Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Due to length, this story has been split into two parts.

Author's homepage: http://internetdump.com/users/angiet

About Love - part one
by Jack Reuben Darcy

Blair was tired. Exhausted. Washed out. Drained. Lack-lustre. Fatigued. Weary to his very bones.

Each step he climbed towards the loft, he worked to find another word, another means of describing just how he felt. It was about the only thing he had left to him to prevent himself from collapsing to his knees and sleeping where he was.

Worn out. Consumed. Emptied.

Yeah. That part in particular.

He didn't need to be a sentinel to smell it on himself. Thank god Jim was away until tomorrow.

But then, that had been the plan, hadn't it? To wait until Jim was literally out of the way before he finally went ahead and did what he'd been wanting to do for a long time?

And how long had it been? Some time in the last year? Maybe. Perhaps even longer. Perhaps even his whole life, now that he thought about it. But there had always been so many other things going on, so many distractions that it just got pushed aside in the gale that always surrounded him. Blown away, tumbled around, bruised and dusty. Now it had been tossed back at his feet, needing - no, requiring - he attend to it. Yeah, maybe a long time indeed.

Of course, he hadn't been so foolish as to bring Dave back to the loft. No way. Who was to know if Jim would be back without warning. If a Guide couldn't have respect for his Sentinel's senses, who could?

No. He'd been sensible. He'd gone to Dave's place. But now it was late and all he wanted was a shower and bed. To sleep this time.

Finally reaching his door, he fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He felt a little odd, to be honest. Strange. Slightly out of himself. A lot like the day he'd first slept with a girl - as though he'd changed irrevocably with that one act. Of course, he hadn't - at least, not in any way that people would notice. So was this the same? This first night? The first time he'd gone to bed with a man?

God, he'd been so scared at first. He and Dave had gone out a few times over the last weeks. Drinks at first, then Dave had cooked him dinner at his apartment. Dave was a lawyer, smart, well-read, wonderful body, genuine deep brown gaze in eyes Blair thought he might be able to drown in.

Dave hadn't ever hidden the fact that he found Blair attractive, that their meetings were in fact, dates. He'd said it out straight, that first time. And for the first time in his life, Blair had accepted such an invitation, knowing full well where it all might lead, but knowing that, if it turned out he was wrong, if he really didn't want to do it, he could always back out.

Tonight was the third time they'd been out this week. And every night this week, their evenings had ended with them on Dave's couch, wrapped around each other, kissing and getting very hot and bothered.

The whole time, every moment he spent in Dave's company, Blair had felt like he was riding high on some kind of kite, skimming the wind, feeling it in his hair. From the beginning he'd kept expecting that at some moment, he would come crashing down to the ground and discover that his little experiment in male/male sex was a big mistake, that once he actually touched another man, found another man's hands on him, he would recoil, repulsed.

But the kite had kept flying and Blair along with it. Each time with Dave, Blair had come closer to wanting more, taking more, gaining more confidence, gradually pushing against a barrier that he only half-acknowledged. Until tonight when he'd realised that they were already half naked and he didn't want to get dressed and just go home, that his raging hardness was so much more than simple curiosity and had an answer merely inches from him.

And so he'd said yes to Dave and they'd lost themselves in pleasure. Dave had pressured him a little, but in the end, not taken anything he hadn't been ready to give - and Blair was grateful for that. There were indeed a lot of things he wasn't ready to do - but Dave had enjoyed what he could give - at least, four hours in bed seemed to suggest he might.

A silly grin splashed across Blair's face as he pushed the key into the door. The loft was dark inside and he squinted at his watch. Four am. Jesus! Good thing he didn't have to work tomorrow. Give him time to clean up and wash his clothes before Jim returned from his conference.

He tossed his keys into the basket, shrugged off his jacket and hung it up. No need to drop anything he'd have to pick up again tomorrow.

Hey, maybe he was learning how to be neat?

Not bothering with lights, Blair felt his way to the bathroom and stopped at the shadow he saw in the mirror. Happy with shadows, he simply looked at the face he'd worn all his life, looking for those little differences only he could see, the passage of the night's activities. The slightly swollen lips, the dull glazed eyes born of hours of sex, hair messed with urgent fingers tangled within it… oops - shirt on inside out!

He grinned at himself and shook his head. Never done that before! Still, first time for everything.

Yeah, first time. But would he? Would he let Dave…

Sure, he'd known Dave had wanted it - had said so. But this was the first time Blair had even got naked with a man. He wasn't so damned curious that he couldn't at least take a little time with this, enjoy it, make sure he wanted to take that last, all-permanent step. Especially when he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. At least, not yet. He was not unhappy with what he'd done - but there were enough lingering doubts to encourage some caution.

No, he'd been right to wait. Tonight had given him plenty to think about. Besides, Dave was away tomorrow for the next three weeks. Flying to New York for a big deal he was working on. Gave Blair plenty of time to miss him and decide what he could give Dave as a welcome home present - at least, that's what Dave had said as Blair had left him.

Good god, he'd slept with a man! He'd actually done it - and although it hadn't been everything he'd hoped for, it had been enough to show himself that he would enjoy it. Perhaps when Dave came back he would be ready for more. Perhaps that remaining hesitation inside him would be gone, that niggling doubt that had stuck with him all the while he'd been with Dave. It had annoyed him a little - but not enough to stop him, to take him out of Dave's bed - so maybe it didn't have so much to do with the male thing as the Dave thing.

But god, he was tired!

With a contented sigh, he turned and trudged into his bedroom to collect his robe. Of course, the best thing about Jim not being back until tomorrow night was that he wouldn't see the completely shagged look on Blair's face. By then it would have worn off enough not to elicit some uncomfortable questions.

Not that Blair really wanted to hide anything from Jim. After all, the man was his best friend. But Jim was terribly straight and although not apparently homophobic, Blair wanted to find the right moment to tell him - should he decide he wanted to continue seeing Dave - or any other men for that matter.

Dave hadn't promised him anything. This wasn't the Great Love Affair of his life, he knew that - well, he assumed it, since he and love didn't exactly know each other too well. At least, he didn't feel any of the addiction for Dave he expected there to be if he was in love. So far, all he'd really felt was a burning physical desire and he was smart enough to know that couldn't replace love, wasn't all there was to love. As for anything else, well, he simply didn't know enough to say. Sure, they enjoyed each other's company and seemed to go well together in bed, but for all Blair knew, Dave might have forgotten all about him in three weeks. Truth was, Blair - at this moment - wasn't at all sure what he wanted from Dave, wasn't even sure he wanted to see Dave again.

He switched on his bedroom light and cast about for his robe, not sure where he'd last left it. Maybe he wasn't learning to be neat after all. Oh well, couldn't risk giving Jim that satisfaction, could he?

The thought made him giggle. Exhaustion was playing with his mind and silly little things kept him from his task - like wondering what Jim would say if Blair just came out and said, "Hey, Jim, screwed a great looking guy last night. Wanna hear all the details?"

That made him laugh outright. Imagining the shocked expression on Jim's face as he worked against reality, trying to see Blair-hump-a-table-leg-Sandburg in bed with anything that wasn't 100% female.

Boy, would that be a great way to finally break the no-sex-in-the-loft rule!

Shaking his head, Blair began to whistle as he tossed clothes around looking for his bathrobe. After a while, he'd forgotten why he was looking for it. After all, Jim wasn't here so he didn't need to do the whole modesty thing, did he? Nope. Shower and bed, Blair, in that order. Now.

Still smiling, he turned and headed back out into the kitchen to get a drink. All that sex had given him a thirst and one small beer would put him to sleep like a baby. He pulled the fridge door open, grabbed a bottle and planted it on the bench. He opened it, kicked the fridge door shut and headed towards the bathroom.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Sandburg!"

Blair froze mid-sip. For long seconds he stood like that, unable to move, to turn and face the source of that deafening bellow.

"Well? Answer me!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Blair could see a shape standing at the top of the stairs and, forgetting everything else, Blair turned and looked up at one very pissed-off Sentinel dressed only in a pair of boxers.

God, the man was gorgeous! Pity he was straight.

"Sandburg! Have you gone deaf? What the hell are you doing crashing around in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Uh, sorry, Jim, I didn't think you'd be home until tomorrow. Er, what are you doing home?" In the semi-darkness, he could have sworn he saw Jim frown. Unthinking, he took a step forwards, hoping nothing was wrong. "Jim? You okay?"

His suspicions were horribly confirmed the next moment as Jim's head tilted to one side - then suddenly the big man was storming down the stairs and right up to Blair. His expression was thunderous.

"Sandburg? What the fuck have you been… Shit! I don't believe this!"

For a second - a very brief second, Blair didn't have a clue what Jim was talking about. But then, like Niagra, he fell over the precipice and into some very icy water. All his good mood rushed out of him in a whoosh of air. Instinctively, he backed away, some vague hope that the further he kept from Jim, the less of Dave Jim would smell on him.

Vague - but vain hope. It was already too late.

Jim reached out and grabbed his arm, fingers gripping him with vice-like strength. "Where have you been?"

"Uh, Jim, man, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were… uh…"

"Where?" Jim leaned closer, took in a brief sniff then abruptly let go as though Blair were something repulsive. "Or should I say, with who?"

"Look, Jim…"

"Answer me!" Jim bellowed again.

This time however, Blair didn't have the energy for apologies and escape. Jim knew already - so why bother lying. Honesty was the best policy. He took in a deep breath and held tightly to his beer bottle. "His name's Dave…"

And that was as far as honesty got him.

"Dave?" Jim sneered. "And where did you pick him up? Christ, Sandburg, I knew you slept around - but this? With a guy? Or have you been hiding this from me all along?"

"No…"

"Like you expect me to believe that - with the lies you tell on a daily basis." Jim took another step closer, his eyes flaring with fury. "I thought we had some trust going here. But no, you have to wait until I'm out of town before you bring your… your…" he paused, making the next word into a dirty one, "boyfriend in here."

Blair blinked in surprise - and shock and horror and a lot of other words he could have found if he had the time - which he didn't. One of the others he would have chosen, if he'd bothered, was anger. Yes, he was angry. Suddenly, completely and furiously. Jim had no right to question his honesty. He'd never lied - not like that - and most certainly not to Jim.

Slamming his beer down onto the bench, Blair took a step forward, knowing the scent on his body would drive itself into Jim's senses. "I did not bring him here! But what if I had, eh? You're always telling me this is my home, too! What's wrong, Jim? Hate the thought of men sleeping together? Or hate the idea that I might have a life outside of you?"

"A life?" Jim snapped back. "Call that a life? Getting it off with men? Yeah, right! More like none of your ladies could manage it tonight. I know you, Sandburg. Doesn't make any difference to you where or how you get it - just that you do!"

"How dare you!" Blair took his turn at bellowing and god, it felt good. "What I do and who I sleep with are none of your business, Ellison! I don't vet who you share your bed with. You don't get a say in who I sleep with. Christ, Jim, we're not married! We're just partners, remember? Work? Sentinel? Guide? God, who the hell do you think you are?"

Jim's jaw clenched so tight Blair was worried he'd start breaking teeth. "The man who owns this loft, that's who. And I'm not about to put up with you bringing a string of men…"

"Fucking hell, Ellison! Who said anything about a string? What do you take me for? God, you must really think I'm a slut if you think…"

"What, are you going to tell me this… Dave is the love of your life?"

Blair raised his arms in sheer frustration, "It's none of your goddamn business, Jim! Just get the fuck out of my personal life!"

"And you can get the fuck out of my loft!"

With a gasp, Blair stepped back, his mouth open and not working for a second. His stomach lurched, his eyes going wide. "What?"

"You heard me," Jim snapped, his voice gritted with determination. "Get out. Pack up. Go find yourself somewhere else to live. I've put up with this shit for long enough." His eyes spitting fury, Jim shook his head and turned. "You have twelve hours, Sandburg. Leave your keys."

With that, he stormed back upstairs leaving Blair stunned and immobile. Like a zombie, he wandered into the bathroom for that promised shower. But for long minutes he couldn't bring himself to do anything but stand there and count the seconds. Hoping, praying, that Jim would return and shout something through the door, something that had anything to do with him taking it back.

Leave?

Leave Jim?

But Jim stayed silent and, getting cold now, Blair turned the water on, stripped off his clothes and washed himself without giving it a single thought. Every one he had left was centred on the man upstairs. The man he would never see again.

Jim woke with a shattering headache. For minutes on end, he simply laid in bed, his eyes squeezed tight against the glare from the skylight, hoping it might just go away. He hated morning headaches. They stuck with him all day, refusing to shift no matter how many painkillers he took.

This one was proving the rule rather than the exception. With a groan, he rolled over and sat on the side of the bed, opening his eyes gingerly to glance at the clock. Midday. At least he'd caught up on some sleep. Probably had too much if the headache was anything to go by.

He brought both hands up to rub over his face and then, because he knew he'd have to do it some time, he extended his hearing down through the loft, seeking out the heartbeat he'd thought he'd known so well.

Nothing. Blair wasn't in the loft. But where was he?

Jim got to his feet, pulled on some sweatpants and lumped down the stairs, heading for kitchen and coffee. He had the water on, his cup out and was on the way to the bathroom before he noticed anything. That's when he came to a stop.

Slowly he looked around, frowning for a second. Had the place been broken into while he'd slept? Why were so many things missing? But what, exactly? The TV stood where it usually did, the stereo sat untouched. What idiot broke into a loft to steal if he only took stuff people didn't notice.

But Jim had noticed - even if he couldn't put a finger on exactly what had been taken. He began to swear something about how even cop's places got done over these days when something else occurred to him. In one swift movement, he strode to the door of Blair's bedroom and came to a halt.

There was the bed, as it had always been. And the bookcase. The desk.

But everything else was gone.

Everything.

Gone.

Including Blair.

"Oh, fuck!"

Jim sank against the wall, shaking his head. The movement sent a shiver of pain from his right temple down to his jaw, making him wince.

Blair had gone. Not just out for the day, or in to work or something completely innocent. No. Somehow, some time since their fight at four am, Blair had packed up everything he owned and moved the whole lot out - and Jim hadn't heard a thing.

He'd given Blair twelve hours. Seemed Blair hadn't needed that long.

Well, damn him, and good riddance.

Gritting his teeth, Jim stormed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He stripped off and let the water soothe his body, encouraged it to work at his headache. The water was long cold before he gave up and got out.

The coffee was ready and he poured himself a cup, taking it to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat. For long minutes, he just listened. To the silence. To the emptiness. To the peace. To the silence.

After an hour, he'd had plenty. His coffee was cold, his rear numb and his senses were threatening a complete shutdown because the damned pounding in his head wasn't going away. He tossed the coffee out and instead drank three large glasses of water. Blair had once told him that most headaches were caused by dehydration.

A few seconds later, he began to believe. A few more minutes and he was swearing at his absent partner. Shortly after that, he dressed and headed out to the gym.

Blair laid on his hard floor and gazed up at the ceiling. He desperately needed sleep but, after two hours lying here, it still avoided him. He could hear Sally out in the kitchen, trying to be quiet so he could get some rest. He wanted to yell out that she shouldn't bother - but then she'd just come in and ask if he wanted to talk some more. And he did. And he also wanted to cry. And shout. And pull things apart. And throw some stuff that was very breakable. Preferably against something that was the opposite.

So he didn't call her and kept all his possessions in tact. At least for the moment.

If he'd thought his body was wasted last night, today was even worse. It hadn't taken him that long to pack all his stuff - but lugging it downstairs and into the Volvo had really taken it out of him. Especially when he kept bumping into things, not looking where he was going. Distracted. Yeah. Distracted by the most ridiculous thing he could imagine.

Jim had thrown him out. Not just out of the loft, but out of his life. And why? Because Blair had admitted to sleeping with a guy.

Unwillingly, he let out a sob and curled up with his face buried into a pillow. His guts felt like they were full of lead, his head was spinning with exhaustion, his body racked with aches and pains and he couldn't even fall into the blissful peace of sleep.

In that moment, a thread of hate ran through him.

How could Jim do that? After three years together? After everything? Was that what friendship was about? One wrong move and you're out? He'd thought they'd got past all that stuff.

But this was different. This wasn't about something that Blair had done. It was about something that Blair was. Something that wasn't going to change. Something that Jim couldn't stand being around.

Sure, it was okay to support gay rights from a distance - but the moment you found it in your own home, you just have to get rid of it, pretend it doesn't exist, pretend your best, closest, best friend of your whole life, your damned guide, damn it, your Shaman, your spiritual guide, your damned fucking friend - just isn't worth the effort any more because he suddenly and inexplicably goes out and spends a night in bed with a guy.

Yeah, fuck!

Blair shut his eyes and pulled the pillow to cover his face completely, hoping that he might suffocate himself enough to pass out. Was about the only way he could stop the hot tears from falling down to wet the linen.

He'd never felt so damned miserable in his whole life.

Jim wandered about. All day, in fact. Like he'd lost something. Of course, he knew he had - but he continued wandering largely because he found the feeling completely weird. So weird that he just had to know it all, from beginning to end, from inside to out. He got home from the gym, showered, changed, tried watching TV for a while, tried doing some housework, tried doing some shopping, working out something to have for dinner. Eventually, dispirited - but knowing he couldn't avoid it - he went down to the station, all the while hating himself that he didn't have enough of a life on his own to do anything else.

Couldn't stay at the loft any longer. It still smelt too heavily of Blair - and scent of Blair reminded him of what else he's smelt last night.

Not what, who.

Blair? With a man?

And he'd reeked with it, too. It hadn't just been a casual pull or anything relatively innocent like that. No, it had been full on, hours' long sex. And Blair had enjoyed it so much that he'd come home with a happily just-shagged look on his face, whistling, those blue eyes glittering with his recent memories and his shirt inside out.

Surprised to see Jim back early. Not planning to see him. Not planning to tell him. Hiding from Jim such an important thing in his life.

Jim sat at his desk for hours, pretending to look up some files. Fortunately, Simon wasn’t around or he'd have asked what was wrong - or worse still, where was the kid.

"I kicked him out, Simon. Please, go ahead and revoke his status. He won't show his face around here again. Why? Well, because he's… because I… because he's… he was…"

Oh, fuck!

Jim planted his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands.

Three years.

Three years.

One day.

Twelve hours.

Just twelve hours without Blair nearby and already the pain was excruciating. His skin felt like it was overstretched across his bones, threatening to split and leak his flesh out into the air. His eyes had steel casings around them, clunking every time he blinked. Everything he ate and drank tasted bitter and foul no matter how much sugar he put into it. Words spoken, simple noises of the day clattered in his head, like a Chinese opera only much louder and way less musical.

And there was a lump of something bubbling in the depths of his stomach; not physical and yet insisting that it was. A need no amount of exercise had extinguished.

He had to get Blair back.

The worst part of it was, he had no idea where Blair had gone. Couldn’t go after him and apologize, grovel, get down on his hands and knees and beg forgiveness for being an Everest-rated, card-carrying idiot.

But… maybe he knew where Blair might go tomorrow. Monday. Tomorrow Blair would be at work and then Jim could see him.

Suddenly he sat up, switched his computer off and headed out without a word to anyone. He got home in record time and proceeded to clean the loft from top to bottom, paying particular attention to Blair's room. It was squeaky clean and ready for the kid to return by the time he collapsed into bed, exhausted but buoyed by some small shred of hope.

Only when the lights were out did his hope turn to despair. Blair would never forgive him. Not for last night.

But he had to try. He just had to. Because he knew after a day of weird wandering - he really didn't have a life without his guide. Nor did he want one.

Blair was juggling books as he turned into the corridor. Struggling to keep them piled as he fished for his office keys, he didn't notice the figure waiting for him at first. But then he stopped, his gaze rising slowly until it encompassed the entire solid figure of Jim Ellison, leaning against the wall outside his door, waiting with the patience of the pyramids - and built of the same stuff.

Yeah, Jim was probably about the very last person Blair had expected to see standing there waiting for him. As their gazes met, Jim came away from the wall and held his hands out ready to help with the books. Blair was too stunned to stop him, too thrown by the sudden tumbling in his stomach. Instead, feeling a little like he'd stepped from one episode of The Twilight Zone into another without an accompanying script to follow the plot, he unlocked his door and moved into his office.

"Where do you want these?" Jim asked, standing in the doorway as though he was expecting Blair to make a run for it.

"Uh, just dump them anywhere you can find space." Blair was nervous and he knew Jim knew he was nervous but that didn't stop him from trying to hide it. He stepped back as Jim came up to his desk and placed the books carefully on top of a pile of other stuff. Then Jim moved back to the door, closing it carefully. Blair couldn't look at him, his heart racing, unwilling to get into another shouting match and yet, stupidly unwilling to let Jim go. "Look, what do you want, man? I have a class in ten minutes." It was a lie - but Jim wasn't to know that.

"Yeah, I guessed as much." Jim murmured, glancing around the room. "Didn't realise you were so busy on Mondays. I've been standing out there for a couple of hours. Didn't want to disturb you."

"Well?" Blair was swinging wildly between wanting to slap Jim's face and bursting into tears. He didn't like his odds at avoiding either.

Jim's roving gaze came to a halt on the floor at his feet. He shuffled them a bit, shot a glance at Blair then down again. "Look, I just came to talk. I promise, I won't shout."

"To talk?"

"No, not really. I mean, yes, but really what I wanted to do was apologize."

Blair blinked in surprise. Something really stupid lifted itself off Blair's heart and he wanted to jump up and down - but he instantly clamped down on the urge. He wasn't that silly. Not yet, at least. "For what?"

"For yelling. For jumping to the wrong conclusions. For invading your privacy. For…"

"Yeah?"

"For kicking you out. I'm sorry, Chief. I mean that." Jim's gaze met his again, full of sincerity, genuine regret - and something else Blair couldn't name right then and there.

But Blair wasn't about to let go so easily. Not when he could still feel that pit of black pain sitting in his belly. This wasn't exactly some faint disagreement they'd had. This difference was fundamental and required something more than a simple apology. "So?"

"So…What?"

"So why did you?"

A grimace flashed across Jim's face and was gone. "I don't know. I left the conference a day early because it was too damned noisy for me. I got home to an untidy loft and went to sleep annoyed. Then I woke up angry with the noise you were making. And then I got the… scent of him on you and hell, Chief, I was surprised, alright?"

"No, it's not alright!" Blair snapped, letting his anger get the better of him. Yes, he needed Jim to see how angry he was, how hurt. Really needed that. "I don't go around surprising you with stuff so you can throw me out of a place I've lived in for almost three years. If nothing else, you should have called to tell me you were going to be home early."

"I know, I know. I'm not saying it was justified. I'm just trying to explain… well, okay, I can't explain it. But…"

"But what?" Blair stood with his backside against his desk, his arms folded, giving Jim every opportunity to read his body language however he wanted to.

"But I am sorry and… I wish you'd come back."

Blair caught in a breath and held it. Jim wasn't telling him to come back, wasn't even asking - no, he was virtually pleading. "Why?"

"Hell, Blair, I'm sorry, okay? Really sorry. I couldn't be sorrier. I behaved like an asshole and you have every right to be angry and never speak to me again - but I did mean it when I said the loft was your home too. I promise I'll never kick you out again. Hell, I'll even sign a legal document to that effect. Please, Chief, come home."

Blair stared at him, at the hunched shoulders, the dejected cast to the pale blue eyes. Yeah, Jim was sorry. Jim really wanted him to come back. What was really good about that small point was that Blair really wanted to go back, too. But only if Jim wanted him. Jim did - and Blair did and those two simple facts bent seriously towards unwinding some of the terrible anger wrapped around his guts.

Suppressing a sigh, Blair glanced away. Truth was, he'd never expected Jim to throw him out in the first place - but this apology, this plea for him to return was both so like Jim and so not. And that thought almost made him laugh because Jim had thrown him out because he'd revealed something to date held secret - and now Blair was ready to return because Jim had done the same. So typical of them both, really. A little give, a little take, the odd explosion, the inevitable reconciliation. All part of their friendship, all part of the real way it was. All part of what made them the close friends they were.

"Chief?"

Something gentle inside Blair melted with that quiet plea and without realizing it, he found himself nodding. "Okay, okay. Yeah, I'm angry - and we'll talk about this more later - but I do have to go now."

"Uh, sure. But will you come back?"

"On one condition."

"Sure."

Blair turned back to him and stood up straight, allowing something like steel to enter his voice - and making sure Jim heard it. Sentinel or no, Jim, like most men, had been guilty of selective deafness on occasion. "You go to Sally's place, collect my stuff and move it back yourself - before I get home. She's there all day, studying."

Jim's beaming smile nearly made him falter. "Okay. I know where Sally lives. How long have I got?"

Blair glanced at his watch, "Three hours. Better be quick."

Before he could say another word, Jim was out the door and gone. Blair stared at the empty space for a moment, not really having to leave at all.

God, why had he agreed to go back? He must really be an idiot - especially when they hadn't really resolved anything of why it had happened in the first place. Then again, perhaps Jim wanting him back meant that it didn't need to be resolved in order for him to live at the loft.

Actually, that was exactly what it meant - and Blair allowed himself to relax a little. Then a little more. Slowly, the hurt of the last two days shifted into the background and he sat down to fill the next three hours before he could safely return to the loft. He even allowed himself a small bet that Jim not only would move all his stuff - but would unpack and clean everything in sight in an attempt to make it up to Blair.

Well, that would be good - but it wouldn't stop Blair from getting some answers tonight - and if Jim thought it would, he would have another thing coming.

In the end, it was three and a half hours before Blair finally drove up Prospect. He parked, got out and paused, glancing up to windows he could barely see. Standing there, he couldn't stop the replay of Saturday night, couldn't halt the memory of the shock, the horror of Jim kicking him out. Couldn't avoid the wash of pain that sank right to his boots.

And why? They'd had fights before - bad ones. Days on end when they hadn't been able to say a single word to each other. So why did this feel so different? So… weird.

Perhaps because he hadn't expected it to hurt so much. Sure, he'd known Jim would be surprised - yes, even shocked by the sudden turn in his sex life - but to be thrown out like that? To be… dismissed?

No, it wasn't like Jim at all. Not where Blair was concerned. Time and again over the years, Blair had watched Jim put his own life on the line to protect him. No, when Jim was bothered by something, he went silent first, then grumpy and - if Blair was really lucky - then would come the yelling. But not this time.

And then, the apology. Again, so unlike Jim. Really, really weird, this whole thing.

So, why had he been so ready, so quick to agree to come back? Okay, it wasn't exactly comfortable sleeping on the floor of Sally's spare room - but he'd survived worse. Okay, so he was a beggarly graduate student with barely enough pennies to pay for his gas each week - but that didn't mean he couldn't find somewhere almost decent to live. Without Jim.

So why?

Because he didn't want to live anywhere else. Plain and simple. Jim meant too much to him. Was too important to his life - not just his dissertation, his work.

He'd thought Jim had felt the same - until Saturday night.

"Hey, Chief?"

The voice called from above and Blair glanced up. Jim was half hanging out the window, a smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"You coming up?"

"Yeah, sure." Blair said nothing else. There was something about this whole thing that had him wired. Something that made him feel very unsettled, the way he used to balance his coffee mug on the curved arm of his old sofa. Sat it there, daring it to either fall on the floor or onto his lap. Disaster either way.

Yeah, really, really weird.

But he didn't muck about. He stuck his courage between his teeth and made his way upstairs. The door was open and Jim was in the kitchen cooking. Blair glanced at him and wandered into his room.

Yep, all unpacked. And cleaned. Spotless. Still didn't look like he lived there. This was Blair Jim-style. Neat, tidy, organized. Too neat, too tidy, too organized. With a sly grin, he closed the bedroom door behind him and spent all of three minutes deliberately pulling stuff out and spreading it around until once more the place had the feel of him to it. The real Blair - rather than the expressway packaged variety.

Satisfied, he went back into the kitchen and noted that Jim completely failed to comment on what he'd just done. Of course the sentinel knew - how could he not?

"Beer?" Jim asked, chopping up carrots.

"Yeah. Want one?"

"After all that work? Sure."

Blair got them beers and deliberately left the kitchen. It was getting too hard not to stare at Jim, too hard to keep that mug on the arm of the sofa. He wanted answers - but he wasn't sure if he was quite ready for them. He wandered towards the balcony. The doors were open, allowing soft autumn air to drift into the room. He was half-way through his beer before Jim joined him.

"Nice night."

"Yeah," Blair replied, sneaking a look at his friend. Jim still looked weird - the way a kid does the day before Christmas. Like he had something really good happening the next day and knew all he had to do was wait. Not having any kind of clue what he was going on about, Blair turned his gaze back to the view. "So?"

Jim shot him a glance that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he leaned his arms on the railing and held his beer with both hands. "So."

Silence stretched between them for so long, Blair was wondering if he was really expected, after all this, to wheedle Jim into talking - the way he usually did. But then Jim surprised him again.

"I unpacked."

"I noticed."

"I'm sorry."

"So you said."

"I guess you want to know why."

"Sure I do."

"Yeah, well…" Jim took in a deep breath and let it out noisily. "Look, Chief, I guess, yeah I was tired and angry and you made what you know is a lot of noise for me in the middle of the night. I mean, I knew it was you and everything - but the moment I woke up I noticed this unfamiliar scent and it got right into my defences. I must have dialled it up because it became overwhelming and then… then I saw you and you… I started shouting and you shouted back and… all I could… smell… was this… guy… Shit, Chief, I am sorry."

Despite his wariness, Blair could see Jim meant that in all sincerity. He really was horribly sorry for what he'd done. What rankled with Blair was not the apology - but the pitiful excuse for an excuse. His anger switched back on - though he kept it simmering nicely. "And that's it?"

"Pretty much." Jim wouldn't look at him. Instead, Blair just got to watch this square-cut profile, jaw clenched normal-fashion, eyes firmly fixed in the distance, massive powerful body seemingly at rest - but ready to spring should the need arise.

Jim was lying.

Deliberately, Blair chose his words to shatter that lie. "I thought we had some trust going here."

Jim flinched.

"I thought you just said you were sorry."

Jim closed his eyes.

"I thought you'd tell me the truth."

Jim dropped his head and left it there, shaking it from side to side. His voice, when he spoke was soft, husky and not at all confident. "I am. I am sorry."

"But?"

"But…"

"Damn it, Jim," Blair snapped. "You can damn well go and pack my stuff up again if you don't give me a real answer in the next thirty seconds!"

"Christ, Blair," Jim groaned, taking a swallow of beer. "Okay, okay, so maybe that isn't all there is to it - but it is a lot of it. You did catch me unawares. I was surprised and yeah, I was shocked."

"And?"

"And… perhaps I was just edging a zone from the scent." Jim frowned, dropping his voice again as though he was telling himself as much as Blair. "Perhaps I was a bit blown away that you'd been with a guy. I mean, I had no idea. You'd never said anything."

"That was my first time." Blair replied, softly.

Jim glanced up at that, his blue eyes filled with wonder. It only lasted a second before he turned away again. "And well… perhaps I was also… jealous."

"What?" Blair sucked in a breath, frozen to his place with an almighty wallop of surprise. Jealous? Jim? Jim Ellison? Jealous? "Of what?"

But Jim said nothing else. At least, not using real words. Instead, he straightened up and turned to look at Blair, his gaze awesome and full of something Blair had never seen before, something he wanted to explore and investigate fully, drown himself in and come out the other side a changed man.

His heart was racing, his mouth dry but he knew he had to say something. Anything. Words, that's what he needed right now. But the ones that tumbled inside his head did nothing but crash against each other, conforming to nothing anybody would recognize as a sentence. His mouth opened in encouragement - but before he could really force the issue and make his brain operate, the phone rang.

Jim's gaze flickered away inside - returned to Blair - then back again. Without a word, he dashed inside, leaving Blair almost staggering with his absence. He heard Jim speaking but again the words had no meaning for him. Then Jim was coming back.

"I'm sorry, Chief."

"What for?" Blair turned slowly, not sure he wanted to continue any of this.

Jim just shook his head, "That was Simon. I have to go. Dinner's in the oven. Don't wait up for me. It'll probably be an all-nighter."

Blair just nodded, unable to say what he wanted - largely because he didn't have a clue what that was right now.

"We… can talk again tomorrow, right?" Jim was hovering, obviously wanting an escape but unready to risk anything. "I mean, if you want to?"

"Sure, Jim. You go. I've got work to do anyway."

Jim's smile was tentative. "Right. I'll go then. See you tomorrow."

And then he was gone and Blair felt all the air had been sucked from the room.

The morning sun streaked across the road, glittering through fall-coloured leaves as Jim turned the truck towards home. Chances were Blair had already left for work and despite his promises to himself, Jim was glad. He was too tired to do the kind of mental gymnastics a curiosity-roused Blair would force him to perform right now. Too tired and too damned scared.

So he'd admitted it. The jealousy thing. He'd actually come right out and said it to Blair's face. So what was Blair thinking now? Wishing he'd never done any of it? Wishing he'd stayed at Sally's? Or was he perhaps thinking that Jim might… well, that he might… with Jim… and…

Oh, who was he trying to kid? Just because Blair had slept with a guy (one guy, once, first time!) didn't mean he would even begin to think of Jim like that. Did it? Would it? Was it possible?

And what if Blair was into some really heavy relationship with this Dave?

He got into the loft already knowing Blair's heartbeat was absent. He meant to go straight to bed but instead, he drifted into Blair's room and picked up a pillow from the bed. Laughing to himself, he pressed his face into it and took a full lung of air, devouring the scent he needed so badly. Part of his life now. Part of him. Without it, he wasn't Jim Ellison any more. He was just some schmuck who didn't know love when he saw it.

Not that he'd really been aware until the other night. And, if truth be told, he was a little horrified with himself that it had taken something so terrible for him to see it. But love it was. Odd, weird, unexpected - but love nonetheless.

Odd, weird, unexpected that he'd fall in love with his male partner.

Not that he had a clue what to do about it. After all, Blair was the talker, not Jim. He tried hard - but it really wasn't in his makeup to sit and chat casually about feelings that had shattered him to his core, were bound up in the very fabric of his existence, that could destroy him in a moment if he was careless.

He put the pillow back down and went upstairs to bed. He removed his clothes carefully, just like he always did, putting them in their right place, affecting a normalcy he didn't really feel. Then he buried himself under the covers and closed his eyes.

Only then did it really start to take him. The strangeness. The wild images that flashed across his eyes. The dreaming of a realm of possibilities which, until three nights ago, he'd never really considered.

God, what was he thinking? He was an old man compared to Blair. And Blair was so damned… beautiful. Those dark blue eyes, that hair a man could lose himself in. The compact but glorious body Jim had only glimpsed. The mind that could split oak at four hundred yards. A voice that had the ability to warm the insides of Jim's darkest places - and did so frequently.

Yeah, the whole delicious, energetic, haphazard package, inside and out - and Jim wanted it all. Every last drop. All his - with a kind of proprietorial hunger he suspected only sentinels could feel for their guides.

Of course, it was odd that after all these years he should find himself wanting someone who was not female. And yes, the idea did scare him a little - why wouldn't it? But all his life attraction - and yes, love - had never really been about what he could see - even with sentinel senses. It had always been about something else, something much deeper and infinitely more permanent. So Blair was a man, and with that came problems of its own and he would have to learn to deal with them as they came along. A little research wouldn't go astray - especially while he worked out what he was going to do about it all. But what a prize waited for him if he dared to take that chance. Being with Blair so far had given him a life with windows on parts of the world he'd never even known existed. He'd learned so much about himself, gained control of his senses and experienced so much richness it sometimes took his breath away. Blair had shown him how to fill his life - rather than just live it. To contemplate an eternity of that was a heady thought.

But would Blair want him? Did Blair even find him attractive? Would Blair be even remotely interested?

An involuntary groan hushed into the silence and Jim rolled over onto his side, for a moment, imagining Blair was there in bed with him. What would he feel like, to hold? Close? Jim's fingers could almost touch the smooth skin, ached to do so. And what would his guide taste like? What would it feel like to press his lips to that face, that wanting mouth. How would it sound to hear Blair's moans of pleasure as Jim made love to him?

Yeah, Jim was scared to the bone. Probably more scared than he'd ever been before except when he'd feared for Blair's life. But this was a nice kind of scared. The kind he could live with - at least for now. God only knew when he'd fallen in love with his guide but the truth was, he didn't care. Love felt too good to waste. It filled him, kept him company, gave him a focus. He'd not had too much love in his life, and he didn't have Blair's education and everything - but he did know love when he saw it, felt it. Jim loved Blair body, heart and soul. And even if Blair decided he didn't want Jim, at least Jim would have tried. An honest rejection was better than a life lived without love.

Yeah, he could handle this. What was really weird was how much he wanted to.

It was a good thing Blair had a full day of classes - because anything less would have left him drifting somewhere in zombie land. It had always amazed him, the power simple suggestion had over the subconscious.

His office was a mess as usual. He dumped his pack by the desk and sank into the chair, pushing stray strands of hair back from his face. Damn that man. Why did he have to go and make it all complicated? What was with this jealousy thing?

And what were the chances of him finding out more?

Knowing Jim, very, very small.

Going by Jim's usual standards, he'd feel he'd already explained plenty and therefore wouldn't want to bring the subject up again. No, Jim would make like everything was back to normal; the night he'd thrown Blair out would be consigned to history, no word of it spoken again.

And damned if Blair would let him.

But -

Did he really want to know? The truth, that is. Did Blair really want to understand what he'd seen in Jim's eyes?

A look that had been wholly different to the one Dave had given him. Or anybody else for that matter. So what were the differences between them? Apart from looks?

Dave had openly expressed his desire to take Blair to bed. Sure, there had been something like desire in Jim's eyes - but no way was it the same. What kind of jealousy was it?

He stopped and closed his eyes, leaning back as far as his creaking chair would allow.

Did he want Jim to be jealous of Dave? Because if he did, that meant he was… that he was attracted to Jim. So was he? Attracted?

Jim was his best friend. His sentinel. For the last three years, his life had revolved around the man and Blair regretted none of it. Especially given the friendship that had developed. Okay, that much is certain. But what else was he?

Tall, very good looking, piercing blue eyes, a smile that would melt steel, a soul that could capture a flighty butterfly…

Whoa - wait a minute. Soul? What was going on here? Wasn't this supposed to be about attraction? About sex?

Wasn't it?

He'd turned down the Borneo job because he'd believed it was about friendship. That had been about as far as he'd ever been able to go in understanding his feelings for his partner. And then again, Jim had a point about the fact that Blair had never mentioned his growing interest in men. He hadn't - and why not? Why not discuss something so profound as a re-orientation of his desire? With his best friend. Had he really just been afraid Jim wouldn't react well? Or -

Or had he accepted Dave's offer because he was afraid that he might indeed discuss it with Jim - in very great detail. More detail than he believed Jim was prepared for.

Again his thoughts flashed back to Saturday night and the moment Jim had appeared on the top of the steps. What had been his first thought? About how gorgeous Jim was and what a pity it was that he was straight?

Groaning with disbelief, Blair shook his head, not stopping other memories from drifting past his eyes. The hundreds of times Jim had touched him casually, the unconscious desire he always felt to gain one of those touches, the need in him to have them, the loss of them when they were apart. And more; the way Jim spoke to him, the way they were together, comfortable, companions, working on a wavelength nobody around them really understood - but recognized as something nobody else could join in with. In so many ways, he and Jim were more of a couple than most people who were married.

Yeah, he was attracted to Jim - big time. Had been from the moment they'd met. And maybe his recent adventure with Dave had been his subconscious telling him to find something to fill the need. Okay, okay he could work with that.

Problem was - what had Jim really meant about being jealous? Was that something Blair was really ready for?

Without warning, his skin tingled as his imagination ran riot, providing an image of Jim naked and wrapped around him, firm muscles and hard flesh, heat between them, driving desire -

He sat bolt upright with a gasp. Christ! Where had that come from? He glanced down to his crotch and wished he hadn't. Adjusting the uncomfortable bulk a little, he began collecting stuff ready to take home.

He had more than a few questions but sitting around here wasn't going to answer them. But either way, he still wasn't sure he was ready to start asking. After all, with Dave it was an easy thing. They had no prior relationship and it really wouldn't be that terrible if they didn't see each other again, if it all fell apart.

Jim however, was the centre of his life. If they tried - and it didn't work - they'd lose everything. And having tasted exactly that as he'd tried to sleep on Sally's floor, Blair was certain that under no circumstances did he want to risk that happening again. Ever.

Jim was cursing under his breath as he left the station late. He'd only been supposed to go in and finish off paperwork after last night's bust - but something else had come up and then something else and the next thing he knew it was nine pm. When Simon had suggested they get in some food and finish working - Jim had cursed. Simon had tried to ask but Jim simply wouldn't play. He needed to get home to Blair and he needed to do it now.

So he headed for home, stopping only long enough to pick up some Chinese. There was only one light on when he opened the door quietly. Blair was home - he could hear that heartbeat without any problem - but the place was very quiet. Gingerly he set down the bags, put his keys in the tray and hung up his jacket. Steadying himself, he went to Blair's door - but the room was empty. Turning swiftly, he caught sight of a curly head on one end of the couch.

Moving closer, Jim caught in his breath at the beautiful vision before him. Blair was curled up into a ball, his head on a cushion, eyes closed, breathing steadily. Asleep. Jim crept near, holding his breath for fear of waking his guide. He came around the back of the couch and leaned over, gently inhaling the scent that filled his senses, allowing his eyes to drift over the still form, the perfect face, the compact body, normally so energetic, now so peaceful. If Jim could have had anything he wanted in that moment, it would have been to gather the man up in his arms and let him sleep on.

Absently, his hand reached out and touched a loose curl, brushing it over his fingertips, dialling his touch up to imprint as much on his memory as possible. What would he do if Blair didn't want him? Would he be able to give the man up? Able to watch him find another man to fill his life with? Was he really strong enough to let go of something he loved so much?

Blair stirred a little and Jim flinched back, standing quickly. The last thing he could afford was for Blair to get the wrong idea, to think that Jim just wanted no more than a tumble in the sack. He needed Blair to know that he wanted the whole thing - life, partnership, love, sex, togetherness. The works. But in order to get that, he had to go very slowly and carefully - or he would scare Blair. He'd known that last night with the look in Blair's eyes as he'd admitted jealousy. Blair was afraid. Jim wasn't sure of what yet - but he could respect that fear, could find a way to make it disappear.

So he left Blair sleeping and headed for the kitchen. He got the food out, making a little noise as he did so. All the while he kept an ear out for his guide, sensing the change in breathing patterns, the gentle drift towards waking. By then he had a tray ready and brought it back to the couch. He set it down on the coffee table and looked up just as Blair opened huge blue eyes. They took Jim's breath away.

"Hey, Jim."

"Hey, Chief," Jim smiled and was relieved to have one sent back to him. "Hungry?"

"Food?" Blair frowned a little and sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. "Sorry, man, must have drifted off. What time is it?"

"Nearly ten. Sorry I'm so late. Simon had stuff he wanted me to do. So, you wanna beer?"

"Uh, no thanks," Blair shook his head in disgust. "Would just send me straight back to sleep."

"But you're tired. You should sleep."

Blair's gaze caught his, wary but captivating. "I will. Later. Right now, I'm starved. I was going to cook but I just wanted to lie down for a minute and well… you know what happened."

"Here." Jim handed him a plate and fork then sat down with his own opposite. "You coming into the station tomorrow?"

"Sure. Any particular reason why?"

"No. But I could use your help with the case I'm working on." As he'd expected, Blair sat up a little more, his eyes brightening a little and began asking questions Jim was happy to answer.

By the time the food was finished, Jim had filled him in on the case and Blair was already drifting again, obviously in need of more sleep. Jim cleaned up, washing the plates and stacking them in the rack. Blair followed him into the kitchen and picked up a towel. A vaguely uneasy silence grew between them. Jim was finding it hard to concentrate on what he was doing with Blair so close. Not only that, but Blair hadn't once asked him about last night - and that wasn't like him at all. He'd always believed that Blair's curiosity couldn't be abated by anything other than the whole truth - and nothing but.

"Jim?" Blair put away the last plate as Jim finished wiping the bench down.

"Yes?"

Blair's bottom lip pouted a little, the way it usually did when he was thinking carefully. Jim could only wait.

"Are you… I mean…"

"Spit it out, Chief," Jim replied softly, prepared to go with whatever made Blair comfortable.

Blair responded to his tone and looked up, puppy dog eyes melting everything hard inside Jim. "Are you being nice to me because you think I'll move out again?"

Jim smiled a little, "Am I being nice?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. It was really my turn to cook tonight."

"And the Chinese could easily have ended up in the bin."

"So… you're not worried I'll move out?"

Jim shrugged and took the dishtowel from Blair's fingers, their skin touching for a brief second. "I don't ever want you to move out, Chief. And if being nice to you is one way to prevent it, expect some more of it. Unless you don't like me being nice?"

Blair frowned again - then brushed it away with a tentative smile, "No, sure, that's okay. It's just that…"

"What?" God, usually it was Blair trying to get him to talk!

"Well, I'm not going anywhere."

Jim tried to maintain his calm façade but a little of his relief came though in his smile. "Okay."

Blair shrugged, looking away. "I just wanted you to know. You know, in case you were wondering."

"Thanks." Again the silence stretched and Jim knew he would have to end it. He reached out and put a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Look, Chief, we're both pretty whacked. Why don't you get into bed and get some sleep? We've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Sure." Blair turned back, his eyes searching Jim's, his shoulder feeling good and solid beneath Jim's touch. Blair lifted his face and for a moment, Jim was seized by an almost overwhelming desire to lean down and take those lips in a soft kiss. But he controlled himself, squeezed Blair's shoulder and let go.

"Goodnight, Chief."

"'Night, Jim."

Alone in his bed, Jim listened to the sound of Blair getting ready for bed, listened to the heartbeat, the shift of things in the room downstairs - and felt more comfortable than he had in a long time.

"Chief, get down!"

Blair sank to the ground behind the truck and tried to keep track of where Jim was in the chaos. The investigation had led them nowhere all day until a tip-off had brought them to this supermarket on the other side of town. As they'd pulled up, Jim's senses had gone off the scale and he'd called in backup immediately. The killer he'd been stalking all week must have heard the call and now held two hostages behind a car in the alley.

Before the required backup had even arrived, shots were being fired. Jim had advanced and Blair had gone to follow him when a bullet had landed in the side of the truck. Blair had ducked even before Jim's shout reached him.

Hell, why was there never any Kevlar around when he wanted it?

His heart pounding, he crept along the ground until he could see around the back of the truck. The carpark was half-full, giving Jim too little cover as he approached the alley. Two uniformed units had arrived and blocked off any escape route and he knew Simon was only minutes away. Still, Blair was terrified. He always hated it when Jim determined to do this kind of thing on his own.

"What can you see?" He called to his partner. Jim was crouched down behind a blue saloon no more than fifteen feet away. His gun was out, his head tilted to one side. Listening.

"Not much. You?"

"Zip."

"Stay there."

"Jim…" but the big man was already moving, slipping between one car after another getting closer to the alley. Huge trash dumpsters blocked his way - not to mention his senses. As he came to a halt behind a black van, Blair could see the early signs of a zone.

He didn't wait. Taking a deep breath, he dodged across open space until he was only one car away from Jim. It was only after he stopped that he noticed more shots had been fired in his direction. In the background he could hear Simon's arrival, calls he should respond to - but his concentration was all on the sentinel now. Jim hadn't moved from his position so Blair had no choice but to crawl across the ground to get to him.

Gaining his side, Blair swore. Jim's gaze was fixed on nothing at all, the gun still in his hand, shots still flying overhead. "Jim? Okay, man, just listen to my voice. Come on Jim, come back. Follow the sound of my voice." He continued softly, they were too close to the alley and he didn't want the killer to think there was any kind of advantage - but it was too late. More shots were fired and he was starting to get real scared. If that guy came out of the alley before Jim came around…

Still speaking, trying to get Jim to respond, Blair gently prised the gun from Jim's fingers. He'd fired a gun before - but that had always been in controlled conditions. This was different - and the feel of the hard weapon made his skin crawl. Still, he had no choice. Moving until he was comfortable, he pointed the gun so he was sure the bullets would fly over the top of the market and harmlessly into space. Then he pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times.

Suddenly he was pushed to the ground, the gun clawed out of his hand. Jim smothered him with a hand over his mouth, his weight almost crushing Blair. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jim hissed, his head turning, listening to the alley. "He's got help in there. Are you trying to get us both killed?"

Blair couldn't speak with Jim's hand over his mouth so he just shook his head wildly. Jim released him and sat up, helping Blair. "You zoned, Jim. Why?"

"The smell. Those dumpsters. Can you smell it? And there's something else, too. I was trying to… pinpoint it…"

Blair placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, keeping his voice in guide-mode. "Isolate it, Jim. Listen to my voice and peel off everything else you can smell. Me, the cars, everything. Narrow it down."

Jim began to nod. "Got it."

"Yeah?" Blair half-smiled - but when Jim turned to face him, the smile disappeared. "What?"

"Don't like it when you tell me to tune your scent out. Especially when all I get is a nose-full of C4."

"Shit!"

"Yeah. There's two hostages and four gunmen. I don't know what the hell they were planning but we seem to have spooked them. This is going to take a SWAT team. Come on, Chief, back the way we came."

Amidst more gunfire, they got safely out of the way, conferred with Simon and got the SWAT team on it's way. From then on there was little for Blair to do but watch and wait. Negotiations for the release of the hostages dodged back and forth but when the men with the big guns came, it was all over within a few minutes.

And then came hours of wrap-up, paperwork, Jim going over the alley making sure there were no more explosives left, Jim scanning the entire supermarket with the same purpose, more interrogation of the two remaining suspects and more searching. It was long dark by the time Blair climbed back into the truck. Jim was still inside, still working and Blair just wanted to go home. It had been a rough day and all he could think about was shooting that gun and how he would have felt if he'd actually shot someone.

He let out a big yawn and stretched across the seat, closing his eyes.

He opened them a moment later to find a gun in his face.

"Okay, you little shit, we're gonna take a ride together. A very short ride."

Blair froze, his heart thudding in his chest, almost deafening. His eyes fixed on the barrel inches from his nose, then followed it back to the face. The man was leaning in the driver's window, his features strongly resembling one of the suspects now taken into custody.

Shit - there'd been more of them! How many more? Did Jim know? Were there more around, waiting for Jim to come out? God, Jim wouldn't know! He'd be… god, help…

"Yeah, scared for your little friend, aren't you? Well, you should be. You fucker! Nobody shoots my brother and gets away with it."

Blair didn't attempt to explain that Jim hadn't shot anybody today - he knew it wouldn't make any difference. "Look, I don't know what you want…"

"Shut the fuck up! Now sit up and get behind the wheel. We're going for a drive."

Blair swallowed. Only now did he recall what Jim had said, how he didn't like having to tune out Blair's scent. At the time, he'd not been able to react - though it had hit him deeply. Now all he could think was how long it would take Jim to get used to not having Blair's scent around.

"Move! Or I'll shoot you where you are!"

Blair instantly began to sit up - when something large, dark and very pissed slammed into the man. An arm reached into the truck and plucked the gun out of dangerous fingers. Blair scrambled out of the way and out the other door. He ran around the truck to find Jim had the man pressed up against the door, arm twisted agonizingly behind his back, searing voice pouring into the perp's ears.

"Don't you EVER threaten my partner again! Do you hear me? DO YOU? You're a fucking LOSER! If I find one hair on his head has been touched by your filth, I swear…"

"Jim!" Blair urged, "I'm okay. Jim, listen to me. I'm okay."

Jim flinched and shot him a glance, the sheer black fury in his eyes abating only a little. After a few seconds, Jim let out a pent up breath and nodded. He fished for his cuffs and slapped them on the man's wrist in time for Simon to take him off their hands. As the others moved away, Blair turned back to Jim and simply watched him, wary and not a little afraid. Jim in his turn, watched Blair, his eyes now in shadow and unreadable to Blair.

"You're okay?"

"Fine."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely. Just got scared, that's all."

"Yeah. Heard your heartbeat spike. Dunno how that bastard got…"

"I'm okay, Jim. I promise."

"Yeah."

For all that he'd been the one in danger, Blair felt it was Jim who needed the comfort more. He wanted to throw his arms around Jim and hold on for as long as it took to get rid of the sharp tension radiating off those square shoulders. A week ago, he would have done it. But now?

Now there was something in that tension that warned him off. An unspoken message that said something about being really sure of everything before he so much as touched the man. And he wasn't. Sure. About anything at all.

He swallowed and glanced meaningfully at the truck. "Er… can we go home now?"

Jim just nodded. They got in and Jim started the motor, pulling out of the carpark without a word. They were almost home before Jim actually spoke. "Thought he was going to kill you, Chief."

"I know, Jim, it's okay."

"Is it?"

Blair was looking at him and so was in a perfect position to catch the look of pain that washed over Jim's face. So unprepared for it was he that he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Jim laid in bed watching the sun rise and wishing he'd managed to get at least a little sleep. But he'd been too preoccupied listening. Counting one heartbeat after another, listening to the small noises Blair made as he slept, shifting on his bed, nuzzling back down. Too busy wishing he could simply go down there and be a part of the night with Blair. Holding him, keeping him safe, protecting him from whatever there was in the world that might dare to hurt him.

Life was too short.

That phrase had gone around inside his head maybe a thousand times since that moment last night when he'd seen the man pointing a gun at his partner's head. Life is too short. Could be over in a second. Could change irrevocably in a second. Could begin in a second.

Life was too short.

Too short to take things too slowly, to live each day wondering if Blair would ever feel anything for him, whether Jim had any chance of happiness in those arms, whether Blair might die one day because Jim was distracted or simply not around. Life was way too short and if he waited much longer, he would lose too much of it to make a difference.

On the other hand, he couldn't rush it. That simply wouldn't work. For example, if he went to Blair now and declared his feelings, Blair would probably run a mile before glancing back.

No - but perhaps a slightly more indirect method was called for.

He heard Blair's alarm sound and Blair grumpily slam it off. It made him smile. He rolled out of bed, threw on a robe and trotted down into the kitchen. Knowing full well he was behaving like a love-struck fool, he set about making a really good breakfast. He put all Blair's favourite little things on a tray - but avoided the temptation to add a rose to it - largely because he didn't have one handy - then picked it up and took it to Blair's door. He knocked with his foot.

"Yeah?" A sleep-groggy voice greeted him.

"You awake?" Jim grinned.

"No. Sleep-talking. It's dangerous to wake me. Go away."

Jim stifled a chuckle, balanced the tray in one hand and opened the door. "So you don't want any breakfast?"

Blair lifted his head from the pillow and brushed a tangle of hair away from his face. Once he got a good look, he sat up, a disbelieving smile bringing sunshine to the room. "What's this, man? It's not my birthday. Not that you ever did anything like this for my birthday, man but hey, this is cool!"

Laughing softly, Jim came up to the bed and set the tray down on Blair's lap. "Don't spill anything or you'll be sleeping on a wet mattress tonight."

"Nah," Blair concentrated on his food, "I'd just sleep on yours instead."

Something inside Jim stumbled over that and he was entirely unable to comment. After a second, Blair glanced up, his face displaying his own surprise at what he'd just said. He stayed silent but Jim couldn't help seeing the warm flush that spread across Blair's face. Swallowing hard, Blair met his gaze for a long, drawn out moment before ducking his head and pretending interest in his breakfast. Then Jim came back to himself, pushing down thoughts of a naked Blair climbing into his bed, of simply leaning down and pressing his lips to Blair's. "Well, you'd better eat that before it gets cold."

Then he turned and left the room before he lost all pretence at control.

Concluded in part two.