Once the door of the loft clicked reassuringly behind them, Jim flopped on the couch and threw one arm over his eyes, letting out a long breath. Noting the stuffiness and humidity that had come from no air conditioning all day and the windows open to the balcony, Blair turned on the air and closed the windows. "Come here," Jim said quietly. "Please." Blair kicked off his shoes and crawled up on the couch, fitting himself against Jim's uninjured side. "I'm not ready for this to go public, Chief," he said in a voice little above a whisper. "I know, lover. Nobody's going to blame you for any of this--you know that don't you?" "I know I won't ever walk into headquarters again without...without feeling like there are a million eyes on me. God, Blair, do you know what kind of...how something like this...how it'll make me look?" "Probably no worse than loving me makes you look to people who are narrow-minded enough to judge someone that way." "Oh, it's worse all right. It's all about control of the situation, Chief. Our relationship is a choice--maybe not a popular one, but it's not something forced on me. It's something I accept willingly. Besides, given the fact that I'm in a relationship with a man, the first thing they're going to say is that I either asked for it, or wanted it, or encouraged it." "That's bullshit, man. Pure and simple. If a married woman is raped, does that mean she encouraged it? Just because a woman has a sexual relationship with a man at the time she's raped doesn't mean she wanted to be forced and brutalized. No one should infer that since a man has a sexual relationship with a man that he wants that either." "But they do. They shouldn't, but they do. I thought maybe Simon would let this pass." "He probably feels he's doing what's best for you--and he's doing his duty, I guess. Maybe he can separate friendship and duty. Or maybe in this case, he sees the best alternative as being best for both you and the PD." "Best for me to be humiliated? There's nothing positive about this going public." "We can make it through this, lover." "Don't call me that. I might never be able to *be* that again. Hearing it just reminds me of all the things I can't give you anymore." "Jim." Blair angled up so he could look his partner in the eyes, with one hand rubbing light circles on the broad chest. "A lover is nothing more than 'one who loves'. That can be sexual or emotional. You do still love me, right?" "Of course I do," Jim responded, tangling a hand in Blair's hair. He was surprised to see Blair's eyes drift shut and feel him lean into the contact as if Jim were touching a much more erogenous zone than hair. Spurred on by that response, Jim brought his other hand up to the other side of Blair's head and released the pony tail, running all ten fingers into the silky mop of curls he knew and loved so well. A little whimper came from somewhere in the back of Blair's throat. //I haven't touched him like this for almost two months.// Jim let the impact of that thought hit him, and remembered the hunger and longing he himself had felt in the final days of his undercover assignment. It warred with his dormant sexual drive, and was not sufficient to stir in him any tangible physical desire. But the love that flooded into his heart for the loyal, compassionate lover in his arms overwhelmed him, and all he wanted to do was show that love in whatever way he was able. "Let me love you," he whispered as he pulled Blair's head closer to his, brushing his lips against the smaller man's ear. "What about--?" "Hush. Let me love you." Jim pulled him in for a prolonged, passionate kiss, the first of its kind they'd shared since the night before Jim left almost seven weeks earlier. He smiled as he felt Blair melt into the kiss, his body slumping against Jim in complete surrender. "Jim--" he tried weakly when he pulled back, but Jim silenced him again with gentle lips. When they broke for air, Jim caressed the beloved face near his with the backs of his fingers. Blair's arousal was nudging against Jim's thigh, and he smiled tenderly at his excited lover. "Let me take care of you, baby. I want to show you how much I love you." "But if you...if you're not ready--" "I'm ready to be close to you. I want to touch you. Just let me do this, sweetheart." He slid his hands beneath the waistband of Blair's cut-offs, pulling the t-shirt out of them and over the younger man's head in one smooth gesture. Shifting them so they were side by side, he swooped on the juncture of Blair's shoulder and neck, kissing, licking and sucking his way over neck, shoulders and chest, leaving several bright passion marks in his wake. The scents, tastes and textures of Blair started infiltrating his senses as Blair moved against him, emitting groans that bordered on sobs as his long-deprived body received the loving attention it had desired since Jim's departure. The little sounds Jim had come to identify in his mind as "Blair's love noises" were teasing his ears as much as his half-naked lover was teasing his eyes. He felt a surge of arousal, fierce and unexpected, and lined his groin up to his partner's. Blair's eyes, which had drifted shut during Jim's oral assault, snapped open. He was met with an intense, passionate expression on Jim's face as nimble fingers worked to unbutton and then unzip Blair's shorts. Not sure if he should follow his instincts or not, Blair hesitantly slid his hand down near Jim's growing bulge, searching the passion-fogged blue eyes for permission. "It's okay, baby. Touch me," Jim gasped against Blair's mouth before plundering it in a heated duel of tongues. Blair's hand detoured to slide up under Jim's t-shirt, finding and exciting a nipple to hardness. Even in passion Blair was gentle, and the lovemaking they were sharing now was so many worlds away from the pain and brutality Jim had suffered that he arched into Blair's touch, wanting to obliterate the fear, if only for just a few magic moments. Blair pushed up the fabric of Jim's t-shirt and began kissing a path across the larger man's chest, pausing to lick and suck at the taut nipples. He was thrilled to hear the aroused little groans come from Jim and feel the hardness growing against him. He slid his hand down their heated bodies and released Jim's rigid shaft from its confines, lining up their cocks and pumping them together in his hand. He hadn't expected to last long, having ached for Jim since the moment he'd left seven weeks earlier. As his completion spattered them both, he tried to keep his mind coherent enough to finish his lover, who stiffened and with a shout of Blair's name, spurted his climax over Blair's hand and stomach. Jim gathered his spent lover against him, sealing their bodies together in the sweaty aftermath, burying his nose in Blair's hair, inhaling the scents of Blair's sweat and sex. He felt Blair's heart thundering against him, and the soft hair of his chest rubbing against Jim's smoother body. "Are you okay?" Blair asked softly, wrapping his arms tightly around Jim and taking in the smell and feel of his lover finally in his arms again. "I will be," Jim responded, stroking Blair's back and nibbling at a nearby ear. "I think I'm gonna make it, Chief." "I know you will. I never doubted you for a minute." "I love you, sweetheart. When I got here today, and you were gone--" Jim shuddered, cuddling Blair against him. "I was scared for a while there, but then I knew you'd come get me." "I'll always come for you, Blair." Jim kissed him again, then burst out laughing. "What?" Blair pulled back, smiling, but stunned. "What a play on words," Jim replied shaking his head. As it dawned on Blair, he joined his lover in laughter, the first they had shared for a very long time. ******** "Have a seat, Jim. Blair, would you wait outside, please?" Simon looked up at Blair, who had followed Jim in for his meeting with the captain the morning after Mick Bernardi's arrest. "I'd like him to stay, sir," Jim spoke up, motioning to Blair to sit in the chair next him, across from Simon's desk. "There's no point in beating around the bush about this. I heard what Mick Bernardi said to you yesterday, and the forensics tests on the flashlight confirmed it. The traces of blood that survived the cleaning off it got matched yours." "What do you want me to say, Simon? I can't apologize because I'm not sorry I didn't say something sooner. I wouldn't be saying it now if things hadn't come together this way." "I don't enjoy putting you on the spot about something like this, Jim. You know that. But I have a job to do here. I'm not planning to take any disciplinary action against you for not reporting this sooner, because quite frankly, I'd have probably done the same thing in your place." Simon leaned back in his chair. "But it doesn't change the fact that it has to be dealt with now. Garber didn't even argue with it. He provided us with all the details, plus the fact that Mick Bernardi ordered them to 'deal with you', and his henchman, Tony, gave the order for them to 'have some fun' with it. But since they're not the most reputable witnesses in the world, your testimony will be key in nailing Bernardi to the wall for this. I want to see that happen." "I don't see where I'm being offered any choices." "Look, Jim, I understand that this--" "You understand? Excuse me, Simon, but I don't think you do," Jim shot back. "Until you've been there, don't hand me that bullshit that you understand anything about this situation." "Jim--" Blair started to speak, laying a hand on his lover's arm, a bit troubled at how warm it seemed to be in spite of the air conditioning. "No, let him have his say, Blair." Something in Simon's gentle tone of voice angered Jim more than if he'd been sharply reprimanding. "Don't patronize me." "I'm trying very hard to be patient with this situation because I realize it's an unpleasant one to say the least. But the fact remains that-" "I'm not testifying." "What?" Simon stared at Jim, visibly stunned. "You can have my badge and my gun if you want it, Simon, but I'm not testifying." "Then you're throwing your career away for nothing. Garber sang like a canary, we've got physical evidence--this situation is going to be discussed in court anyway, Jim. You're not saving yourself embarrassment by not testifying. You're only weakening the DA's case against Bernardi." "Simon might be right about this, man. If they're admitting it, they don't need you in order to talk about it in court--and in the press and anywhere else. You know I'm with you 100% no matter what you want to do. But I think at some point you might feel better about this if you come forward and help nail these bastards to the wall." "Jim, our whole case against Bernardi is built around the sting operation that you spear-headed. Our arrest of Garber and his cohorts in the first place was the result of what they did to you." "I can't do this right now," Jim said weakly, running a hand over his forehead and finding it came away damp with sweat. "You don't look so great, man." Blair checked Jim's forehead himself. "Shit, you're burning up. Come on. We're going to the emergency room." "Do I get any vote in this?" Jim asked, obviously feeling angered at being ordered around from all sides, but feeling too weak to fight it effectively. "Not about the emergency room." ******** Blair paced the hallway nervously while Simon thumbed through a magazine in the waiting room. They had tracked down Jim's doctor, who met them there. The tall, distinguished older man with the grey hair and silver-framed glasses approached them now. "Mr. Sandburg?" "How is he?" Blair froze in his tracks. "He'll be fine in a couple of days. I sent some antibiotics home with him, but apparently he hasn't been taking them regularly, and he hasn't been taking in the fluids he was supposed to. Right now he's got a nasty infection, which has driven his temp up to around 103." "He seemed okay yesterday--just tired. Even this morning...I just thought he was warm because it was warm in the apartment. Oh, man, I should've known." "You were a little distracted in the last 24 hours, Blair," Simon spoke up from behind him. "We both know Jim's been overdoing it since this happened." "I want to admit him for a day or two--get the fever down, and to make sure we catch the infection this time. Plus we can enforce rest and plenty of fluids here." "Can I see him?" "Sure. He's resting in the emergency ward right now, while they get his room ready. I've ordered a private room, because I want him to get plenty of rest. And--" The doctor held up a hand, forestalling a predictable question, "I'm not putting restrictions on your visiting privileges. My big concern is that we floor him for a couple of days, get his temp down and his fluids replenished. I'll be back in to see him tomorrow. If all goes well, I would think he could go home after two days, tops." "That's great. Thanks, doctor," Blair said, grinning as he headed for his lover's bedside. "I thought Detective Ellison was off active duty," the doctor said to Simon. "He is. But Mr. Sandburg was abducted yesterday in relation to the case and Jim saw fit to handle it his own way. I couldn't really do much to keep him out of it, short of locking him up, and I figured that would be worse for him than letting him help." "Well, he needs to stay off his feet for a few days and get some rest. I can well imagine that there's a very strong need for him to keep up the appearance that this is nothing major, but he was hurt significantly by the attack, and his infection risk was considerable. I'm just telling you this because I don't want to see him back on duty again without my okay." "Understood. I'll be sure we have a signed note from you in our files before he goes back on duty again." "Good. Well, I have to be going. Mr. Sandburg has my number in case you need to reach me before tomorrow." "Thanks, Doctor. We'll take better care of him this time," Simon assured as the other man smiled and took his leave. ******** Blair spent most of the afternoon in hovering attendance, sponging Jim's overheated body with a cool cloth. He didn't say much to his partner, who seemed content to doze while Blair did his work. He felt enormous guilt at not having watched Jim more carefully, but he honestly hadn't known how far to push the other man with trying to place restrictions on his movements. Jim had almost beheaded the poor nurse's aide who appeared with the wheelchair that first day at the hospital, and when he made up his mind to go out and spend time on his own, there was no stopping him. Blair did console himself with the fact that he couldn't be blamed for being abducted, or for Jim overdoing it in rescuing him. Still, he felt responsible for the fact that Jim was back in the hospital with a high fever. "What time is it?" Jim asked in a groggy voice. "About five thirty," Blair responded quietly, sponging off one large arm. "You should get something to eat pretty soon, sweetheart." "I'm okay. I'd rather be here," Blair said honestly, leaning down to kiss Jim's hand. "How do you feel?" "Shitty." Jim smiled a little. "Your temp was down to 102 last time the nurse checked it." "Feels like an inferno," Jim admitted, closing his eyes again. "Can you dial it down?" "I tried. Doesn't seem to work with the fever." Jim shook his head slightly. "Man, I really fucked myself up good this time." "You'll feel better soon, lover." Blair was quiet a minute. "If anyone fucked up, it was me. I should have known you were getting sick. And yesterday--" "Yesterday was beautiful," Jim interrupted, reaching up to press his fingers against Blair's lips. "If I get through this with my sanity, what we shared yesterday is going to be the reason. Yesterday and you." Blair moved his lips to kiss the fingers, catching Jim's hand and holding onto it. "I love you, mine." "Even if I quit the force?" "Even if we have to go somewhere new and start over. As long as we're together." "What about your fellowship? You're almost done with your dissertation." "It can wait. I know of a few job openings in community colleges around the state--you know, jobs that I could get without my Ph.D." "Oh, man. That would completely screw up your career." "No it wouldn't," Blair responded calmly, moving the cloth along Jim's forehead again. "It would just put the dissertation on hold a while. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened. I can always finish it later." "I know I should testify. It's the right thing to do. To nail Bernardi all the way. If I don't, I'm selling everybody out." "Everybody wasn't raped. You were, babe. You have to do what's right for you to get through this." "But you have an opinion about what I should do." Jim pinned Blair with an intense gaze, and the younger man realized just how much his lover looked to him for emotional and psychological guidance. "I think that it's going to bother you someday that you didn't testify. I'm not making a value judgement on it one way or the other. You're the one who suffered the most here, and you deserve to go through the least amount of pain possible. But what worries me is that some morning you're going to wake up and feel intensely angry with yourself for not testifying now. And at that point, you can't go back and change it." Blair soaked the cloth again in the plastic basin of water on the bed table, squeezed out the excess water and began work again on Jim's arm. "I know you're right." "But it's not the answer you want to hear right now. I hear that." Blair smiled at his mother's phrase coming out of his own mouth. Jim didn't miss the reference and smiled. "Just don't start burning sage in here to get my vibes realigned." "No way, man. I value my life waaaay too much to burn sage around you." Blair laughed a little, gently absorbing the heat from Jim's face again. "I want you to do what's going to be best for you. You're all I care about, Jim. You know that. Nothing else I have means anything to me without you. So if it's best for you to not testify and resign and go live in a little town somewhere far away from here, you know I'll be right beside you. The vows include that 'for better or for worse' line for a reason. I just worry that someday you're going to be angry and frustrated at how much they took away from you, and by that time, you won't be able to get it back." "I'll think about it." "Good. Whatever decision you make, love, remember that I'm with you. I'm not judging it or disapproving of it or questioning it. It's your call, and I'm beside you for the duration, whatever it is. Don't worry about me--I'll find a job wherever we end up, and eventually, I'll get the dissertation finished up elsewhere if not at Rainier." "Why did you ever pick me out to spend your life with, huh?" Jim asked, smiling. "We picked each other out, remember? Besides, most of the girls I dated couldn't carry me to bed." Blair flexed his eyebrows as Jim laughed weakly. "Try to relax, buddy. None of this is going to touch you until you're well. I won't let it." "I know," Jim responded sleepily, letting his eyes drift shut again. "Damned antibiotics." "Don't fight it, lover. There's a uniformed guard in the hall, and I'm right here. You're safe, and you don't have to talk to anyone about anything until you're back on your feet again." "It wasn't as big as it felt." The statement was barely whispered, and Blair didn't have to ask what Jim was referring to. "You never saw what it was until yesterday?" Blair watched as Jim shook his head slightly, his eyes still closed. He looked too pale and exhausted and weak...Blair not only felt immensely protective of the man who normally easily assumed the role of protecting Blair, but he felt a sharp stab at the thought of their age difference. Jim was far from old, but he was *older* than Blair, and he had never looked as tired and drawn as he did at this moment. "No. I didn't know what it was." "You've been in a lot of pain since it happened, haven't you, love?" Blair asked gently, stopping his ministrations with the cloth to stroke Jim's face gently with his hand instead. Much to Blair's relief, the skin felt cooler than before. Jim didn't answer, but his throat seemed to be working overtime and his jaw twitched as he kept his eyes closed. "I knew it had to hurt, but I didn't know how much. Oh, Jim, I'm so sorry. I should have known." "How? I didn't tell you anything," Jim managed. "Can you dial it down?" Blair watched as there was a slight shake of the head, and a single tear trickled out the corner of Jim's eye. Blair leaned forward and kissed it away. "Try to take deeper breaths, babe. You have to relax first--" "I can't," Jim finally said, looking at Blair with wet, desperate eyes. "If I take a deep breath..." He let the words trail off and looked away. "Your ribs." Blair let out a sigh. "Okay. Just do the best you can with your breathing. Listen to my voice, lover. Close your eyes. That's it," Blair said soothingly, taking a hold of Jim's hand and rubbing the strong arm slowly with his free hand. "Picture the dial. I know it hasn't worked so far, but just listen to my voice, and try to relax. It's okay that you're hurting, love. It's okay for you to let go and hurt. Lean on me, Jim. You don't have to be strong. It's okay to let me take care of you, protect *you* for a change. Just rest." Blair watched the calming effect his words were having, and continued in the same soothing monotone. "Now picture the dial, babe. It's right there. All you have to do is turn it down, nice and slow. It'll be better, I promise, lover." Blair watched as some of the tension left Jim's features. "You did it," Jim said quietly, opening his eyes to slits to look at Blair. "*We* did it, love. If you're sleepy, let go and rest. I'm just going to keep working on that fever." "Love you," Jim mumbled as he dozed off. "I love you too, mine. With all my heart." ******** After twenty four hours of almost constant attention from Blair, antibiotics pumping through IVs and solid bed rest, Jim's fever dipped under 100, and stayed there for a period of hours. Relieved at that turn of events, Blair consented to at least go home and shower and change, though he refused the concept of taking a nap there. He would only sleep in a chair inches from Jim's bed, and nowhere else. During Blair's very brief break, Jim spent most of his time napping, feeling immensely better than he had when he was admitted, and renewed by his ability to once again get a handle on the pain that had been driving his heightened sense of touch almost insane since the rape. He wasn't delighted to be disturbed when there was a knock at the door and a man he didn't recognize poked his head inside the room. "I think you've got the wrong room," he grumbled, closing his eyes again. "I don't think so," the older man replied. He was average in height and build, with medium brown hair and a beard. Jim estimated his age at near 45 years. "Rafe sent me--he's a friend of mine." "I don't get it," Jim finally responded, giving in and opening his eyes with a pained expression. "How'd you get past the guard?" "Are you always this friendly?" The other man laughed a little. "Rafe called him." "Remind me to thank Rafe." Jim turned his head away and closed his eyes again. "What the hell do you want?" "I was just out looking for a good time and Rafe told me what a fun person you were." "If you're going to be a smart ass, you can hit the road, ace." "Okay, you're right." Jim heard the movements of the man pulling a chair into position to face the bed. "I'm Jack O'Brien." There was no reply from Jim, who still kept his eyes closed and his head turned toward the window instead of his visitor. "I'm a psychologist. I specialize in working with male survivors of sexual assault." Foreseeing Jim's resistance to the whole concept of headshrinkers, he forged ahead. "Ten years ago, my car broke down on my way home from an evening seminar. It was late, cell phones weren't the common commodity they are now, as you recall, so I had to walk to a service station. I got jumped by a street gang--" "Look, is this going somewhere special? If not, I'd like to get some sleep." "I was gang raped in a junkyard. Six guys took their turns, and when they were through, they left me there. The guy that runs the junkyard found me in the morning. I was in the hospital a couple weeks--it did some major internal damage." "I'm sorry that happened to you, but--" "I didn't want anyone to know what I'd gone through. I shut everybody out. I didn't go for counseling until after I beat up my wife. She made the mistake of sticking her finger in the wrong place while we were making love, and I went nuts. I beat the hell out of her, put her in the hospital." He shook his head. "She said she wouldn't press charges if I got help. So I did." "This is supposed to inspire me to sign up for some encounter group?" Jim asked, nagged by the image of losing control and backhanding Blair. If he had already done it once, would he do it again? "You don't strike me as the encounter group type." "You're right there. I even hated show and tell in kindergarten. And I don't appreciate this ambulance-chasing tactic of drumming up new patients." "And I don't appreciate that insult, either, but I understand it. I don't need to drum up business, detective. I have a very successful practice treating a very great number of male assault and abuse survivors. Most were survivors of child sexual abuse, but quite a few are survivors of rape. The only reason I go after patients aggressively this way is because they are extremely unlikely to seek help. There's no victim this society shows less compassion for than men who have survived rape. It might interest you to know that I don't accept payment for my work with rape survivors." "Why? Are we part of some study you're doing?" Jim asked, finally turning his attention on the persistent man at his bedside. "Been there, done that. About six years ago with a group of men who volunteered for the project." Dr. O'Brien let out a long sigh. "I don't stand to make money off you, nor do I plan on using you as the subject of my next published article. All I know is that I spent almost a year, messed up and mad as hell at the world, thinking that I was somehow relinquishing control of myself if I admitted I needed some help sorting it out. There's something a bit unsettling about being a psychotherapist who needs therapy, believe me." "When I'm ready to talk about this, I have someone to confide in. I don't *want* a therapist." "Blair, right? Rafe mentioned him." "Rafe's been awfully fucking helpful here. Remind me to send him some flowers." "All he said was that you were in a permanent relationship with another man, and he thought that might make things seem more awkward, since you two just went through all the ups and downs of 'coming out' last year." The psychologist smiled. "I think you're very fortunate to have someone you trust enough to confide in and I think you should talk to him to whatever degree you feel comfortable. But there are a couple of realities you may have to face. First of all, chances are very good your department won't let you back on duty without some evidence of counseling in progress, at least. Secondly, as supportive as Blair is, he hasn't been through this himself, and I think I'm safe to assume there are certain things you hold back from discussing because you don't want to upset him. Am I right?" "Probably on both counts," Jim conceded. "Blair had a bad feeling about this undercover assignment from the start, and the six weeks I was under took a heavy toll on him. He was pretty torn up emotionally, and even physically--he stopped eating, didn't sleep much. We're very tuned in, doc. It's a psychic connection, I think," Jim evaded mentioning anything mystical or his sentinel abilities. "He knew something was going to happen, and it almost did him in to have to sit back and wait for it." "Why don't you come and see me when you get out of the hospital? I'm going to leave my card with you. If he's willing, I'd like to meet with Blair, too. What happened to you deeply affected him, I'm sure, and I think it would be helpful for him to have some counseling and support as well. Remember--while he's supporting you, nobody is supporting him." "I'm sure he'd do it. He's not averse to counseling." "But you are," the other man replied, smiling knowingly. "I can think of things I'd rather do, yes." Jim had to smile slightly in spite of his inclination to remain serious. "Can I plan on seeing you at my office soon? I'll leave word with my secretary to work you in for a visit as soon as possible." "I'll think about it," Jim answered honestly. "Close enough," Jack responded, smiling and heading out the door, passing Blair on his way out. "Who's he?" Blair moved to kiss Jim, then sit on the edge of his bed. "Rafe found me a psychiatrist--a psychologist, I guess." "Are you pissed off at him?" "I was. But I think the guy might actually know what he's talking about. He was gang-raped ten years ago--so he's been there." "You think you might want to see him?" "I don't know." Jim looked out the window again. "What I'd most like to do is get on with my life. Going over and over and over what happened isn't going to change it, and spending a set period of time every week pulling it out and looking at it doesn't seem like the best way to move on. But he did make one point that's valid--the review board probably won't let me back on active duty without counseling and the green light from a therapist." "So he might be the lesser of the evils, huh?" "Maybe." Jim turned back to look at Blair. "He mentioned talking with you. He said it might be helpful if you had some counseling or support to work through this." Jim took in Blair's pallor, the circles under his eyes and the overall strain that seemed to keep his muscles taut at all times. "That might not be a bad idea," Blair responded quietly. "What worries me the most is...what if I lost control again? I know I can work off some of this excess...anger in the gym when I feel better. But I already hit you once, and God knows what I would have done to you if I'd been able to get it up that day. I was angry, and the whole jealousy thing...I just couldn't get a handle on it." "You didn't hurt me." "Yes, Blair, I did," Jim countered, laying his hand against Blair's cheek and gently tracing the fading swollen split on his lip with his thumb. "Beyond the obvious, I scared the hell out of you and made you cry, stripped you against your will--if I could do that to you, something is in serious need of fixing." "I don't think you're crazy, Jim. But then, to me, therapy isn't about 'sane' and 'crazy', it's about dealing with something that bothers you or is screwing up your life. I think you could deal with this alone--well, you're never alone, but I mean without a therapist. But why should you? I'm sure you could survive a broken bone without seeing a doctor, but there wouldn't be a lot of point to it, and it might not heal as quickly or as well." "We'll set up an appointment with him as soon as I'm out of here. Sound like a good idea?" "Yeah. It sounds like a great idea." Blair grinned and playfully nipped at the thumb that was stroking his lips. "I want to get through this, sweetheart. I want to be able to give you all the love you deserve." Jim reached out his other hand and pulled Blair's face down for a prolonged kiss. "I've had more than that from you already." "When's the last time you slept?" "I don't know." Blair honestly had to stop and think. "I guess night before last. Well, and I slept in the chair here for a half hour or so this morning after your fever broke." "Get in." Jim scooted over in his bed. "Loose the shoes first." "I'll make you too warm." "The fever's on it's way out, baby. I'm okay. Come on." Jim waited while Blair kicked off his shoes and then positioned himself alongside Jim, with his head on the larger man's shoulder. He brought his hand up to rest on Jim's chest. Jim felt the taut muscles relax, and he slid his hand into Blair's hair, massaging his scalp. The smaller man purred like a large cat, and Jim chuckled softly. "Don' le' m'slp too long," came the garbled directive. "I'll make sure you don't miss anything." Jim kissed his lover's soft curls. "Go to sleep, angel." ******** Blair woke before Jim, and slipped out of the bed to avoid disturbing his sleeping lover. Deciding to take a walk around the hospital corridors just to stretch his legs, Blair was surprised to see Stan being wheeled down the hall by a hospital staffer. The woman behind the chair wore ID from the Radiology Department. Blair knew Stan survived, and that he was recovering in the same hospital, two floors down from Jim's room. For obvious reasons he had avoided visiting him. "Good to see that you're up and around again, Stan," Blair said, trying to sound glad to see the other man. He was glad he hadn't died, but he couldn't go so far as to say he had any real desire to see him. "Well, I'm getting there. On my way for more tests." "How're you feeling?" "Lousy, but they tell me I'll be as good as new when this is over." There was an uneasy pause. "How's Jim?" "Back in the hospital, actually. He was running a high fever--it's, uh, a virus I guess. Must be he was run down and it just, you know, found a foothold." Blair stumbled through his explanation, realizing that saying Jim "had an infection" that had caused him a fever could sound pretty strange without knowing the background. "He's doing all right, I hope?" "Oh yeah. He'll be fine. I better let you go before your ride leaves without you," Blair quipped, nodding toward the middle-aged woman who had stopped pushing the chair so he and Stan could exchange a few words. "We do need to get you down to X-ray, Stanley," she added. "Story of my life lately. Oh, uh, Blair? Just so you know...I'm going to be moving, as soon as I'm up to it. Maybe you can keep your ears open for someone who would work out better as a tenant there, now that you know there'll be a vacancy." "Thanks for letting me know, Stan. I'm sorry about what happened--with the shooting. I didn't want to see you get hurt." "Yeah, well, I don't think I'd really feel too comfortable living there after what happened. It's probably for the best." "Maybe." Blair nodded his agreement. "Well, take care of yourself, and if you need help moving--" "I'll call the movers. I think we've done enough neighboring for one lifetime. But thanks anyway, and I'm sorry about the trick I played on you--you know, with the, uh, thing I left upstairs in your place." "So am I. I was hoping Jim was wrong about you. I thought we were friends." "Yeah, well, that wasn't good enough I guess. I went for all or nothing, and this is what it got me." "Take care of yourself, man." Blair stood still as Stan waved weakly and the wheelchair resumed its trek down the hall. Stan had been a bone of contention for a long time, and quite frankly, it was kind of a relief to know he was moving on. Jim wasn't inordinately jealous, but when he was, he was violently territorial. And in Jim's case, he *knew* when he had a reason to mark and protect his territory. He had claimed to smell Stan's arousal around Blair, and that enraged him every time the other man was nearby. Jim could handle Blair's friends at the University, his myriad of acquaintances from all walks of life who sometimes either called or stopped in or visited Blair on campus. They could be young, old, male or female. The difference with Jim was that he knew when someone's intentions were less than honorable where his partner was concerned, and he had no patience dealing with someone prowling around his turf. Blair felt a little tingle at being the object of that sense of ownership, and grinned to himself as he headed back down the hall for Jim's room. ******** Jim took a leave of absence from the department commencing as soon as he was released from the hospital. He agreed to cooperate with the DA regarding testimony in the Bernardi case, but for the most part, he wanted to concentrate on his relationship with Blair, their counseling with Dr. O'Brien, both jointly and separately, and on his own decisions about the future of his career. Due to jammed court calendars and numerous delays, the trial of Mick Bernardi was scheduled several months down the road. Jim viewed that as both a curse and a blessing. It was a curse in that it would dredge up all the things he was trying the hardest to put behind him, and a blessing in that his testimony would probably be more stable and coherent after several months of therapy and hopefully an increasingly normal emotional and physical relationship with Blair. Dr. O'Brien proved to be the perfect solution for both men. He was not opposed to conducting therapy on the move, sometimes going for a long walk on the pier with Jim during one of their weekday sessions. It wasn't heavily traveled during business hours while most people were working, and the warm sunshine and balmy breezes seemed to raise the detective's spirits more than the oppressive setting of an high-rent shrink's office did. Therapy was more of an ongoing conversation than a structured analysis, and Jim found the freedom to discuss some of the more graphic and terrible details of his ordeal liberating. After his own gruesome experience and those of the men he counseled, very little shocked Jack O'Brien. Blair, on the other hand, seemed to take some comfort in the structured approach, and in the setting of the psychiatrist's office. Maybe it was that he felt less like he was betraying Jim's confidences when he was in the "confessional" setting of the therapist's office, or maybe it was because Naomi had taken him to a variety to therapists when he was an overactive child with a propensity for anxiety attacks. Being in the doctor's office made it feel more legitimate. So Jack O'Brien took a more traditional approach with Blair, and helped him deal with some of the anger and pain that Jim's rape had built up inside of him. The sessions seemed to take an emotional toll on Blair, and after a month, he stopped going, deciding that he had a better chance now of returning to normality by ceasing to take time out to concentrate so heavily on the ugly sides of his life. Jim was home, alive, safe, and progressing well through his own recovery. Blair determined that was the only "medicine" he needed. By the end of summer, Jim was only seeing Dr. O'Brien once a month, by their mutual agreement. Jim was recovering, seemed to have his anger channeled constructively into working out, shooting a few hoops with Blair when both men had time or, much to O'Brien's surprise, doing some of Blair's meditation exercises--preferably with Blair at his side. Neither man had suggested moving their sexual activity past humping against each other, hand jobs, or the occasional blow job. Blair firmly believed that Jim would make the first move when he wanted sex that way, but also worried that Jim wouldn't take him until he felt ready to reciprocate. Blair had expressed that worry to the doctor, who had told him to simply be honest with Jim--that Blair would like Jim to take him that way and would derive a lot of pleasure from it, whenever Jim felt ready and able, and that he wasn't concerned about keeping score. That phrase struck a note with Blair, hearkening back to their first weeks together when anal sex had been painful, difficult, and rotated as if there were a scoreboard over the bed noting who topped last. On a cool September morning, Blair found the manilla envelope containing the last two letters Jim had written, for weeks seven and eight of his undercover assignment. "You're awfully quiet up here, Chief," Jim's voice came from the steps as he headed upstairs to the loft bedroom. Blair was sitting on the floor, looking at the envelopes. Jim knelt behind him, wrapping his arms around his lover and kissing his temple. "Let's just toss those, baby. They're just going to make you feel bad." "I want to know what you said." "I said I loved you, I missed you, and that the only thing I was living for was to hold you again," Jim said gently, taking the envelopes out of Blair's hand and tossing them aside, turning the smaller man so he could kiss his mouth thoroughly. "You had to say more than that in two whole letters, lover," Blair replied, pulling back. "In the last letter I took care of some business. Told you where some things were, some...not so cheery subjects, baby. No need to revisit that. In the seventh one, I just told you how to touch yourself for me. But now I'm here to do that for real." Jim kissed his way down Blair's neck until he ran into the collar of the t-shirt the smaller man wore. "Make love to me?" He asked, looking hopefully into Jim's eyes. He was afraid he'd made a mistake by asking, by wanting that from Jim before he offered it, but the return look of love and lust from his partner squelched those fears. "It's been so long," Jim murmured, sliding his arms around Blair as they knelt together on the floor, letting his hands slide down to cup handfuls of denim-covered flesh. Blair whimpered against his neck at the contact. "I don't know if I can...I can't give you that yet, baby." "You can't be inside me, or you aren't ready for me to be inside you?" "I see it as the same thing, sweetheart. I won't do to you what I don't want done to myself." "Even if I like it? Jim--you won't eat some of the things I do, but you'll still buy them at the grocery store. And sometimes seeing how much I like something, you feel ready to try it." "It's been almost four months since the rape. I know I should be past this--" "You shouldn't be *anywhere* specifically. This isn't pressure, babe. I just want you so much--and we don't have to keep score. Remember, we agreed on that when we first got married." "What if...what if I can't do it to you?" "Are you afraid of hurting me or of not being able to do it?" "Both," Jim admitted quietly, dropping his eyes away from Blair's gaze. A gentle finger tilted his chin back up again, so their eyes met. "You don't have to be afraid of me, lover. If it doesn't work, we'll know it was too soon and we'll wait. As for it hurting, it probably will a little bit because it's been a while. But I want it...I want to feel you that way--I want that connection again." Jim stared at him for a long moment, then swooped down on him, claiming his mouth with a passionate intensity. They straightened to stand, still kissing, and Jim grasped Blair's ass possessively, lifting him until his legs wrapped around Jim's waist. He staggered back toward the bed and dropped onto it with his burden. Months of pent-up desire seemed to be pouring out of both men as they efficiently stripped one another, hands and mouths paying homage to every inch of exposed flesh. Jim's hands went into Blair's hair, grabbing handfuls of curls and holding his lover's head still while Jim's tongue plundered his mouth. Finally moving away to let the younger man breathe, Jim locked his mouth onto Blair's throat, spurred by the broken little moans filling the bedroom. They had made love occasionally since the rape, but it had been hesitant and almost too gentle. And even that hadn't occurred more than six or seven times in the last two months of Jim's leave from the department. Their lovemaking had only been about love, and reassuring themselves they were back together again, and that things would eventually be all right again. Now, while the almost heart-wrenching love was always present, the physical fire seemed to have its former heat, and Jim seemed more than ready to follow Blair into that fire. Lips and tongue brought Blair's nipples to hardness, then added more vibrant passion marks to his chest and stomach as they made their way down to what was now a straining arousal. Smiling as Blair whimpered with need and spread his legs wide apart, Jim ignored the hard shaft and took his time tasting all of Blair's secret places. He hadn't loved him this thoroughly in over four months, and there was no way he planned to rush things. "Jim...Ohhhh...touch me...please, lover," Blair pleaded between little grunts of pleasure, his body twitching in reaction to the determined tongue that laved the creases between his stomach and thighs, and then pushed his legs up to gain full access to his tight balls and the soft skin of his perineum. Blair hadn't dared hope Jim would do what he seemed about to do, and when the tongue began licking and teasing the little pucker, Blair screamed out Jim's name and grasped the sheets in frantic handfuls. Jim took his time licking Blair's center, darting his tongue in and out of the tight ring of muscle while Blair writhed with the sensations, gasping and moaning. "Please, Jim...want you...oooohhhh, ahhh, oh, God, need you..." Blair was getting too close to keep teasing him, so Jim abandoned the work his tongue had been doing and found the lube in the drawer of the night stand. Blair was panting, holding his knees up to his chest, completely exposed and shamelessly needful. Jim's own cock filled to capacity at the sight, having taken a little longer than it used to to rise to attention. But now Jim shared the same beastly hunger with his lover, and worked at carefully stretching muscles that seemed almost as tight as they were when Blair was a virgin to this. "Jim...Oh...Please, babe..." "Shhhh. It'll be me in a minute, sweetheart. You've tightened up a little. Don't want this to hurt more than it has to," Jim explained softly, continuing to scissor two fingers in the tight channel, relieved when he felt Blair's internal walls begin to relax. "This is going to stretch, angel. Might feel sort of like the first time. Let me know if it hurts," Jim managed. "I'll be oooohhhhh...okay," Blair accommodated three fingers fairly well, but it was more a tribute to Jim's patience and insistence on the right preparation than it was Blair's body cooperating. He hadn't been penetrated in over four months, and the tight channel seemed to have forgotten its role in this dance. Jim had done a remarkable job of reminding it, before finding Blair's prostate and giving it a few firm brushes with his fingertip. Blair's whole body jerked off the bed in time with the motion, letting out cries of pleasure that couldn't even form words. Suddenly the fingers were gone, and Blair opened his eyes to watch Jim kneeling there between his thighs, coating himself with the lube. Jim positioned his cock at the edge of Blair's center, then pushed past the tight ring of muscle, shuddering at the intensity of the sensation. Blair was breathing heavily but relaxing around him, and Jim took the unspoken invitation to move ahead, slowly sheathing himself to the hilt until Blair's legs wrapped around his waist as his arms came up so he could run his fingers into Jim's hair. "So good...Oh, God, lover, missed you..." Blair managed, still adjusting to the bulk he hadn't accommodated in months. "Breathe, baby," Jim instructed in a strained voice. His eyes drifted shut and he took in the feeling of those tight muscles clenching around him, slowly relaxing, finally letting Blair breathe easily. "Jim...oh, man...move...do it..." Blair grabbed the powerful biceps and hung on, goading Jim into motion, throwing his head back, moaning and grunting with each firm stroke. Jim got an evil little smile on his face as he angled his assault to nail Blair's prostate over and over again. He knew giving the little gland a strenuous workout left Blair mindless, screaming, a prisoner to his body's reactions. The intensity left him unable to decide if he wanted to bear down on the invader or to get away from it. "Oh, baby...Blair...baby...you feel...so good...so hot...so tight...ugh, ugh...yeah, baby, scream like that for me...gonna make you come," Jim picked up his pace as Blair's hands fell away from Jim's biceps and grabbed handfuls of the sheet, his knuckles turning white. Jim wrapped a strong hand around Blair's weeping cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. "Oh, man, hard...harder...oohh...ugh...ahhh...ah...Jim! Oh God...JIIIIIMMM!!" Blair's climax swept over him, spraying himself and his lover with the most powerful orgasm he'd experienced since the last time Jim had been inside him. Blair's ecstasy was Jim's undoing, and with a few more thrusts, he finished with a cry of Blair's name, then slumped forward to hold his lover close, their hearts thumping wildly against one another. Hesitant to relinquish the hard won connection, Jim pulled back long enough to look into Blair's drowsy eyes. "Feels like finally coming home," Jim whispered, capturing those hopelessly sensual lips in a prolonged kiss. "That was so good, babe. So good," Blair whispered, still breathless. Jim kissed him thoroughly, distracting him from the slight discomfort of the large, softened shaft pulling out of his body. "Are you okay?" Jim asked worriedly, kissing the end of Blair's nose. "Way better than okay," Blair replied, grinning up at him. "I didn't hurt you?" "No, lover, you didn't hurt me. You were too careful and loving and gentle and wonderful to hurt me. Jim, it doesn't have to hurt. You know that, right, love?" "I know." Jim let out a long sigh. "I still...I can't picture..." "It's just too soon, mine. But we'll get there. We've got the rest of our lives to get everything back in order. This felt good to you too, right?" "If it had felt any better I'd be dead now," Jim responded, kissing Blair's forehead, running his hands up and down the sweaty back and finally coming to rest possessively on Blair's well-loved ass. He kneaded the globes there, feeling Blair groan and his cock twitch again. "You little demon. You're insatiable." "Insatiable, maybe. Inexhaustible, no. I need sleep." "Me too, sweetheart. I think you drained the last drop out of the old man." "Old man?" Blair laughed. "If old men move like that, a young one would kill me." Jim pulled Blair into a bear hug and laughed with him. ******** Blair woke in the early evening, the last rays of the days sunlight streaming in the windows, giving the loft an odd gold aura. Bathed in that light was one Jim Ellison, silhouetted in the window, staring down at the street below. Blair smiled at the beauty of the outline, and at the warmth that spread through him at the memory of their lovemaking. He was tired, a tad sore, and completely sated. He felt complete again, except for the fact that he hadn't come to in Jim's arms. "What's wrong, love?" Blair asked quietly. "Just thinking," came the soft reply. "Suppose you could think over here with me?" Blair asked, grinning. He could almost envision Jim's answering smile, even though the other man's back was to him. Within moments, Jim returned to the bed and slipped between the sheets, gathering Blair in his arms. "Better?" he asked, kissing his lover's forehead. "Much. You want to talk?" "I was thinking about the PD. I've already extended my leave once. I know Simon wants me back on the job. O'Brien thinks I'm good to go if I want to go back." "Do you want to go back?" "I want my old job back, yeah. But I...I still have the trial to go through, and I don't know as I can handle all my co-workers showing up for ringside seats while I testify." "There are bound to be some assholes who hassle us--they did when we got together, and that narrow-minded bunch can be counted on to act like jerks. But you've earned the respect of your colleagues, man. Nobody's going to think that this is your fault, or that you did something wrong. Every cop who goes undercover takes a risk--and when those risks come to pass, it isn't usually their fault. I mean, sometimes it is, but you were careful. I know you, Jim, I know how thorough you are--and so does everybody else. You survived. And you faced Bernardi on his turf, using the same weapon they used on you to badger him, and you held it together. That's courage." "It's odd, but I think one of the lowest things I ever did undercover I did on this case. I've sweet-talked women, I've done more than talk in some cases to get what I wanted...and I've betrayed that person in a heartbeat to make the case. It's part of the territory." Jim let out a long sigh. "But Mick was a loner, and since his brother's death, he'd never really had a trusted sidekick...confidante. For some reason, I seemed to fill that bill. I fed some information back to the PD from what he told me. He trusted me with a lot of very real, very personal stuff. And letting me more or less stand in for Andy--his dead brother?" Jim shook his head. "I really hate capitalizing on someone's pain that way." "That son of a bitch deserves everything he got." "Based on what his response was, yeah, I agree with you. But still, it doesn't change what I did. Maybe it's the duplicity I just don't want anymore as much as the danger." "When I carried on that way before you left--and while you were gone--it wasn't because I was too immature to handle your leaving me for a while, even though that by itself hurt like hell. It was...it was a premonition of something awful. I felt as sure as I ever have of any fact I've known that you wouldn't come through the operation all right, and my personal fear was that you wouldn't come through it at all. But the premonition was just something dark, and awful. And I had dreams." "About what?" "I saw the panther you've described--big, sleek, black--startling blue eyes--like somebody else I know," Blair added, smiling up at Jim, who returned it and kissed the tip the smaller man's nose. "He was in a trap--like a hunter's trap--and the sounds he made were these ungodly howls of anguish. I knew whatever was going to happen would not only hurt or possibly kill you, but it was going to hurt your soul, your psyche. And there was nothing I could do to stop it." "Guess the next time you get one of these premonitions, I better listen." "I don't want to establish some kind of control over you, Jim. I love you, for better or for worse, forever, no matter what you decide to do. I just want you to understand that I wasn't pitching a fit just because I didn't want to be left alone. I really felt something was going to happen." "I know you did. And it unnerved me at the time, but you know, I was the only one really right for the assignment, and it was important to everybody, so..." Jim shrugged. "I felt backed into a corner." He paused. "And maybe after everything that happened last year, I needed to prove something to somebody." "Most of the commotion seems to have died down." "Yeah, well, the overt stuff has. But the attitudes are still there with a lot of people. I guess I wanted to be able to prove I still had it. Maybe it's more an age thing than anything else." "You're not old." "Not in an objective sense, no. But in terms of my police career--I'm on the other side of the hill. Maybe not over it yet, but most of the guys pulling off these dangerous undercover jobs are several years younger." "You can do anything they can do. Probably longer and a hell of a lot better." Blair chuckled a little and Jim joined him. "Why do I feel we've departed from a discussion of police procedure, Chief?" "I never said I wasn't biased." "I know I have to do something pretty soon--either go back to work or resign." "What do you want to do?" "You sound like O'Brien." Jim was smiling as he spoke, and Blair knew Jim liked the psychologist, so the comment wasn't a slur. "You know it's okay with me whatever you want to do." "I know." Jim exhaled loudly. "I guess the big thing is...I don't want to walk in there and have everyone look at me and know what happened." "You're embarrassed." "Yeah. And it's different than being ashamed. I mean, I've tried to work through that whole thing that it wasn't my fault and I couldn't control it... I guess I'm just a...a private person. I always have been." "It's not odd you wouldn't want to share all the details with everybody. Testifying is a very hard step in a situation like this. You know that from the victims you've worked with." "You mean the ones I've steam rolled." Jim snorted a little laugh. "I've given the 'if you don't work with the system, the system won't work at all' speech so many times I could do it in my sleep." "That doesn't make it wrong." "No, but I haven't exactly cut the victims I've worked with much slack. Either they testified or they were no better than the criminals." "I never heard you say that to anybody, man." "Maybe not. I thought it though." "Bernardi might still plead guilty." "And pigs might fly." "What if the DA offered him a deal?" "Why would he get a deal? They've got enough on him. Besides, they can't bargain down multiple homicide charges." "So he's just hoping someone will get cold feet." "Which is why Tina and I are under constant police protection--well, at least we have a surveillance team watching our comings and goings all the time. Because of Bernardi. You know that." "But they think most of his muscle will either run for the hills or are already in the joint, right?" "Right. It's not a big worry. They're just taking all the precautions. Actually, Tina knows more than I do in relation to the homicide charges. She got to know some of the girls who knew the girl we found in the dumpster, and she has so very damning evidence on one of Bernardi's goons, who is now singing like the proverbial canary to avoid the death penalty." "So if you didn't testify--" "The case could probably survive it--at least for the murder charges. But there would be a bigger gap in the prosecution's case because the person who knew Mick best, and was hanging around with him when he gave some of the key orders--in code phrases--to his muscle, wouldn't be testifying. I heard Mick give orders for at least one hit and a beating or two. They were vague phrases that his men understood, but when they're telling the court that Mick gave those orders and that's what it meant, I can corroborate it, because I heard it." "Maybe you should wait til after the trial to go back to work." "I thought about that. What am I gonna do? Stay home and be a housewife for six months?" "I don't know. Is there anything else you could do in the meantime--you know, like maybe teach at the police academy or something?" "Yeah, sure. Then I can be the cop who got raped and lived to tell. Won't take long for that word to spread in the academy." "Jim, people are going to know. It's fucking unfair that you have to pay the price for what those bastards did to you, but that's the way it is. Maybe you're better off trying your old job and if you get too much flack or you don't feel like you want to be there, you can always resign later." Blair sighed. "I really think you'll be surprised at how much support you get. Besides, how many of those Vice guys have had to do some kinky things to keep their covers?" "Plenty. But doing and getting something *done to you* are two different things. Plus, you don't publicize the unsavory things you do undercover." "I think you might be selling your colleagues a little short, man." "Maybe. God, Blair, I'm so fucking sick of dealing with this mess. I want to be done with it. If I could just put all this bullshit behind me now and move on with our lives... I know it was a good idea for me to see O'Brien. I'm not second-guessing that decision." "I needed some help too. You weren't the only one who had trouble getting a good handle on this whole thing." "I know. And I had to...to *wallow* in it all this time to accomplish some kind of...of *recovery*. But I want to have a normal life again. It's like the physical rape is behind me but the baggage is just hanging on no matter how well I progress in dealing with it." "If you don't testify and quit the PD, you know I'm behind you." "I know, sweetheart. I also know that you were right way back when I was in the hospital after Bernardi was arrested. I *will* feel like I didn't follow through--I'll be angry at what they took away from me. I know I need to just keep pushing ahead, but I'm so damned tired, Blair. I want my life back." "I know, lover. And we're almost there. The trial is a hell of an obstacle to get over, but we'll do it, and when it's over, we'll still be standing. Bernardi's gonna go down and the thing about Jim Ellison everybody's going to remember is that he's the cop who went through hell in an undercover assignment to bring the son of a bitch to his knees. It was what they did to you that put his men in jail, and their overpowering desire for a plea bargain that really sealed his fate." "How do you always know what I need to hear, huh?" Jim shifted onto his side and made a project out of exploring Blair's mouth for long minutes, not really allowing him to answer. "Because you're the center of my life, my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night and all my favorite thoughts in between. Because you still leave me a little breathless just by looking at you...I'm so...*awed* by you. Your courage, your strength, your tenderness, your quick mind... I love you so much, mine. There'll never be words for it." "How did I ever leave you?" Jim asked hoarsely, his eyes filling as he stroked Blair's cheek gently. "You put your duty above what you wanted to do--you did it for the greater good. And Bernardi's operation is history. You've spent so much time slinking around like you did something wrong. My God, Jim, you're a hero. You survived unspeakable pain, and you still faced Bernardi down one on one and you came out the winner, and he's cooling his heels in jail." "I don't know about the hero part, but--" "I do, Jim." Blair took a hold of Jim's chin with one hand. "You went into deep cover, which you didn't want to do, and you risked your life and safety every day, and you brought him down, babe. Maybe it wasn't the way--God knows it wasn't the way anyone would want to do it--but you survived it, and you did it." "And testifying is the last step." "Yeah, it is. Because you're stronger than Bernardi. You're stronger than those four half-witted psychos who tortured you, and you're stronger than any narrow-minded asshole who whispers behind your back. It's going to be a rough time, but you'll make it. And when it gets too much...just like when all the things crash around my ears and I can't take the pressure of what's going on in my life--we have this. We have each other, our home, our life together--that's a safe haven." "I want to read you the eighth letter," Jim said quietly. "Okay." Blair moved aside as Jim got up and found the envelope, then returned to the bed, gathering Blair against him once more. "Dearest Blair, If you're reading this letter, chances are things haven't gone as smoothly or quickly as I hoped. Please don't be afraid--I'm not saying anything's gone wrong. It's just not *going* as fast as I want it to." Jim paused. "There are a couple paragraphs about my will and a whole bunch of other stuff." Blair shuddered and burrowed deeper against Jim's side. "We can skip over that. We don't need to dwell on it now." He kissed the top of his lover's head and went back to reading. "Missing you isn't just part of my life now. I know that it *is* my life. Every beat of my heart hurts with your absence. I know how brutally difficult it will be for you if I can't come home. I know what I feel now, and I am so sorry for making you feel it too. If something goes wrong, and you have to feel it forever, I will leave this world sorry for having hurt you that way. From the first minutes you were in my life, you were my light, my guide, my heart, my soul. You saved my life when we first met, and you've done it time and again, not always physically, but you are my lifeline, sweetheart. My reason for being. Our time together has been the most amazing, magical, precious time of my life. I never knew love could feel like this. No one ever loved me the way you do, and I've never been driven to tears just by the intensity of my love for another person before I met you. You're the other half of me, baby. No matter what barriers are put between us, I will always be with you. I'll watch over you and love you and wait for you, in this life or in the next. I believe in that now--an afterlife. A love like ours can't die. We are eternal. Remember our song, angel? "Timeless Love"? I do. I remember those words, and they go through my mind constantly. These stand out most: I don't have to see you everyday, Only fools put chains on love, And if I had to live life through Alone and without you, It wouldn't change a thing And it won't. You're in my heart and soul, baby. No matter how far away I am, and I'm in yours. We're forever. I will do my best to come home to you as soon as I can. If anything should happen that I can't, I wasn't careless, because I have everything to live for--a lifetime with you. Be strong, live your life to its fullest potential--I'm so proud of you, and what you're capable of. I love you with all my heart, Blair. Thank you for decorating my life. Love forever, Jim" Blair was crying quietly by the end of the letter, more for the pain he knew he would have felt if he'd been reading it alone, with Jim still on assignment. "I didn't mean to make you cry, sweetheart. I just wanted you to know...I think the letter said a lot of things more smoothly than I could say right now." "It was beautiful. I'll keep it always. I want to keep all of them. I don't know if I can ever stand looking at them again, but I know I can't throw them away. They were so beautiful." "Not as beautiful as you." Jim tossed the letter on the night stand and slid down on his side, holding Blair close so they were face to face. After a moment of eye contact that spoke volumes, Jim consumed Blair's mouth in a fiery kiss, pulling the smaller body tightly against his, letting his hand wander down to cup the rounded ass that seemed to fit so perfectly in his hand. He gave Blair a little squeeze and the other man groaned and undulated his hips. J im rolled them so he was on his back, with Blair on top of him, the younger man's legs falling to either side of Jim's body, bringing their rapidly engorging shafts into contact. Torn between the desire to plunge into Blair's body a second time that day, and his concern that after so long without this activity his lover might be a bit sore to handle what was destined to be another rough ride, Jim easily chose concern for Blair's comfort. He grasped the cheeks of the younger man's ass in both hands, kneading it possessively. Blair's upper body came up a bit as he braced himself on Jim's shoulders, threw his head back and closed his eyes. He began moaning in time with their movements. Jim watched the beautiful naked man atop his body with rapt fascination. Blair was lost in his passion, torn between the sensuous feeling of large, strong hands claiming and massaging his ass cheeks and the maddening friction between their bodies. Knowing Blair was close to the edge now, Jim slid his hands up the long, smooth expanse of back and over Blair's shoulders until he framed the flushed, passion-dazed face in his hands. He pulled Blair back down to claim his mouth, sliding one hand into his hair and letting the other wander back to the abandoned ass that was moving wildly up and down in a motion so sexy it pushed Jim over the edge with a cry that was swallowed in Blair's throat. Adding the slippery evidence of Jim's climax to the formula was all Blair needed to come with a moan that echoed between their partially joined mouths. Jim finally released the full lips to let Blair breathe. "Oh, man," the younger man panted against Jim's chest, their hearts thundering together like jungle drums. "Ditto," Jim responded, cuddling Blair close and waiting for their respiration to return to something near normal. "I love you, mine," Blair whispered, finding Jim's mouth again for a lazy dance of tired tongues. "I love you too, sweetheart." "We'll get through the trial." "I know." "Please don't worry about the PD or anything else. If it doesn't feel right when you go back, we'll go away together. Maybe you could transfer to another PD." "We need to find a place where you can finish your doctorate." "There's gotta be another city in the US besides Cascade where that could happen." "Probably quite a few." Jim kissed Blair's hair and let himself drift into a drowsy post-sex nap. ******** Jim extended his leave another month, and then decided he had spent enough time hiding out from his co-workers. The trial wasn't until January, and even if they left Cascade for a new life, it wouldn't make much sense to do that and then have to commute back and forth to testify. Blair was back up to his neck in work at the University, but he was still, as ever, on the job to accompany Jim for the first trip back to work. He was stunned when Jim took a turn to head for the Rainier campus instead of headquarters on that sunny October morning. "Look, Chief, I appreciate you juggling everything to go in with me today, but I've been doing some thinking. I have to walk in there alone. I have to face it myself, without any...insulation. If you're there, I'll have something to hold onto--to hide behind. But if I go in alone, I have to handle things myself. That's what I need to know if I can still do." "I understand. But I'm only a phone call away. I'll have my cell phone with me wherever I go today." "Thanks," Jim responded, smiling at his lover. "Nervous?" Blair asked. "What was the first giveaway? Wiping my palms on my pants about four times since we left home?" Jim was chuckling a little. "That was kind of a tip-off, yeah." Blair grinned back at Jim, happy that the other man still had his sense of humor. He fervently hoped that was a good sign. Jim parked the truck and walked into the Cascade PD for his first day of work since J.J. Rush had taken over his life six months earlier. In a way, he felt like he was pounding the final nails into J.J.'s coffin, reclaiming Jim Ellison's life once more. "He looks familiar," came a friendly and well-known voice from behind Jim as he walked toward the elevator. Taggert walked over to greet him, hand outstretched. "Great to see you back, Jim." "Thanks. I think it's about time I get the show on the road. Enough vacation." "You did us all proud, man," Taggert added sincerely. "I don't know as I see it that way, but I made it, so I guess that's a good sign." "You brought in Bernardi. I'd say that's a decent day's work. And you did it while you were on sick leave. Talk about making the rest of us look like slackers," he joked. "He had Blair. Truthfully, Joel, it didn't have a damn thing to do with duty." "Whatever motivated you, it worked." Joel pushed the button for the elevator. "So where's your sidekick?" "At the University. I wanted to come in on my own," Jim admitted, pausing for a couple people to get off the elevator and for them to get on, and the doors to close. "I have to know if I can do this." "If you're waiting for a lot of staring and finger-pointing, I think we're all a little beyond that. Besides, Vice is a dangerous, dirty area to work in. Hell, man, I don't have to tell you that." "No, you don't." "The only hard part of your situation is that you can't bury this. You have to face up to it. How many of those guys in Vice, I wonder, have sold their asses for a bust? I'm not finding fault with 'em, but I just want to say that I think most everyone who's worked in as dangerous and sordid an assignment as running Bernardi's skin trade has probably done a lot of things they don't want to talk about." "I know when I was in Vice there were things that went on that never went in the reports. I had hoped this would be one of those things." "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad to see you back on the team again." Taggert clapped Jim on the shoulder as he left the elevator and headed down the hall for his office. "It's worth a lot," Jim responded, probably too softly for the other man to hear. Jim hung up his jacket and moved toward his pristine desk. There was a little evidence here and there that someone had sat there temporarily or used his computer, but today, it was vacant and waiting for his arrival. "Just what you wanted to find on your desk," Tina said as she retrieved a mug bearing the image of an old woman and some humorous saying. "I'm afraid I sort of earned squatter's rights at your desk the last few weeks." "You got your transfer?" "About a month ago." "Great. How'd Cameron react to that?" "I think his exact words were 'God help Banks and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out'." She laughed a little. "I expected as much. I'm just relieved to be here and out of there. Simon is very cool to work for," she commented, sitting against the edge of Jim's desk as he tried out his desk chair for the first time in months. Dressed in jeans and athletic shoes and a baggy sweater, Tina looked like one of the gang already. "And it feels so damned good to be able to throw out 99% of the spandex in my wardrobe," she added, laughing. "What about the last 1%?" Jim asked, grinning a little as he looked through a few papers that had accumulated in his in box in anticipation of his return. "Typical male question. My boyfriend wanted me to hang onto those," she responded, rolling her eyes. "Not one of these jerks, I hope." "No. You remember Tom Doherty in Vice? I guess you'd say 'an item' now." "Tom take you up to the cabin yet?" "No. We're supposed to go this weekend, actually." "Do you love him?" She looked surprised by Jim's question. He laughed a little. "If you don't, don't make the mistake of going up there." "Bad, huh?" "I borrowed the keys from him a while back to get some R'n'R. I'll tell you--I'm glad I didn't take Blair because the spiders were bigger than he is. I had to fight a rat for my Eggos." "Oh, swell." "Tom's a good guy. I've known him quite a few years. We worked a few cases together. I wish you guys the best." "Thanks. So where's Blair?" "That's 2 for 2. I guess I should have let him come with me." "But you wanted to do this on your own." "I had to. Tina, I never really thanked you for..." Jim shrugged a bit, not sure how to word it. "Not necessary. I'm just glad you're back on the job again." She checked her watch. "And I better get back at it myself. Got to go question some jerk who just beat up his kid. Sorry--*allegedly* beat up his kid." She rolled her eyes and started for the door. "Welcome aboard," Jim called after her. "Thanks. Glad to be here," she responded, partway out the door. Jim's next stop was Simon's office. After tapping on the door, he stuck his head in to find the captain brewing his latest concoction in his coffee machine. "Coffee?" he offered. "This one's cinnamon flavored." "Sounds great," Jim responded, accepting a hot mug and sitting across from Simon's desk. When the other man was seated, he spoke again. "Blair's at the University." "I thought he'd be with you. First day back and everything." "He was planning on it. I wanted to do this on my own." Jim nodded a little. "I just mentioned it because both of the people I've talked to today asked, so..." He shrugged, smiling a little. "I *was* wondering," Simon responded, chuckling as he took a drink of his coffee. "Some of the guys wanted to throw you a little welcome back party this morning, but something told me you'd like to make a quieter entry." "Thanks. I wasn't really ready for a cake and streamers." "Don't flatter yourself. You probably would have gotten a donut with colored sprinkles and a couple of coffee mugs shaped like breasts or something equally inspired," "That sounds like my last birthday party here," Jim countered, sharing the chortle with Simon about their colleagues' penchant for gag gifts. "Well, on the official side of things, we have all the necessary approvals from Dr. O'Brien, the PD shrink and the review board, so you're back on active duty as of now. I'd like you to start out with a light caseload--" "Simon, I'm trying to take possession of my life again. I don't want to be on a light caseload. I want my job back." "You *have* your job back, Jim. You never lost it." "I'm not unstable here, Simon. I can deal with some pressure." "I'm not saying you're unstable. Good God, Jim, you may not be unstable but you sure as hell are defensive. This isn't a slur on your psychological recovery. However, it's the opinion of the review board that any cop who has been off-duty for six months, especially when that was due to a case-related traumatic event, should start slow. I'm actually pumping up what they recommended here." Simon set a small stack of manilla folders on the other side of his desk in front of Jim. "There's a new homicide case, a hit and run, and the Henshaw case." "That's still unsolved?" Jim asked, a little of his old interest returning as he located the fat, battered file among the two thin, pristine folders. "We can't pin it on the boyfriend, and there isn't any hard physical evidence to tie her murder to any of the other suspects. I know it was yours before it was handed off to someone else while you were undercover, so I thought maybe you'd like to take another stab at it." "Bad choice of words, sir," Jim countered, smiling a little at his own dark humor as he reviewed a few notes about the stabbing of a young woman in her home. "Oh, yeah, you're doing just fine." Simon laughed a bit. "So get to work." "On my way, sir," Jim responded, gathering up the files and heading for his desk. The whole situation felt stunningly normal. ******** Blair finally gave in and dialed Jim's number two hours after they parted company. He'd resisted the urge as long as he could, and now he had to know that Jim was doing all right before he could concentrate on anything else. "Ellison." "Hey, lover, it's me." "Hi, Chief. How's it going?" "That's what I'm calling to find out." Blair was encouraged by the very normal and almost cheerful tone of Jim's voice. It sounded so much like "old times" that Blair found it hard to believe that Jim hadn't been going to work every day for the last several months. "I've only been on my own for two hours, Mom. I'm fine." Jim was laughing a little affectionately. "Thanks for checking up on me, sweetheart. I'm really okay." "So was there a big party and everything?" "No, actually, Simon spared me that. I guess that was the plan, but he figured I might like to make a quieter entry. He was right." "Any interesting cases?" Blair was starting to get back in the spirit of things himself, looking forward to working with Jim professionally again. "I got the Henshaw case back." "Oh, man, I remember that. Didn't her boyfriend kill her?" "Well, we thought he did, but the physical evidence wasn't conclusive, and he has an alibi. So we're back to square one. And I've got a couple other more recent things too. Simon wants to start it out slowly--or I guess the review board thought I should." "It's probably just as well to break back in gradually. I know I take it easy on my students the first couple weeks of a new semester. Takes time to get the gears moving smoothly again." Blair paused. "So, um, you wanna have lunch?" "Are you free?" "Actually, I'm pretty expensive. But I can do lunch." Blair was grinning, waiting for the inevitable reply. "Smart ass." "Give me a call when you get free. I'm just doing some paperwork here, so I can go whenever." "Okay. Sounds good. Probably be around 12:30 or so." "See you then. Love you." "You too." Jim replied before hanging up the phone. Only having been separated for two hours, Blair felt it acutely. Somehow, he had managed to do most of his paperwork at home, and only go to the campus for the vital things. Recently, Jim had gone along sometimes, holing up in the library with a stack of books while Blair went about his activities. For a cop, Jim was one of the most voracious readers Blair had ever met. He never was sure which part of the library he'd find his lover lurking in, or what stack of books he'd be exploring. Their lives had been blissfully entwined, and Blair felt a little stab of guilt at how much he had enjoyed Jim's leave of absence, even with all its emotional and psychological difficulties. They ended up going almost everywhere together, and Jim's camping in the library while Blair worked at the U often led to a long discussion of something of mutual interest Blair would spot among his selections. //It should be illegal for someone with a face and body like Jim Ellison's to be that damned smart too,// Blair mused, smiling and shaking his head. Jim was a worthy adversary in any debate Blair wanted to launch, provided it was in a field of mutual knowledge. Jim didn't claim to have the breadth of topics at his fingertips that Blair did from his additional years of haunting libraries, but he had a surprisingly varied body of knowledge from both his college education and his own reading experiences. When they found common ground, the debate could be endless, and was even more lively conducted in a back corner of the library where neither party could derail the other's concentration by any nefarious means, as was usually the case when they got into one of these discussions at home. Blair checked the clock. About two more hours until lunch. ******** Jim's return to work went more smoothly than either Jim or Blair expected. The other cops seemed to understand the need to let J.J. Rush die a natural death, not bringing up the undercover operation or dwelling on the upcoming trial, though there was an undercurrent of enthusiasm about it as fall turned into winter, and the trial loomed on the January horizon. Blair did his best to keep their lives focused on the routine, and not on the specter of the trial. When Thanksgiving rolled around, he suggested to Jim that they fix a turkey dinner with all the trimmings and then haul it over to headquarters and feed the cops that drew the short straws to work that day. Jim was more than agreeable to that suggestion, and when news of the party spread through Major Crime and a couple neighboring departments, the number of volunteers for holiday duty took a slight upswing. "I think you created a monster here, Chief. This is the biggest turkey I ever saw in my life." Jim heaved the obese, stuffed bird into the large aluminum foil-lined box. "Probably would have been easier to just have dinner here. I didn't expect half our friends to show up at the PD for dinner." Blair was diligently packing the side dishes to accompany the turkey from hell on its voyage to the Cascade PD. "Simon said that Daryl traded spending Thanksgiving with his mother to spending Christmas with her so he could come to the party with Simon." "Bet Joan loved that," Blair said, laughing a little. "She gets Christmas now, so I guess she was okay with it." Jim moved over to help Blair pack the side dish carton with the containers. "Seems weird to split kids down the middle like that--you know, like they're a shared time condo or something." "Having two parents who want to spend time with you isn't all bad, man." "Very true." Jim couldn't argue with that logic, since he knew both their childhoods had left something to be desired in that department. ******** "I'm glad you talked me into going to the gym with you," Blair opined as he entered the home stretch with the loaded food box, Jim right behind him with the turkey as they stepped off the elevator. "So am I," Jim responded in a decidedly lecherous tone. Then he froze in his tracks. Pausing for a moment, he set the turkey box down on the floor. "You go ahead to the party, Chief. I'm backing out of this. Simon'll give you a ride home." And with that, Jim was in the elevator with the doors closing before anyone in the office across the hall had time to spot him there. "Dammit, Jim," Blair muttered under his breath, left standing alone in the hall with the food. "Hey, Sandburg!" Simon walked out into the hall, followed by Rafe and Brown, to help Blair haul in the food. "You going to stand out here with the turkey all afternoon? Speaking of which, where *is* Ellison anyway?" "Sick." Blair formulated an instant excuse that would sound better than saying "he changed his mind and fled before you spotted him". "He's, uh, got this stomach thing--so he stayed home. I'm just going to drop off the food and head back." "Oh, man, you're not staying?" Daryl joined them in the hall. "Sorry, Daryl. I, uh, don't want to leave Jim too long. He was pretty sick." "He seemed fine yesterday," Simon said skeptically. "He was, but by last night, man, POW! And he was laid up." "Well, tell him to take care of himself," Simon concluded. "Thanks for bringing all this over anyway." "You're welcome. I didn't want you guys to all be standing around here turkeyless." "Can't you stay and have dinner at least?" Daryl prodded. "No, I really can't. I'm sorry to beg off, but I'm worried about Jim." That was the truth. "Happy Thanksgiving, guys." "You too, Blair. Tell Jim we hope he feels better," Rafe added, hoisting the turkey box and heading in to the bullpen. ******** As Jim walked along the pier, the cold air biting into his skin, he knew he had pulled a lousy trick on Blair, not to mention the rest of the guys. He was more than a little shocked when another form fell into step next to him. Whether he was more surprised that Blair had found him or that he had managed to approach without Jim noticing, the detective wasn't sure. "I was hoping you'd stay and at least have some dinner," Jim said quietly. "You must be freezing your ass out here." Jim knew Blair hated the icy wind that came off the water as winter drew near. Blair shuddered a little, but thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather coat and remained silent. "I couldn't handle going there, sweetheart. I'm sorry I screwed up your day like this." "What happened, lover?" Blair removed his hand from his pocket and slid it into Jim's hand. The larger man smiled and squeezed it, incredulous that Blair seemed to forgive him most anything without giving it a second thought. "I heard them talking...about the case." "With the trial coming up in January, that's probably going to be happening more and more. I mean it sucks, but people are going to be bringing it up, analyzing it." "The things they were speculating on were...a little too personal for me to be comfortable walking in there. Simon wasn't out there, I don't think, but it was Rafe and Brown and a couple other guys." "What did they say?" "They were talking about the, uh...the flashlight. And wondering if, you know, things could ever be...normal...between us. One of them said something about wondering if I'd want to go back to the way things were...since I used to be het." "That's none of their fucking business." "I thought you were just telling me that this was inevitable." "It is. Doesn't make it any of their business. But I guess since they're our friends, they're curious." Blair was quiet a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of his hand enclosed in Jim's, not really caring how cold it was. "And I think that most men, you know, thinking about sexual assault...it's a new thing to think of themselves as possible victims. Rape is something society associates so strongly with women..." Blair shrugged. "I don't think they meant anything against you by talking about it, but it's gotta shake them up--it could have been any one of them instead of you. It still could be if the situation was right for it someday." "True." Jim smiled slightly. "How do you manage to make things look so much less earth-shattering?" He looked down lovingly at his partner. "It's my job," Blair replied simply, laughing a little and sliding an arm around Jim's waist as the larger man's arm came around his shoulders. "Want to go somewhere and eat?" "If you want to go back to the party, Chief..." "You're still not comfortable with that idea, are you?" "No. But it isn't fair for you to have a rotten holiday because of my neuroses." "You're not being neurotic, Jim. You can hear more than anyone else, so you *know* if someone's talking about you. That's the difference. I don't blame you for being embarrassed. I would be too. I don't mean you have anything to be ashamed of, but that's personal stuff." "I just wasn't ready to go in there and have dinner with all of them after they were just discussing the odds on whether or not you were topping." "Does it bother you more that they talked about it or that I'm not?" "It all bothers me. But I guess the fact you're not...that I can't handle that yet..." "There are a lot of rape survivors who can't ever have any kind of enjoyable, healthy sex life after their ordeal. We *do*. We have a great sex life. We're just down to the fine tuning, and there's no rush about that. I'm not losing any sleep over it." "But it's not fair to you." "I loved you for years without even kissing you. Do you seriously think I'm going to walk away because I can't top right now?" "No, I don't think you'll ever walk away. But that doesn't make it fair." "It wasn't fair that you were raped. You didn't deserve to be violated and tortured that way. It wasn't fair but it happened. It isn't fair that there are still things that make you uneasy or nervous or uncomfortable because of what those bastards did, but there are, and we just have to cope with it. We will." "What if I can't ever let you do that?" "Then we'll spend the rest of our lives together doing everything else we do so well together, in bed and out of it. And I won't feel deprived." Blair let his head droop onto Jim's shoulder. "Everyday I have you here, alive, with me...that's a gift. Doesn't matter what we're doing together, as long as we *are* together." "I missed you so damned much when I was gone," Jim reflected, squeezing Blair's shoulders and kissing his hair lightly. "I didn't know it would be as hard for you as it was. I wouldn't have gone if I'd known." "I was so lonely without you. I didn't want to do anything." "Let's go find someplace to have dinner and then go home and let nature take its course," Jim suggested, flexing his eyebrows. Blair chuckled at that and the two men returned to Jim's truck and headed for the nearest open restaurant. ******** Blair lay naked on his stomach on the bed, relaxing and enjoying the sensations of Jim massaging his center with slick fingers. He spread his legs wider to allow better access, content and sated from the climax Jim had dragged out of him with a very talented mouth. Now he was happy to recover and let Jim take his pleasure, though he felt a few dangerous stirrings in his cock as he wiggled his rear a little to show his approval. "Like that, huh, baby?" Jim teased, circling the opening again with a finger that went in just far enough to excite but not far enough to find the internal nub that would undoubtedly be the key to bringing Blair to a second climax. "Mmmm. Feels good like that...with your fingers." "You like it when I massage you like this?" "Ooooh, yeah," Blair moaned, wiggling his butt again, trying to pull Jim's fingers deeper. "I love watching your ass...watching my fingers going in and out," Jim breathed against Blair's ear as he leaned over him. "Deeper," Blair pleaded, thrusting back again. "Love you, angel," Jim whispered against Blair's hair until he angled his fingers to find the little nub and smiled as Blair cried out and his body spasmed at the stimulation. "Oh, man, I'm ready, please?" Blair moved up on his knees and took a hold of the railing behind the bed, thrusting his ass out invitingly, spreading his knees apart wide. "You want it now, baby?" Jim was coating himself now, watching Blair's wiggling behind with its invitingly slick opening, reaching a painful hardness. He moved up behind the smaller body and sheathed himself in one long, steady stroke. "Come on, lover, move...let me have it..." Blair gasped, thrusting back against Jim, who lost whatever fragile hold he had on his control and began treating his aching cock to the workout it craved, sliding rapidly in and out of the tight tunnel that clenched around him. "Ugh...oh, man...so good...God, baby, you're...ugh, perfect. Love...your ass...so hot...so tight..." Jim grinned at the strangled moans that came out of Blair. The only thing that aroused Blair more than having something vital massaged or stroked was the right set of words. Not normally given to a lot of speech-making during sex, Jim had fun watching and listening to--not to mention feeling--the results of his words on his overheated, needy partner. "So good, so tight...oh, yeah...move for me, angel...you've got all the moves, baby," Jim added. "T-touch me," Blair pleaded between moans, his knuckles white where he held the railing. "Like this?" Jim managed in a strained voice, taking a firm hold of the engorged, leaking shaft. "Feel good?" Jim teased, feeling his own ability to speak waning as he felt the beginnings of his climax rippling through his body. His strokes quickened. "Oh, God, ohhhh....yeah....harder...ugh, ugh, ugh..." Blair was lost in a pattern of grunts and shouts until he stiffened and the muscles around Jim's cock tightened convulsively as Blair's completion bathed his lover's hand and the bed as a long cry came from the depths of his throat. Jim felt his own climax race up and overtake Blair's, both of them coming within seconds of each other, cries mingling, until they fell in a sweaty heap, still joined, on the mangled bedclothes. "You're beautiful, baby," Jim whispered into Blair's ear. "Sexy, hot and beautiful. I love you with all my heart, angel." He gathered Blair against him and turned them spoon style on their sides. "I'll always love you, baby. You're my treasure," Jim murmured, kissing Blair's ear and tracing the shell with his tongue. "Being inside you is the most beautiful experience in the world. You *are* my world." Jim smiled at the little catch in Blair's breathing and leaned over to kiss away the single tear he knew would be there. He hadn't made love to Blair with his words in a long time. "I love you, mine. Mine. All mine," Blair repeated possessively, resting his arms on top of Jim's where they wound around Blair's body. "Sometimes I can't believe you're mine. I have to keep saying it because you're so...so incredible that I can't believe you picked me out to fall in love with. You're so amazing that looking at you just makes my heart flip over. I want to stay here forever like this. All joined together." "Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart." "Happy Thanksgiving, lover." ******** The first days of the Bernardi trial were fairly uneventful. Opening statements and routine testimony from minor players in the undercover operation filled most of the court's time, though the prosecution's emphasis of the "brutal beating and sexual torture of an undercover police detective" had the press salivating for details. The judge had already approved a closed courtroom for Jim's testimony, and his name was to be kept out of the newspaper. The prosecutor had effectively argued that a male cop deserved the same dignity and privacy in a situation like this one that a female civilian could expect. Once it was a matter of the trial transcript, there wasn't much hope for it not to be front page news, even without Jim's name. January had already dumped mountains of snow on the citizens of Cascade, and Jim had racked up more overtime taking shifts for guys who couldn't make it in or who ended up in ditches in the attempt than he had in the past year. Blair had teased him about being the only cop who had a pack of sled dogs on stand-by in case the truck didn't start. Whatever gossip was flying around about the trial, most of Jim's colleagues were considerate enough to keep it out of what they considered to be his earshot. Of course, they hopelessly underestimated that range, and Jim was annoyed to no end by the trading of stories and half-truths about his assault and how he ended up in that situation to begin with, and what kind of sex life he had with his male lover "all things considered". Simon had offered him some time off, but he felt sitting at home and dreading the trial would only make it worse. Perhaps most disturbing was that the fourth among Jim's assailants had not yielded to a plea bargain with the DA. Instead, he continued to insist that the entire incident with Jim wasn't unusual--that some of the guys who hung around Bernardi's leather clubs liked a little rough action, and that while in his J.J. Rush persona, Jim had spent a considerable amount of time in those bars, and had frequently left with other men. According to this man, "J.J." had come on to him and insinuated that he was looking for some rough, dangerous action, and that he wanted to live out a rape fantasy. There was little question that this man was in fear of his life from retaliation from the crime family he worked for, but he also saw a chance to argue his way out of the most serious of the charges. The DA had shrugged off the whole situation, saying that one dirtbag telling a tall tale wasn't worth worrying about, but it still gave the defense a wider field of unpleasant questions to toss at the prosecution's star witness. As if in conspiracy with the legal system to fray the grad student's nerves to their breaking point, Blair's dissertation committee had shredded his last two chapters, so the depressed anthropologist was revising and re-writing yet again. Jim knew that most of Blair's troubles stemmed from choosing a subject in which he had much less field experience and much less interest than the sentinel project. He knew the right thing to do was to encourage Blair to go on one of the expeditions the younger man's colleagues occasionally suggested to him, but he honestly couldn't stand the thought of packing Blair off to some pre-civilized community for several months. For his part, Blair seemed equally unwilling to go. It was a bedraggled and slightly sleep-deprived Blair that made a side trip from the campus on a morning Jim had off from work to visit Simon. Jim wasn't due in until eleven at the earliest, since he had worked a sixteen-hour day the day before, and Simon had told him to sleep in and come in when he was ready. "I need to see Jim's statement," Blair said quietly as he took a chair across from Simon's desk." "Why?" Simon's face clearly displayed his shock at the request. "Because I need to be there for Jim. And if I'm hearing all this stuff for the first time when Jim tells it, I'm going to lose it. I know that. I won't be good for anything." "Blair, I don't know about this--" "Simon, please. Jim's told me only generalities, and the rest I can pretty much guess at, but he wants me to be there when he testifies, and I want to, but if I have to get hit stone cold with the details, I don't know how much good I can do him while I'm handling my own reactions." "Okay. Wait here." Simon left the office for a few minutes, and returned with a manilla folder, closing the door behind him. "This is the transcript of Jim's statement. I have a few errands to run. Take your time with it." "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." "You're right about needing to prepare yourself. But, Blair, this isn't a pretty story. It's sadistic and violent and horrible. So bear that in mind before you read it." "I know. It doesn't change the fact that I need to do this." "Okay. I'll be back in a while." Simon grabbed his coat and left the office. Blair opened the folder and began reading. It wasn't long before he had to raise his glasses and dry the first of many tears that burned his eyes. Jim described being herded into the black sedan and transported from Bernardi's office to the warehouse, where he was first tied seated in a chair, to suffer the first stage of the beating. Convinced he wasn't going to give in easily and hand over any information on how extensive the infiltration of the Bernardi Family was, they had moved to what they called "more persuasive measures". It had taken all four men to successfully overpower the detective, who had fought with every move he'd ever learned in his professional life. That had earned him the most severe of the blows to his stomach and sides that had resulted in the cracked ribs, and the blow to the head which had left him with a mild concussion. He had regained consciousness bound spread-eagled at the wrists and ankles, naked from the waist down. The rest of Jim's account was a mixed but very graphic detailing of voices, taunts, threats and finally, the rape itself, in which all four men had participated in one manner or another. Though none of them had used their own "natural equipment", it was obvious from Jim's account that some other object had been used prior to the flashlight, and it didn't appear that Jim remembered hearing Bernardi's voice. That wasn't surprising since he was already badly beaten and in considerable pain from the first stage of the rape when the man arrived. A few of the detectives in the bullpen noticed the retching sounds from the captain's office, but it was Rafe who finally ventured to the door, tapping on it and poking his head inside. Blair was on his knees on the floor near Simon's desk, having vomited violently into the waste basket. "Blair?" He moved inside the office and shut the door. "Hey, man, are you okay?" He crouched by the shaking form on the floor. "Maybe it's that flu--" He stopped as Blair shook his head vigorously, clamping a hand over his mouth not to stop from being ill again, but to stifle the volume of the sobs that were coming out whether he wanted them to or not. "I need a minute," he croaked at Rafe, who started to stand, then thought better of it. Jim and Blair were both his friends, and if Jim knew what kind of pain Blair was in, the last thing he'd want to see was Blair dealing with it alone. "You're among friends here, Blair." Rafe put an arm around the shaking shoulders. "I...r-read...the st-statement...Jim's...the r-rape," Blair choked out, still seeming a bit stiff with someone other than Jim comforting him. "Don't worry about those bastards. They won't get away with this." A little unsure of how far to push his consolation on Blair, Rafe tentatively pulled the other man against him with both arms, and was somewhat relieved when the only response was a total lack of resistance and rest of the tears Blair needed to shed, drawing strength from someone else instead of giving it to Jim. "Jim's one of our own. We don't let something like this pass." "What...?" "Don't worry, Blair. They won't get near Jim again. We're going to look out for you guys. This is a family here, and nobody fucks with part of this family. You're not alone, man. You've got lots of friends, and lots of support." "I'm so tired," Blair confided, not moving to pull away just yet. "My dissertation's...all...fucked up. I-I d-don't want to...tell Jim because...he'll feel guilty...and it isn't...his fault." "Can you fix it?" "If I...I could think, maybe. But it's like...my mind's...all messed up." "You were seeing Jack O'Brien, right? Maybe you ought to call him." "Jim doesn't need him anymore." "We're not talking about Jim. We're talking about what you need. Call your doctor, Blair. You need somebody to talk to." "I know," Blair said, swallowing a couple of times and pulling away now, looking a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry about this, man." "Don't apologize to *me*, pal. It's *Simon's* $50 wastebasket you just puked in." Rafe flashed a grin at Blair, who couldn't help laughing. "I'll call Dr. O'Brien later. Thanks, Rafe." "Am I interrupting something here, gentlemen?" Simon asked, puzzled as to why a police consultant and one of his detectives were on their knees on the floor of his office near the wastebasket. "Did you really pay $50 for that wastebasket, Simon?" Blair asked. It was Rafe's turn to laugh. ******** Blair called Dr. O'Brien soon after leaving the precinct and arranged to meet with him that afternoon. Feeling guilty not only for not telling Jim what he was doing but also for going back whining to the doctor when Jim was functioning well without therapy, the man who finally took a seat nervously in the doctor's office looked as if he wanted to be anywhere except where he was. The office was furnished in obviously good quality pieces, but the comfortable leather furniture was arranged like a rec room, with the desk an afterthought against one wall of the room. Jack O'Brien's approach was casual; he sat down in comfortable furniture, sometimes with his feet up, to "visit with" his patients. "Should I bother sitting down?" Jack asked, smiling. Blair looked confused as he sat perched on the edge of a large leather chair. "You look like you're about ready to make an escape attempt." "I don't know why I'm here." Blair was up on his feet and pacing. "You said on the phone that you felt like you needed to talk. One thing you need to do is relax, Blair. You're the one who was trying to teach me all those breathing exercises after I found out about my high blood pressure last month." "Yeah, well, do as I say, not as I do, so to speak," Blair responded, finally slouching back in the chair. "I don't know what's wrong with me." "Why do you think anything's wrong with you?" "Jim isn't here, and he's the one who was raped. He's getting on with his life as best he can under the circumstances, and I'm back here crying to the shrink. No offense," Blair added hastily. "None taken." Jack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, smiling. "You give Jim a lot of moral support, don't you?" "I try." "Who supports you?" "We've talked about all this before." "Just answer me." "Well, Rafe was really nice about everything today--I read Jim's statement...he doesn't know I did that, but I'm going to hear it all in court in a few days, and I want to be there for Jim, and I knew if I heard it for the first time then, I'd lose it." "Okay, so we have Rafe giving you moral support. Do you talk to him pretty regularly?" "Of course not. He works with Jim--he's a colleague. Like I'm going to tell him stuff like this." "Your mother still doesn't know?" "She's in India with a couple of friends--they're doing research on reincarnation." "I'd like to meet your mom one of these days. She must be a fascinating lady to talk to." "She is," Blair replied, smiling for the first time. "She's been everywhere twice, I think." "Must be genetic, huh?" "Yeah, I guess I pretty much have too. We both like to travel." "But you can't reach her to talk, right?" "Not very easily." "How about at the University?" "This stuff is too personal--I mean, personal to Jim. I don't feel right talking about *his* rape to other people. It's like humiliating him all over again." "So you have no one to talk to is what this boils down to. No one but Jim, to whom you're giving support. And you're right, we have gone over this before because you only think in terms of your needs as they relate to Jim's. If Jim doesn't need to see me, therefore you don't either. If Jim doesn't want the rape discussed with outsiders, you do without any moral support. So I'm going to put this in terms that maybe will make you feel comfortable to at least come here and talk to me when you're having a bad day. You are trying to be a stronghold for Jim, a support system for him to fall back on. If you're a basket case, you aren't going to be able to really be there for Jim the way you could if you were getting your emotional and psychological needs met. So think of it as refueling so you can be of greater help to Jim in his recovery." "But why do I still fall apart like this when he's so...together?" Jack was silent a few moments, as if trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say without betraying Jim's confidence. "There are a couple things you need to understand about Jim. For one thing, control is very important to him. That's not a news bulletin to you, I'm sure." "Not really," Blair replied, chuckling a little. "To Jim, recovery means getting back in control--and part of that is walking away from therapy. Not needing it. It gives Jim a greater sense of well-being to not need to talk to me all the time. If he can manage, he feels stronger, more 'normal' again. This isn't anything he's told me, but it's something I've observed. And it was very true of my own recovery. And the other thing you need to realize is that there is no such thing as 'getting over' something like this. I'm not 'over' what happened to me even now. Sometimes things set me off, upset me. I have an occasional nightmare--though that's pretty rare, thank God. The point is, Jim is *not* in the habit of sitting and talking openly about his feelings. That's not always a big release for him. It's an effort. You're a talker, Blair. From what you've told me, your mother is very expressive, you were raised to be very genuine, and to be very open with your feelings, and to talk about them. For you, talking helps. It makes you feel better. For Jim, it tires him out and drains him and makes him feel like he's reliving a lot of old misery." "But therapy helped him." "Sure it did. There were a lot of issues for us to work on, and it was a good idea for Jim to have some professional help to do that. He may come back to me from time to time in the future, if he feels the need to." Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Every one of us has different emotional needs. You can't gauge yours in terms of what Jim's are. You aren't weak or selfish or wrong because you feel a need for some ongoing counseling and Jim doesn't at this point." "How am I gonna hold up for him in court?" Blair asked, his voice breaking. "What they did to him...I didn't know all the details before but now..." Blair covered his mouth with one hand, vainly trying to pull back tears. "Jim never did tell you everything then?" Blair shook his head. "I had a pretty good idea, from Jim's injuries and what he *did* tell me, but..." Blair swallowed again, wiping at the tears that were escaping. "Blair, when you love someone as deeply as you love Jim, you feel their pain. You've felt his pain with him in a non-specific way throughout this whole ordeal, but now you have images to go with those feelings." "I wish I could...go back and make it...be me...instead of him." Blair had given up on controlling the tears. They were coming and there was nothing he could do to stop them. "I want to kill every one of them. I never wanted to kill someone before." "Is that what's upsetting you the most?" "No...I don't know. All of it is. My dissertation's falling apart. My committee's on my back because my writing is so shitty and I miss all my deadlines and my work isn't well thought-out." "So reading Jim's statement this morning was the tip of a very large iceberg." "Jim was the one who was raped and I'm the one falling apart. I don't get it." "You just said you'd rather have been the one to be raped than to see Jim as the victim. It hurts you more to see Jim hurt than it does to be hurt yourself. Is that accurate?" Blair just nodded, letting his sobs come out unhindered. Jack had probably seen worse displays before and would see worse ones in the future. "That's your answer. This is harder for you to get past because it's Jim's pain. You can't love someone more than to want to take their pain. And you can't take it away for Jim. You can support him and love him and be there for him, but you can't make it right again. You can't guide him this time." Blair's head shot up and his eyes widened. "Jim explained the situation about his senses to me. I frankly thought he was stark raving bananas," the unprofessional term drew a watery chortle out of Blair, "but then he demonstrated. I don't pretend to understand it, but it was important to me in understanding your relationship. Aside from loving Jim enough that you would happily die for him or accept torture or pain in his place given half the chance, you are used to being able to 'make it better' when Jim's in pain. You've spent years devising ways to make his life easier and more pleasant and bearable for him. But this time you can't. You're on the outside of this pain, because Jim has to find his own way out of it. You can be the light at the end of the tunnel for him--and don't ever doubt that you are, because your support and the way you've stood by him is the most important external factor in his recovery. But you can't go in the tunnel with him this time. He has to suffer through this and make his own peace with it. I did, and there are still days I get stuck in the tunnel." "I want to do something that's going to make this easier for him." "Do you think killing the men who did it would do that?" "Yes. He wouldn't have to testify." "You'd have to kill Bernardi too, because his trial is the big problem here, isn't it?" "Yes," Blair replied, pulling himself together a little. "Do you want to do that?" "Yes." "Really?" "Yes." Blair met the doctor's eyes with unwavering conviction. "If there was a way, I would." "Why?" "So Jim could put this behind him." "You'd go to prison." "Probably." Blair got up and walked over to the window. "So Jim would spend the rest of his life alone." "It's not rational. I know that. I just want them to stop hurting him." Blair felt the tears welling up again, and didn't worry anymore about stopping them. "This trial is so humiliating for him. To have to tell that in court...and that son of a bitch that was in on raping him is going to sit there and say somehow that they thought he was cruising the leather bars looking for a good time, that they were just giving him the 'connoisseur treatment'--acting out his 'rape fantasy' for God's sake." "You do realize that killing them would only cause Jim much greater pain because he'd lose you too?" "I know. I won't do it. I just want to. And that bothers me." "It's a very natural feeling." "Not for me." "Jim usually protects you, doesn't he?" "I guess." "If someone hurts you, he's pretty inclined to attack first and ask questions later, isn't he?" "Yeah." "Jim is your life partner, your mate. It's our basic animal instinct to protect our own, our mates. Obviously, this isn't the jungle, as much as it may resemble it sometimes, so we can't act on those feelings. But that doesn't take them away." "I don't like walking around wanting to kill someone all the time. It's so...*wrong*." "It's destructive and counterproductive. Whether or not it's wrong is all an issue of morals. Are feelings *wrong* if you don't act on them?" "It's bad karma." "So was raping Jim." "I thought you were going to help me get a handle on this." "I'm trying to do that. You're not *wrong* for feeling angry or even homicidal. That's nature--raw instinct. They hurt your mate, your animal instinct says 'kill'. But those feelings *are* destructive, which is why you have to find a way to put them in perspective." "What if I can't?" "What's more important to you--revenge or your life with Jim?" "You know the answer to that." "Humor me," Jack shot back, deadpan. "Jim is the most important thing in my life." "Then you need to work out your anger just like Jim needed to work out his. Find some kind of release for it." "Like pounding on an old mattress or something?" "Something like that, yes," Jack replied, smiling. "You don't like to be angry, do you, Blair?" "No." "Negative energy, bad karma, upsets the internal rhythms?" Jack continued to smile as Blair stared at him, surprised to hear all his own terminology come out of the doctor's mouth. "Y-yeah," he responded, suspicious where this was leading. "Can I share a theory with you?" "Sure." "How about sitting down again?" "Okay." Blair returned to the seating area and perched on the edge of the chair. "You told me that Jim's problem was repression--or at least you thought his single greatest emotional challenge was that he was taught to repress his feelings." "Yeah." "But we're talking 'softer' feelings--fear, sorrow, insecurity, that kind of thing. Anger and aggression, that's okay to let out in Jim's world, right?" "I guess. The military, the PD, even his dad--I guess nobody really told him not to get mad. His career is aggressive, sometimes very violent. He doesn't contain anger real well," Blair concluded with an affectionate smile. "Blair, you were conditioned with just as much repression as Jim was." "What are you talking about? You just told me that I was taught to be open and expressive. You can't have it both ways." "Open and expressive with your 'softer' feelings. Love, compassion, empathy, fear, sorrow, grief, insecurity, hurt. But what about anger? What did your mother think of anger? What did she say when you were angry as a child?" "She never came down on me for throwing a tantrum." "But when you did, what did she say?" "That it was negative energy, and that it was bad karma, and that I should learn to process my anger and then she'd help me meditate or do some breathing until I calmed down." "You should 'learn to process it'. In other words, you should take your anger and transform it into something acceptable, because the anger itself isn't." "You're twisting what she said." "No, I'm not. But your mother didn't approve of anger or aggression in its raw, passionate form, did she? It was supposed to be *processed*. That might make sense to you now, as an adult, and it's a very positive thing to evaluate your feelings and channel them in a positive manner. But it can be damned confusing for a child. Did you like meditating when you were a child?" "No." "What bothered you the most about it?" "Sitting still so long...not doing anything." "How long did those sessions last?" "As long as it took til she thought everything was okay again." "Give me a 'for instance'." "We were living in an apartment in this building, and I got to be sort of friends with this other kid--I was eight, I think. I had this car with a little motor in it--not one of those that kids can ride in, but just a little model. He broke it when we were playing, and I punched him right in the nose." "How did that feel?" "Great," Blair replied honestly, laughing a little. "What did your mother say?" "She had to fix his nose first. But after she took him home, she came home and told me she was very disappointed in me." Blair took a deep breath. "I wish she had just yelled at me or even spanked me. That hurt worse...knowing she was disappointed..." "So that was it?" "No. She told me I had to learn how to channel my negative energy. She made me sit there until she thought I had done that. We both sat on the floor, you know, in the lotus position." "For how long?" "Two hours." "You don't consider that pretty harsh?" "She didn't hit me or anything. She never even raised her voice to me. She rarely did." "But you said it would have been easier if she had." "I guess." "Blair, when you were angry, when you felt aggression related to anger, any time after that, what was the first thing that occurred to you?" "That I was disappointing her." "So how do you deal with anger?" "I process it...most of the time. I still get pissed off and lose my temper sometimes." "But not until you're provoked or pushed to your limits." "I guess." "So you were conditioned through a very effective *emotional* punishment to stifle your anger and not to be aggressive. If you had to put anger into a category, right or wrong, where would you put it?" "In the 'wrong' category." "Why?" "Because...I don't know. It just is." "Because...?" "When I get angry, I-I fail. I'm not processing my feelings the way I should." "So how is 'processing' different from repression when it comes to feelings your mother didn't approve of?" "She didn't say don't be angry. She just said I should process those feelings." "I'm sure no one told Jim 'don't be sad'--I would say 'don't be a crybaby' would be more accurate. The very elements you see about Jim's personality with regard to repressing his emotions are very closely paralleled to the kind of *repression* you were taught when it comes to anger. The feeling still comes, but you push it down." "But you have to do that." "Sure you do, to some extent. You have to contain your anger, because you have to live peacefully in society and with your loved ones and friends. But when you first *feel* the anger, how do you label the feeling--right off the top of your head, quick." "Wrong." "So there's the heart of the matter, Blair. You're shredding yourself up inside because no one can process the anger you have to be feeling into a lot of deep breaths and meditation without some more violent thoughts cropping up. Is it wrong to get mad at the people who hurt Jim and to want to make them suffer in return?" "Well, yeah." "To feel it. Not to do it." "I guess...I guess not." "Was it wrong of you to feel angry at the kid who broke your toy?" "I guess not." "Was it wrong to hit him?" "Yeah." "So where's the line?" "The line?" "Between healthy, normal anger, and unacceptable aggression?" "I don't know." "Blair, you just defined it for me with your own answers. It was wrong to hit the other child. Was it *wrong* to feel the anger? Did just feeling angry make you a bad person?" "No." "So would it be wrong to murder the men who hurt Jim?" "Of course." "Is it wrong to feel the anger?" "I guess not." Blair looked at Jack, showing a little glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You're right. It's a feeling, Blair. A very healthy, perfectly natural response to someone you love being brutalized. Now you still have to process it, as your mom called it. But you have to allow yourself to feel it, and not judge yourself as a bad person because you feel violent anger." Jack sighed. "I am *not* suggesting that Naomi was wrong to teach you to channel your anger into something other than physical aggression. That element of what she taught you was right on. However, teaching you that you were a disappointment if you felt anger, and making a child the age you were sit still for two hours and meditate is actually a very severe punishment." Jack held up his hand as Blair started to open his mouth. "And I'm sure she didn't mean it that way." "She always treated me like an equal, and she handled negative feelings that way--by meditating." "At eight years old, you're not your mother's equal. You understand now the benefits of handling your feelings through meditation, and as an adult, you can do that effectively. For an eight year old, that was like a very severe 'time out' rather than meditation. Did you really meditate while you sat there?" "No." "What did you do?" "Watched my mom until she caught me and told me to close my eyes again. Then I just sat there and wondered how long it would be before things would be okay again, and she wasn't mad anymore." "Do you like meditation now?" "Yes. It centers me, gets me relaxed, gives me time to process the things that are going on my mind--not repress them, but think them through, see some clear answer as to how to handle them." "How do you feel right now about your anger?" "I think I understand it better. It's not as...as scary as it was before. I guess I see the difference between feeling and doing--in terms of right and wrong." Blair sighed. "It feels better to have said it right out--that I want to kill them all. That I probably would given half the chance. But now I *want* to process those feelings, find my center, find some way to handle it constructively." Blair paused. "The feelings upset me more than usual, because they weren't going away. I can usually let anger go. I can't this time, and I guess it's something I just have to accept is there, and work on." "You want to start coming back in to talk with me once in a while?" "Yeah." "Once a week all right?" "That sounds good." "Is there anything about Jim's statement you want to talk about?" "Not now. I, uh, kind of want to go see Jim." "Okay. Can I make one more recommendation?" "Sure." "Take a leave of absence from Rainier. You need a little time to get yourself together. Your dissertation is turning into the nightmare it is because your mind is split too many ways. I've been down this road before--I mean getting my doctorate. Thankfully, I had just gotten it before my incident, but I know that it can be an all-consuming project. You're putting too much strain on yourself, Blair. You're teaching, working with Jim, giving Jim moral support, dealing with your own anger and pain about Jim's rape, worrying about the trial--which you still have to make it through, and on top of all that you're trying to sit down at your keyboard and produce something profound for your committee." "I'm on a teaching fellowship, Jack. If I don't teach, I don't get my stipend, and if I'm not doing research, I don't get any grant money." "If I write you a letter verifying your need for a leave of absence, would they let you back in for the Spring or Fall semester if you were to take the Winter semester off?" "I think so." "Don't you think Jim would be able to cover the bills for a few months?" "Yeah, I'm sure he could. I just don't like to live off him that way." "Maybe it would make Jim feel good to do that for you. He likes taking care of you, even if you don't need it most of the time. It's good for him to feel needed right now, and feeling like the breadwinner for a few months certainly won't hurt his self image." "Nice sales pitch, doc," Blair challenged, smiling. "Okay, so I'm trying to make you see taking care of yourself as something positive for Jim, because you're a hell of a lot more likely to do it that way. But nothing I said was a lie." "If you can write me the letter for documentation, I'll go talk to my advisor tomorrow." "Stop by the office in the morning and get it." "Okay. Thanks, Jack." Blair stood up and so did the other man. "No problem. That's what I'm here for. Let Shelly know that you're going to be coming in once a week, and she'll get you set up with some appointments." "Right. Thanks again. I probably screwed up your schedule." "I just reworked the schedule a bit. And I think we had a worthwhile session today." "So do I." "Take care of yourself, Blair. And go see Jim." "That's where I'm headed," Blair replied, walking out of the office toward the secretary's desk. "I sort of figured that." The doctor smiled before returning to his office. ******** Blair made a stop at Rainier long enough to find someone to cover his late afternoon class, and grateful his advisor wasn't in his office, he left a voicemail message that he was unable to make their appointment to discuss his latest chapter. He found a few cartons and packed up his personal effects, figuring that if he were gone a full semester, someone else might very likely be using his workspace. After loading the items in his car, he drove home to the loft. Jim would be home from work any time now, so he started working on a salad and selected a couple of steaks he'd start on the indoor grill as soon as Jim arrived home. "Honey, I'm home!" Jim called out jokingly as he came through the front door, brushing the snow off his shoulders. Blair made a beeline from the kitchen until he wrapped his arms around Jim's body and hung on tightly, ignoring the dampness of the snow-dusted coat his lover hadn't had time to remove yet. "I missed you today." "What's wrong, baby?" Jim asked, holding Blair tightly and kissing his hair. "I just had a bad day is all." "Something happen about the dissertation? Bad meeting with Burkhardt?" Jim referred to Blair's advisor. "No. I...I went to see Jack again." "Oh," Jim responded quietly, realizing now that Blair's "bad day" centered around the rape. "Jim, I need to tell you something. Please don't be mad at me, okay?" Blair pulled back and looked worriedly up at Jim. "Promise." Jim kept his arms loosely around Blair's waist. "I read your statement." "I know. Simon told me." "Oh man!" Blair moved away and started pacing. "I thought he'd keep his mouth shut." "He was concerned about you. He also said I should tell you not to worry about the wastebasket." Jim watched as Blair's expression softened a bit and he chuckled a little. "I threw up in his wastebasket." "The overpriced hand-carved thing? Man, if I thought he'd get rid of that piece of crap, I'd have thrown up in it last year sometime. That thing was butt ugly." Jim smirked until Blair smiled, and then laughed a little. "I'm not mad, Chief. You're going to hear it all in a matter of days anyway. I should have thought of it myself." "I should have asked you. I know I shouldn't have gone there and read it without telling you, but I had to be prepared for what I was going to hear in court." "All joking aside about Simon's wastebasket, if you were throwing up in it, you were pretty upset. I'm sorry about that, sweetheart." Jim dropped into the corner seat of the couch and let out an audible "oomph" as he was hit with a lapful of Blair. "You don't ever have to apologize to me for any of this. You know that, lover. Not one little tiny part of it was your fault." "Did Jack help you get a handle on things?" "A lot of things. We didn't talk much about the statement. I mean, I was upset, and that triggered it, but there was a lot of other stuff too. More stuff than I realized, I guess. He's going to write me a letter verifying that I need to take a leave of absence from Rainier. I'm fucking up my dissertation more every time I revise it, and I can't seem to focus on anything." "Aw, shit, Chief, I never wanted any of this to ruin your shot at your doctorate." "It's not going to ruin it if I handle it right. Besides, even if it all went up in smoke, it wouldn't be your fault. Jack seems to think there isn't going to be enough of me to go around emotionally and psychologically if I stick with it right now, and he's right." Blair slid down a little, making himself comfortable in Jim's arms, his head on the broad chest. Jim's heartbeat was reassuring beneath his ear. "I should have know that something like this would happen. You've put this situation ahead of everything else and now--" "And now I'm taking a few months off to get my head together and take care of my priorities. Don't beat yourself up about this, Jim. It isn't your fault. It's the best thing for me right now. I'm burned out academically at the moment, and I'm wrung out emotionally. I need a few hours to sit in the middle of the floor and sway to the aborigine CD, and I need some time to spend with you that isn't work or eating or sex--even though I love doing all those things with you. I'm tired. Jack's right. I need a break. There's one thing though," Blair added, straightening a little to look at Jim. "What?" "They'll probably let me resume my fellowship when I come back since I'll have documentation from a therapist that I need the time off--" "Blair, you tell them what you need to about this situation to get your leave with your reinstatement guaranteed. If you have to tell them about the rape, you do it, baby." "That means a lot to me, love. Thank you." Blair leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against Jim's, and was sucked into a more prolonged dance of tongues with his lover. When he pulled back, he rested his head on Jim's shoulder. "I guess the big thing is...you're gonna have to support me for a few months. No stipend, no grant funds. I need to know if you're okay with that. I know my income is pretty secondary anyway right now, but still, I do pay some bills, and if it's going to be a burden--" "I would love to support you, baby. I'd take care of you for the rest of your life if you wanted me to. A few months is no problem." "Thank you for being mine," Blair murmured, more grateful for Jim's consistent and seemingly limitless love than he could express. "I hope you're going to keep going to see Jack while you're on leave." "I am. I guess I still need some help getting my head together about this." "We both do. I just can't find a lot more help from therapy anymore. But I know I have a long way to go yet." "Jack compared it to a tunnel. He said I could be the light at the end of it--" "But that I have to make it through the tunnel on my own? Yeah, he's mentioned that before. And he's right." "Where are you in the tunnel now?" "About three-fourths of the way to the end, I'd say. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was one of those near-death experiences, because there's an angel at the end of my tunnel." "I don't know if I qualify as an angel." "You're my angel, angel." Jim stroked the soft curls that rested just below his chin. "We're going to be okay, Blair. Don't you worry about anything. We'll make it through this." "I should be telling you that--" "Shhh. Hush. For once, let *me* take care of *you*. Let *me* tell *you* that everything'll be all right. That things are going to get better. They will, baby. I promise you. We're in the home stretch." "I love you, mine." "I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything." ******** Blair tried to concentrate on his breathing, on anything that would help him remain calm and collected while Jim gave his testimony regarding the rape. It flashed through Blair's mind how strikingly handsome Jim always looked in a suit and tie, and today was no exception. //But then he's just an impressively handsome man,// Blair thought affectionately, grateful for the momentary distraction from the long and painful stint Jim had to look forward to on the witness stand. Beverly Sanchez had handled everything up to now with as much tact and sensitivity as possible, and Blair figured she would do her best not to drag Jim through a knothole with her questions. The defense attorney for Mick Bernardi, however, was an entirely different story. He would be waiting for his chance to use the testimony of Sam Wilson, the fourth member of the team of thugs who claimed Jim was living out some kind of sick rape fantasy. His contention was that the only reason his three cohorts were going along with the prosecution's version was because they were willing to "sell out" for plea bargains. The testimony Jim gave was necessarily graphic, but Jim withstood it well. His jaw often twitched and he sometimes relied on gulping some of the water from the glass provided to him to delay an answer, but he delivered a very concise, stirring testimony. Three of the jurors cried during the most upsetting part of his account of the rape itself. The pain was evident in his face and his voice, but his strength served him well, and seemed to earn him the admiration of the jury, as well as the judge. He was not detached, it was not that he wasn't in immense emotional pain, but rather that he rose to the occasion with his usual stoicism. It was a job, a *duty* to testify, and he did it well. The prosecution brought up Jim's relationship with Blair, knowing full well that the defense had that information and would lose no time in pointing out that Jim was in a same sex relationship at the time of his rape. So Jim had answered the questions calmly, explaining that they were in love, considered themselves a permanently married couple, and answered a few other tasteful questions asked by Beverly Sanchez in her role as prosecutor on the case. Still, by the end of the day, Jim was drained, withdrawn and only responded to Simon and Beverly with a couple of abrupt phrases as he took a hold of Blair's hand and headed out of the court room once court was adjourned for the day. He still had a full stint of cross-examination to look forward to the next day, and the safe haven of the loft was beckoning to him. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jim let out an audible sigh. "I'm going to get a fire going, sweetheart," he said tiredly, moving into the living room while removing the clip-on tie and tossing it on the back of the couch. "Feel like you could eat anything?" Blair asked, moving into the kitchen. "Not really. But you go ahead, Chief." Jim finished building the fire and then moved over to the couch, where he stared listlessly into the dancing flames. Blair made them some hot herbal tea, something he hoped might start relaxing Jim a bit. "Here. Maybe this'll help." Blair handed him the steaming mug and then sat down close to Jim as the other man's arm flopped around his shoulders. "This helps," Jim said quietly, squeezing Blair's shoulders. "When Simon and Beverly said you did great, they weren't just trying to make you feel better, man. You handled the whole thing so well. I'm beyond proud of you, Jim." "It feels so damned fragile...like I'm just barely getting through all this. I felt so *normal* before the trial." "Revisiting this has got to be almost as painful as living through it." "It is." "Jim? You don't have to 'handle it' with me. If you need to lose it--scream, yell, throw something, cry, whatever--this is home. You're in safe territory." "If I ever did that...let it rip...I'd never put it all back together by tomorrow." Jim shook his head. "This was with the home team today." "I wish there was something I could do." "You're doing it. Just standing by me. Being in court every day. I know this isn't easy for you to hear. And I know it's taken a toll on your academic life." "My academic life will rise again, never fear," Blair responded, smiling a little. "Don't worry about me. This is about you." "But it's been hard on you." "And I'm seeing Jack O'Brien again to help me pull my head together. I'll be okay. As long as we're together, I can handle anything anybody throws at me." "I'm so fucking tired, Chief." Jim's head dropped back on the couch. "I want to move on with my life." "You're almost there, babe. Just hang in a little while longer." Blair set his tea aside. "Come on. How about a nice hot soak in the tub and then I'll fix you a little of that potato cheese soup you like." "You said you weren't going to make that anymore because it had too much fat in it." "It does, but this is an exception." Blair got up and leaned down to kiss Jim's lips quickly. "I'll fill the tub and you come in when you're ready." "Gonna join me?" Jim's voice couldn't quite make it to seductive. He was too tired to move himself around effectively, let alone seduce Blair. "Nope. I'm going to bathe you, and then you're going to relax in the tub for a while. I'll fix us some soup and then I'll come back in and roust you out of the tub." "Sounds like heaven," Jim responded honestly, dragging himself upstairs to shed his dress clothes in favor of his old gray robe. He grabbed some clean underwear and made his way back downstairs. The bathroom was lit with a few fat candles, the space heater had taken the January chill off the little room, and the tub was filled with warm, inviting water scented with something very faint and herbal. Blair accepted Jim's robe and waited while the other man lowered himself into the warm embrace of the water. Jim let out an audible sigh of relief, a little of the tension leaving his features. Blair made it a point not to speak. He lathered up a sponge and Jim leaned forward in unspoken understanding, letting his lover wash his back in slow, soothing strokes. Once his back was washed and rinsed, Blair grabbed the tub pillow that had rarely seen use since Carolyn's departure and put it under Jim's head. "Close your eyes," Blair whispered, as if he were breaking a vow of silence just to make that suggestion. Jim obeyed happily, giving himself over to the comforting sensations of Blair's gentle hands and the sponge lovingly bathing him and washing away the misery of the day. The next time Jim opened his eyes, it was because Blair was speaking softly to him, and he could smell something pleasant wafting in the air from the kitchen. "How long have I been out?" "Just about fifteen minutes. The soup'll be ready soon." Blair opened out a large, fluffy white bath towel, and Jim got out of the tub, smiling as the smaller man started carefully drying him. "This is really the star treatment, Chief," he said softly, lightly caressing the curl-covered head as Blair dried his legs and the lower portion of his body without so much as an inappropriate lingering in a sensitive area. "Just want you to relax, lover." Blair finished drying the long, perfectly sculpted body and then found a comb, just tidying up a few strands of hair that had escaped their proper places. Jim grabbed his boxers and stepped into them, and smiled when he found Blair holding his robe for him. Jim was stunned to have an appetite, but he ate the large bowl of soup and the warm rolls Blair had heated in the oven. His lover ate with him, but in relative silence, with their chairs close enough for their knees to touch. When they finished their meal, Blair cleaned up while Jim went upstairs and turned back the bed. It seemed early to turn in, and yet, he was exhausted. He knew it was more emotional than physical, but the thought of turning out the lights and shutting out everything but holding Blair's warm body in his arms was the only thing that was bringing him peace. Blair showered and came upstairs dressed in his bathrobe. "Would you like me to read to you for a while?" Blair asked his lover, who was already in bed, relaxed but not sleeping. "Yeah," Jim breathed, savoring the thought. Blair smiled and slipped out of his robe, climbing into bed naked. Propping himself up with the pillows behind his back, he brought the covers up around his shoulders to fend off the cold. He was surprised when Jim moved over and rested his head on Blair's chest, near his heart, the warmth of the large body attaching itself to his dispelling the chill in the bedroom. Blair smiled down at Jim, though the other man didn't see him. Jim's eyes were closed as he relaxed and let Blair's heartbeat set the pace of his own breathing. Letting one hand lightly stroke Jim's hair, Blair found his glasses on the night stand and grabbed the book they had been reading off and on for the last few months. Usually whichever of them was sleepiest would get in position to sleep while the other read, on those nights where what they most needed was rest and not more strenuous activities. Jim hadn't really followed the story too well, but it was a long, fairly placid story of a frontier family and their struggles. Jim found it boring enough to sleep by and interesting enough to pay marginal attention to when he was still conscious. Mainly, he drifted to the sound of Blair's heartbeat and breathing and his steady, smooth, soft voice as he read from the book. The arm that came around him ending in the hand that stroked his hair made him feel cherished. Within minutes, he slept. ******** Jim was grateful for the wonderfully peaceful and restorative evening Blair had provided him with the night before as he faced the rigors of another day in court. Back on the witness stand, he prayed this would be his last time there. Now, the defense attorney for Mick Bernardi, an overpriced suit in $500 shoes, was circling the witness stand like a shark deciding which extremity to bite off first. The predictable questions were asked, the predictable insinuations made based on Wilson's contrived story of Jim "cruising the leather bars looking for action" and the whole "rape fantasy" story he had woven. Jim answered each one with a barely achieved restraint. Blair could see the fire in his lover's eyes, his desire to seize the grandstanding lawyer and snap his neck like a twig. However, he calmly refuted every lurid suggestion that he had a taste for rough sex that wasn't being satisfied in his current relationship, but was satisfied and cured by his encounter with Bernardi's men. Once it was obvious he was not going to get the answers from Jim he wanted regarding his sex life and sexual tastes, nor was he going to get the outburst he'd hoped for, he moved on to what he obviously considered more fertile ground. "Detective, when you were assigned to Vice, you worked on a number of, shall we say, difficult cases. Is that a fair assumption?" "Yes." "I have heard that it isn't uncommon for detectives in Vice to endure a number of extreme situations to make a bust. Is that true?" "In some cases, I suppose it is." "Have you ever been in such a situation?" "Consensually? No." Jim delivered the answer without moving his glare from the other man's eyes. "You don't condone rape." "That's a safe statement," Jim responded, shaking his head with a disgusted smirk on his face. "Have you ever broken the law to make a case?" "Yes," Jim answered honestly. The defense attorney's eyes gleamed like a large cat that had just spotted a particularly choice canary. "Only once?" "More than once." "Twice." "More than twice." "How long should I keep going here, Detective Ellison? Or should I ask, how many times have you made a case *without* breaking the law to save the court's valuable time?" "Objection," Beverly interjected, rising. "The question is argumentative and counsel is badgering the witness." "Sustained. Ask your question and make your point, Mr. Fuller," the judge, an older man with receding white hair and a commanding presence, ordered the attorney. "Yes, your honor," the other attorney replied, then turned back to Jim. "How many times have you broken the law to make a case? Would 'several' be a safely vague number?" "Yes." "So several times in your career, you have broken the law to make a case?" "Yes. But you have to understand that--" "Just yes or no for now, please," the attorney corrected. "But it isn't a black and white answer with Vice," Jim shot back, determined to make his point. "So you have been involved in some, shall we say, shady situations under the guise of working Vice?" "Yes, because much of that work is undercover, and there are times when you have to do things to establish or stay in character--to save your life or the lives of others involved in the operation with you." "So you've broken the law to stay in character?" "Yes." "But you deny that you engaged in a little rough sex to stay in character on this assignment?" Blair waited for Beverly's objection, and when none was forthcoming, he stood up without giving it a second thought. "You son of a bitch! How dare you!" Before Blair could move away from his seat, which he clearly intended to do, Simon held him back by the arm with one large hand. "Order in the court!" The judge brought the gavel down once. "Mr. Sandburg, if you ever interrupt these proceedings in that manner again, I'll not only have you removed and barred from this court room, but you will be on your way to the county lock-up on contempt charges. Is that clear?" "If the prosecution doesn't know enough to object, someone has to," Blair shot back, and Simon just rolled his eyes, fully expecting Blair to be hauled away in hand cuffs. Oddly enough, the judge shot a sideways glance at Beverly, almost as if he shared Blair's opinion. He quickly returned his angry glare to the defiant young man who hadn't been dissuaded from defending his lover's honor, even in the face of the judge's wrath. "Mr. Sandburg, this is your last warning. I realize this is an emotional situation, and that's the only reason you aren't on your way to jail. Now sit down and restrain yourself. I'm going to ask you again, do I make myself clear?" The judge waited while Blair looked over at Jim first, who just nodded tightly toward his lover, giving him an expression that said he was okay. "Yes, your honor. I apologize for the outburst. It won't happen again." "See that it doesn't. Mr. Fuller, if you're going somewhere with this line of questioning, I strongly suggest you get there soon. You're trying the court's patience." "Of course, your honor." The reptile in the silk suit turned back to face Jim. "When you worked in Vice, did you participate in the undercover operation which led to the arrest of Mitchell Pratt?" "Yes," Jim responded, the color seeming to drain out of his face. "What 'role' did you play for that assignment?" "I was one of Pratt's bodyguards." "Would it be a fair statement that you were part of the 'hired muscle'?" "Yes." "During that case, a man was killed. A man by the name of Carl Schumacher. Do you remember him?" "Yes." "Would you please explain to the court who Mr. Schumacher was?" "Objection your honor--relevance," Beverly rose from her chair. "Your honor, if it pleases the court, I would like to explore this line of questioning for just a moment longer. The Pratt case may shed some light as to the character of the witness, which is a vital issue in the case against Mr. Bernardi." "Proceed, but get to the point quickly." "Thank you. Should I repeat the question, detective?" "No," Jim replied, his voice oddly soft. "Carl Schumacher was a small time drug dealer who worked the streets for Mitch Pratt." "During your tenure as Mr. Pratt's 'bodyguard', Mr. Schumacher fell out of favor with Mr. Pratt for withholding part of the money he took in from his 'transactions'--is that correct?" "Yes." "What did Mr. Pratt ask you to do?" "He ordered Tony Franklin and me to teach Schumacher a lesson." "Tony Franklin was...?" "One of Pratt's real bodyguards--not a cop." "So what did the two of you do, functioning as hired muscle for Mitchell Pratt?" "We took Schumacher to the dump and roughed him up." "You 'roughed him up'." "That's what I said," Jim retorted, annoyed. "I have here the medical examiner's records on Mr. Schumacher." The attorney strolled to his table and picked up a manilla folder, flipping open the cover and reading from it. "Broken nose, broken jaw, six broken ribs, loss of an eye, multiple contusions and various other fractures I won't waste the court's time in listing. The victim was dead on arrival at the hospital after being found in the dump by the owner the next morning. This is your definition of 'roughing up'?" "I wasn't alone. The punches I threw I gauged to cause minimal damage." "But you participated in beating this man until most of the bones in his body were either broken or fractured and he lost the sight in one eye, is that correct?" "I didn't have a choice." "Oh really?" "I was in deep cover. I had been in Pratt's organization for almost a year. It was my testimony that brought him down on first degree murder charges. He's on death row as we speak." "But to maintain a cover, you would brutally beat another person--so brutally that he ultimately died of his injuries?" "I didn't brutally beat him. I threw a few punches. Tony went ballistic, did the major damage. If you read the trial transcripts, he admitted that much himself." "But you watched." "Yes. I was very close to bringing Pratt down for the murder of a young woman--" "Yes or no answers, please, detective." Fuller looked back at his file. "And the bizarre assortment of rectal injuries listed on Schumacher's autopsy report--what were those?" "Tony sodomized him with something," Jim answered quietly, reaching for his water and taking a long drink. He set the glass back down with a shaking hand. His eyes found Blair, and the younger man held his gaze and mouthed an "It's okay, lover," that Jim could swear he heard with his enhanced hearing. "Did you watch that too?" "No." "The beating was finished?" "Yes." "Was Schumacher conscious at this point?" "I'm not sure. I thought it was over--" "Please just answer the question, Detective Ellison. What were you doing while Tony Franklin violently sodomized a severely injured man the two of you had just finished beating?" "I went back to the van." "You had used that to transport the victim?" "Yes." "What did you do there?" "I had a beer." "You had a beer. While Tony Franklin raped Carl Schumacher with what turned out to be a rusty piece of pipe, you went back to the van and had a beer." "Objection. Asked and answered," Beverly stated. "Sustained." The judge acknowledged the validity of the objection, but seemed as enraptured by the testimony as the jury. "You participated in a brutal assault and then turned your head and ignored a ruthless sexual assault to maintain your cover. Is that correct?" "Yes," Jim replied, still staring at Blair, wondering if his lover would ever feel the same way about him again. The only thing that kept him calm and in his chair was that Blair covered his heart with his closed fist and mouthed "I love you" after this last, horrible revelation. "This is the reason you were transferred out of Vice, is that correct?" "I requested that transfer. I didn't want to--" "So we've established what you have been willing to do in the past to maintain your cover. You've not only broken the law, but you participated in felonious behavior of a very brutal nature. I have heard that you are considered one of the most effective undercover Vice detectives the Cascade Police Department has ever seen. Would that be a fair statement?" "I had a good record in Vice." "Having a good record in Vice as an undercover cop requires you to be very good at role-playing, doesn't it?" "I suppose." "How many different 'roles' have you played?" "I'm not sure." "More than five?" "Yes." "More than ten?" "Yes." "More than twenty?" "Probably." "So acting is a talent you've had to hone for this job--is that a safe statement?" "Yes." "Then I only have one remaining question for you, Detective Ellison. Why should this jury take to heart the testimony of a man who has broken the law numerous times to get the results he wants, who has participated in and condoned ruthless violence in the name of maintaining his cover, and who is a master at role-playing, who, by his own admission, has assumed the 'personalities' of upwards of twenty different people? If you would participate in the ruthless assault of a helpless victim to get the conviction you wanted, is there any reason for this jury to believe that you would be opposed to a little perjury to make this case go your way? Couldn't we assume then you could manufacture a little quiver in your voice if necessary when playing the role of the victim?" Blair's outburst and Beverly's objection came almost simultaneously, though Blair was already out of his seat before the attorney finished his final question. Their words mingled until no one was sure who said what, but Simon was dragging Blair back by both arms, forcibly shoving him back down in his chair, the judge was banging his gavel and Beverly was arguing her objection all at once. Finally, order was restored and the prosecutor stated her objection. The judge didn't bother with Blair this time around, since it was obvious that Simon had effectively restrained him and silenced him before he had time to make much of a scene. "Mr. Fuller's tone is argumentative and accusatory. He is making a speech, not attempting to obtain any factual information relevant to this case." "Your honor, Detective Ellison's character is paramount in this case. Therefore, it is more than relevant if the witness is willing to commit a felony in order to maintain his cover and has a career background which required him to become a professional liar. However, I will withdraw the question. I have nothing further." "Ms. Sanchez, do you wish to re-direct?" "Yes, your honor." Beverly walked around the front of her table and approached the witness stand. "Detective Ellison, was there an Internal Affairs investigation of Mr. Schumacher's death?" "Yes." "What was the outcome of that investigation?" "The review board supported my handling of the situation. There was no departmental reprimand and I wasn't charged with anything relating to his death." "What was your purpose in bending all efforts to maintain your cover?" "Mitch Pratt murdered a 22-year-old college student who was also the mother of a 3-year-old child, simply because she witnessed a drug deal going down between a couple of his high-ranking dealers. We all knew he was behind it, but we had no evidence. So my job was to get the evidence by going into deep cover, and by getting as close as I could to Pratt. Which I did." "And he was convicted of her murder?" "Yes, and so were the two men who carried it out." "Could you have effectively intervened on Carl Schumacher's behalf?" "Effectively? No. The result would have been that I would have blown my cover, probably been killed, Schumacher would have gotten what he got anyway, and the case against Mitch Pratt would have gone down the toilet after a year of undercover work by not only myself but an entire task force that was supporting me back at the PD." "When you said you went back to the van and had a beer, what was your frame of mind?" "I was upset. I was on the edge of blowing my cover, and I had to get my head together before I got myself and a couple other cops killed. And I couldn't watch whatever Tony was going to do--and I knew I couldn't stop it without killing Tony, and blowing the operation." "Others were undercover at the same time?" "There was a policewoman under as one of the prostitutes and another detective working in the stockroom of one of Pratt's bars. If my cover was blown, there was always the risk of theirs being blown too--especially since the policewoman had been brought in undercover as my best girl from my stint as a pimp in LA." "Why did you request a transfer out of Vice, if there was no reprimand--if anything you were commended for bringing that case to trial." "Because what happened with Carl Schumacher was probably the most repulsive thing I had been forced to be part of, and I didn't have the stomach for it anymore." "So you took a demotion and cut in pay to move to Major Crimes?" "Yes." "At the time you left Vice, isn't it true that there were better opportunities for advancement there for you than there are in your current department?" "Yes." "So it would be safe to say you left Vice for moral reasons?" "Yes." "And what made you put your life at risk to go undercover for the case against Mr. Bernardi?" "I was the only one qualified at the time--given that J.J. Rush was a motorcycle enthusiast, and about my age. And this was a once in a lifetime 'in'--the best chance to nail Bernardi for the murder of Annette Simmons," Jim concluded, mentioning the sixteen-year-old runaway girl whose death had really prompted him to take the case. "Detective Ellison, was there anything remotely consensual about your sexual assault?" "Nothing," Jim replied firmly, looking her in the eyes. "Did you ever indicate to Sam Wilson or any of your assailants that you had a taste for rough sex or S&M, or that you had fantasies of being gang-raped?" "Never, because I don't." "Thank you very much, Detective. I have no further questions." Beverly gave him a little smile and returned to her seat. "The witness may step down," the judge instructed. Jim gratefully left the witness stand and headed back for his seat. As soon as he sat down, he found Blair's hand. Blair enveloped the larger hand in both of his, holding it tightly. Within a few moments, court was adjourned for the day. As they stood to leave, Fuller passed by Jim and Blair, and if Jim hadn't had flawless reflexes, Blair would have had his hands around the throat of the defense attorney. The man paused to look back at them as Jim caught Blair around the waist and pulled him back from his intended lunge. "You really should teach your boyfriend a little self control, Detective." Fuller gave Blair a decidedly lewd and demeaning head-to-toe sweep with his eyes. "I don't think he'd last long down at the county lock-up." That was enough for Jim, and with a shove that sent Blair back into a nearby chair, Jim charged on the attorney himself. With the man's expensive suit ruthlessly grasped in two strong hands, Jim pushed the man against the wall and leaned within a few centimeters of his face. "You do what you want, say what you want to me. But don't make the mistake of messing with Sandburg. Do I make myself clear?" "Jim, this isn't worth it," Simon said calmly from behind his favorite detective. "Come on, man, let him go. You've done enough damage--he'll probably have to get those fancy threads pressed at the dry cleaners because of this," Simon sneered, taking a hold of Jim's arm. "Mark my words, Fuller--" "Jim, can it and let the creep go. He's a waste of energy." Jim seemed to respond to that, releasing his hold on the other man with a contemptuous glare. "Don't you make the mistake of assaulting me again, Detective Ellison. I *will* press charges the next time." Smoothing out his suit and picking up his briefcase, the attorney strode out the doors of the court room. "Why didn't you let *me* go after him?" Blair joined the other two men where they stood. "Neither one of you are going after anyone, is that clear?" Simon shot back angrily. "Jim, I can sympathize why you'd like to rip that bastard's head off, but you can't do it and you know it. As for you, Sugar Ray Sandburg, you either sit tight and button your lip or I'll put you in a cell myself every morning before court is in session--is that clear enough?" "Crystal," Blair shot back with a defiant glare. "Sandburg, don't give me attitude. I'm serious about this." "I won't jump up and call Fuller a motherfucking prick and threaten to cut his balls off anymore, okay?" Blair was shoving his arms angrily into his coat. "Is that what you said?" Simon's eyes bulged and Jim's jaw twitched a little, just before he couldn't fight the beginnings of a grin. "Thank God Beverly and the judge's gavel drowned you out." "Come on, Chief. Let's get out of here. See you tomorrow, Simon." "Yeah, same place, same channel," he replied, lackluster as he watched the two men leave the court room. Partway down the hall, Blair reached into Jim's coat pocket and found the hand there. The two men walked hand in hand to the elevator, uncaring who might see them, stepped inside and disappeared behind closed doors. Simon shrugged into his own coat and headed out of the court room, annoyed with Jim and Blair's behavior and yet somewhat in awe at the power of their love. Simon would have never laid money on them as a winning couple, but he had yet to see a love that steady and unwavering and indestructible at any other time in his life. ******** "I'm sorry about the way I acted in there today," Blair said quietly as Jim maneuvered the truck away from the curb and into traffic. "I just couldn't sit still and listen to that asshole insult you that way." "It's okay, baby." Jim took a hold of Blair's hand where it rested on the seat. "It was kind of nice having someone defending my honor," he concluded, smiling a little. "Can't say as I remember that happening before I ran into you." "Probably because most people don't know you well enough to know that sometimes you need defending too." Blair raised Jim's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Everybody does." "I wonder when it's going to happen," Jim said absently, more to himself than to Blair. "What, love?" "When are you going to hear the one thing about my past you can't handle?" Jim asked the question of the windshield and the oncoming traffic, still holding onto Blair's hand but unable to risk a glance his way. "At the risk of quoting an old song here, man, 'never, my love'." Blair stroked the back of the hand he held with the fingertips of his free hand. "I know Covert Ops isn't the Boy Scouts, and I know Vice doesn't really play by the same rules as the other departments--they can't, for all the reasons you cited in court today. I'm not kidding myself that you've never been in a less that ideal situation." "That's a damned benevolent way to assess what happened to Schumacher." "You couldn't save him. Even if you'd given your life for the cause, when Tony Franklin was done offing you, he'd have hunted Schumacher down and finished the job on him. You couldn't prevent it. Besides, you didn't think he was going to die, did you?" "No. Not at first. Our orders weren't to kill him. Tony almost got me thrown out of my 'bodyguard' job because what was supposed to be a beating turned into a rape and murder. Fortunately, Pratt was bloodthirsty enough to sputter about it but then ultimately laugh it off and ask for details. His biggest concern was that we hid the body well." "Is there anything else you want to tell me?" "If you mean deep, dark confessions from my past, I know there are plenty of things I *should* tell you. But no, I don't want to." "Have you ever murdered anyone for pleasure?" "Of course not," Jim shot back angrily. "Have you ever raped someone just for fun?" "Shit, Sandburg, you know how to ask questions. Hell no." Jim was about to pull his hand away, but Blair's grip was too tenacious. "Tortured anybody just because you liked to?" "Oh, man. I don't believe this. No, of course I haven't." "Then there's nothing you can tell me about your past--and nothing I can find out--that would change how I feel about you. And even one of those things...I could probably get over because I don't believe you're the same man now that you were then. One thing I do think is the same--you have principles, morals--*honor*--and that's one big reason, aside from the fact that I love you with all my heart and soul, that I can't stand listening to someone bash your character. You have honor that's well worth defending, lover. Don't be afraid of your past. It doesn't have any power over us." Jim didn't say anything, but Blair could see the tell-tale workings of the strong jaw as the other man navigated the truck toward the loft, and finally pulled into a parking place. He turned off the engine and almost in the same move with removing his seatbelt, pounced on Blair, claiming his mouth in a breath-stealing kiss that lasted until Blair finally had to pull back, gasping. "Jim, lover, we're forever. I love you more than my life, and that's unconditional. I couldn't stop loving you even if I wanted to--and I don't want to. Not ever." "Oh, sweetheart, I don't deserve you," Jim responded, pulling Blair tightly into his arms. "Probably not, but you're stuck with me anyway." "Blair, I...I think maybe..." Jim let his voice trail off, looking away uncertainly. Blair guided his chin back until they were looking into each other's eyes. "What, lover? Tell me." "Maybe...I don't know if I'm...if I can...but..." "Relax, babe. I love you." Blair punctuated the declaration with a soft kiss to Jim's lips. "Whatever it is, lover, just tell me." "Tonight...I-I think I'd like to try...uh, letting you drive," Jim shot out, falling back on one of their familiar euphemisms for who would be on top in bed. "Don't be afraid of me, Jim. I won't hurt you. And most importantly, we can stop anytime it doesn't feel right, or if you change your mind. And I promise I won't psychoanalyze you to death if you decide you aren't ready. We'll just leave it and wait until it feels right." "I trust you," Jim responded, moving back in for another prolonged kiss. "Let's go inside, huh?" "Yeah, before we get busted for lewd and lascivious behavior. Wouldn't Fuller love that?" Jim laughed a little as they got out of the truck, and walked around to join Blair, walking hand in hand to the front door. "Forget Fuller. Another day or two and we never have to see the fucking reptile again." "I'm just glad to be off the hot seat for a while." Jim unlocked the door and led the way to the elevator. As soon as it was in motion, Blair moved closer and they made full use of the short ride, still melded together in a deep kiss when the door opened on their floor. Both considered it a gross imposition to part lips long enough to make it to their apartment. By unspoken agreement, they tossed their coats wherever they wanted to land and headed for the bathroom for a shared shower. Kissing, caressing and soaping each other, they stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, washing off the traces of their first shared climax of the evening. After they dried each other and donned their robes, Jim slowly and deliberately tended to Blair's unruly curls, taking all the pains to do everything just right. After nearly two years of marriage and intimacy, he was almost as proficient at the task as Blair was himself. "What do you say we take some wine and finger food upstairs?" Blair suggested as Jim finished his ministrations on the younger man's hair. "I suppose we need our energy for the long haul, huh, Chief?" Jim kissed the soft hair he'd just finished drying. "Something like that," Blair replied, grinning at their reflections in the mirror. Jim wound his arms around Blair from behind and brought their faces next to each other. "Kind of looks like a perfect set, doesn't it?" Jim quipped, kissing Blair's cheek. "Kind of looks like forever to me," Blair responded, reaching up behind him to caress Jim's face. "I wish I could make time stand still. So we'd never have to lose our time." "We're timeless, remember?" Jim kissed his lover again, squeezing him tightly. "Yeah, I guess we are," Blair replied, smiling back at the two faces in the glass. "You're beautiful, you know that? Angels should have such faces." Jim smiled as Blair turned a deep shade of red. "Don't be embarrassed, baby. You know I think you're perfect." "Far from it," Blair said, laughing a little. "Not so far from it as far as I'm concerned, sweetheart. I'm so glad to have you." Jim buried his nose in the soft curls and closed his eyes. "I love you." "I love you, mine." Blair felt Jim smile. "Guess we should move this party upstairs," Jim said close to Blair's ear. "I guess we should." Together they gathered up a small repast. Blair quickly diced up some cheese and a couple of apples, putting each food in a separate dish on a tray they would take upstairs. Jim retrieved a chilled bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and a couple of fresh bagels they hadn't had time to eat that morning before racing off to the courthouse. With the lights turned off downstairs, Jim carried the tray up to the bedroom while Blair gathered a few candles, which he placed on the dresser and lit. Jim found a favorite CD of soft piano instrumentals and put it in the player. Amidst the soft music and the dancing candle light, they sat on the bed and shared the food, feeding each other and mixing the flavors with prolonged kisses. When both seemed to lose interest in the fruit and cheese, Jim set the tray on the floor and moved into Blair's arms, both men stretching out on the bed to bring their bodies into full contact. Within moments, Jim had divested Blair of his robe, and the younger man was working diligently to return the favor. Finally skin to skin, hands roamed over heated bodies with the fervor of two lovers who hadn't made love in years. Blair's talented mouth excited Jim's nipples to hardness before trailing wet kisses down the center of his chest. Finally surrendering and flopping on his back under the sweet barrage, Jim relaxed into the mattress and enjoyed the mounting arousal brought on by his lover's mouth. Swirling his tongue in the little valley of Jim's navel, Blair ran his hands slowly up Jim's sides, softly enough to be loving but firmly enough not to tickle. He moved lower, his tongue exploring all the secret places on Jim's body that were his sacred territory. He vowed silently that no one else would ever touch that territory again. Jim's legs spread for Blair almost on their own, Jim's little grunts of pleasure music to the younger man's ears. He was blatantly ignoring the rigid shaft his lover presented, moving lips and tongue down to the tender skin of Jim's perineum. Jim shifted his hips upward, opening himself, and Blair took the invitation eagerly. He hadn't tasted Jim this way since their last night together before the undercover operation. Jim hadn't exposed himself to his lover in this manner since the rape, and Blair had never pushed the issue, figuring that Jim's center was off limits without a very clear invitation. He dragged his tongue in a couple of long laps over the tender skin just above the little pucker, then brought it down to tentatively lick over the small opening. He was rewarded with a broken little groan from above him. Inspired by Jim's reaction, he began licking in earnest, building Jim's pleasure and hopefully his confidence before attempting even the slightest penetration with just his tongue. When he was convinced Jim was enjoying himself, Blair carefully darted his tongue into the little hole, past the rim of muscle there. Jim let out a long, low groan, but the thrust of his hips indicated that it was a good sign. Encouraged by the expression of pleasure, Blair set about making love to Jim with his tongue, licking, bathing and stretching the puckered opening until the larger man let out a groan of ecstasy and thrust down again, trying to impale himself further on the elusive but thorough tongue. His own arousal beginning to make him uncomfortable, Blair questioned whether or not he should climb on top of his lover and work at bringing them both to a climax so they could slow things down a little. He eschewed that idea because he feared that maintaining an erection might be a challenge for Jim when he was as nervous as he no doubt would be, and the whole thing would probably feel better if he was seeking release and could climax *with* Blair instead of having to work his way up to it again, or just try to relax and take it. Blair reached over his over to the nightstand and found the lube. It wouldn't have taken a sentinel to catch the nervous shift of Jim's body when he saw what Blair was doing. "Relax, babe. I won't hurt you," Blair said softly, moving up to plant a little kiss over Jim's heart. The larger man was still breathing heavily, still very much aroused, but understandably afraid. "Anytime you don't like the feeling of something, you say 'stop', and it stops. I don't care how far we've gone, okay?" Blair waited while Jim nodded. "No pressure, love. We just want to feel good together, and we can do that a lot of ways. We'll just pick another one if we aren't both enjoying ourselves this way, okay?" Blair asked, running a soothing hand in a little circle around Jim's stomach. Jim nodded again, seeming to relax a bit at the spoken reassurance. Blair spread some of the gel on his finger and wondered for a moment which one of them was more nervous. He knew if he did anything that frightened or hurt Jim in any way, he'd want to cut off whatever part of his body caused the pain. Jim's recovery was a hard-won battle, and it was a tenuous victory. Knowing he could shatter it with the wrong move was sobering enough to cool Blair's own arousal sufficiently to take it slowly. He carefully probed Jim's anus with the tip of his finger, and feeling no adverse reactions, eased it in past the tight ring of muscle. Jim still didn't react, and Blair wasn't sure if that was a positive or negative sign. He cautiously moved his fingertip a bit, and was startled with the tight warmth around it suddenly disappeared. Looking up, he saw Jim had pulled himself up and back until he was sitting against the railing. "I can't do this," he stated quietly, letting his previously spread legs come back together as Blair moved out of the way. "Shit, Chief, I can't do this." Blair's heart shattered as he watched sobs begin to wrack the strong, sculpted body of his other half. He scrambled up to be at Jim's side, kneeling beside him and holding the other man's head close to his heart. "Shhh. It's okay. I love you, mine. It's okay." "No, it's not okay!" Jim shouted through tears that refused to be contained. "What the hell's wrong with me?" "Nothing's wrong with *you*, love. Our timing's just off." "Our 'timing' has been off ever since...ever since it happened." "It hasn't even been a year, babe. It's not that long. You needed time to heal physically, and we both need time to heal emotionally from all of this. Just relax and let it out, love. You'll feel better." Blair closed his eyes and rested his head against Jim's, tears seeping out from under his closed lids as Jim sobbed in his arms. Blair reached for the edge of the comforter and pulled it up around them, patting Jim's back lightly and starting a slight rocking motion. "If you had made me...wait this long...I'd be crazy by now," Jim barely managed. "You'd be patient, you'd be loving, and you'd be gentle. You might take a couple extra cold showers, but you'd wait for me. And I'll wait for you. Jim--we haven't exactly abstained all these months. We've been making love, and it's been feeling great, no matter how we do it. This is just *one activity*. Man, you have done *so* well coming back from this whole thing. Don't beat yourself up because there's one more painful obstacle we need to overcome." "This whole...relationship is one-sided. I take you but I won't let you take me, I lean on you, and I've ruined your fellowship and fucked up your dissertation and I just keep taking from you--" "Jim, stop right there," Blair responded, his tone firm. "Number one, there is nothing even remotely one-sided about our relationship. You're my anchor, my center, my life--you're my best friend, my lover, my life partner, my safety net, my protector--so many things that I can't even name them all. Yes, you lean on me and I treasure that because you don't let everyone in. Your trust, your willingness to share your pain with me--that touches me in a way you'll probably never fully know. As for my fellowship, it isn't ruined at all. Jack wrote a letter to the chair of my committee, and they're granting me a leave of absence. I'll be able to go back in the Fall and pick up where I left off. As far as my dissertation being fucked up, that's not your fault either. You aren't writing it. I am. Nobody gets the blame for messing it up but me, and I don't even really blame myself. A lot's been happening--things that are more important to me, and I've been screwed up pretty badly--" "Because of me," Jim responded, still not moving from the haven of Blair's arms. "No. Because of Bernardi, yes, because of the goons that hurt you, yes. But never, not ever, because of you. You're the only reason I'm able to get by. If anything had happened to you--if you hadn't come back to me, I...I wouldn't have survived." "Sure you would. You would--" "Have slowly wasted away until there was nothing left and my whole life was nothing but a shambles. Jim, you saw me when you got back. I couldn't eat, I rarely slept. Every time I heard a love song on the radio, I cried. I was so miserable I wanted to die and the only reason I didn't is because I thought you'd be coming home to me. And you did." "Blair, if I weren't here, fucking up everything you're trying to do, you'd probably have your Ph.D. by now." "Don't you ever dare say a thing like that again, Ellison. I mean it. Not after what I went through without you. I never want to feel that way again." Blair felt the tears run down his cheeks and fall into Jim's hair. "I can't make love to a piece of paper. If I never got my doctorate--and I will--but if I never got it, and it was somehow because you were in my life, I would give it up in a heartbeat and never look back." "You can't mean that." Blair gently encouraged Jim to straighten and look him in the eyes, a hand on either side of the damp face. He took a moment to kiss away a few tears. "Jim, you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I thank whatever deity did this for me every day of my life. You want to know why I'm so thankful for your heightened senses? Not because it proves some kind of theory--which yes, it was kind of cool to know I was right all along--but that's not it. I'm thankful because they brought *you* to me. Not because they brought me a *sentinel*, but because they brought Jim Ellison into my life. Do you hear what I'm saying to you?" "Yeah," Jim said gruffly, nodding a little and taking a hold of Blair's wrists, moving the younger man's hands away from his face and kissing them both, then holding them inside his own larger hands. "I just don't know how you can keep loving me. I'm a fucking mess, Chief." "We're working through one of the worst things that could happen to two people who love each other. We're making progress. I'm a mess too, if you want to define it that way. I'm still in therapy, I can't handle my professional commitments. We've both got more problems than we had before, but we're struggling through it together. And we'll make it. There's no deadline for when I have to top again, Jim. If it never happens, I'll still love you just as much as I do now. We can still have a healthy, fulfilling sex life. But I believe, when the time is truly right for both of us, it'll feel good, and we'll take that step." "You were ready tonight." "I'm ready when you're ready. Not a moment before. I'd die before I'd hurt you in any way, but most of all, in that way." "I did one smart thing in my life, sweetheart." Jim leaned forward and kissed Blair's lips softly. "I married you." "And that's forever, remember?" "Timeless." "You got it." Blair smiled as Jim moved a few pillows around to prop himself up and pulled Blair into his arms. "I'm sorry about tonight." "No apologies, lover. We're together, cuddled up, in bed, naked--that doesn't sound like a night to apologize for." Blair grinned as he heard the rumble of Jim's laughter under his head. "Are you okay? I mean you were all ready and I just sort of...left you--well, hanging isn't the right word I guess." "Sporting the boner from hell?" "That would work," Jim replied, laughing. "Don't worry about it. It fizzled. I'm saving it for later." "Later, huh?" "Yeah, when we both feel more like it and we can hump until we start a forest fire. But this feels good for now. Wanna watch TV?" "TV? I just took you to the edge and left you stranded and you want to watch TV?" "Yeah. Your point being...?" "You can pick the program." Jim found the remote and turned on the set. "Oh, sure, tell me that when I don't have a TV Guide handy." "I'll flip channels, you yell when you see what you like." "I already see that but it ain't on the TV screen." "Nymphomaniac." Jim kissed Blair's hair. "Takes one to know one," he quipped back, kissing Jim's chest. The images flashed on the screen as Jim channel-surfed. "OOH--right there!" Blair straightened up a little at the sight of the old black and white picture, credits in white letters that looked like they were melting. "*The Munsters*?" Jim asked, incredulous. "I *loved* this show when I was little. I watched re-runs all the time!" "So did I--well, I watched the *first run*." Jim rolled his eyes and Blair laughed a little. Snuggled under the comforter, with glasses of wine Jim filled for them, the two lovers settled in for what turned out to be an evening of sitcom re-runs and lazy kisses, interrupted only by the occasional trip to the bathroom or a supply run to replenish the food. Blair dozed off first, cuddled in Jim's arms, and a few minutes after midnight, Jim slid them both down in the bed a bit and joined his lover in sleep. ******** Jim and Blair listened, dumbfounded, as Beverly Sanchez happily reported to the judge that there had been a major development in the case, and that Sam Wilson had recanted his earlier statements and was changing his plea to guilty. In other words, the last of Jim's assailants was now admitting the truth. This was an understandable blow to the defense, as Bernardi's mouthpiece did his best to have the new development in the case ruled inadmissable because of it's late introduction, complete with accusations that the prosecution had sat on this new development until the defense could not realistically deal with it. Numerous arguments flew back and forth, finally resulting the judge ordering that Sam Wilson appear before the court instead of just his deposition, and give testimony as to the course of events on the day and evening Jim was abducted and held prisoner in the warehouse. The new witness was brought over from the county jail later that afternoon to give his testimony. Sam Wilson's entrance into the court room marked the first time Jim had been in the same room, face to face, with one of the men who participated in the actual physical act of assaulting him. Mick Bernardi had been present, but he hadn't participated. Every one of Jim's senses screamed that Wilson was the man who had done him the worst damage, taking over when one of the others gave up on using Mick's flashlight. The sound, sight, scent and heartbeat of the man who had attacked him so brutally and sadistically smothered Jim. He pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, the sweat popping out in visible beads on his forehead. Blair leaned over and said something soft and comforting, but Jim didn't hear him. Everything was focusing in on Wilson, and the memories his presence brought back with alarming clarity. The man on the witness stand hadn't opened his mouth to answer the first question when Jim bolted out of his seat and rushed down the aisle and out the door of the court room. Blair was close behind him. Jim barely made it to the first stall inside the door of the men's room before losing the contents of his stomach into the john. He heard Blair's approach, but all he could do now was try to pull himself back from what was a terrifying journey back to the most painful and degrading moment of his life. "Jim?" Blair was behind him, a hand on his back, another handing him a paper towel in case he needed to wipe his face, which he did. Standing up unsteadily, he pulled Blair into a fierce embrace. "It's okay, love. I'm right here," Blair said soothingly, rubbing up and down Jim's back in gentle strokes. "Brings it all back, huh?" "Oh, shit, Chief, I thought I had a handle on this." Jim squeezed his eyes shut against visions that followed him to play out against his closed lids. He knew he was probably bruising Blair by the sheer force of his hold, but he couldn't stop it. He needed so desperately to flood his senses with Blair's scent, his sounds, the feeling of his body...anything to block out the sensory memory of Sam Wilson or the piercing pain that was associated with it. "It was a shock, babe. That's all. You haven't been in the same room with any of them since it happened. It caught you off base." "I don't want to do this," Jim managed as he choked on tears that wouldn't be held back anymore. "It's okay, just let it out. I love you, mine. It's almost over. I promise it won't be much longer we have to go through this crap with the trial. You'll see." "I can't face him." "I know. It's okay, lover. You don't have to. Just let it out, love. I locked the door. We've got some privacy." Blair didn't expect such a complete response to his directive. Jim's knees seemed to give out on him, and unable to hold the larger man up successfully, Blair lowered them both to their knees on the floor, never losing his hold on Jim. "That's it, love. Let go. Give me the pain so I can help you carry it, huh? That's it." "It's still...so...vivid," Jim explained brokenly. "I know, love. I know. It's okay to be scared. You're not alone. I won't let anything happen to you." Blair knew the promise was a little absurd, and Jim did too, but it was comforting nonetheless. Blair stroked Jim's hair gently. "Shhh. I'm right here, love. Everything's going to be okay." "I want...to see him...dead." "I know. I do too. All of them. And Bernardi. And I want to do it myself with my bare hands." Blair fought hard to resist his own tears. "I want to see them experience the kind of pain and fear they made you face. But when this is all over, they'll be in prison and we'll have our lives back." "What kind of a life? I can't even...I'm not even normal in bed anymore." "No, you're not. You're extraordinary in bed. We've had some wonderful lovemaking between us in the last several months. We're going to be okay, Jim. We're a team. Inseparable." "I love you," Jim whispered, clutching Blair impossibly tighter. "I need you so much." "I know. I need you too, mine. I always knew, but I sure found out when you were gone. Just try to relax and remember to breathe, babe. Come on, deep breaths. Calm down. You're gonna be okay." Blair continued his soothing litany, stroking Jim's hair and rubbing his back in slow strokes. "I feel like I could pass out without too much trouble here, sweetheart," Jim said, his tears quieted, but his voice weak. "Just rest here a minute. Catch your breath." "I can't see him again. I can't go in there, Blair." "We won't. We'll go home, lover. Simon'll call and fill us in on anything important we need to know." "I should...be able to face him. God, I feel like such a damned...weakling." "It was a shock, man. Hell, it shocked *me* and I never even saw the son of a bitch before." "You didn't run out of the room and barf in the toilet." "I wasn't raped." "Thank God." "Think you're ready to try standing now?" "Yeah. Better get my land legs back. I don't think you want to carry me to the truck, do you?" "I only have one back, Jim. I plan to make it last a while." "Point taken," Jim replied, chuckling a little in spite of his misery. The two men struggled to their feet, and Jim splashed some water on his face, unnerved by the ashen pallor he saw when he looked in the mirror. "All I need is a flat head and some big shoes, and I could play Herman Munster without the make-up," Jim opined, taking in his whitish coloring with a lingering tinge of green to it. Blair laughed out loud. "If you're Herman, I have to be Lily, and there ain't no way I'm walking around dressed like that." "Guess we ought to go home, huh?" Jim managed a little smile. "Guess so." Blair slid his arm around Jim's waist and the other man's arm came around the smaller set of shoulders. "I'm cold," Jim said, shivering a bit as they walked down the hall. "Sit tight right here. I'll slip in and get our coats." Blair hurried to the court room, slipping in as quietly as possible to retrieve their top coats off the seats they had vacated. Both men had appeared in suits and ties every day in the court room, hoping that any little extra respect they might gain from the jury would go well for the cause of nailing Bernardi. "How's Jim?" Simon leaned over and whispered as Blair gathered the coats. "Okay. We'll call you later," Blair mouthed, slipping back out with the coats as Wilson continued his testimony. ******** "Jim?" Blair approached his lover where he sat like a statue on a bench in the hallway. "He's finally telling the truth," Jim stated, leaning back in the seat, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes. "Why do you think he finally cooperated?" Blair sat on the edge of the bench, not sure if he should prod Jim to slip his coat on so they could leave. "I don't know." Jim straightened up and seemed to really notice his partner there, two coats piled in his lap. "They're going to fry Bernardi's ass." "Every other part of the DA's case was airtight except for Wilson's lies." "I wonder if this is finally going to be over," Jim queried, standing tiredly and smiling a little as Blair held his coat for him. Once it was on, he took Blair's and returned the favor. "We're in the home stretch, love. Want me to drive?" Blair offered. "No. I think I've got my head together now." They started walking down the hall toward the exit. "It was seeing him again--it was like my senses...*attacked* me with his smell, his voice, the sight of him...I had to get away." "You haven't been that close to any of those guys since it happened. And you weren't prepared for it today." "I should be able to handle this by now. I feel like I just slid back about six months." "There's no big disgrace if you have some bad days or bad reactions. And there's no big disgrace in going back to Jack O'Brien for a few sessions if you need some help." "I don't know if I'm ready to admit that defeat just yet." "But see, it isn't a defeat, man. Not at all. You're just going through a different phase of your recovery. You got hit with a new upset today being confronted with one of the bastards in person." "I don't want to start therapy up again." Jim took Blair's hand as they made their way across the icy parking lot, wind biting at their faces. "Some of it's probably just going take some time." "Detective Ellison?!" A man's eager voice came from behind them. Both men turned in time to see a reporter hurrying toward them with a photographer in tow. "I don't fucking believe this," Jim muttered. "Detective Ellison, rumor has it that--" "No comment," Jim stated flatly, putting a guiding hand in the middle of Blair's back to keep him moving along. "What was your role in the investigation against Bernardi?" The young man with the dark hair and glasses continued to dog their steps, his photographer getting off a couple shots every time Jim turned to give the man the brush-off. "Look, I'm going to tell you one more time, *NO COMMENT*. What part of that statement isn't getting through?" Jim demanded, stopping dead in his tracks to face the eager reporter. "You and your partner were at the center of a controversy last year, involving three of your colleagues who ended up charged with aggravated assault among other things. Mr. Sandburg, do you have any comment?" "Yeah. I have a comment. Get a life and let us have ours in peace." Blair got a hold of Jim's arm and encouraged him to turn away and walk with him, leaving the reporter behind again. "Detective Ellison, is it true that you were the undercover officer who was raped by Bernardi's people?" "That's it." Blair spun around on his heel and advanced toward the reporter, moving swiftly enough that even Jim didn't catch his arm in time to pull him back. "You listen to me, you son of a bitch, and you listen good. You have no right harassing us with some unsupported rumor, dogging us and stalking us in parking lots. He said 'no comment', and he meant 'no comment'. You either leave us alone now, or I'll file a harassment complaint against you. You print anything slanderous in that half-assed rag you write for, and I'll sue your ass for libel. Is that a clear enough comment for you?" "No need to get hostile, Mr. Sandburg. I obviously touched a sore spot. I apologize." "Being stalked in parking lots by some sicko shouting out groundless rumors is a sore spot, and you're right, you touched that one. Don't make the mistake again." Blair turned and rejoined his partner, who trudged through the slush with him in silence until they were in the haven of the truck, the reporter retreating in the opposite "Nice work back there, sweetheart. You told him off like a pro. Back in the days when I wasn't a distracted, sniveling basket case, I probably would have done the same thing." Jim started up the engine. "You're not a sniveling basket case. You're distracted, big time, and that's pretty understandable." "You'd let me off the hook no matter how bad off I was, Chief." "No, Jim, I wouldn't. If I thought you were a basket case, I'd be haranguing you to go see the shrink. I think you're distracted and overwrought, and I would be too. I *am*. It's just that for me, it's coming out in hostility. That's one of the things I need to work through with Jack. My anger. I've got so damned much of it, Jim. I feel like I could just...explode sometimes. Jack said I suppress anger the way you sometimes suppress emotions, and that Naomi taught me to do that just like your dad taught you to suppress feelings." "Naomi and suppression? How'd he get those two words in the same sentence with a straight face?" Jim asked, smiling. Blair laughed a little. "Well, his theory is that the way Naomi dealt with temper tantrums was non-violent, but it was still very stringent punishment for a child. I had to think on that one for a long time, but it a way, it's true. She'd tell me she was disappointed in me, or that she was sad that I was channeling my anger in such a destructive way, and then she'd make me meditate. But see, the thing is, you can't *make* someone meditate. Least of all a child. So it translated into making me feel like I hurt her by what I did and then dwelling on it for however long she'd make me sit there. I wasn't meditating. I wasn't 'letting go of the anger'. I was being conditioned not to let it rip." "I never thought of it that way. But then I guess I never really thought of Naomi as a disciplinarian. I never could picture her hitting you." "She didn't. I think she swatted my butt once for getting away from her in a parking lot, but that's something she told me about. I was too little to remember it--and hey, I could've gotten killed, so that was a big exception to the no hitting policy." Blair paused. "The thing is, she didn't see it as punishment. She saw it as non-violence, as teaching me to handle anger in a positive way. I was just a little too young when she first started on it to really understand it as more than a giant 'time out'. So I learned not to show the anger. To stuff it inside and have this insufferably tolerant disposition where nothing pissed me off." "So the sweet-natured Blair I fell in love with is really an ornery SOB in disguise?" Jim asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Blair laughed. "I just have to learn how to channel this anger, because it's too big to stuff inside. Short of chopping up Bernardi and his goons with a large hatchet, there's no easy way to overcome it. So that's the big thing I have to work with Jack on overcoming. I just know that I can't stand to see you get hurt anymore. And I'll do whatever I have to do to stop that from happening." "Thanks for handling that jerk. And for loving this one," Jim added. Then, smiling a bit, he added, "I kind of like this role reversal thing we've got going on, Chief. You do the whole protector thing very well." "I just need the right incentive. I won't let anyone else hurt you, Jim. If there's any way I can stop it, I will." "I know that, baby. And I love you with all my heart for it. I feel the same way about you." "Think that jerk'll try to print something about you?" "I doubt it. He really doesn't have confirmation. If Bernardi talks, it could hurt his case, and would probably piss of the judge. I probably can't keep it a secret forever. I mean, everyone at headquarters already knows anyway. It'll get out eventually." Jim sighed. "I didn't want that damned stigma hung on me." "I don't think anyone sees it as a stigma, lover. I don't care what kind of acrobatics Fuller performed for the jury. They were still yours, Jim. They believed you. They trusted you. And they were moved by you. I know. I watched them. They're all yours, man. They're going to hang his ass but good." "Is this a scientific observation from the anthropologist?" Jim asked. "As a matter of fact, yes. I spent a lot of time studying their expressions and their body language. You had one of the *men* reaching for his hanky. Your sincerity touched them, and they identified with you." "I hope so. I don't care what any of them really think of me personally, as long as they return a guilty verdict on Bernardi. If they just convict the bastard on the charges related to Annette Simmons, he'll go down for life." "The case is strong in that department, thanks to you and Tina." "Yeah, well, Fuller is good at theatrics. And those can distract people from the facts in a huge way. Look at the celebrity trials--the facts become secondary to the fashion reports on the lawyers and the speculation on which members of the defense team are in bed--literally-- with which members of the prosecution team. It's a circus. Fuller is one of those clowns that belong in that arena." "But the judge isn't interested in a circus, and the jury believed you, long before Wilson changed his story." "When this case is over, let's go somewhere. Maybe the honeymoon we never had. What do you say?" "I say when do we leave, man?" Blair replied, grinning enthusiastically. "You're the researcher. Find us someplace special, huh?" Jim took a hold of Blair's hand and squeezed it. The fatigue in the strong, handsome face of his lover tore at Blair's heart. Jim needed to escape, and he needed it badly. "I'll find us someplace peaceful and romantic and magical. I promise." "I'll hold you to that, angel." Jim kissed Blair's hand and then released it, starting up the truck to head for the loft. ******** Jim tossed his keys in the basket and crossed the living room tiredly, heading for the stairs. Blair came in behind him, locking the door for the night and dispatching his own keys to join Jim's. He paused where he stood a moment and couldn't help but admire the long, statuesque form clad in the dark topcoat moving up the steps. When Jim reached the top, he turned back and smiled down at his lover. Figuring Jim must have heard his heart rate pick up a little, Blair grinned back, and hurried to join him. "Man, you look *so* good in that coat," Blair commented, running his hands down the front of the coat, over the muscled chest that lurked beneath it. "You're giving off quite a bit of heat there, sweetheart." Jim slid his arms around Blair's waist and swooped down on the neck that was exposed with Blair's hair tied back. After spending considerable time leaving a large passion mark there, Jim unleashed the hair and ran his fingers through it, letting it fall on Blair's shoulders. "Now you're going to have to wear your hair down for me tomorrow." "I'll wear a big pink bow in it if that's what you want," Blair muttered as Jim's talented mouth worked on another spot on his throat. "But I can't cover that one with it." "Who cares?" Jim set to work on dispensing with Blair's tie and opening the collar of his shirt, really getting down to business kissing and nibbling at the soft skin that was revealed. "Oh, man..." Blair groaned, loving the oral assault and the fact that he was not only being marked as Jim's, but visibly so. His cock stirred and began to harden at the thought. The two men removed each other's clothing with surprising efficiency, letting it drop where it would until a very naked Jim pushed a very naked Blair back on the bed and pounced on him, kissing and licking every inch of exposed skin. "Jim...please, lover..." Blair spread his legs wide and thrust up his hips, giving Jim a clear signal what he wanted. "Inside..." he managed, panting from his arousal and the excitement Jim's mouth had created over nipples, chest and stomach. "Hang on, baby." Jim fumbled for the lube and Blair pulled his knees up, exposing his center for Jim's preparations. "Jim...soon...please..." "Almost ready, sweetheart," Jim responded, making a quick but careful progression of stretching and lubing until he felt comfortable that Blair was ready. After coating himself, he slid into Blair in one quick, smooth thrust, bringing a delighted shout from his overheated lover. "Oh, God, Jim...let me have it...please..." Blair begged, thrusting up to impale himself further. Jim was only too happy to comply with the impassioned request, pulling back almost all the way out and sliding back in over and over again, dragging screams out of Blair until he clutched the bedclothes in white knuckled fists and held on for the ride. With strong thighs clutching his body, Jim rode the tides of their passion hard, leaning in to possess Blair's mouth as thoroughly as he was possessing his body. Blair's hands came up to clutch at Jim's shoulders, and one slid into his hair, holding him in place to prolong the kissing. Blair pulled his mouth free, and with a cry of Jim's name, spurted his completion between them as the contractions of his body dragged a climax out of his partner, who slumped on top of his lover, boneless. Trapped under a large blanket of hot, moist flesh, Blair started lazily licking and nibbling at Jim's neck, running his fingers through the soft hair, in no particular hurry to release Jim from the grip of his thighs or his body. "Can you breathe, sweetheart?" "Mmhm," Blair replied, his face buried in the warm haven of Jim's neck, where he was working on a couple of passion marks of his own. "What got you so hot, baby?" Jim reached under Blair and cupped his ass in both hands. "Your topcoat," Blair replied before moving up Jim's throat to his jaw, kissing and licking and nibbling. "My topcoat." It was a deadpan statement. "It's so long (kiss) and straight (kiss) and it looks so sexy (kiss) because you're so tall and (nibble) strong and perfect." Blair closed his mouth over Jim's a breath-stealing kiss. "So should I start wearing to to bed at night?" Jim teased, rolling them over so Blair rested on top of him. He continued to rub the firm globes in his hands, knowing it made Blair crazy. The younger man let his thighs spread so he was straddling Jim, still joined. "You shouldn't wear anything to bed at night." "You sure you didn't fix yourself some kind of aphrodisiac tea this morning?" "I'm sure. I'm just high on you, lover," Blair explained, pushing up and leaning on his hands, grinning down at Jim. "I'm going to move, baby." "That was one of the best ever," Blair managed as they shifted to accommodate Jim's withdrawal from Blair's body. "I wanted it so bad." Blair flopped back on Jim's chest, his legs still spread, grunting pleasurably as Jim massaged his buttocks gently but firmly. "Feels good, huh?" Jim asked affectionately, picking up the pace of the kneading and rubbing and squeezing motions of his hands on the soft flesh. He was rewarded with another guttural groan and a wiggle of hips. "Don't feel like doing anything about it, but I like the way it feels," Blair said honestly, his eyes drifting shut. "I haven't given you a real massage in a long time, have I?" "Rubbing my butt's close enough," Blair replied, smiling against Jim's chest. "I love you." "I love you too," Blair said through a yawn. Jim's hands stilled and he gently patted Blair's butt before moving his arms up to enfold his lover tightly against himself. Together they gathered the comforter around themselves and dozed off to sleep. ********