceful and greedy touches. His voice suddenly sleepy, the words came out drowsy and not quite formed. "I'm really out of it here, Jim. Everything hurts and I'm exhausted, which is crazy because I just woke up."

"You're sick, Chief. You need to sleep." His whole hand wrapped in Blair's sizzled fire up his arm, the contact electric.

"I wish I could enjoy this more. Feels so good, man." He nuzzled his face into the large palm, his beard burning lightning.

"Don't worry, Chief. There'll be plenty of time for touching later when I get you home." Leaning over the rail, Jim kissed him lightly on the forehead, his already tingling lips energized even more by the slightest pressure of his guide's flesh to his. He flicked his tongue to taste him, to wash his whole being in the flavor of the man he loved.

"Well, isn't this cozy."

The intrusive voice from the doorway startled him as he stood up straight and turned around. "Samuels."

"Yes, detective. Seems I've stumbled on quite an interesting scene. Wish I had a camera. Care to tell me again how you and your partner aren't sleeping together?"

"Get out. You've got no business here." The words practically growled across the room, the vibration enough to jar the air.

"I just came by to check on Mr. Sandburg's condition. I mean, after all he is considered part of the best team on the police force. He even has a friend in the major's office apparently. Of course, that may change after I relate this little incident."

Jim released Blair's hand, his friend's frantic words to stop at his back. The sound lost all power, all light concentrated to the one beam on Samuels's face. He stepped closer before he spoke, his hand on the older man's shoulder, a squeezing grip wanting to crush bone. "Leave. Now."

"What's going on here, Jim?" Simon walked in the doorway behind Samuels.

"He was just leaving."

"Captain Banks, I suggest you tell your detective the facts of life. He either gives up his gay lover or his job. He can't have both and work for this city."

"Get out, Councilman Samuels."

"Captain?"

"You heard me. You may have power when it comes to city policies, but you're in a private room interfering with Mr. Sandburg's recovery. Now, unless you'd like a little security escort out of the building, I suggest you leave on your own. Now."

Samuels stared first at Jim and then Simon before throwing a quick glance toward Blair. "Good night, Mr. Sandburg. Just remember what I said last time." He turned and left just as Simon put out a restraining arm across Jim's chest.

"Let it go, Jim."

"Son of a bitch."

"Yeah, he is that."

>From the other side of the room, Blair coughed a long time before settling down flanked on both sides by his friends. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, Simon. Just tired."

Jim reached over and took his guide's hand again. "I'm sorry, Chief. The man's got a mission."

"I know. That's what makes him so fucking dangerous."

"I hear that. Look, Jim, Blair, I'm going to check with some legal heads I know and see what I can do about keeping him away from here and to stop this weird grudge he seems to have against you."

Jim swallowed hard as he held Blair's hand up to his chest with both his own. "Thanks, Simon. I'm afraid if you hadn't come in when you did, well, let's just say......"

"Let's just say, I saved your ass from a lawsuit or a murder trial probably."

"Probably."

"Look, you two, I have to go." He glanced at the hand holding between the men and shook his head, a smile on his lips. "Sandburg, I sure hope you know what you're doing. You know what a morose bastard this guy can be."

"I know, Simon, but he's really not bad once you get used to all the quirks."

"Quirks, Chief?"

"Yeah, you know, the rules, the color-coding, the checking me out when you think I'm not looking."

Turning bright red, Jim gulped air several times before he could control his own breathing. Simon laughed all over himself as he stepped close enough to slap his detective on the shoulder. "Damn, and I thought I was the only one who noticed that. Way to go, kid. Keep him honest."

"I plan to. I plan to keep him, too."

"Yeah, kid, you do that."

"Simon."

"Yeah, Jim?"

"Enough with the kidstuff."

"Oh, yeah. Hey, Sandburg, how do you feel about being called kid?"

Blair wrinkled his brow, confused by the sudden change in banter. "It's okay. I'm sort of used to it. Why?"

"Well, Jim here wants me to stop? What do you think about that?"

Glancing over at his suddenly uncomfortable partner, he smiled. "If it bothers him, I guess you should stop. I mean, I'm not really a kid anymore, am I."

Jim cupped the side of the younger man's face, the fingers gently playing across the flushed skin. Simon cleared his throat to make the words behave and come out straight. "Yeah, Sandburg. I can see that."

Tag -- part two

Continued from part one.

Tag

by Grey

"What do I care if a fag has a couple of flat tires? What the hell does that have to do with me? I don't even know why I'm here." Tommy Bond sat back in the chair, his arms crossed, his jaw set firmly in defiance. His dark hair waved back from finely sculpted bones, the skin flawless and smooth, the handsome features dulled by the dark blue eyes glaring and the nasty sneer. Jim Ellison called on every saint he could think of to keep him from breaking the boy's face.

"You're here because your prints were found on the rim of both tires that blew out while Mr. Sandburg was driving. According to our forensics, heat-activated chemicals were placed on each front tire to cause the tires to fail. Would you care to explain how your prints came to be there?"

"How the fuck should I know? I don't even know what the queer's car looks like." He unfolded his arms and grinned as he leaned forward, the T-shirt pulling tightly across broad shoulders. "Besides, I'm not saying another damn thing until my lawyer gets here. I know my rights, cop."

"Do you? What about other people's rights? You know about those?"

"You mean that candyass Sandburg? Is he the one who put you guys up to this? I've got nothing to do with putting anything on his car."

"Yeah? Then how did your prints get there?"

"I told you I don't know."

Jim stood up and walked around to the other side of the table, moving his body in extra close. His muscled arms spread, one on the back of the chair, the other on the table's edge, he removed all the young man's personal space. He lowered his voice, using husky tones to ease the words into an unprotected ear. "You'd better think of something a hell of a lot better than that, Bond. Otherwise your partner Patterson's going to finger your ass and you're going to lose out on the deal."

Suddenly nervous, his voice not quite so forceful, Bond avoided meeting Jim's stare. "What deal?"

"What? Your lawyer didn't tell you?" Jim stepped around and whispered into the other ear. "Oh, that's right. Patterson's lawyer got here first. Guess I should warn you that your buddy's a snitch. Of course, it doesn't matter to me what happens to your sorry ass." His voice suddenly even lower, the words breathy, he added, "And a fine punk ass it is, kid. If I were you, I'd be watching it as close as those cons will be. They're going to start spitting and getting ready as soon as they see you, babe."

"Get away from me with that shit, you sick fuck."

A dark smile twisted Jim's features, the anger turning into a weapon honed with the perp's own fear, a weapon he'd practiced too well through the years. "Get used to it, punk. I guarantee a pretty boy like you won't last long without a keeper when you end up in a cell. You won't be in the top bunk either."

"What the hell are you talking about, man?" The involuntary tremor shook his shoulders.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Bond. Like I said, you'd better start thinking about yourself in all this. Do yourself some good before Patterson saves his own ass at your expense."

Swallowing hard, the boy cleared his throat as he tried to maintain some kind pretense of nonchalance. "Look, man, I didn't do anything. Derik's the one who had the hard on for Sandburg. I just went along for the ride, you know. I mean, they can't send me to prison for that, can they?"

Jim pushed the pad and pen to the Bond's hand. "Write it. We'll see what we can do."

Without another word, the student started scribbling, his lip a captive between gnawing teeth. Satisfied, Jim walked out the door and waved at an officer to stay with Bond while he went into the observation room to see Simon. Instead of relief, he saw his friend's deep frown. "What?"

"I swear, Jim. Sometimes you scare me."

"Come on, Simon. It got the job done."

"Yeah, but at what price? You used the same fear to get him to talk that caused him to go after Blair in the first place. Don't you see that?"

"What I see is I did what I had to." Jim looked through the glass of the two-way mirror, watching closely as the boy continued to write down the details of his crime. "He may not go to jail for this, but maybe he'll think twice before he goes after anybody else just because he thinks he's gay."

Simon shook his head and tapped off the cigar's ash before he spoke. "I understand why you did it, Jim. I do, but I just don't like it. You walk a very thin line sometimes. You've got a dark side that makes me wonder just how far you'd go if you really wanted something badly enough."

The earlier energy at getting Bond to confess left him as his limbs weighed in from the truth behind his friend's words. He hated the way his primal side ruled him when he shifted to pit bull cop mode. He despised even more the fact that he'd do it again without even blinking.

"I hear what you're saying, Simon. I'm sorry you think I went too far."

Simon turned away, his silence louder than his earlier words. After a few more moments he finally spoke. "Well, I guess I can't get too bent out of shape."

"Why's that?"

"I didn't stop you."

Nodding, the understanding linked them, bound them together in a shared need to defend good against the evil lurking both all around and within them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sandburg, I know you're frustrated, but I can't really release you yet. Maybe tomorrow if you tolerate the oral medications overnight and your fever and blood gases show improvement. Right now, it's just too risky."

"Man, this really sucks. I need to get out of here."

"Just be patient. I don't think you realize just how sick you were when you first got here four days ago."

"But I'm better. I should be able to go home by now."

Jim entered the room just in time to see Blair slam his fist into the sheets beside him as Dr. Manning finished making a notation on his chart. "Hey, Chief. What's going on?"

"Nothing good, man." Blair turned his face away as he gnawed on his lower lip.

"On the contrary, detective. Your friend here is off IV antibiotics and is doing a lot better. I think he's just a little upset about not being released like he expected."

"Yeah, I can see that. So, tomorrow then?" The tight ache of the words pushed against his throat, stubbornly resistant to calm.

The young doctor shrugged as he glanced over at Blair, the concern for his patient's condition obvious. "I'm certainly hopeful, but I really can't promise. I'll have a better idea in the morning after I've seen the new lab reports." He stepped around the end of the bed and headed for the doorway. Pausing, he added, "Just try to get more rest, Mr. Sandburg. I'll send the new medication in with the nurse."

When Blair ignored him, Jim glanced over and nodded. "Thanks, Dr. Manning. I'll see that he sleeps."

"Later, Detective." As soon as he left, the young man in the bed turned on his side toward the window, pulling the sheets and extra blankets up around his neck.

Worried, Jim came around to stand so he could see his friend's flushed face. Less fever reduced the heat, but not the shadows around his eyes. "You okay, Chief?"

"I'm fine, except they keep it so damn cold in here. I freezing my ass off."

"It's not cold and you don't seem fine. You seem upset."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired of being stuck here. Hell, if it were you, you'd be home already. Me, I get in here and they won't let me out. I hate this, Jim. I mean, I really hate it." The last of the rant ended with him closing his eyes, his voice shaky and his whole body tensed under the covers.

"Ease up on yourself, Blair. I want you home as much as you want to be there, but I also want you well." Carefully he touched his friend's shoulder and registered the minute flinch. Moving closer, he leaned on the rail and spoke softly, his voice deep verbal caresses. "You've got no idea how scary it is to have someone you love too sick to breathe, Chief. I've been in major fire fights and crashes in the jungle and never felt that afraid. I need you home, but not before the doctor thinks you're ready."

Swallowing hard, Blair opened his eyes slowly and took Jim's hand. "I'm sorry to be so pathetic, man."

"You're not pathetic. Just disappointed."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I have to throw some major pity party. Sorry."

After a quick kiss to the forehead, Jim stroked and petted back the hair still damp from the thin sheen of sweat. "When you're finally out of here, I plan to throw a huge party, Chief. You just wait. I'll make it up to you for being stuck here so long."

"Promise?"

"Oh, yeah. Big promise." Before he could say anything else, a nurse entered with more pills and syringes.

"I'm sorry, Detective Ellison, but you'll have to wait outside for a few minutes."

"Oh, man, not more butt shots."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sandburg. Doctor's orders."

Jim grimaced, Blair's body shuddering as he shifted in the bed. "I'll be right outside."

"God, I hate this."

"I know, but just think about how good it'll be when you do finally get to go home. I promise not to stick your backside with anything as sharp as a needle."

The huge grin and chuckle from the bed warmed him as he headed out the door. "You are like so bad, man."

"You've not even seen my bad side yet, Sandburg. Think about that while you take your medicine and maybe it won't sting as much."

Standing outside, his head leaning back against the wall, Jim still heard the rustle of cotton over flesh and the sharp intake of breath. "Oh, shit."

"I'm sorry. I know it's uncomfortable. Just try not to tense up and it doesn't hurt as much. Now hold still, while I do this last one. You want it in the other hip?"

"No, the nurse last time did that and both sides hurt. Just do it. I'm okay."

"Just try to relax. This will let you sleep better and help ease your breathing." After a few more moments and a groan, she added. "Your friend's cute, Mr. Sandburg. Is he married?"

"No, but he's in a relationship already. Devoted, too. Sorry."

"Yeah, well, the good ones usually are. There. All done. You can turn over now. This is going to make you really sleepy though, so if you need to go to the restroom, you might want to do that now while I'm here."

"No, that's all right. Jim can do it. Thanks."

"Don't worry, Mr. Sandburg. You really are getting a lot better. I'll bet anything you'll be home by tomorrow. Tuesday at the latest. Dr. Manning's a really good doctor."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

"No problem. Want some juice now?"

"No, maybe later."

"Now that you're off the IV's, just be sure to drink as much water as you can, okay? Your pitcher's still almost full."

"I'll remember. Could you ask Jim to come in now?"

"Sure."

The door opened beside him and the young blond came out. "You can go in now, detective. He'll probably be asleep in the next ten or fifteen minutes though. Are you going to stay the night again?"

"You bet."

"Your girlfriend won't mind?"

"He's my partner. He's sick. I'm staying."

Smiling, she shook her head as she walked back to the station. "Cops and partners. Worse than being married."

Jim grinned and decided it was a hell of a lot better. Walking back in the room, he found his guide's eyes already drooping. "You need to go to the restroom, Chief?"

"Too tired, man."

"Let's go anyway and then you can sleep all night without having to get up."

"Okay." He reluctantly removed the tubing from around his face and straightened the hospital gown under the sheets. As he fumbled with the rail, Jim released the lever. Frowning, Blair stared first at the metal bar and then up at his partner. "Trick buttons, man. Why do they do that?"

"To keep folks like you in bed, Chief. Now, come on." He bent down and helped Blair swing his legs over and slip his feet into his sandals. Holding his arm out, he let his friend set the pace. Just as Blair stood up, he used both hands to steady himself.

"Whoa, just a minute. Room's spinning."

"Take it easy, Chief. Maybe you should use a urinal or something."

"No way, man. I'm okay. Just give me a minute. Too many drugs here and not enough oxygen."

After a few more moments, his feet shuffled, almost skated, as he slowly headed for the bathroom. Once at the door, he stopped. "I'll do this part alone, man."

"You sure? This is no time to be shy."

"Hell, Jim, I am so not shy, but it's bad enough you get to see my bruised butt here. I don't want to tease you more than you can handle. Those damn jeans you're wearing are tight enough already, man."

Playing along, Jim smiled, sensing his friend's embarrassment. "Very thoughtful, Sandburg. So, you noticed, huh? Like what you see?"

"You just wear them like that to torture me. God, if I could just breathe, you'd be in so much trouble." He held on to the wall as he reached to close the door. "Now, stay here."

"Okay, but don't lock it."

"Jim, I'm fine."

"I know you are, Chief. Ready to run a foot race and swim the channel. I'll set those up first thing tomorrow. Now, go to the bathroom and don't lock the door."

"You're so damn bossy, man."

"Get used to it."

Blair's head turned, his drug-dazed eyed as focused as they could be on Jim's. "I already am, man. Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I know, Chief. I love you, too. Now go to the bathroom and then it's bed time."

Taking a deep breath brought on a round of coughing and Blair had to steady himself with the help of Jim's arm around his waist. He spat up several times and then wiped his mouth while his heart beat raced faster. "Oh, man, my chest hurts."

"I know, but it's not as tight as it was. I can feel it loosening up. More important, there's no blood." He spread his palm in the middle of Blair's chest, the pounding like deep echoes vibrating all through his own flesh.

"Really? You can tell that just by touching me?"

"Yeah, Chief. I can also tell your fever's down and your bladder's filling up and you're about ready to pass out on me here. Ready to go yet?"

"My partner the medical monitor."

"Funny, Sandburg."

Jim watched as Blair lifted his gown and relieved himself. The quick heady rush of scent blasted him as he sighted his partner's gorgeous cock. The weight between his own legs hardened and grew heavy, the image of touching and fondling his guide swelling up to throbbing.

"Jim?"

"Sorry, Chief. Just got distracted."

The younger man's ass pushed back against his groin and wiggled slightly. "Oh, shit, don't do that."

"I can't believe you're so horny, man. I was just peeing."

"I know, but you're so beautiful, Chief." He suckled at the side of his neck, the rich texture of whiskers a blaze against his tongue. "I can't wait until I get you home. I want to taste and touch and smell you all over. Just seeing you makes me almost too hard to move. The sound of you in my arms turns me on. Plus it doesn't help that your bare ass is right against my cock here."

"No kidding. Your zipper's straining like crazy, too. One thing's for sure, Jim."

"What's that."

"You're no needle dick."

Jim growled deep in his throat, the naughty words twitching his cock. "You worried?"

"Not a bit, man. Want to feel me?"

"What?" Startled, Jim stopped his drooling against the side of his friend's neck. "Blair, we're in a hospital."

"I know that, Jim, but you want me. Go ahead. Touch me."

Wrapping his arms more tightly around his waist, Jim nuzzled the side of Blair's neck, his own cloudy thinking hard to clear. "God, I want you, but not like this, Chief. Later, when you're better, we'll touch and suck and fuck all night, but for now, it's back to bed."

"Think you can walk that far, man?" The deep chuckle caused a quick bite to the neck. "Ow. Why'd you do that for?" Blair rubbed the already red mark, the dented flesh white against dark skin.

"For teasing. Now, come on before I hurt myself."

"Damn, I can't believe you bit me." Shaking his head, Blair held Jim's hand and steadied himself against the sink with the other. "Oh, man, I am like so dizzy."

"It's okay. I've got you."

With a few stumbles and false steps, Jim managed to get his partner settled back in bed, the sheets tucked in, the oxygen back in place. Slitted eyelids warned him that he'd be watching his friend sleep in a matter of minutes. "Stop fighting it, Blair. I'll be right here."

"Hate sleeping here. Bad dreams, man." The words drifted up, weak but still powerful.

"Bad dreams? About what?"

Rolling over on his side, pulling his knees up, Blair rubbed the side of his face against the pillow. "Scary stuff. Just don't leave me, Jim." His name barely made it past the sleepy lips.

Once again Jim smoothed back the tumble of dark curls and kissed the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Chief. I'm right here. I'm not leaving." He stayed there, stroking the hot skin until the steady breathing let him stop. Stepping to the doorway of the bathroom, he played back the last few minutes, the time with Blair so close coupled with the tired voice of his guide afraid of sleeping. Jim turned off the light and worked hard in the dark to ease his own erection, visions of his future lover stroking his thighs, his mouth and tongue sucking him into a hungry pleasure. His cock pumped a practiced fist as he saw himself spreading those rounded cheeks, thrusting forward into the tight pucker, the wrap of heated Blair around him. The needed explosion came quickly, the spasms of asscheeks timed with his own release.

Hanging his head, fighting off the nag of guilt, he cleaned himself off using sentinel vision to check and sanitize every surface he touched. Washed and more relaxed, he settled into the chair beside the bed, the comforting scents of his own musk and his guide's sweat slicking his throat. "Come on, Chief. Get well for me here before I go nuts." Wiping his hand across his face, he closed his eyes and focused on the guiding force of his life, the heart beat that anchored him to his own breathing.

"I thought Sandburg was supposed to come home yesterday?" Simon looked up from his desk, a folder open in his hands.

"He was, but the doctor said he'd have to keep him at least until tomorrow. Apparently the oral version of the antibiotics isn't working as well, plus it makes him sick to his stomach so he's losing most of it before it can do anything. They're giving him shots for the nausea and that's knocking him out." Jim slumped down in the chair at the table, the strain of the last week tallied all at once with the full ache in his back and shoulders. Sandpaper scraped his eyes with every blink and he wanted to put his head in a bucket of aspirin.

"Damn, Jim, have you slept at all?"

"Not lately, but I will as soon as Blair gets better."

"Well, you're no good to me here. Why don't you take the afternoon off and go get some sleep? Then you can go see your partner tonight."

"I would, sir, but I've got to finish that file for Brown on the Bond and Patterson case. After that, I might take you up on the offer. I have to admit, I'm pretty bushed."

"I imagine." Leaning forward, Simon smiled. "One good bit of news though."

"What's that?"

"Just got a copy of the report Garrison's going to hand in to the Mayor and the City Council."

"Yeah? So, how many people are we going to lose?"

"None."

"None?" Jim sat up straighter, his energy a bit more revived. "How come?"

"Let's just say Samuels is going to be extremely unhappy with the results of her professional study of the Cascade's PD efficiency levels. According to Garrison, we're understaffed and you, my friend, are underpaid."

"Well, hell, I could've told you that. So, are you saying she's recommending more staff instead of a cut?"

"Not only that, she says you alone worked more unpaid overtime than any other detective in the whole department. In fact, and this is the only part you might not like, she says that the city should insist that you take some of your vacation time."

"Vacation time? I never take vacation time."

"I think that's the point. If the city had to pay you what it owes you, they'd be spending enough to pay for a couple more detectives."

"Really?"

"So, bottom line is, you should take the rest of this week off and take care of your partner."

Jim closed his eyes and for the briefest of moments hesitated. Then he remembered the terror of finding his desperately ill partner alone in their home, a man who'd been growing sicker while he'd been busy working. He stood up and nodded as he spoke. "All right, Simon. You want it in writing or should I just tell you I'm out of here until Blair's back on his feet?"

Simon sucked on his cigar as he leaned far back in his desk chair. "Consider yourself on vacation, Detective. Say hi to Sandburg when you see him. Tell him that he needs to stop lying around and get his act back on the road. This place could use a little spirit."

"Thanks, Captain. I'll tell him." Just as he headed for the door, he raised a finger. "Oh, and, Simon, tell Garrison I appreciate the report."

The older man grinned. "I'll do that. She's coming by with her partner Irene later on."

"Her partner?"

"Yeah. I get the feeling she kind of had a soft spot for you and Sandburg as soon as Samuels tried to enlist her to the cause of eliminating the threat of homosexuals from the department."

"She told you that?"

"No. I caught her and Irene making out in the break room late last night after she finished the report. Damn cute couple, too." A huge grin spread across the dark features, his eyes sparkling with the replay of pleasing memory. "Damn limber, too. Thank god the locker room has cold showers."

"You've got to start dating again, Simon."

"Tell me about it." The captain waved a hand of dismissal before he barked, "Now, go home and get some sleep, Jim. Some of us have to work around here."

Jim shook his head and would've laughed his ass off if he hadn't been too tired to walk straight.

"You need to leave, man. Jim's supposed to be here any minute."

"And is that supposed to scare me, Blair? Your man going to whip my ass is he?"

"Yes, actually, I might just do that." The detective's angry voice came from the doorway as Samuels smug face suddenly shifted to surprise. "What the hell are you doing here, councilman?"

"Ask your partner, Ellison." The man stared defiantly, his small brown eyes squinting behind gold-glasses. His lean face stretched the skin tightly over the high cheek bones and the thin lips twisted into a smirk.

Glancing past the intruder, Jim hissed, "What's going on, Sandburg?"

"Nothing, man. He was just leaving."

"Detective, you and I both know you won the round with the Garrison report, but that's not the end of this problem. You need to get your friend here to reconsider my offer. That way, your private lives won't have to become a public issue."

His fist clenched, Jim stepped into the room the door closing behind him while walking past the smaller man. "I think my private life is just that, Samuels, private. That seems to be the whole point, the point you keep missing. I do my job. I do it better than anybody else and for whatever reason, you don't think that's good enough. What the hell's your problem anyway?"

"Jim, just let it go, man."

"I can't do that. Tell me why you keep hounding us?"

Samuels stepped closer, his face positioned only a few inches from Jim's. "Because I hate what you stand for."

Taking a deep breath while he held onto the rail to keep from slamming the man in the jaw, he forced the words out. "And what exactly do you think I stand for, Samuels?"

"You're a fag, Ellison, pure and simple. A dumb butch queer who doesn't deserve to have someone like Blair for a partner. Every time he goes out on the job with you, he's in danger. He should be at the university working, getting his degree, not out playing badass cop with you."

The desire to rip the man's throat out cracked down the middle of his chest, the monumental effort to control the impulse draining. His jaw muscles twitched and battled against working as he formed the words without raging. "I think you'd better leave, Samuels."

The older man stared a few more seconds before turning back to the grad student in the bed. "Think about what I said, Blair. I promise there are no strings attached this time. Get away from him before it's too late."

"Leave, Samuels." Jim put a hand on the padded shoulder as the councilman pulled away.

"Don't touch me, Ellison."

"Get out." In the quiet room the command hissed like poison gas filling all the smallest spaces.

Reluctantly, Samuels reached over and grabbed his dress coat, threw one more glance at Blair and left. Silence broke only when the younger man turned toward Jim and reached to touch him. Snatching his hand away, he walked to the window, the darkness painting the glass. "Tell me what's going on, Chief."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I meant to tell you, but I didn't know how. I thought it was over."

"What?"

"Last spring Samuels came by and offered me my own scholarship, a job, and a place to live if I'd give up consulting for the police."

Jim shook his head and turned to stare at the man lying on his side in the bed. "And you didn't think to mention that?"

"I turned him down."

"Why didn't you tell me, Chief? I want an answer here and no more bull shit."

"Because I knew you'd be pissed. I didn't want anymore trouble."

Bringing both hands to his mouth at the same time, he rubbed his face, the need to focus growing stronger. "What am I missing here? Why would he make the offer in the first place?" The hesitation of the words scraped at his chest, Blair's blue eyes avoiding his. "Tell me."

"He wouldn't listen when I told him we weren't together like that. He said it was because he didn't want the scandal for the city."

"But?"

Blair shifted uncomfortably, his whole body tense and unsettled. Finally, his voice formed the words, each one reluctant and hesitant. "But, he was making a move, man."

Jim sat down on the narrow window sill as he processed the revelation. "What kind of move? Are you saying he came onto you, that he touched you?"

"Just a few times, you know, hand on the shoulder, sneaking a grab at my ass. He tried to kiss me once, but I stopped it right away and told him I wasn't interested. I have a feeling that's why he hates you so much. He thought we were together and so he started this little vendetta deal to break us up. He's kind of obsessive."

"No shit."

"I'm sorry, man. I should've said something, but he stopped until last week and after I'd waited so long, it was too hard to say anything."

"You still should've told me."

"I know."

Running his tongue back and forth along the inside of his bottom lip, Jim replayed some of their earlier conversations. He stopped cold as he remembered one in particular. "Why'd you pretend you didn't know what was going on? I mean, not saying anything is one thing, like you did with Bond and Patterson, but why put on the show? Why not just tell me when I brought it up?"

"You were already upset."

"And I'm not upset now?"

"Damn it, Jim. I'm sorry. This isn't my fault. I never wanted that asshole to come after me. I just didn't want you to go ballistic and do something that would make things worse. You know how you are."

Numbness fading, the anger seeping up from his bones, Jim worked with the practiced calm he used as a cop. "No, Chief, how am I?"

"You act all primal and possessive. Even before this week, if you'd thought he was moving in, you might have done something. I didn't want you to get in trouble. Face it, Jim, you're so damn impulsive. I was afraid you'd hurt him and then you'd lose your job. Your job is everything to you."

"Wrong, Chief. You're everything to me." The quiet strength of the words didn't lessen his anger, but he watched the panicked features of his partner and stood up. Stepping to the edge of the bed he stared into the frightened blue eyes fixed on his face while he reached down to take his hand. "I love you, but I swear I don't have a clue how your brain works sometimes. How could you think I'd rather not know about something that bothers you? You don't think I can control myself to do the right thing to protect you?"

"Oh, man, Jim, I'm like really sorry. I fucked up big time, I know."

"Yeah, you did. I hate it when you pull this shit."

Still gripping his hand, he watched as his guide turned his head, his bottom lip a prisoner between warring teeth. Cupping the chin, he turned his partner's head back to face him. "Listen to me, Blair. You're always complaining that I make decisions without asking you and then you turn around and don't even tell me when people are hurting you. I don't get that. Help me out here. I need to understand this."

"I don't know how to explain it."

"Try."

"In my head I know it's wrong when I do it, but it's like I can't seem to stop myself. I'm so afraid sometimes."

"Afraid? Of what? Of me?"

"No, man, never you." He reached up to hold on more tightly. "It's just that growing up, whenever things got to be too much hassle, people left and I ended up alone."

The grip around his fingers increased, the pressure pure heat sizzling away the earlier chill. He stopped himself from pulling Blair into his arms. He needed to understand and he couldn't do that if his brain turned to mush from this partner's touch. "What are you talking about, Chief? What hassles and who left?"

"You have to understand, Jim. Naomi did the best she could, but we never really stayed very long anywhere. If I complained about what somebody did, we'd leave. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she'd get me up and we didn't really have any place to go, but we'd go anyway. I hated never knowing where we'd be. Then sometimes I'd hear guys talking to her about how much easier it'd be between them if she didn't have a kid. They'd want to know why I couldn't go stay with a relative so they could get to know each other better."

"Shit, Chief."

"She only did that a couple of times. I stayed with my aunt Sadie and Grandmother a few summers. Mostly I stayed with my mom's friends when she needed some time off. She did the best she could, Jim. You have to believe that." Jim watched as Blair struggled with the words to finish, his usually graceful tongue and lips rebelling against confession. "It's just that if I wanted to stay some place or keep my mom from leaving, I needed to stay quiet about things. It's hard to change that."

The lump blocking his throat refused to go down without repeated swallows. After a few moments, Jim leaned forward, his voice a mere whisper. "Blair, what hassles are you talking about here? What did you learn to stay quiet about?"

"I can't, Jim. Don't make me talk about all that right now. It's got nothing to do with us anyway."

"It does if it keeps you from being honest with me."

"I'm tired. I can't talk about this anymore right now." Sad eyes focused on his as Blair worked hard to control his voice. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Samuels."

"I know." Using his right index finger, Jim traced the tip along the edge of his partner's taut jaw. "I love you, Blair. We still need to talk about all this, but that can wait. Don't worry about Samuels. Now that I know what's going on, I can stop his circus routine before it even gets started."

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry. Nothing illegal. You just get some sleep. And, Chief?" He caressed the side of the face he loved.

"Yeah?"

"I love you no matter what hassles come up. I hope you know that."

"I know. At least my head does. It's just hard to really believe it sometimes."

Shaking his head, a small grin broke through the seriously grim frown. "Then I guess it's up to me to convince you."

Intrigued, Blair tilted his head, his dark curls spread across the pillow like muted shadow. His blue eyes sparkled fever-free for the first time in a week while he asked, "And how do you plan to do that, man?"

"Oh, I've got a plan. In the meantime, you've got to get your ass well. I mean, a plan without props doesn't work worth shit."

"Oh, man, Jim, you're making me crazy talking like that."

"Yeah, I can see that, Chief. Stop with the puppet show under the sheets before you get us both in a lot of trouble."

Blair rubbed his face in the palm of Jim's hand as the reached under the covers to touch himself with the other. He brought both knees up and groaned as he stroked slowly, the musk of his urgent arousal smoothing across the back of Jim's throat. "Man, it's been too long."

"God, it's a good thing the monitors are gone. You either need to stop that or I need to get you a towel. Hell, keep going and I'm going to need one, too."

Closing his legs, his hand still at his crotch, Blair moaned as he rested his forehead on their joined hands. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just I get so hard when you touch me like that. I want to go home, man. I need to go home."

"Soon, Blair. Soon."

Jim leaned far enough over so he could rest his head on top of Blair's while he pulled him into an embrace, his hand rubbing up and down his partner's curved spine. "I love you, Chief. No matter where we are, no matter what happens, that never changes. Got that."

"Yeah, Jim. I think so."

"Think harder."

"Hurts."

"What hurts?"

"Thinking about us. It scares me."

The slightest shiver ran through the body in his arms, the face pressed to his chest wearing a pained expression. Nothing ever prepared him for the power rushing through him, the stormy onslaught of hunger and need consuming the very heart of protest against possession. Suddenly nothing mattered but being owned and owning, being loved and loving. Everything focused on the heart beat of the man who understood and quaked at the very essence of their unique connection.

"I know, Chief. It scares me, too."

"Jim, you're supposed to be on vacation. What are you doing here?" Simon took out his cigar, his hand on his hip, his suspicious nature twisting his features.

"Warcek in Vice called me. Wanted me to come down and check something out. You know anything about that?"

Simon nodded, rubbing the back of his head in a gesture of abject weariness. "I was afraid you'd hear about this. Come on. Walk with me down to holding."

"Why? What's going on? Warcek just said something important came up."

"Yeah, you could say that." Simon dragged Jim closer to the wall as several workers walked by in the hallway. "Jim, listen. Samuels was pulled in on a contributing charge last night. Seems vice picked him up with an underage hustler down in the zone."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. This is going to be a disaster if we don't contain it."

Jim stepped back, his amazement obvious. "Contain it? What? You mean, cover it up?"

"Come on. Let's keep moving, and before you start getting all high and mighty, keep in mind that the underage kid's been a pro for years now."

"What the hell does that matter?"

"It doesn't legally, but Samuels wants to make a deal. Says vice set up a trap."

"Did they?"

"Warcek says no, but he did mention that they'd seen Samuels sniffing after the kid several times over the last few months and finally decided to follow up on it."

"They should've picked him up right away."

"Maybe, but you know it doesn't work like that. No reason to get mad at vice for thinking of all the ramifications of arresting a powerful public figure. I guess Samuels made the mistake of doing an efficiency report on vice, too. Pissed a few more people off. It's not right, but it's the way things work and you know it."

Biting back his anger, he changed the topic. "What deal does he want to make?"

"He'll resign from the city council and move out of town if we'll drop the charges and let the kid go. Wants to go to LA and work with one of his partners down there. He doesn't want any record of this."

"I'll bet. Shit. Simon, please tell me the DA isn't considering this."

As they reached the first door to go into holding, the captain stopped. "Hell, I say do it and get rid of the trash, but it's not my decision. Since the mayor already said he'd rather take the deal than have the scandal, don't be surprised if it happens."

"Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the mayor turned out to be his long lost lover the way things are going lately."

"Oh, lord, Jim, don't joke."

"I wasn't joking." Jim stopped by the window of the second interrogation room, stunned by the boy sitting at the table. "Oh, my god."

"Yeah, well, that's what I wanted to show you. He's only fifteen, but he seems a lot older. Look familiar?"

"Shit." Staring through the glass, Jim focused on all of the features, the long curly dark hair, the shape of the ears and nose, the full lips. Despite the emaciated, underdeveloped muscles, even the compact body mirrored his partner's. "Damn it, Simon. They could be brothers."

"That's what I thought, either that or a cousin maybe. Kid's name is Aaron Goldman. I swear when Warcek first called me and I saw him, I was more than a little shaken by the resemblance. He even sounds like Sandburg, same tone and, except for the string of profanities, the same speech patterns. Damn unnerving."

Choking back the awful pain of wondering what demons formed a world that would put a boy on the streets to sell his body, he whispered. "Can I talk to him?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Jim. He looks and sounds like Blair, but he's not. Goldman's an addict with an attitude who just happens to be the spitting image of your partner. There's no need to talk to him."

"Simon, I need to. What if he is kin?"

"What if he is? Jim, this kid is a lost soul. We can't save everybody who comes through here. You know that."

Jim turned meeting the dark eyes, his own determined. "I can't believe you'd argue against even trying. What if that were Daryl in there or someone who might be related to you?"

Pausing only a moment, the words finally formed. "I guess I'd have to at least try. Just don't be too disappointed, Jim. He's not Blair. There's probably not even a connection."

"I know that, but I have to know for sure."

"I'll wait out here, but don't expect any miracles."

Jim walked through the door and sat at the table while the guard stood in the corner. "Aaron, I'm Detective Jim Ellison."

"Yeah, so? What? You here to kiss me good night or let me go?"

The sassy attitude stole away any vocal confusion between his friend and the boy in front of him. "No, I just wondered about your background like where you're from. Why don't we start with where are your parents?"

"Fuck you. You some kind of social worker?"

"No, just a curious cop."

"I hate fucking cops, though they don't seem to mind fucking me." The nasty grin twisted the familiar features into a dark caricature of his friend's. "Got to pay the overhead. Business expenses, you know."

"You making charges against any officers?"

"Do I fucking look like I'm able to do that? Who the hell are you anyway, man? What the hell do you want?"

"I asked about your parents."

"Couldn't tell ya, man. Mom's running around hooking somewhere in LA. Probably dead by now if I'm lucky. Don't have a clue about the old man. Last time he fucked me, I was six, right before they took me and put me a whole string of fucking foster homes. Want a list, man, go check the records. I lost track around twelve. Been on the streets since then. It's a hell of a lot safer than motherfucking foster care."

The bitter edge to the otherwise unemotional account of the boy's horror shocked him. He'd heard the same stories, even written them down time after time during his days in vice. Numbing himself with a carefully controlled mental distance saved him from the overwhelming chants that it could've been him on the streets. It could've been Stephan or Blair or anybody else he loved. Sitting across from a young man with ancient eyes, a walking testimony to the surplus of evil in the world, he worked hard to dial down his desire to rage against his own impotence to stop it. No words matched the power of his hatred for the people who hurt children, who kept the cycle going, who kept the evil greedy and well-fed.

"So, anything else, cop? Want the fucking family album or have you heard enough?"

Jim shook off the queasiness clenching his belly, the need to leave before he got sick growing. He struggled to keep his voice neutral, not to show any of the outrage boiling up inside. "I just wanted to ask about Councilman Samuels. Have you known him long?"

"Who? Frankie? Yeah, he drops by the corner on a regular basis. Not bad as old men go." Aaron leaned forward, his arms across the table, his voice suddenly sultry as his dark blue eyes looked up into Jim's. He ran his tongue along his lower lip, the wet flesh catching even the low light in the room. "I like older guys, detective, especially guys like you who take care of themselves, you know. You look really butch in those tight jeans, man."

Uncomfortable at the boy's advances, but refusing to be manipulated, he held his position. "And did Samuels take care of himself?"

Sitting back, looking suddenly bored and very tired, his voice came out flat. "You got a cigarette, man?"

"No. You're too young to smoke anyway."

"Yeah? Guess I'm too fucking young to suck cock, too."

Not backing away from the bold staring, Jim shook his head. "Stop trying to be such hard case."

"Well, personally I try to get it as hard as I can, man. It's easier and faster that way. Now, take your Frankie. He could only get hard if we played a little game."

"What game's that?"

"I call it the Blair game."

The whole room went still, the air cold, every breath stopped. "What?"

"Yeah, he wanted to call me Blair. Hey, for a hundred bucks a blow job, he can call me Adolf. What the hell do I care? Thing is, I have to admit a soft spot for old Frankie. He never hurt me too bad when he wanted to play rough. That's better than most old fucks."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, I know that game, too. Religious kink's an extra hundred. No real nails though."

Jim stood up and walked over to the door, his lungs aching from the strain of holding back the swell of screams building through his chest. He spoke quietly, the fake outward calm holding the words steady. "They'll probably send you over to juvenile hall a little later. Maybe you should think about a new way to make a living."

"Yeah? Who the fuck are you anyway? Want to play big Daddy gets a blowjob from baby boy Aaron? Like that's so fucking original. You think they can hold me? Don't count on it, man. I'm going to be so out of this fucking city. As soon as I can hitch the ride, man, I am like so gone. I mean, who the fuck needs all this hassle anyway?"

Jim left the room and headed down the hall to the bathroom, ignoring the concerned call from his captain. Once inside the stall, he leaned his forehead on the cool tile and rolled the skin, the smoothness tempering the drum beat breaking through his skull. In his mind he held his partner, his tears wetting his shirt, his shushing sounds a weak balm against the childhood terrors that haunted the man he loved in his sleep. Fighting back his own involuntary shudders, he prayed to God that Blair would never again be touched by the evil feeding so freely in the dark world swirling in a frenzy around them.

"Oh, man, I am like so glad to be home, Jim." Blair dropped the bag on the floor by the sofa and sagged down onto the cushions. In one fluid motion he pulled the cover off the back and curled up, huddling underneath the wool to stay warm. "Could you turn up the heat some? I'm freezing here."

"No problem." Jim reached over and turned up the thermostat a few degrees even though he knew the cold lingered from just coming inside from the winter weather. "I'm fixing some tea and hot soup and then you're going to bed."

"Tea and soup sound good."

"And bed?" Jim shrugged off his jacket and locked the door as he spoke.

"I've been sleeping for a week. I'm tired, but I'm not sleepy. I just want to hang out here for awhile, okay? I mean, I just got home."

"Yeah, and you're going to stay home, right?" Putting on the water to boil, he reached up to get two mugs and opened the refrigerator to get out the soup from Ms. Donahue's care package.

"Come on, Jim. I told you I was going to be good. I'll do what Dr. Manning said. I'll rest until next Monday, have my damn check up, and then he gets to decide whether I can go back to work or not. I know what he said. I already promised you I'd do it. Don't keep asking, all right." The words came out testy, the frustration like foamy waves on cold sand.

Standing at a distance, Jim studied the drawn and shadowy lines of his partner. "Why do you sound so pissed off? I'm just worried about you, that's all."

Blair sat up, throwing his legs back over the edge of the couch as he ran his hand back through his hair, the oily curls in need of washing. The afghan still draped his shoulders, but he pulled it tighter around his neck. "I know you are, Jim, but give me some space here, man. This whole week in the hospital's been tough on both of us. Ever since you got time off you've been hovering like crazy. I mean, I love you, man, but sometimes it's all a little overwhelming."

"Okay." The soft tissue hurt soaked the word as he emptied the jar of homemade chicken soup into the pan to heat.

"Don't be mad, Jim."

"I'm not mad."

"Sure you are."

"I'm not mad. Now, do you want to eat before or after you get a shower and shave?" Glancing over, Jim saw his partner gnawing on his lower lip before attacking the nails on the right hand. "Looks like it should be food. Stop that."

"What?"

"You've started biting your nails again and your lip's still swollen from last night."

Blair pulled his hand from his face and stared down at the raw fingers, the thumbnail ragged and bleeding at the edge. "Sorry. Damn."

"No reason to be sorry. I'm just wondering what brought it on again."

"I don't know. Stress maybe."

"Stress, huh? I'll buy that." Jim stirred the soup and cringed as Blair settled back into the corner, far too quiet too quickly. The young man stared off into the distance, his knees drawn up to his chest, his hand to his mouth again.

He put the soup and water on the warm setting and went to sit by his partner. "Blair, you want to tell me what's going on with you right now?"

"Nothing, man."

"Nothing?" He edged closer, his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, Chief, tell me. I thought you'd be happy to be home."

"I am." Blair reached up from under the blanket and took Jim's hand. "I'm sorry I'm being such a shit. I've just got a few things to work out here. I love you, but for some reason, as much as that makes me feel great, it's making me a little crazy."

Jim grinned, his voice teasing as he gently caressed the side of the unshaved cheek. "I'm used to a little crazy when it comes to you."

"I know."

More serious, Jim lifted his face, unable to let the gaze drift away again. "This is different though. What is it? Are you still afraid of this thing between us?"

"Some, but that's not it either."

"Then what?" He cupped the side of the sad face before rhythmically smoothing the hair back away from his forehead, each move a soothing and connecting gesture. Blair's stiffness lessened and he shifted to put his head against Jim's chest, one arm at his side, the other resting over his heart.

"I keep thinking it's all going to end. Now that you know how I feel, I don't think I could stand it if you said it was over. Being alone sucks, man."

"Yeah, it does, but why do you think it's going to end? Have I done anything that would ever make you think that? Haven't I said over and over again that this is forever between us?"

"Yeah."

"So, why can't you believe that?" Jim continued the slow even petting of the hair, his voice growing ever softer as he spoke.

"I don't know. I really don't. I want to, but for some reason I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and you're going to have all my stuff packed up and you're going to tell me to leave."

"That's never going to happen, Blair."

"Maybe, but I keep seeing it in my head. Every time I go to sleep I dream about being hurt and alone again. I know it's stupid, but I can't seem to get past it."

Wrapping his arms around Blair's waist, Jim closed his eyes a moment, the words and the night cries playing over in his head. "Chief, tell me about when you were younger and you said you had to learn to keep quiet."

The immediate reaction startled him as Blair pulled away and shifted to the corner of the couch. "Damn, Jim. I should never have said anything to you about that. Must have been the drugs or something. It's nothing, man. Just kid stuff. This has nothing to do with that."

Jaw set and eyes determined, Jim turned his body to face his partner. "Doesn't it? Blair, you said every time there was a hassle you lost your home. That's got to affect a person. If it happened over and over, it's no wonder you're insecure, but we have to find a way to get around those feelings. You're not a kid and I'm not some asshole boyfriend of your mom's who doesn't want to be bothered with her kid."

"Leave my mom out of this, man." The younger man's slow anger edged the words, each one deliberate and forceful.

"That's a little hard to do, but I'll try."

"Damn right, you better."

"Settle down, Chief. I'm trying to work through this, and you're not helping."

"Maybe that's because you're way off base. Stop trying to investigate all the clues of my life, man. I'm not something to be worked out, Jim. This is my problem and I'll deal with it."

"It's not just your life anymore. It's mine, too. I love you, but it seems like ever since you found that out, you've started to panic and started pushing me away. Why is that?"

"That's not true, man. I'm not pushing you away." Blair avoided meeting his eyes, his hands holding the blanket tightly around his neck.

"No? Then come here and let me hold you."

Frightened round eyes met his. "You sure?"

"Get over here, Sandburg."

"First, can we agree not to fight anymore tonight? I'm really too tired to get into all this stuff right now."

Reluctant, but aware of this partner's need for more time to sort out his own feelings, Jim nodded. "Okay. Just don't think this discussion's over."

"Hell, why would I think that, Mr. Pit Bull Detective, Mr. Badass, I have to know everything in the whole goddamn world about everything even if it's not my business."

Trying to ignore the taunt, the stab of truth behind the words, Jim just tilted his head and used his command voice. "Shut up and stop trying to piss me off, Chief. Get over here."

All anger gone, Blair eased his body back into Jim's arms. "I'm sorry, man. I don't why I said all that. I know you're just trying to help."

"I know you do, babe. We'll figure it out later. You're tired."

Arms reached around his middle, the voice meeting his ears suddenly shaky. "Babe? Jim, did you just call me babe?"

"Yeah. You hate that, right?"

"No, actually, I kind of like it, but I just wasn't expecting it. Man, this is getting weird."

"Why's that?"

"I just never expected to ever hear you call me a pet name like that."

"I call you a pet name all the time, Chief."

"Yeah, but that's different. Chief isn't like sweetie or hon or babe or anything like that."

"Sweetie? That's what your mom calls you. I couldn't use that one. I don't have a single parental feeling toward you. Protective, but definitely not parental." The closeness of their bodies increased the bulge pushing out from his crotch.

"I can tell, man." Teasingly, Blair rubbed his palm over the growing erection, his grin still wider with Jim's involuntary groan.

"Damn, Chief. You need to eat and get some rest. Stop that or I'm not going to be able to get up and feed you."

"Ms. Donahue's soup can wait, Jim." A soft chuckle tickled his ears. "And you're already up."

His guide's voice, suddenly breathy, came with urgent hands stroking up over his nipples, the fingers rolling the hardened nubs through the flannel. "I want you, man. I'd suck you, but I'm still a little wheezy. Don't want to risk it yet."

One hand slipped down and eased down the zipper. "But I want to touch you. God, I've been waiting to touch you forever, Jim."

"Yes. Please." His head pounded with the blood rushing from his brain to fill his needy cock, its throbbing as near pain as near pleasure. "God, Chief, touch me."

Sliding off the couch to his knees, he spoke, his voice deep and husky. "Raise your hips so I can get these jeans and boxer's off, man. I want flesh." Quickly, Jim found his bottom stripped bare and his lover kneeling between his thighs, his open palms smoothing the skin up to the center of all excruciating sensation, the tightening of his overexcited balls screaming to be handled.

"You're so beautiful, man. Look at this. Jesus, just perfect." A quick lick sent fiery pulses up his middle as Blair continued tongue teasing the tip as he fondled and rolled the balls, each one growing harder, swelling pressure against the skin. Easing the slick precum and layers of saliva down along the shaft, Blair wrapped his whole hand around the thickness, the pumping starting slowly, increasing the grip and releasing it, then squeezing again as he stroked.

"Oh, god, Chief." Jim's eyes stayed shut against the biting buzz swarming up through his belly, the backwash of heat a firestorm singing his flesh beneath the muscle floating up to the skin. Before he could speak again, a finger pushed into his ass, the unexpected explosion an eruption of both pain and spasm that closed off his lungs. Everything rolled inside him at once, obsidian space folding in on itself within the deepest part of his unexplored reptilian brain. Flashing light suddenly flooded into the darkness tattooing his eyelids with spikes of pleasure, pinpoints of ripping and healing. His whole belly screamed to shake and clench at the same time, confusion between being filled and captured in an unyielding grip settled into the most intense rupture of power between his legs, running all the way to the top of his skull, the bone obliterated into atomic dust. Cosmic blasts rippled his whole body, the very wrinkles of his cells filled and emptied, delivered to crisp heat.

Cool air and a smoother light returned very slowly as sound leveled and carried a familiar voice. "Jim? Oh, man? Please don't die on me here."

Swallowing hard, he worked to wake his stunned tongue and lips. "Jesus, Chief. I think...well, I don't know what I think. Unbelievable."

"But you're okay, right?"

"Hell, yeah." Jim turned his head, focusing on the worried face of his partner, a few drops of fluid from his release sparkling on his lips. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"

"Man, you zoned like so bad. I'm so stupid. I never even thought about what that must be like for you."

"Incredible, Blair. That's what it was like."

"But you stopped breathing, Jim. You scared the shit out of me."

His body still flushed and lazy, Jim reached up and pulled his lover into his arms. "I'm okay. Didn't mean to scare you."

His body finally relaxing against him, Blair's voice shook. "You could've warned me."

"Not really. It's never happened like that before."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I guarantee I'd remember something like that. I've never come like that, ever. I thought my whole body was going to explode."

"Cool."

"Very." Reaching down under the covers, down past the elastic of the sweats, he discovered his lover's flaccid cock. "Blair, I'm sorry. I didn't even think."

"It's okay. Like I said, you just scared me."

Stroking carefully, his fingers touching the smooth heated flesh, he whispered. "Let me do the same for you, babe."

Blair nuzzled his face against Jim's chest, his voice sleepy. "Later, Jim. That feels great, but I don't think I can do much right now."

Despite his persistent efforts , Jim realized the warm cock stayed limp in his hand, the silky flesh still withered. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm not hungry either. I just suddenly want to sleep. Isn't that weird? I can't keep my eyes open."

"Well, considering you just gave me an Olympic event in the orgasm department, I'm not surprised you're tired. I'm exhausted and all I did was lie here."

"Not hardly, man, well, not if groaning and screaming count." Blair snuggled in closer, his voice sounding more and more drowsy.

"I screamed?"

"Yeah, not a big one, but definitely a scream." The younger man lifted his head and stared up a him, his blue eyes so dark they looked smeared against the light. "I loved making you scream, man. Very cool."

Jim chuckled and he hugged a little tighter. "So who likes control now, huh?"

"It's not about control, man. I love you. I love making you feel good."

The stretched hurt of the tone slowed the impact of his partner's words. He took an extra moment to answer, surprised by his lover's strange reaction to the teasing. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. I just don't want you think I'm abusing my guide privileges or something."

"I didn't. In fact, you can make me scream like that anytime the urge strikes."

"Yeah? Bet Simon wouldn't like that."

"Simon can get his own guide."

"Selfish bastard."

"You bet."

"I can't believe this." Blair sat at the table, his hand to his forehead, looking at the letter in his hand.

"What?"

"This bill from the hospital, man. Fucking unbelievable."

"Let me see." Jim came up behind him and snatched the paper. "Shit, Chief. I thought you had insurance."

"I do, but that's what's not covered."

"This is over $3,000. How can that be?"

"I don't know. According to this, I have to make up the difference for any charge above what's allowed."

Jim shook his head and rubbed a hand through his hair. "Damn, Chief, I already paid them for the private room, but it never even occurred to me about the rest of this."

Blair stopped reading and looked up. "You paid for the private room?"

"Just the difference." Jim met the questioning eyes with a smile. "Call me selfish. I wanted you all to myself. Besides, it wasn't that much and it was worth every penny." Turning his attention back to the bill, he ran a finger down the list. "This, on the other hand, is bull shit. There's no way you should have to pay for any of this, not when you've already met the deductible, which you have."

"How do you know that, man?"

"Because I took care of all that, Chief, just like I'll take care of this. I'll run this down to Susan in benefits. She helps deal with insurance companies all the time.

Blair stood up and walked over to the window, one hand busy pushing back his wild hair while the other rubbed up and down his chest. "My insurance isn't through the department, Jim. It's through the university."

"I know that. I read the whole policy and I'm telling you this isn't going to fly. No way can you owe this much even if you do pay twenty percent of the medical costs, you're not supposed to have to pay any of the hospital stay as long as the doctor doesn't release you."

"How do you know all that?"

"Blair, I told you I read the policy."

"When?"

"In the hospital while you were sick. I got a copy from the university because I had to have the papers when I filled out all your admittance forms." Noticing the sudden paleness, Jim asked, "Blair, what's wrong? Don't worry about the bill. I'll take care of it."

"That's the problem, Jim."

"What?"

"This. It's like we're really together."

A sucker punch to the jaw wouldn't have surprised him any more. "What do you mean really together?"

Blair moved away from the window and settled on the couch, his body still tight, his hands nervous and rubbing his thighs. "I mean, we're like this married couple or something. You're filling out my papers and reading insurance policies, paying my bills, and, this is like really scaring me big time, Jim."

Puzzled by the panicked reaction, Jim stepped closer but didn't sit down. "You sound like this thing is all one-sided. You do a lot for me, too."

"Yeah? I've never paid any of your bills."

"No, but you've told me you love me. That's worth a hell of a lot more than money."

"Anyone can say they love you, man."

"Not and really mean it, Blair. Is that why you're so freaked out right now? You think I don't mean it when I say I love you?"

Looking up, his eyes far too shiny, Blair shook his head. "No, man, I know you mean what you say. In my head I know you don't say things you don't mean."

"Do I hear a but at the end of that statement?"

"It's just that I've heard it so many times before. You wouldn't believe how stupid I've been about wanting to hear it, to really believe it. Hell, there were times when I was a kid that I would've done anything, anything, man, to hear those words. And now that I have the chance for it to be real, I can't seem to handle it. Let's face it, Jim. I'm a little screwed up here."

The shaky words cracked the air, the solidness of standing suddenly fluid. Jim sat down next to his partner, his throat achingly resistant to saying the words. "What things did you do, Chief?"

"Doesn't matter, man. You're going to get pissed if I don't tell you and I'm fucked if I do. Either way, it doesn't change what happened."

"Look at me, Blair."

"No."

"Look at me." His voice remained soft, but insistent. His guide turned his head, his blood-shot eyes painfully red. "I won't get pissed if you don't tell me, but I will get upset if you don't at least try to tell someone."

"What do you mean someone? Who am I supposed to tell?"

"I mean, if you can't talk to me about what's going on with you, then maybe you should see a doctor about it."

Blair frowned and got up again, this time pacing as he talked. "You mean a shrink?"

"Yeah. You could talk to one at the station or ask Dr. Manning to recommend somebody. If that doesn't suit you, ask that guy David in the psychology department to help you find someone you trust."

Suddenly still, Blair leaned against the brick wall by the window, his eyes focused on Jim. "I trust you."

"Not enough, Chief. All these nightmares and panic attacks started when you found out I loved you."

"No, they didn't."

"They didn't? Then how come I'm just now seeing them?"

Wetting his lips before he spoke, Blair rocked his back against the wall, his arms keeping a tight hold around his middle. "I admit they got worse, but they didn't start with that."

"So, when did they start?"

"You remember we talked about phases I go through?"

Jim thought back to the earlier conversations about his partner's periodic vigilance against sleeping. "Yeah, I remember."

"I've been like this since I was a kid. I'd get better and then something would happen and it would begin all over. This spring when Samuels first started in, I went through that rough patch. I convinced you it was just stress about midterms and school until he laid off and things got better. Then the harassment started, and I couldn't sleep. It was like being a kid all over, people trying to hurt you, make you do things you didn't want to do. Then when I got sick and you told me you loved me, I just kind of lost it. The nightmares started again."

"How long have you been having nightmares?"

"Most of my life, off and on. Anytime I get upset about something."

"So you avoid sleeping, which just makes it worse. When you do sleep, you're so exhausted that you can't wake yourself up."

"Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"I'm not a stranger to nightmares, Chief. After Peru, well, let's just say I avoided sleep a lot, too."

"I'll bet."

"Plus in the hospital, you woke up screaming and crying even with the heavy medication. At first I thought it was the fever, but it's been just as bad since you got home."

"I'm sorry about all this, Jim."

"About all what? You can't help how you feel, Chief, but you can find out why you feel that way and how to control it."

The bouncing motion against the wall stopped and Blair shrugged. "Maybe. How did you get your nightmares to go away?"

"Time mostly. Work. Shutting down. You know how I was when you found me."

"I didn't find you, Jim. You found me."

"I don't see it that way. I was one sorry son of a bitch, Chief. I tried everything short of eating my gun. Guess if you hadn't shown up, I might even have tried that. You see, the nightmares only go away so long and then they come back."

"I know."

"So, you also know that since you've been around I don't have them very often anymore. It's kind of ironic, really."

"How's that?"

"Well, you make me feel safe and I stop acting crazy and sleep better. I tell you I love you and you go nuts. Ironic."

For the first time during the exchange, Blair grinned. "Thanks, man. You think I'm nuts?"

"Not really, but I got a smile. I love your smile, Chief."

Stepping away from the wall, more calm, the younger man settled down at the end of the sofa. "I don't know if a shrink could help much. I mean, I've talked about all this before with other psychologists and it's never changed anything."

"You can't ever change the past, just how you deal with it. You can let it hog tie you and beat you to death or you can stare it down. The past is pretty much a bully and like most bullies, it's a coward once you face it."

"So what you're saying is I can either let it keep whipping my ass or turn around and say fuck off."

"Yeah, pretty much." Reaching out, Jim took his lover's hand, the lines in the palm a map to other times he'd touched it. He ran his fingertips along the top bones and marveled at how magical a hand could be, how delicate and strong at the same time. Lifting it to his mouth, he kissed it lightly and then watched his guide watching him. "I need you to get better, Chief. I want us to be together forever. If you can't let me help you, help yourself."

"I want to." With the slightest of tugs, Jim pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around the unresisting shoulders.

"Tell me what I can do to make it better."

"Just hold me, Jim."

"No problem." Even as he said it, Jim rubbed his chin across the soft curls of the man in his arms, knowing full well that the real problems stood solid, barely scratched and monumental between them. He pushed the gnawing worry away and focused instead on the steady heartbeat calmed from the rush of panic just moments ago. "I can hold you forever, Chief."

Sitting in Dr. Manning's outer office, Jim flipped through the latest issue of COSMOPOLITAN and discovered that women came from Venus and men came from Mars. The detective decided that explained why the woman across from him jabbered in some alien language at the screeching kid in her lap.

Just as he reached for Martha Stewart's LIVING, he heard his guide's voice. "Come on, Jim. I'm done here."

"Sure." Picking up on the immediate tension, he stood up without saying anything else until they were out the door. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Let's just go home."

"Chief?"

"Later, Jim. First I have to stop at the pharmacy. Could you wait in the truck? I'll be out in a minute."

Not wanting to push any harder, Jim walked outside, pulling up the collar against the frigid wind. The snow came down faster and he made his way to the parking lot, careful to avoid the patches of ice already forming. Forecasts called for at least six inches by nightfall, a foot by morning. His sentinel senses tingled with a higher expectation. Snow didn't make headlines in Cascade, but for the first time in a long time he had permission from himself to sit back and enjoy it. Instead of traipsing to crime scenes in the harsh elements, for the next week he just wanted to catch up on some reading, watch some sports, and most of all spend quality time with his recuperating guide. Unfortunately, Blair made different plans. He worked instead of rested, stayed up all night instead coming to bed, and gave him glorious handjobs without letting Jim return the favor. Baffled and confused didn't even cover his feelings about the situation.

After about fifteen minutes of sitting in the truck, heater running, Jim glanced over as Blair climbed into the seat beside him. "Hey, Chief. What's in the bag?"

"Just some more antibiotics. Manning wants me to take another seven days worth."

"How come?"

"Yesterday's blood work said my white blood cell count is too high and I'm still coughing up some stuff. It's just a precaution. I'm fine. Really. Let's go home." Glancing around, he pulled his black knit cap down over his ears. "Think you can get us home in this stuff?"

"I think I can manage." Jim shifted gears and moved into traffic, still concerned about the man beside him. "Anything else, Chief?"

"Don't push, Jim. I asked him. He gave me a name of a psychiatrist instead of psychologist."

"Is that why you're so upset?"

Drawing a series of circles in the condensation of the window, Blair shrugged. "I'm not upset, not really. I understand his reasons."

"Which are?"

"Can't this wait until we get home?"

"It can, but I don't know why it should. I can listen while I drive."

"But maybe I don't want to talk while I'm riding." He leaned his head on the wet glass, his eyes closed, and stayed quiet.

Jim fought down the urge to curse and instead concentrated on following the traffic rules of the city despite the crazy ass drivers who pulled out in front of him without warning. By the time they'd reached the building, the skies way too dark for early afternoon, the lines for the snow-covered parking spaces could only be seen by sentinel senses. When he stopped the truck, Blair sat up without talking and got out to head upstairs. Jim followed, grabbing up the bag of pills his partner left behind, only to find the elevator already going up.

"Fine, Sandburg, be that way. Damn it. I hate when you get like this."

"Talking to yourself, Detective?"

Jim smiled and turned to see his downstairs neighbor checking him out. "Afternoon, Ms. Donahue. Snow's nice, huh?"

"Actually, I hate the snow. I mean, I know we have it every winter, but it's a damn nuisance. Hard to get around. I went yesterday to get groceries and you should've seen all the fools acting crazy snatching up bread and milk from babies. You would've thought the world was ending or some such nonsense."

"Yes ma'am."

The woman smiled, her pale grey eyes sparkling with a clarity hard to find in someone of any age. The wrinkles of her face creased the white skin and gave the same ancient appearance as the wise women of the Chopek. Her steady, clear voice carried a strength and quality that appealed to him. It reminded him of his guide's voice.

"So, how's Blair doing, Jim?" The sudden switch to first names surprised him.

"He's better, thanks. We just came from the doctor's."

"But he's not well yet, is he?"

"Why do you say that?" The ding of the returning elevator prompted him to hold the door so he could continue the conversation.

"Well, you're carrying a prescription bag for one thing. Another thing is his eyes. Blair's usually such a happy young man, though not as happy as he'd like people to think. Even so, he's got a sickness of heart right now that troubles me. Watch out for him, Jim. He needs you."

Stunned by the unusual intimacy of the words, he nodded. "I'll do that, Ms. Donahue. Are you sure you've got enough supplies in for the storm?"

"Better than you do, I'll wager. Now go catch up with your partner. It's damn cold standing out here. I can see those reporters as they dictate the headlines--little, old biddy freezes her ass off in Cascade. Damn vultures. Good day, Jim. Say hello to Blair."

Without any further talking, she headed down the hallway, keys in hand. He waited until she unlocked the door and entered the back apartment, greeting her tabby cat Tizzy with an affectionate, "Hey, baby," before he took the elevator upstairs.

Once inside the loft he found Blair staring out the window, his hands stuffed deep down into the pockets of his jeans. Locking the door behind him, he took off his jacket and cap. He saw the water already started for coffee and tea and got down the mugs, all the time monitoring his guide's unusually quiet behavior. Rubbing and blowing on his hands, he decided to let Blair set the pace. He walked over to the fireplace, started the fire, and then he sat down and waited, his hand propped on the back of the couch.

When the water boiled, he started to get up. "Wait, Jim. I'll get it."

"Okay." Settling back down on the couch, he tracked his guide's movements, the denim-wrapped legs precise as they matched the motion of the arm swings. His scent traveled like salt air on a storm night, the sweat stronger, more musky than before. The wisps of his hair caught the muted slant of winter light, weaving the browns in with the gold and red, a lush tapestry that pulled at Jim's very center. Breathing still wheezed at a low level, his lungs more clear, but not completely.

When Blair handed him the cup, he stayed silent as his partner sat beside him and put his own drink on the table. "I don't know why this is so hard. It's not like I don't trust you or love you. It's not like it's anything you've never heard before."

Steel claws grabbed at his heart, each item on the terrible list of scenarios piercing another hole in the bloody tissue. "You can tell me anything or nothing, Chief."

"First of all, I told Manning some of it and that's why he told me I should see a psychiatrist. He thinks I should think about medication. I so don't want to do that, Jim. I mean, I know I need to do something, but I've heard so many bad things about anti-depressants. I'd rather try the holistic herbs like St. John's Wort and meditation, you know, the natural things like my mom uses."

"Haven't you already tried those, Chief?"

Shoulders sagging, Blair nodded. "Yeah, I have."

"If something works, I'm all for it. If it hasn't, it might be time to try something new."

"I know. Anyway, it's not set in stone. I could still go see someone else. I don't have to take the medication. I'm not really depressed, at least not as bad as Dr. Manning seems to think."

Jim turned a little more on the couch, his leg up so he could balance. "Blair, why does he think you're depressed at all? I thought this was just a temporary panic thing."

"Yeah, well, it's all just psychological theory anyway. Nightmares, insomnia, panic attacks, nervousness, inability to focus, free-floating anxiety, fatigue. They're all just general symptoms. I mean, I did just get over a major illness."

"Jesus, Chief, listing them all down like that makes it sound pretty serious. I never even realized you were going through all that."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty good at playing it off most of the time. Had a lot of practice, but lately it's getting too hard to do that. I keep getting ambushed by all these feelings, all these images that I can't control. I'm a kid all over again and for a few minutes it's like I'm really reliving things that happened a long time ago. That's never happened to me before."

A chilly memory traced a lazy finger down his back. "Blair, are you saying you're having flashbacks?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I wasn't exactly sure that's what they were, but Dr. Manning says that's what they sound like."

"He's right."

Blair turned and tilted his head, his face confused. "How do you know that?

"I've had a few myself. I've been lucky though. They've gone away mostly since you've been here."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah, I had a few when I saw my dad again. I kept seeing Bud's body. Then again when Lila came to town, it happened. It's kind of scary when you don't know if it's then or now."

"Yeah, it is." Blair shifted closer, his hand on Jim's chest. "I'm sorry, I haven't been able to tell you what's been going on. I've just been so scared all the time. I couldn't figure out why."

"And now you know?"

Jim placed his own hand over his partner's and used the other one to draw him closer. No resistance kept him away. His head resting there, he talked quietly. "Yeah. I remembered some things I'd tried really hard to forget. Mostly I don't think about them, but then they sneak up on me. I really hate putting you through all this. All you did was tell me you love me."

"I still do, and you're the one going through it, Chief. I'm here with you, but neither of us are alone."

"It happened three different times with three different guys. I know their names and every detail of what they did, but sometimes it all bleeds together into one giant pain."

Jim held him tighter as Blair wrapped his arms around his waist. The heat of his breath blew out to warm the flannel of his shirt as the words continued, all simple but loaded with grief. "The first time I was six. His name was Jack Bailey. When I told my mom he touched me between my legs and in my butt, she got so mad. I'd never seen her that angry before, but I was just a kid, and I thought she was mad at me for letting it happen. We left so fast, I didn't even get to pack my stuff."

The sting of tears coupled with burning made it hard to breath. He stayed still, wanting Blair to finish, to tell the terror that haunted him even now.

"She took me to a local doctor, but the exam hurt worse than anything Jack did. She was crying and I was crying and I never wanted to ever go through that again. I swear, Jim, I was only six, but I remember it all so vividly, man. Every color of the man's shirt, his beard between my legs, his words saying he loved me. Why can't I just block it out?"

"Blocking things out isn't all that healthy either."

Blair snuggled in closer, drawing up his knees, as he sat between Jim's legs. "The second time I was nine and his name was Tony. He was a teenage son of my mom's boyfriend Charlie. He gave me all kinds of books and magazines to look at. We'd sit up in his bedroom and he'd tell me scary stories and hold me. It felt really good to have a friend like Tony. I thought he loved me, but he had me suck him and then he hurt me. God, Jim." Blair's whole body shook in his arms. "I thought I could do this, but I can't. I can't. It's too hard, man."

Choking, Jim struggled to swallow down he terrible lump blocking his throat as he soothed and hushed his lover. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything else. Just let me hold you."

"Make it all stop, Jim. I don't want to think about this anymore."

"Then don't. Just sleep. I'm right here. You're mine and you're safe. Just rest, Chief. I've got you."

The dark head nodded against his chest as Blair's grip increased. He kissed the spring of brown curls and found himself wishing away the world, dreaming the past could be magically erased and dissolved into windy nothings. The wet tears against his chest reminded him of the futility of longing for what could never be. He needed to pray for strength instead, a power to overcome the gaping abyss yawning too wide and too hungry for his lover's damaged soul.

Concluded in part three.

Tag -- part three

Continued from part two.

Tag

by Grey

Morning stayed dark with the muffled closeness a heavy snowfall brings to the world, the muted sounds too lazy to travel far. Jim lay spooned to Blair's back, the smaller man's rear resting like a private heater against his crotch. The slow ache of hardness and a full bladder urged him awake and back to awareness. Vague recollections of nighttime tremors solidified to clear memory as he took deeper breaths, the gradual claim to consciousness growing stronger.

The vital scent of Blair in his arms both soothed and aroused him, the rich sweaty sweetness a comfort and a boost. Curls against his throat tickled sleepy skin as the spring of each one coiled and shifted with his guide's even breathing. Licking his lips to lessen the dryness spread a desire to taste the back of the neck so close to his tongue. Very gently, he tightened his hold, easing the body closer, the crease of his lover's ass pressed right against his erect cock. God, he wanted to thrust so badly, but he forced himself to stop, to respect the sacred trust.

"Jesus, do I have another fever man, cause I am like freezing here." Blair turned over suddenly and wrapped himself in closer under the covers, his face buried tight into Jim's chest, his legs pushing in desperate to find more flesh to flesh contact. "Why's it so cold?"

For the first time since waking up, Jim focused away from Blair. "Oh, shit. The power's out."

The slightest touch traced along his nipple and then down to his cock. A whisper and chuckle danced to his ear. "Not everywhere, it's not. Your power's up and ready just fine." Before he could answer, the nibble and suck brought a hiss of delight. "Like that?"

"You know I do, babe."

Breathing labored, the slightest shove of Blair's hand put him on his back, his lover shifting upward to straddle his hips, cock to cock, balls to balls, as he lay forward. The younger man's voice, deep and husky, brought the twitches between his legs to full throttle throbs. "Morning, Jim."

Full lips pressed heat to his own, the insistent tongue snaking inside his mouth, a sudden sucking drawing his forward. Groans muffled by deep swallows, he found his arms being held down, his wrists brought up to his head. Blair's mouth nibbled and attacked the side of his jaw up to his ear, the voracious bites and teasing a string of stings. "Keep your hands behind your head, Jim. Let me please you, okay?"

Trying to find spit enough to answer took a few extra seconds. "Okay, Chief. Help yourself."

"Thanks, man. Think I'll do that."

He laced his fingers to cup the back of his own skull as he watched his partner's eager face, the intent blue eyes a major turn on. His morning beard sanded his cheek as Blair nuzzled and nipped his way to the throat, his hands roaming across the broad chest. Wide circles became smaller ones as his fingers found the targets. Surges screamed from the breasts to his groin as Blair suckled and ground his hips at the same time. Rubbing harder, his belly's pressure trapped both cock and balls, the muscles gripping and releasing, his asscheeks begging for attention. Words failed him, language an alien concept. He humped upward, his knees raised as Blair stared to slide down between his thighs. "Slow down, Jim. Make it last a little longer this time."

Divided between following orders or desires, he continued lifting his hips, the urgency to be fingered and stroked increasing, a wave of pleasure building, the release almost there. "God, please don't tease me, Chief. You know what I need. Please, babe, let me come."

One hand wrapped his cock, the perfect fist of pleasure, the rhythm timed with the first finger shoved in, soon followed by the second, each one spreading the heat up his spine to blast his skull to flash burn. His whole brain melted to the dark fire, the flow of rich sizzle that flamed his bones to cinders and his ass to white ash. Arched upward, the paralysis held him, the slam of each spasm intense in its expansion, the implosion before the next recoil exploding air to empty space, time suspended within his own flesh.

He came back to himself and to the sound of sloppy kisses. Reaching down a hand, he ran his fingers through the curls of the head bobbing in his lap. "Damn, Chief. You're going to kill me."

"I love the way you taste, man." Making a few final swipes of his tongue and a playful last squeeze to the tip, Blair shifted up to lay beside his lover. Pulling up the comforter, he settled there, his hand on the still laboring chest. The delicious humming in his body sang at the presence of the warmth beside him, the strong musk of his own semen mixed with Blair's scent heady and rich.

"God, I love you, Chief."

"I know you do."

Swallowing hard, afraid to spoil the moment, he brought Blair closer and captured his lips, the kiss brief. "Please let me show you."

"It's okay, Jim. I already know."

The slightest stiffening of the torso warned him, but he pushed harder. "I know you're scared, babe, but ever since we became lovers, you haven't let me really touch you."

"What are you talking about? You touch me all the time."

"You know what I mean, Chief." Blue eyes closed as Blair lay back against the pillow. Jim rolled over and rested his head on an upraised hand. "I understand why you're afraid, Blair, or at least I think I do, but as much as I love how you make me come, I feel guilty not giving it back."

Eyes flew open, the confusion near wildness. "Guilty? For what, man? You haven't done anything."

"I haven't sucked or licked or done almost any of the things a lover does. You've given me everything, and you haven't come once."

Shyly Blair looked away, but he took Jim's hand in his, holding it against his chest. "That's not true. I came a couple of times, while you were zoning. I'd get so high on feeling you, I'd take care of myself. It feels so good that way, man."

"You mean it feels so safe that way."

"Yeah, maybe. What's wrong with that?"

"There's nothing wrong with it, but I'd like to be able to at least give you some of the pleasure you give me. You've got no idea how good you make me feel, Chief. You call it zoning when you make me come, but it's different, it's like a whole new level of feeling good."

Sad eyes met his. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. The only thing that would make it better is if you'd let me at least try to do the same for you."

Gently teasing the fingers in his hand, Blair met his eyes. "I appreciate that, Jim. It's just that I'm not ready yet. I know I should be, but I just can't. Please don't feel guilty about it. It's me, not you."

"I know. I just don't want you to think I don't want to at least try."

Blair brought his hand to his lips and very gently kissed each fingertip. The series of electric zaps got stronger as he suckled both the pinky and then the thumb. Lingering just a moment, he lowered it and then whispered. "I know you love me, Jim. That's all that matters right now." A double beat later, he added, "That and the fact that it's starting to turn into the arctic up here. Maybe you should get dressed and go light the fireplace while I stay under the covers."

Shaking his head, Jim surrendered for the moment. "Sure, I can light the fire, but how come you get to stay all warm and cozy while to get to freeze my ass off?"

"Because it such a lovely hot ass, it'll take more than a snowstorm to freeze it."

"Good answer, Chief."

"I thought so. Now go light the fire and I might come out if you bring me my thermal underwear, my wool sweater, gloves, and sweats. Oh, and don't forget my mukluks."

"Your mukluks?"

"Yeah, Jim. Winter's not for sissies, man. I need to keep my feet warm. I mean, can you imagine my frozen toes up your gorgeous tight ass?"

"Now there's an image I've never thought of."

"Well, I'm warning you right now, man. It gets cold enough, you better watch your backside."

Laughing at the ridiculous conversation, he threw off the cover and realized that his guide might not be teasing. He grabbed his jeans and sweater and made a mad dash downstairs, Blair's talented version of the wolf whistle tingling his ears.

"That's right. If you need extra blankets or food, just come right up. Jim or I will be here.... Uh uh, okay, sure. And don't forget to tell Ms. Anderson, that we've got another radio if hers conks out....... Yeah, I know. She told me. Can you believe that?.......Uh uh, I'll tell him.

Later, Gina." Blair barely hung up the phone before starting to dial another number.

"Chief, aren't you done yet?" Jim finished moving the couch closer to the fireplace and walked over to the table.

"I just wanted to check with Michael at the university. I know they called off classes for the day, but I am like so far behind, I wanted to see if he could lend me his notes for the seminars I missed. Having an extra day to study could really help."

Shaking his head, he put his hands on his hips. "No way you're going out in this. Forget about it."

"Calm down, man. I'm not stupid enough to think that was even an option." A playful grin teased his lips as he pushed back a strand of his stubborn hair, the extra static from the cold making it even wilder. He raised a finger as he spoke, ideas to get around any and all obstacles obviously firing faster than usual. "He can email my lap top. It's got a battery backup. Cool. That'll work."

"Wrong, Chief." Jim reached over and took the cell phone out of his partner's busy hands, turned off the switch, and put it on the far counter. "Listen, I'm glad you're feeling better, but you're supposed to still be resting. Instead you've been working your ass off all morning organizing the building against cannibalism. Don't you think you've done enough?"

"Cannibalism? Jim, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, you've checked to make sure everyone's supplied through the entire winter. Nobody's going to be in danger of eating the neighbors if we get snowed in for awhile, not with Sandburg in charge."

A smile cracked his features and the young man relaxed. "Yeah, well, I worry about people."

"I know, Chief. I wasn't complaining." He reached over and wrapped his arms around his lover's shoulders, the extra body heat welcome. "I just think you've done enough for today. Come on over and sit with me in front of the fire for awhile. Let's just enjoy being together."

"I could handle that."

Holding his hand, Jim led Blair to the sofa, the younger man suddenly very quiet. As he sat down, legs spread, he covered them both with a blanket. Extra clothing buffered the contact, but not enough to stop the rush of concentrated aroma of his guide. "God, you smell so good, babe."

"But I just smell like me, man."

"I know. That's what I like." Kissing the top of his head, Jim rested his cheek and wondered at the closeness between them. Just as he started to say something else, the phone rang. "Damn."

"If it's Gina, tell her I told you hi."

"Riiight." Jim didn't move, his arms solidly occupied, his whole being resistant to ever leaving his peaceful position.

"Better get that."

"I'd rather just sit and hold you. I'm on vacation."

"Jim, come on, man." Strong fingers tickled around his middle as arms released him so he could stand up.

"Okay, okay." Reluctantly, pulling away, Jim let Blair nudge him off the couch. As he picked up the phone, he heard a familiar voice, one that told him there'd be no more cuddling for awhile.

"Jim, Simon. We've got a body."

"Captain, I'm snowed in here, no lights, no power. Plus, Blair's recuperating and I'm on vacation. Can't one of the other guys take care of it?" The slight hesitation tingled his cop sense. "Okay, Simon, who is it?"

"Aaron Goldman."

His whole body tensed, the icy chill running up both arms through his shoulders, his brain focusing immediately on an image of the boy's face and then on the word murder. "Shit. How? When?

"I don't have all the details, but they found the body in a room at the Seaside on Chelsea. Looks like an possible OD and exposure, but that's not definite. Brown's working the case, but I wanted to tell you and have you maybe go over the scene. I want to be sure that this wasn't more than that."

"I understand. It may take me some extra time to get there. I haven't dug out yet."

"Just don't bring, Sandburg."

"Hadn't planned to, sir."

"Good. He sure as hell doesn't need to see this. I can hardly stand this one myself. The resemblance is too damn uncanny."

Jim glanced over to see his partner staring at him, the round blue eyes already suspicious and unhappy. "I'll be there just as soon as I can."

As he hung up the phone, he barely turned before he heard the question. "What's going on, Jim? Please tell me Simon's not making us go out in this mess."

"Us? No way. You're staying here. I've got a dead kid I need to check out. Looks like a simple OD, but Simon wants to be sure."

Blair's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "Jim, don't you dare lie to me, man. I heard what you were saying. You know the victim. What's going on?"

Chewing on his lower lip, Jim took a deep breath before confessing. "I'm sorry. It's just this kid, well, he's the hustler that Samuels went to. He's how we got Samuels to agree to resign and leave town."

Sitting back further on the couch, Blair looked away, his stare aimed at the frozen window. "Well, I guess that explains a few things. It doesn't explain why you said we were just lucky when I asked why he quit. Why lie?"

"I didn't lie. I mean, we were lucky. Vice picked him up and we used it. I didn't really see the point of telling you all the sordid details."

"Sordid details? You mean the fact that you basically blackmailed the guy for fucking a kid instead of putting his ass in jail where it belongs?" The anger bubbled up, the energy rolling stronger as he spoke. "You let this asshole break the law, let him hurt this kid, just to get him out of our lives and then you didn't tell me? Jesus, Jim. Sometimes I don't understand you at all."

Frantically running his hand through his hair, Blair's face paled. "Oh, shit. I think I'm going to be sick." Bolting off the sofa, he barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting up his breakfast shake. The fishy stench coupled with the retching burned Jim's senses. He managed just in time to dial down enough so he didn't join in.

He moved to stand in the doorway and then kneel beside him. The low light didn't hamper his ability to see his partner's spasms as his whole body rebelled against control. Holding back the long hair with one hand, he massaged the shivering back and spoke softly. "It's okay, Chief. Get it all out." Blair leaned his head on one arm over the toilet and continued dry heaving, his gut wrenching upward time after time.

Finally, he sat back on his haunches and then shifted to sit against the wall, his knees up, his head back. "God, I feel like shit."

Getting a cool cloth, Jim handed it to him while remaining on his knees, his heart still pounding. "I'm sorry, Chief. I should've told you, but I swear I never thought you'd react like this."

"It must be the pills, man."

"You're sure?"

"No. I have to admit, the idea of using some kid like that makes me sick to my stomach."

"I should've told you when it first happened."

"You're right, you should've. This whole thing sucks, man."

"Yeah, it does." A few moments later, he asked, his voice still tight with concern. "You think you can get up and get back to the couch? I don't want to leave if you're still sick, plus it's too cold in here to stay away from the fire."

"I'm fine, man. Just give me a minute."

"Fine? Define fine, Chief. Puking your guts out while we're freezing and you just getting out of the hospital is not fine."

"Well, fuck, Jim, what the hell do you want me to say? You act like it's my fault."

Scooting over closer, Jim raised Blair's chin, the resistance only momentary. "I love you. I know this is not your fault. I'm the one who screwed up, not you. I should've told you and I'm sorry. I'm just worried about leaving you alone here."

His blood-shot eyes met Jim's and he nodded, "Sorry I went off like that, man. I'm just tired." Reaching a hand out, Jim pulled him to his feet while he added, "You don't have to worry about me. I've got an entire building of people to guard over me. Go do your job, man. I'll be here when you get back."

Unable to resist, Jim hugged him, his need to hold on to the man he loved suddenly urgent. "Promise me."

"I promise, Jim. I'll be here, safe and resting. Besides, by the time you get back from being out in this mess, you're going to need a nice hot guide to warm you up." The naughty tone relieved the tension, and awakened a whole new set of nerves.

"Got anything yet?" Simon stood to the rear of the dingy space, his eyes even darker in the dim light of the powerless tenement room.

"Give me a minute. I just got here." Pointing to one of the areas right behind the bed, he asked, "Have all the photos been taken? I want to move this out."

"Yeah. Move what you want."

Jim stepped closer and with only one hand, lifted the end and shifted it in the other direction. Despite the previous collection of evidence, he sensed the traces of truth, the bits that painted the picture of the crime. Focusing on the baseboard, his sentinels senses dialed high, he found what he needed. "Did you say Samuels has already left town?"

"According to his secretary he left two days ago. I even have the flight number."

"Double check, because the son of a bitch was here. I can smell him all over the place, but it's freshest right through here and mixed with the blood stains on the bed. Less than 12 hours, I'd say."

"You can tell all that just from the smell?" Simon stepped next to Jim as he spoke, his voice hoarse from the strain of talking with a cold. Each word traveled with the fog of heated breath meeting tough winter.

"Yeah." Turning away, disgusted by the stink of body fluids and filth, he stepped over to the window. "When Dan does the autopsy, he'll know he had sex, probably right before or right after he shot up, more likely after."

"Jim, the kid was a hustler."

"But some of the DNA will be Samuels."

"It'll be useless as evidence if it's contaminated with even one other partner."

"I know that, plus we're going to have a hard time with the window of opportunity because of the cold. The body cooled down too fast, and that works against us. It's going to be difficult to link Samuels to the time of the murder. Even so, the bastard was here."

Simon just managed to catch a sneeze with his tissue before he could speak. "You sure about this? I mean, Goldman was an addict. If the power hadn't gone out, he'd probably be waking up now. He was too stoned to know he was freezing."

"He was helpless to save himself. Hell, Simon, even if he didn't give the kid the drugs, he knew his condition and just left him here to die."

Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced away the invading images of the boy's body. The gaunt corpse haunted him, brought on an involuntary shudder that had nothing to do with the real cold chilling the room. "Jesus, Simon, he looked so much like Blair."

"I know. I try not to think about that too much. Sandburg's at your place staying warm, right?"

"Either that or down with Ms. Donahue and Tizzy. She's got the only brick fireplace in the whole building."

"Tizzy?"

"Her cat. A 12-pound tabby with an attitude like a pissed off panther. The thing is, she hisses at everybody except Blair. I can't explain it, but it's weird how kids and animals always take to him. Even the wild ones just calm right down. Rhonda's little girl Angie, brat that she is, crawled right up in his lap and stayed that way for hours."

"Well, he's sure got you tamed."

Jim wrapped his arms around his body as he smiled. "To tell the truth, I don't mind."

Simon shook his head as he stuffed his left hand deeper into his pocket while he lifted the phone to his ear. "From here it doesn't look like it would matter if it did."

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

Turning back to the serious matter at hand, Jim changed the subject. "I think we should find Samuels and bring him in for questioning."

"And if he's left town?"

"He hasn't. If he was here last night, there's no way he could've gotten a flight out and he's sure as hell not likely to take a bus. A car wouldn't have made it far in the storm. No, he's here. We just have to figure out where he's hiding."

As he spoke, Jim made a mental list of possible locations and then stopped, the sudden terror too gripping. He held his breath, fear closing off each lung. He ran for the door, shouting on the run. "Shit, Simon, what if he's gone to the loft? Blair's there alone."

"Damn it, Jim. I'll call for back up."

Racing through snowy streets, he drove with one hand and hit redial frantically with the other, but it made no difference. Blair didn't answer and he couldn't go any faster and survive. As he pulled in front of the building, he ran inside and headed straight for the stairs. Not bothering to slow down, his cheeks reddened by pure terror and the harsh wind, Jim slammed through the loft door, his gun raised and ready. "Blair!"

"We're up here, Ellison. Throw down your weapon and lock the door. Then lace your hands behind your head." The voice dropped a glacier over his heart, his worst fear realized.

"Shit."

"Do it."

Reluctantly, Jim obeyed, cursing himself for not taking time to listen for heart beats before crashing in. He knew he needed to stall for time to give Simon a chance arrive and set up outside.

"Why the hell are you doing this, Samuels? I've considered you many things, but never stupid."

"I don't give a fuck what you think. Just shut up and get up here. Walk slowly and no heroics. We haven't got much time."

Swallowing hard, his legs stiff, he headed for the stairs, each step a test in patience. "Where's Blair?"

"Oh, he's here. Don't worry. He's not hurt." As Jim came closer, the smaller man moved back, the gun held steady with both hands.

Blair lay on the bed, his eyes closed, his mouth open, his face pale and slack. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing permanent. That's not why I'm here."

"What'd you give him?" He worked hard not to growl, the anger dancing like wildfire through his muscles.

"Heroin. Enough to make him sleep through this part."

"You son of a bitch. Jesus, Samuels, at least tell me you used a clean needle, not some left over from Goldman's place."

"Shut the fuck up, detective. Don't even mention that whore's name." The venomous power behind the words curled the lips back as Samuels spoke. "Of course, I used a clean needle. Now, sit down on the side of the bed. And don't touch him. Just sit and listen."

Rage boiled his blood, all reason gobbled up by hatred, the flood turning the world to vapors. "I swear to god, if you've hurt him, I'll kill you."

"Don't be stupid and don't threaten me. Now sit down."

Jim stayed still, the tense ache in his raised arms growing stronger. He wanted to rush the bastard, but he spoke in a harsh whisper instead. "What are you planning to do?"

"I'll wake him up as soon as I'm done here. He's coming with me. Samuels stared past him, his eyes fixed on Blair, the musky scent of his desire growing stronger.

"You can't have him."

"And you can't stop me. You're going to be another statistic, Ellison, another cop too fucking depressed to survive."

"You're crazy."

A sneer replaced the unguarded lust as Samuels met his gaze. "Not as crazy as you, Ellison. Expecting back up? Don't count on it. You've been pretty much outed and nobody likes queers less than cops. Even with the snow to slow me down, I figure I've got enough time to get rid of you and still get us out of the state. Besides, no one's going to be looking for me."

"And why's that?"

"Because they'll think you killed yourself. Fag cop loses his lover. Fag cop eats his gun. With your history of erratic behavior at the loss of partners, it won't be that hard to believe."

"What the hell do you know about my partners? You don't know me."

"On the contrary. I've studied you. My father was in the military. In fact, he was a lot like you, arrogant and controlling, a real butch queer who hated it. One thing he did right though was he taught me to study the opposition, find the weakness, and go for it. Your weakness, Ellison, is that you fall for your partners. Danny Choi, Jack Pendergrast, and now Blair. You went crazy over Choi, broke the rules with plenty of witnesses. With Pendergrast, well, let's just say after your stint in vice, everybody pretty much knew you fucked more than his girlfriend."

"You don't know shit." The words scraped like new razors against his throat, the flesh sliced with a shaky hand.

"I know enough. I know when they find the body and Blair gone, they'll believe you couldn't take it."

"Never going to happen."

The sudden groan from the bed startled them both. Jim struggled to contain his anger as he sagged down on the mattress. Blair turned over on his side, away from both Samuels and Jim as he pulled his knees up, his tied hands between his legs. Small whimpers filled the room as his body slowly rocked.

"Shit. Let me at least cover him up. He's had pneumonia and it's freezing in here."

Warily, the ex-councilman nodded. "All right, but that doesn't sound like just being cold."

"It's not. He has nightmares. Giving him something so he can't wake up doesn't help." The words hissed through clenched teeth, his anger like a nest of pissed off vipers.

"Nightmares? About what?"

"What the fuck do you care?" Touching his partner's skin as he tucked in the edges of the blanket, he shook his head. "Damn it. His temperature's too low. He's going to get hypothermia if I don't get him warmed up."

The gun wavered for only a moment before it steadied again. "Don't try to fuck with me, Ellison. You can't tell that with a touch. Besides, you're going to be a hell of a lot colder than he is by the time I'm done."

Eyes narrowed to slits, too furious to even consider his own safety, Jim laughed. "Fuck you, Samuels. You don't have the balls. Sure, you can fuck a kid and let him freeze to death in the dark, but facing me like this, hell, you're a fucking coward. You want to fake my suicide? Forget about it. You want to kill me, you'll have to do it yourself. You really think Blair will have anything to do with your sorry ass if you do? Not fucking likely."

"Just shut up."

"Go ahead, Samuels. Kill me, but there's no way you're ever going to get him to love you."

Jim held both arms out to the side, his whole body exposed. The challenge met with a split second of hesitation immediately followed by a blast through his window. The confused face exploded into a thousand flecks of liquid red, lights speckled with shattered glass and bits of bony white.

Falling back against Blair's body, Jim knew only waves of crimson, the image of a blasted skull swirling into a maelstrom of dreams draped in fresh blood.

"Lie still, detective. The doctor will be with you shortly." The nurse pressed a small hand to the middle of his chest as he tried to sit up. Surprisingly it was enough to keep him from rising any further.

"Do what she says, Jim."

"Simon, I need to see Blair." As he tried again, a much darker hand grabbed his shoulder.

"I said stay put, Ellison. That's an order."

Right away Jim recognized the command tone and frowned. "Listen, Simon, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine."

The nurse chipped in before the captain could respond. "Detective Ellison, you were unresponsive for almost an hour after you arrived here. Your readings are normal now, but they certainly weren't just an hour ago. You need to wait and talk to the doctor." The soft concerned tone convinced him to reluctantly settle back against the pillow, his head pounding in mutiny against him.

"Okay, but I need to see him as soon as possible or I'm signing myself out. Simon, do something here." The slightest pause and struggle to work his tongue slowed the last word. "Please."

"Nurse, could you leave us alone for a few minutes? I need to speak to my officer."

"Just make sure he stays put and I'll go get Dr. Manning."

"You've got it." As soon as she left, Simon braced his arms on the side of the bed and shook his head. "Jesus, Jim, you scared the hell out of me, man. What the hell happened?"

"I zoned on the blood. I didn't expect it, so I didn't have time to prepare. Now, tell me about Blair."

"He's going to be all right. The doctor's had him admitted until the drug's out of his system, plus he wants to make sure this hasn't hurt his recovery. But he should be fine. He's just scared right now. Hell, who wouldn't be?"

"You spoke to him?"

"Yeah, while the doctor was in here with you. He's still groggy from the dope, still upset with himself for putting you in danger, feeling like he let you down for letting Samuels get the drop on him."

"What? Shit. I hate when he does that. It's not his fault."

"We both know that, but you know how he is. Hell, he's as bad as you are about blaming himself. But, seriously, he's going to be okay."

Closing his eyes, a brief prayer fluttered across his subconscious. "Thank god, Simon. Samuels was nuts."

For the first time in the conversation, anger tinted the words. "He's not the only one, Jim. What the hell were you thinking taunting him like that? I could hear you through the door yelling at him to go ahead and kill you. If our man hadn't been able to take him out, you could be dead right now."

"But he's dead right now and I'm not. I knew you were there and I could see the rifle's reflection in the glass. He needed a clear reason to shoot. Samuels had the gun up when he took the bullet. It'll go down as a clean shoot."

"You knew we were out there, but you didn't have time to prepare enough to stop this zone? Tell me the truth. Did you lose it in there? I can understand it, but I need to know for sure what really happened."

Taking a deep breath, eyes closed, he stretched back his memory, the thoughts thin gossamer and not fully formed. "I don't know what to tell you, not really. I was just so pissed and I knew he was a fucking coward, the kind of man that lets others do the dirty work. I couldn't imagine him actually pulling the trigger."

"But you couldn't be sure."

"No, but I did hear the slide on the rifle. It's just that knowing the shot's about to be fired isn't the same as seeing the result. It's been awhile since I've seen a man's head explode up close and never with my senses on full, Simon. Even if he did deserve it, nothing prepares you for that. Nothing.

Slowly relaxing beside the bed, Simon cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, that sounds like a good explanation, but I'm not convinced that's the whole story. You sounded so pissed, I'm not sure you were even thinking about what could happen." The larger man put his hand on Jim's shoulder, squeezing slightly as he stared down. "You've got to know that it would kill Blair if anything happened to you, especially anything that didn't have to happen."

"I know that, Simon. You don't have to worry. I don't have a death wish if that's what you're thinking."

"I sure as hell hope not. Damn, my heart couldn't take it if you really decided to take a risk."

Before Jim could answer, Dr. Manning came through the door studying his chart, his face serious. As he glanced up, he still frowned. "Well, I have to tell you, Detective, you're quite a puzzle."

"Listen, Jim, I'm going to wait outside."

"Sure, Simon." With his captain gone, Jim asked, "When can I see Blair?"

"In a little while. He's awake and relatively alert despite the shock and mild hypothermia. I've got him on monitors just to be safe and I'm increasing the antibiotics. Otherwise, he should be able to go home in the morning, providing you've got some heat in your apartment that is."

"Well, if we don't, I'll take him somewhere else."

"And that's depends on if you're out of here by then yourself."

Jim shook his head and raised a hand. "No way, doctor. Don't even think about keeping me here. Look, I know I passed out, but you have to understand. It's been rough. We're snowed in, I get called out to investigate a murder, come home to find my partner drugged, and then I see a man's head blown off right in front of me. I mean, I hate to admit it, but tough only goes so far. Even I have my limits."

Skeptical, the young man scratched his head. "Maybe, but this was for almost two hours. All your readings were way below normal, and then all of a sudden, it's like you're back as if nothing ever happened. I have to say I've never seen anything quite like it. I've been calling all over, running different databases based your charts and I can't find a thing that comes close to matching your symptoms. Mr. Sandburg mentioned the possibility of an extremely idiosyncratic allergic reaction, but I've got no idea what could've caused it."

"But I'm fine now. It was just too much all at once. Samuels is dead now and he can't hurt either of us."

"I think I should at least run some tests to rule out any serious neurological problems. According to your medical files, you've had episodes with headaches and abnormal reactions before."

"Nothing serious though. Look, I'll make a deal. If it happens again, I'll check myself in for a whole battery of tests. Right now all I want to do is get dressed and go find Blair."

Rolling a stool over to the bedside, the young physician sat down and put the chart on the table. "Well, since you're obviously okay now, I can't really hold you anyway, so I'll let you out of here as long as you agree to do that. That said, I still need to talk to you about your partner for a minute."

The sudden shift of tone set off alarm bells. "I thought you just said he'd be fine by morning."

"Physically yes. I've got every confidence he'll recover despite his recent bout of lung problems. No, that's not my biggest concern right now."

Wetting his lips, wishing he had a pause button for life, he whispered, "Okay, so what's your concern?"

"When he came to see me, you know he asked about getting a psychological consultation?"

"Yes."

"From what he said, I gather it was more your idea than his?"

"He promised to ask because he wouldn't talk to me about it."

"At least you're not denying there's a problem. That's really important, especially after what's happened today. I think it's more urgent than ever that he follow through on being evaluated."

Swallowing the truth hurt his throat, the lump almost too tight. "I agree. He's been really depressed lately. This thing with Samuels isn't going to help."

"I'm glad you're open to it, detective, because, frankly, just from what little he's told me, he's going to need a lot of support. By its very nature chronic depression is often difficult and frustrating to treat. My concern is that he's going to do his best to avoid dealing with it like he has for some time now. He'll just want to pretend that everything is all right when it obviously isn't. Just from my own dealings with your partner, I've discovered he's not always completely honest about how he's really feeling. It's good you're aware of that."

"So what you're saying is you want me to convince him to go to the doctor?"

"If anyone can persuade him, you can. I know what the books say about a patient needing to go for himself, and that's true to a certain extent, but we both know that sometimes he has to get there before he can fully realize he needs the help. Whatever it takes to do that, do it."

Jim met the serious blue eyes, the concern there both warm and chilling. "Did he say anything else to make you think it's really that urgent?"

"Nothing specific, no, but just like cops sometimes go on gut instinct, so do doctors. Your partner needs help. If that means therapy, medication, or group counseling, he needs to do it. I wouldn't be surprised if his doctor also asked you to be involved at some point in therapy yourself."

"Me? Why me?"

"His traumas affect you, too, detective. In fact, I'm sure they already have to some extent. Like you said, the tough only goes so far. You've been hurt by everything that's happened as well."

Shifting on the bed, Jim pushed back the growing need to scream and punch out a wall. Instead he spoke quietly, his voice balanced with the tired, but steady cop edge. "I'll talk to him about it when he's feeling better."

"Good. I'll go get the papers to release you. Your clothes are over there and your captain has your wallet and watch."

"Thanks, doctor. I appreciate it."

"No problem." As he picked up the chart and started to leave, he paused for just an extra moment. "Remember your promise. Anymore episodes like this one, and I want to see you in my office right away."

"Yes, sir." He saw the briefest smile and the doctor closed the door behind him.

Getting up, he started putting on his shoes just as Simon returned. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, to see my guide."

"Good, cause I've got to tell you, Jim, you're a lost cause without him."

"I won't argue that." Pulling on his right sock, he kept talking. "Look, I need another favor. I need you to see if you can get the loft cleaned up and that window replaced before tomorrow. Plus, is there any way to find out if the power's back on yet?"

"Already done, man. Power came back on an hour ago and I've got a cousin I can bribe to come out in this mess to fix the window. The clean up might be sticky though. It's still a crime scene."

"Simon, it's our home."

"Come on, you know the drill, but last time I checked we were almost finished with the crime lab. Taggert and Brown have it pretty well together and I think we can connect Samuels to the Goldman case based on Dan's work. I mean, the things pretty cut and dry, but we want to make sure our asses are covered on this. The man was a public figure and he gets blown away while holding a cop and his partner hostage after killing a male prostitute? The only reason the press isn't turning this into some kind of circus is the weather."

Finished with his shoes, sitting up straight, Jim balanced against the wall. "We have to keep that from happening. Blair doesn't need anything else right now. He's dealt with enough shit because of all this."

"I know that and I'm doing everything I can to keep the details down, but, face it, Jim, this kind of thing can start a feeding frenzy in no time. That's why I want to make damn sure there are no fuck ups on the scene."

"I appreciate everything you've done, Simon, and I know you're doing everything you can. It's just so damn frustrating."

"I know. Prejudice is an ugly son of a bitch."

Jim snorted at the irony, the whole surreal quality of his own situation. "God, Simon. It's so fucking unfair. We've never hurt anyone. Blair's the kindest man I've ever met and I've served my country and done my job as well as anybody, if not better. I mean, I work my ass off to keep people safe from this kind of shit and then all of a sudden, just because we happen to love one another, we're screwed. Everyone thinks they have a God-given right to tag us for any kind of shit they want to dish out and we're supposed to be civil and take it. Well, fuck that. I'm tired of hiding or pretending. I love him and I'm not ashamed of that."

"I know you're not. And you're right, it's not fair. Bigotry never is."

"I'll fight anyone any time I have to, I just don't understand why I should have to."

"You shouldn't. But you won't be fighting alone, Jim. Not everybody lives in the dark ages."

The soft supportive voice stayed steady and firm right beside him. Bringing his head up, he smiled, their fraternal bond even stronger. "Thanks, Simon."

"No thanks needed. Now, why don't you take yourself upstairs to room 415? There's this sleepy guy just barely able to keep his eyes open waiting to see you."

Jim stood up and headed to the door just as he heard Simon chuckle. "What?"

"As much as Sandburg might appreciate the view, I think you might want to put on your pants before you go." Blushing, he turned to grab his clothes just as his friend added, "You do have a fine ass though."

"Thanks, but with Blair hooked up to monitors, I'd better play it safe."

"Safe and Ellison in the same sentence? Save the jokes and sweet talk to cheer up your partner."

And Jim Ellison headed upstairs to do just that.

Sitting vigil in the chair at the bedside offered a sweet source of sadness. His lover slept safely, saved one more time from danger, yet he suffered in his dreams. Rarely still, the low moans and pleading cries repeated through most of the night and into the morning. Eventually exhausted and settled, the soft even breathing focused Jim's own, his heartbeat matched to his guide's. Slowly around dawn, the paleness of morning drifted past snow banks and filtered into the room through slatted blinds. The fluttering of eyelids brought him to his feet as he stood against the rail. "Morning, Chief."

"Jim?"

"Yeah. How you feeling?"

"What time is it? God, my head hurts."

"It's a little after six. Do you know why you're here?"

Blue eyes suddenly opened wider with the swell of memory, the flood too overwhelming. "Damn." Raising an arm over his face, he turned his head away, his voice choking on the words. "God, I hate this. I'm sorry, man."

"Don't do that, Chief. Don't blame yourself. This is all on Samuels." He reached over and brought down his partner's resisting arm. The bruises on each wrist hurt his own fingers, the damaged flesh a reminder of the inner darkness that threatened them both. "Look at me, Blair."

"I can't, man. I was so stupid. I was in the bathroom still feeling kind of sick, you know, and he surprised me. I don't know how he got in, but he came at me from behind and I just panicked. I couldn't breathe. Oh, Jesus, Jim, it was so much like before when I was a kid and I still couldn't stop it." Blair's whole body shook as he pulled away and turned over, his knees pulled up. "God, I can feel him holding me down. His hands touching me. Please, man, just make it stop."

Gritting his teeth, amazed he didn't snap a jawbone, he pulled the covers up. Carefully, he untangled the IV and monitor lines as he spoke quietly. "It's okay, Chief. It's over. Just relax for me. You're safe now and the son of a bitch is dead. He can't hurt you or anyone else ever again."

After a few minutes, Blair cleared his throat, his face still tensed. "I know. Simon told me. I wanted to wait for you last night, but I couldn't stay awake." Swallowing hard, Blair finally shifted and met Jim's eyes. "He told me you zoned. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, or I will be as soon as I can get you home and we can put all this shit behind us. Blair, listen to me, I know you think this is your fault, but it's not. You've got to believe that. I mean, he got me just as easily as he did you and I'm trained for this kind of thing."

Pushing the button to raise the head of the bed, the younger man waited until the motor stopped before finally talking again. "I know that in my head. I really do, but it's just hard, man." Shyly he reached out a hand and traced his fingers along Jim's knuckles. "I don't really remember what happened after he grabbed me and started telling me what he wanted to do. My brain just shut down or something when I heard the threats, felt his cock rubbing up against me. It's like somebody just put a blanket over that part of it. I don't even remember you coming in, but Simon told me he had us both. I just woke up here with Dr. Manning standing over me. You know, he's an okay guy and all, but I'm getting really tired of his face, man."

"I hear that." Jim took Blair's hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing both the palm and the inside of the bruised wrist. "We're going to be okay, Chief. You've just got to work with me here."

Tilting his head, confused, Blair whispered, "How?"

"I have to confess something."

"What?"

Still holding his hand, Jim stepped closer and pushed back the hair hanging down around his lover's pale face. Some of the curls snagged on the whiskered cheek as he brushed in easy rhythm to run his fingers over his scalp, the gentle petting motion soothing to both men. "This whole business really scared me."

"Well, yeah, it would. I mean, the guy was nuts, Jim."

"I know, but I almost lost you. Sometimes I worry I might lose you anyway."

Blair's mournful eyes met Jim's as he stopped the stroking and brought both the larger man's hands in his lap. "That's never going to happen. I love you. You've got to believe that, man."

"I know you do, and I love you, too, but, Blair, we can't go on pretending that everything's normal and okay. We've got a big problem. You're hurting and I have no idea how to help."

"I know." The small voice sounded nothing like his partner's and it scared him even more.

"Blair, promise me we'll see somebody about this."

Looking up, confused, Blair shook his head. "What? Are you saying you want us both to see somebody?"

"Therapy, counseling, whatever you want to call it, I'll go. I know you think I'm probably pretty invincible, but I'm not. To be honest, I don't know how to handle not knowing what to do. It's scary to feel helpless."

"I know that feeling."

"Then you'll go with me?"

"Sure. But, Jim, don't think you're fooling me here." Blair glanced up, his eyes suddenly clear. "I know what you're up to. And I appreciate it."

Jim leaned over, one hand against the back of the bed above Blair's head, the other caressing his cheek. "You think you've got my number, huh? You think I'm doing this to trick you into getting help?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"You're wrong. I'm being honest. I need help with this, too. The sad part is that it took almost losing you to make me see that. I want us both to be okay. Whatever it takes to get there, I'm ready to do."

"God, I love you, Jim." The passion carried words like fire fanned with dry wind. Lips captured Blair's as his tongue probed to sample morning flavors, the smooth satin pleasure shooting all the way to his groin in a matter of heart beats. Pulling back, talking only inches from this lover's face, he whispered. "You taste like a new morning, Chief."

"I'll bet. Come on, man. I've got morning breath."

"I know, and a great morning it is, too. I love how you taste any time of the day, babe. Now, why don't you lie back for a little while longer and when Dr. Manning gets here, we'll get your ass out of this place."

"Works for me. Will we be able to go home though? What about the crime scene deal?"

"Simon took care of it. Came by around three this morning and told me they were done with it. We may have to camp out downstairs until I can get the upstairs cleaned up though."

"Oh, yeah." The smile turned to a frown as he looked out the window. "God, Jim, it all seems like a dream. What have the newspapers said about it?"

"Don't know and don't care. I'm not giving any interviews and neither are you. Simon said the Chief of Police and the mayor both called and urged him to contain as much as he could. Hell, nobody wants this in the news, not us and not his family. It's a mess, but if we can keep the details away from the press, it'll save a lot of hassle. Nobody needs this shit."

"And if we can't? If they find out about us, they'll make us stop being partners, and your career would be screwed up big time."

"Don't worry about that. I'm not hiding our relationship. As for breaking us up on the job, I'll fight that, too."

"But how? It's policy."

"It helps to have the best arrest record in the state, Chief. Don't sweat the details. We'll handle it together."

A smile curled his lips as Blair relaxed. "We will, huh?"

"Yeah, Chief, we will."

"I like the sound of that, man."

"Want me to sing it?"

A little snort barked from the bed. "Oh, man, don't get carried away. I'm sick enough already."

"Funny, Sandburg."

Laugher tickled his ears and he swam on the music of his lover's sweet breathing.

"Wow, man, Ms. Donahue is really something. I mean, look at this place."

"She is and I'm looking." Jim scanned the loft and shook his head, noting most of the usual cleaning smells absent. He could still smell the blood, but for the most part he couldn't see it. It would take awhile for all the invasive odors to fade enough to avoid sentinel inspection. Even so, at least Blair didn't have to deal with it.

"It's amazing. She and the other people in the building came in and cleaned up the place. It's great, man. I have to admit, I was so not looking forward to having to do that."

"I know." Jim picked up the lid of one of the casseroles on the counter and counted five other dishes, not to mention the two chocolate cakes, a plate of brownies, a vegetable platter, and a fruit basket. "I don't think we're going to have to cook for a few days either."

"Yeah, cool, huh. We've got some great neighbors, Jim. I really love this place, especially now that the heat's on." He hugged his body and pulled the cover over himself anyway.

"You still cold?"

"Yeah, a little, but it's a lot better. Dr. Manning said I probably would be, off and on, for a few days." Pulling his knees up and under the covers, he leaned sideways as he stared over at Jim. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and spoke softly. "It's just so good to be home."

"Yeah, it is, Chief." His partner's rounded blue eyes watched him the whole time he put the food away. Walking around the loft, Jim lit candles and turned down the lights, putting on one of Blair's favorite CD's with natural jungle sounds in the background. Checking the fire place, he turned and saw once again the intent gaze. "What?"

"Come sit down, Jim. Hold me."

Jim quickly stepped closer and sat down, pulling Blair over to his chest. Settling in together, his arms wrapped around the smaller man, they embraced beneath the wool blanket, the dark red shadowed in the firelight and candles. Blair's scent drifted upward, the richness of it expanding his lungs as he breathed deeper. "God, I love holding you, Blair. It's like we're at the center of the world when we're together like this."

"Yeah, it does. You know I never thought I'd ever find anyone to make me feel like that. Now, I can't imagine living without you. Strange, huh."

"I feel the same way, Chief. Do you think it's the sentinel/guide thing? I mean, is it because we've got some kind of special link other people never get a shot at?"

"God, I hope not. I mean, I'd hate to think that anything this good couldn't be for other people, too. That would be like really sad."

Jim squeezed tighter as Blair's forehead rubbed against his chest, his heated sweat and oil even more potent than his earlier scent. "You smell so good."

A soft chuckle vibrated his skin. "I used to think hearing and sight were your strongest senses, but I swear you just love to smell stuff."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Nope, it's very primal. And arousing. Your little sniffs are quite a turn on, especially when you do that little deep growly thing down in your throat."

"Deep growly thing?"

"Yeah, you know, that little sound you make when you're starting to get turned on. It sort of rumbles your whole chest. Very hot." An exploring hand teased across to his left nipple and circled before moving to the right one.

Reaching under the covers, Jim took the hand and halted its progress. "Chief, stop for a minute."

"What?" Blair glanced up, his eyes dilated and hungry. "You don't want to do anything?"

"Blair, we need to just take it slow, okay? You've just gotten out of the hospital."

"So? I'm fine now." Lowering his head, Blair pushed away the covers and stretched out, his head on Jim's leg as he looked up. "I know what you're thinking, man, and you're wrong."

"You a mind reader now, Chief?"

"No, but it doesn't take a psychic to figure out you think I'm a headcase because of Samuels. And maybe, there's a little truth to that, but that doesn't mean I don't want you. I do. Let me show you how much." He ran his open hand up Jim's belly, the heat from the touch flaming his crotch to an immediate heat. His cock stirred as the younger man sat up enough so that he could work the zipper down, the eager erection straining the cloth.

"Jesus, babe, slow down a minute."

A husky voice whispered as the hot hand released him. "Come on, Jim. I know you want me. It's not like you can hide it." A naughty hand wrapped around him, his crown already weeping. "Nope, no doubt about it, man. You want me." Dipping down, he licked the tip a few times before sucking harder.

"Oh, shit." His head fell back, his brain totally useless as Blair swallowed and gulped while rolling his balls in a steady rhythm in time with his oral attack. Hips pumping up helped drive him deeper into an inviting steamy heat before his guide's controlling hands held him down, forcing him to stay too still. "Let me move, babe, please."

The warmth left his lap as Blair shifted to the floor. Quickly he stripped off his jeans and boxers, his hands smoothing down the spread thighs, the trembling turning to begging shudders. "Easy, Jim. Be still. Everything's going to be cool, man. Just relax."

"Relax?" He laughed, the strain of not grabbing Blair and fucking his brains out almost too much. "You really are crazy, Chief. Relaxing is not the verb I had in mind here."

"No kidding? Really?"

Smiling wickedly, Blair locked gazes with Jim as he continued to massage the inside of his legs, each muscle twinging from his touch. Slowly he wet his lips and then returned them to action, their suction pure power driving up his backbone. The unexpected brush of whiskers against tender tissue enflamed him more, the mix of suction and nuzzling working his breathing into quick pants, his heart pounding thunder through his ears. The heady musk rose to coat his his mind, his own scent entwined with Blair's. Light flickers and shadows filtered through brown curls, the dark chestnut magic to his hungry eyes. Strong hands shoved his legs further apart and then pushed between him and the couch. Lifting and kneading his cheeks while still sucking along the length, brought on sudden contractions. Every muscle in his abdomen clenched as his backside tightened. Near pain, but not quite, he growled louder while the rising tension coiled inside him, every squeeze and lick a delicious tremor, a taut stretch of tissue on the verge of ripping, shredding to tatters. Flame swelled up inside, rolling down his spine to his middle and swinging out into swirling nothing, he broke free, the uncontrolled thrusting up beyond any restraining power. Nothing and no one could hold him as he spilled out, each clutch of release a weapon of pleasure, the blast filling and complete until the next hit, every body slam stronger than the last. Bright white faded to blue to green to blackness behind his lids, the heartbeats riding lightning into the darkness after the flash.

The sweet scent of his guide's breath played across his nostrils as he finally opened his eyes. Words failed him as he saw the deepest teal blue staring at him, the round eyes soft and sad at the same time.

"You okay, Jim? You were out longer than usual this time. Hope I didn't hurt you, man."

"Hurt me? No, hurt wouldn't describe it, Chief. Not even close." He took a deep breath and realized that he'd been rearranged on the couch, his body stretched out with Blair half on and half off, supported by the back. "Thank you." He pulled him closer under the covers and they lay there quietly for a few more minutes before his guide finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have done that."

Pulling him closer, Jim whispered, his voice still hoarse from holding back full screams. "Shouldn't have done what? I hope you're not sorry you just gave me a wonderful welcome home present."

"No, I'm not sorry you enjoyed it, but I should've waited, I guess."

The hesitation stalled the words, but Jim just held on. "What's wrong, Chief? What's going on in that brain of yours? You've got to tell me, because, frankly, I don't think all the blood's made it back to my head yet."

A small grin curled his lover's lips. "Yeah, it was pretty intense. I liked it, but I need to stop doing this until I get this thing figured out."

"You're losing me here, Chief."

"It's hard to explain, but it's like I'm finally understanding why I'm doing it, that is, beyond the obvious reasons that you're like really great and I love you and I love the way you taste and I want to make you happy and ..."

"Settle down, Blair. You're rambling. Take a deep breath and tell me what you're understanding."

Doing just that, the young man's voice still trembled as he fought to control his words. "I'm thinking it's a control thing, like you said before. I have to control the whole experience because I'm afraid that if I don't, something bad, something I can't control, might happen."

"You think I might hurt you?"

"No, not you, but with these flashbacks, they've been getting worse, man. I don't want to risk being in the middle of you making love to me and having it suddenly be someone so not you inside me." Dropping his head against his chest, his voice weakened further, the words barely connected to the air. "I want to be with you, Jim, but it scares me too much."

"I'm so sorry, Chief." Both hands embraced his guide's body, the combined heat a fire to keep away the past, the gibbering monsters ready to shatter all protections.

"Just hold me, Jim. That's all I need right now."

"I'm yours forever, babe. You know that."

"I do know that."

The subtle shifting nestled Blair more firmly as Jim stared out past the firelight, the snow still falling beyond the glass. "We'll get through this together, Chief. You've got to believe me. You're the strongest man I've ever met and I'm the most stubborn. No way we can lose this thing."

"Well, the most stubborn part's right, but I'm not so sure about me being the strongest. I mean, sometimes I do feel pretty strong, but mostly I feel like I'm getting my ass whipped by things I can't even see coming at me." His voice drifted a little, the weariness weighing down the words. "I'm just really tired, Jim. The dreams won't leave me alone."

"They will when you deal with them, and you will eventually. It's just going to take time."

"Nightmares suck, man. Every time I close my eyes, I get ambushed, but it helps when you're there beside me. I can tell a difference. I guess even in my sleep, I know you're there to help protect me."

"Asleep or awake, doesn't matter. I'm there."

Curling in closer, Blair raised a leg up to rest across Jim's thighs. He rested his head on Jim's shoulder as his sleepy voice barely moved the words. "I want to sleep down here tonight if that's all right, Jim. It's too soon to go upstairs. That's where he took me to give me the shot."

"You remember that part?"

"Yeah, actually I remember a lot more now than I did this morning. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay." Muscles relaxed against him, Blair's body near sleep. "Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Good night. I love you."

"Me, too, man. Night."

The wind howled a wild lullaby to Jim's ear as he imagined himself in Chopek paint, guarding the man in his arms. Evil spirits circled just beyond the fire, the chants and threats as real as the goodness within the light. Drawing on powerful forces renewed him, alerted him to his own energy to resist the ancient hauntings that threatened their union.

Snuggling down closer, he closed his eyes, fully aware of every nuance of his lover's body. He freed his mind to running, his focus on the trail to the temple suddenly clear. The rumble of meaning mated with the panther's snarl thrilled him, revved his warrior's muscles to readiness, the battles just beyond the green tangle of forest limbs.

Turning he saw the young man beside him, his blue eyes wide open and alert. A few steps later his guide held out his hand to lead him to the ancient steps, the sentinel's one path to meaning and truth, sentinel and shaman joined forever, the jungle chorus growling approval.

The End

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