Part 9

(Please visit https://www.squidge.org/~candy_a/13-main.htm for warnings, disclaimers and author's notes)

 * * *

 Jim sat quietly at Blair's side, gently sponging his lover's arm with a cool cloth. The nurse came in, checked the IV and then checked Blair's temperature.

"His fever is down to 103. It's still high, but it looks like it's moving in the right direction," the young woman said, smiling at Jim.

"Thank God," Jim said, returning the expression and then looking back at his partner. "He's been pretty out of it."

"The doctor has him on a very strong dose of medication for the infection. He'll probably be out of it most of today." She made a note on Blair's chart and then headed for the door. "He'll be okay if you need to take a little rest. I'm going to be checking on him periodically, anyway."

"Thanks, but I'm staying."

"All right," she responded pleasantly, walking out to the nurses' station.

"She probably just wants a chance to be alone with you, Chief," Jim teased his sleeping partner. He set the cloth aside and took hold of Blair's hand. "Just so you're clear on something, sweetheart, I'm ready to take that trip with you anytime. I want you back, I want us back...but as long as I'm with you, it's okay. If we get through all this okay, you know what I want to do first, as soon as you feel better? I want to make it official. I know we can't legally, but I want to put a ring on your finger and then go on a honeymoon. I want to grow old with you, Blair. Make a life together. Nothing means more to me than you do." He kissed the limp hand in his grip. "You're my angel, you know that? You came right down into the pit of Hell and brought me back. You've always been my light, baby."

There was a weak flexing of Blair's fingers around Jim's hand.

"I'm right here, Chief." Jim kissed the flexing fingers again, and Blair moved the hand a little more.

"Love you," he slurred, making one more feeble squeeze.

"Love you, too, baby."

Jim spent the balance of the day at Blair's bedside, applying the cool compresses, and when Blair rallied, encouraging him to swallow some cold water. The medication kept Blair groggy enough not to be in much pain or to really comprehend all that had happened, but it began to appear that the horrible fate that had been shown to them was not coming to pass. When Blair's fever broke, and went down to an even 100, Jim realized that it had all been a foul illusion--a trick designed to force him into making the wrong choice. Nothing else was as it seemed in that horrific place, so why should Blair's fate have been any more accurate?

 * * *

 When Jim opened his eyes, he found himself looking into two tired blue eyes, focused on him from the hospital bed.

"Hey, there, beautiful." Jim smiled and moved up to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning down and planting a soft kiss on Blair's lips.

"Hurts," Blair murmured.

"I'll call the nurse. Get you some pain meds, huh?"

"Wait." Blair took a hold of Jim's wrist. "You're really going to get me a ring?" Blair asked, smiling weakly.

"First chance I get. And it'll go right here." Jim kissed Blair's left ring finger. "And I want to wear one that matches it until we cash out as very old men."

"I saw Incacha... So much I need to tell you..."

"Shhh. Go back to sleep if you can, angel. I'll get the nurse to slip a little more happy juice into your IV, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Blair let his eyes drift shut.

"Blair?"

"Um?" It was a barely coherent mumble.

"Thanks for coming after me."

"You...did it for me. Challenged it."

"We did it together," Jim added, stroking the back of Blair's hand with his thumb. "Rest now. Don't worry about anything. Everything's okay."

"Okay," Blair agreed, drifting off again, still holding onto Jim's hand.

 * * *

 Blair spent close to a week in the hospital before it was determined he was able to go home. The infection had kept his fever fluctuating over the course of that time, though it never spiked as high as it had the first grueling day. Jim spent as much time as possible with his partner, but at Blair's urging, rejoined the hunt for Yates as soon as Blair's condition was stable. The mysterious, resurrected killer had still not been found. The other cult members were either awaiting trial or negotiating plea bargains, while Internal Affairs conducted a brief investigation and hearing before declaring Jim's shooting of Redding as justified. There was a brief uproar in the press over allegations that Jim did not properly warn the suspect prior to the shooting, and given the fact Redding was a prominent businessman, the story got more headlines than it normally would have, or than it was truly worth.

With enough else on their dish to keep them occupied, most of the Cascade PD seemed fairly happy to dismiss Yates as "the one that got away." Jim, Dan and Cassie, however, were not quite so willing to back down from the search. The two scientists each had physical evidence that could not be explained, and Jim, for his part, wanted to lay to rest, once and for all, the man ultimately responsible for Blair's misery, and the deaths of so many innocent people.

Jim brought Blair home from the hospital on a sunny Thursday afternoon in December, the younger man bundled up in a warm sweater and a heavy winter coat. He was still weak, his temperature still hovering around 99.2, and he was under strict orders to stay off his feet and rest. Still, Jim felt an unparalleled lightness of heart at loading his lover into the truck and heading for the loft. The horrific images he'd seen on his journey into the netherworld had been lies--lies to make him choose the wrong path, or maybe to test his love for Blair, if it truly did mean more than his own life.

They hadn't talked much about Blair's part of the spiritual journey, or about the idea that they now shared one destiny. Jim found the thought reassuring on a selfish level, since he could think of no fate worse than surviving after Blair's death, but he wondered what his younger lover thought about sharing his fate with an older man more actively in the line of fire of a dangerous profession.

At least now, the meaning of the merge that occurred at the time of Blair's resurrection at the fountain fell into place. They were one in a very extraordinary way, and the power Incacha had told Jim to use in bringing Blair back was his life force. A life force he now shared with the man riding next to him in the truck.

"Feeling okay, Chief?" Jim asked, stealing another glance at Blair.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'll be glad to get home, though. I thought I was feeling a lot better until I actually had to get dressed and go somewhere."

"You're getting stronger every day, and the infection is on its way out. You'll feel better soon."

"I thought about what you said last night, about seeing a psychiatrist for counseling about…about the rape," Blair said quietly. "Would you be upset if I waited a while? I'm just not ready. I don't know if I want to see a therapist."

"I want you to do what's best for you, Chief. I just wanted you to know that we'd get you the best there is, and it would be confidential--I wouldn't expect you to go see the department shrink or something."

"I know," Blair said, nodding. "I just..."

"No explanations necessary, sweetheart." Jim noticed one of Blair's favorite restaurants as they headed toward home, and he pulled into the lot. "How about carry out, huh?" he said, nodding toward the place Blair favored for Thai food.

"The meds make me nauseous. Sorry," Blair said apologetically.

"Not a problem, Chief." Jim put the truck in reverse and headed back out on the road, next pulling into a small strip mall. "Will you be okay here for a minute? Don't worry, I'll be monitoring you." With Yates still unaccounted for, Jim wasn't taking any chances.

"I'm okay."

"Great. Back in a flash." Jim darted into the gift shop nearby, and within a few minutes, returned to the truck with something mysteriously concealed under a plastic bag. "What's that?" Blair looked at it, smiling and scrutinizing the strange parcel that Jim was holding from the bottom.

"If you think this is stupid, I can just give them to old Mrs. Flannery downstairs." Jim took the bag off the top of a bouquet of six long-stemmed red roses.

"Don't you dare give my roses to Mrs. Flannery," Blair joked back, holding them reverently, smelling the rich fragrance. Wrapped in green florist paper, they were just perfect to cradle in one arm, which Blair did, sniffing at them appreciatively. "They're beautiful, Jim. Thanks."

"I love you, you know."

"I know. I love you, too," Blair responded, smiling. Jim leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, then bumped noses.

"Let's go home, huh?"

"I'm so ready, man," Blair responded, smiling again and smelling his roses. "I never got roses before."

"I reckon a lot of men probably haven't. I haven't."

"Why not, I wonder? I mean, I never understood why having a penis meant you didn't like flowers." Blair's philosophy caught Jim off guard and made him laugh.

"I'm not sure about that one, Darwin. Maybe we better do some research."

"Could make a good paper, anyway," Blair said, still smiling slightly. "I can see why women are so hung up on this flower thing now."

"You can, huh?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's totally a love gift. You can't use them for anything--someone just buys them for you because they love you. That's pretty cool, I think."

"I think you're pretty cool, Chief." Jim reached over and stroked the back of Blair's head lightly before turning his full attention to the rest of the drive home.

The journey into the apartment was slow but steady, and when the door of the loft closed behind them, both men heaved a sigh of relief.

"You want a bed on the couch, or do you want to go upstairs?" Jim asked, watching Blair stand in the middle of the living room, as if assessing his options.

"The couch'd be great, man. I've been in bed way too much the last few days."

"You're still supposed to stay off your feet and take it easy, so don't get any ideas about overdoing it."

"Not a problem. I can't move fast enough to overdo it. I'm going to change into some old sweats," Blair said, heading into his downstairs bedroom, where most of his clothes were still stashed.

"You could take another pain pill, sweetheart," Jim walked up behind Blair and gently moved him back from the small chest of drawers, squatting to get the sweats out of the bottom drawer.

"When I mix that with the antibiotic, I really get sick, and dizzy."

"What did the doctor say about that?"

"He tried a couple different combinations, but this one was the lesser of the evils, believe it or not. I just took the antibiotic about two hours ago, so I have to wait another couple hours to slip the pain pill in there, or they sort of run into each other."

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Jim said, pulling Blair into a hug.

"A lot," Blair responded quietly, wrapping his arms tightly around Jim's middle. "I thought I was okay, and then all of a sudden... I didn't really understand how much had healed because of...whatever was in me. Now, I have to do it all on my own. Man, listen to me. I hate complainers," Blair said with a sigh.

"You're not a complainer, honey. You've barely said two words about it since you came to in the hospital. You want some help changing?"

"I think I can muddle through that one on my own," Blair responded with a little smile in his voice.

"Okay. You do that and I'll make you something bland to eat--see if we can zoom in between the pills and get some food in you."

"Food, huh?"

"The doctor said you had to keep your strength up. You can't just not eat."

"I know. I'll change and be out in a few."

 * * *

 The ringing of the phone startled Jim out of his light sleep. He glanced at Blair, who had finally succumbed to the combination of pills and was snoring softly, curled up on the couch under a blanket and the throw. Once they'd started the fire going and found something good on television, both men had been so relaxed that their bodies had greedily started taking in some much needed sleep.

"Ellison," Jim said into the receiver.

"Jim, it's Simon. You're not going to believe this."

"What?"

"Redding's body is gone from the morgue."

"You're right, I don't believe it. Who was minding the store, anyway?"

"Dan. He was knocked out--Serena took something downstairs to him and found him in front of the drawers, out cold. He claims he was knocked out by the door on Redding's slab swinging open and hitting him in the head. He's pretty shaken up. He said the outer doors to the lab were locked, since it's after hours, and he didn't hear or see anyone else. Redding's body is gone, and there's no sign of forced entry, no one saw anything suspicious."

"He thinks Redding got up and walked out on his own?"

"Basically, yeah, that's what he thinks."

"Great." Jim let out a long breath, and looked back at Blair, relieved to see him still sound asleep.

"Hell, I don't know, maybe it's just a few of the lunatics we didn't round up at the ritual who came back to get him for some weird reason. In any event, all we can report it as is a stolen corpse. We can't exactly put an APB out on Redding."

"Still would be a good idea to stakeout Redding's house, his cabin at the lake and the rental house where the ritual was held."

"Done. We have units in place for all of those--well, we've coordinated with local law enforcement in the area where his cabin is. Any activity at any of those locations will be reported back to us." Simon sighed. "Needless to say, Redding's sister was thrilled when she came to claim the body and we couldn't produce it." There was another pause. "Of course, she's going to the press, and her lawyer is going to file a lawsuit on behalf of Redding's estate."

"This thing just keeps getting thornier, doesn't it?" Jim said dejectedly, again looking over at Blair, monitoring him to be sure he was still sleeping. He rubbed his forehead and stared into the fire. "Have we got anybody reliable on the roster tonight?"

"I like to think they all are, Jim."

"I meant who could guard Blair. I want to be in on hunting for this bastard."

"Henri's still here. I could send him over, along with Tony Rawlings," Simon said, referring to an older detective who had been on the force for many years.

"Tony's a good guy, and we know H.'ll hold down the fort. Okay. If you can send them over, I'll take off as soon as they get here."

"Great." Simon hung up the phone, and as Jim did the same, he met Blair's eyes, watching him intently. Or rather, one eye was. The other was semi-buried in the pillow along with that half of Sandburg's face.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," Jim said softly, stroking Blair's hair, hoping he was groggy enough to be lulled back into the much-needed rest.

"Where're you going?" he asked, yawning and shifting with a little wince.

"Happy pill time." Jim leaned down and kissed Blair's cheek, then walked into the kitchen and located the bottle of painkillers. Returning to the living room with the pill and some water, he handed the pill to Blair and helped steady the glass while he drank from a partially prone position.

"You just want to drug me so you can get away," Blair said.

"That's partially true," Jim responded, chuckling a little. "I want you to relax and rest while I'm gone. I have to go in."

"I thought you had today and tonight off."

"I did, but something's come up at headquarters."

"It's something about the case, right?"

"Redding's body was stolen from the morgue."

"Oh, man." Blair seemed to sink further down into the bedding on the couch.

"Probably just a few stray headcases making one last stand. We'll get 'em, Chief."

"What if it isn't? Jim, you know what Yates is--why couldn't they do the same with Redding?" Blair pushed himself up on his elbow. "You didn't see what he was like...the way he...changed during... He turned into something else, something horrible, something...evil. He wasn't human--"

"Hey, hey, just calm down," Jim said gently, sitting on the edge of the couch, sliding an arm around Blair's back and rubbing gently. "Come on, lie down."

"I can't go through this again," Blair said, his voice strained. "Anything but him..." he murmured, sinking back onto the pillow again. "No more."

"Shhh. Come on, Chief, this is just a sick prank pulled by some of his weird friends. They probably want to have some sort of twisted little ritual with the corpse."

"Yeah, probably a twisted little resurrection ritual. If they haven't already done that. Did anybody see him leave?"

"As in walk out on his own? No, no one saw that. Dan was knocked out, and when he came to, the body was gone."

"Where was he in relation to the body when he was knocked out?" Blair asked, pinning Jim with an piercing gaze. Jim's hand froze on the spot it had been rubbing on Blair's back.

"By the morgue drawers."

"Was Redding's drawer in his line of vision?"

"Blair--"

"Was it?" he insisted.

"No, it wasn't."

"So he doesn't know where Redding's body was, or who knocked him out."

"Not for certain, no."

"Don't go." Blair wrapped an arm around Jim's knee and held on.

"I want to finish this, Blair. Once and for all."

"Please don't leave me. Jim, I can't get away from him and I can't fight him. I'm too weak. I wouldn't stand a chance if he got in here. I mean, usually I could run like hell if nothing else, but I can't even do that right now--at least not for long before the pain would get me."

"Chief, I don't want to leave you, okay? But here's the thing. You and I are probably the only two people who are seriously looking for Redding with an open mind to the possibility it might be him out there running around and not a body snatching. These...freaks can use this Thirteenth Sacrifice ritual to raise the dead. They only need one more death to make the Thirteenth Sacrifice, and to raise Redding--am I right?"

"Yeah, and I'm it."

"You were it. You were Yates' and Redding's choice, but we don't even know that Yates is a factor anymore. He was on his way out without your death several days ago. Maybe by now, his time is up and Redding is the one they're going to use up the power on resurrecting."

"So the Thirteenth Sacrifice must not be a permanent deal in raising the dead--I mean, they raised Yates, but Redding was acting like they needed to kill me to somehow seal the deal. So I wonder if they raise the person, and then another cycle has to take place, and whoever becomes the big boss with all the power, has to somehow restore the lifeline...?" Blair sighed. "I've been trying to figure it out, but I can't."

"Maybe the one who is resurrected commits the twelve killings as payback, which then allows the cult to set up another Thirteenth Sacrifice, which gives them a big power surge of some sort for some other twisted thing they're doing."

"Makes sense..." Blair said, nodding and then yawning.

"Brown'll be here any minute." Jim rubbed Blair's back gently. "Give in to the meds and go back to sleep, Chief. I promise I'll be careful. I'm going to put your cell phone right here on the coffee table. If you need me, or you just need to call me, I'll have my phone with me all the time. Okay?"

"Okay." Blair withdrew his arm from Jim's knee and huddled under the covers.

"I love you." Jim leaned down and kissed Blair's cheek.

"Kiss me for real?" Blair said, turning his face up from the pillow.

Jim didn't need a second invitation to plunge into that soft mouth, sealing his lips over Blair's and prolonging the kiss until he had to pull away to catch his breath.

"I love you, too," Blair responded, smiling a little. "You know what makes me feel better about this?"

"What?"

"That one life force thing. I know now that if something happens to you, you have to take me with you." The genuine happiness in Blair's face at the thought of dying with Jim rather than living without him, stabbed at Jim's heart. He couldn't remember ever being loved like this--by anyone, anytime.

"I'm going to guard our life force, sweetheart. Because now I know there's something much more precious riding on what happens to me." He leaned in and kissed the soft lips again. "You."

 * * *

 Blair wasn't surprised, when he awoke the next time, that Jim was gone. He'd been starting to drift even as Jim sat there, warm hand still gently massaging his back and relaxing him into sleep. He started to shift positions, and when the pain flared again from his center, he abandoned the motion and settled for opening his eyes, looking around the living room. Brown was on the other couch, eyes on the television and the morning news. He let his eyes drift shut again, and for the first time, confronted some serious thoughts about all that had happened in the last week.

The rape was something he knew he had to think more about, to face the consequences of it for his relationship with Jim. He didn't fear Jim or shrink away from being touched by him--being close to Jim was the one thing that seemed to heal him. The tests had come back negative for STDs, but he wondered what the HIV risk was now. If Redding was something other than human at the time, were the risks the same? Did it matter? If he shared a life force with Jim, and he were to die of AIDS, wouldn't Jim share that fate, anyway?

Could he ever lie on his back with his legs up and apart again and not go into a full-blown panic attack? Would he ever be able to relax and enjoy feeling Jim sliding in and out of him, or would it always remind him of being violently ravaged against his will? He couldn't picture his torn, stitched passage ever desiring having anything near it, let alone in it, stretching it, ever again. Where did that leave Jim?

Blair didn't realize there were tears on his cheeks until he heard Brown's voice.

"You okay there, Blair?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bad dream, I guess," he said, swiping at his eyes.

"You, uh, wanna talk or anything?" Brown asked, and Blair knew he wanted to be helpful, but he could see the discomfort in the other man's whole posture. Male rape wasn't something most men felt comfortable talking about, and Blair didn't blame Henri for having the normal unease about the subject.

"Thanks, but I'm okay. I'm just going to make a run to the john, maybe take a shower."

"Are you supposed to be up and around?"

"As long as I don't overdo it, I'm okay." Blair got up slowly, trying not to let his discomfort show on his face, and made his slow progress to the bathroom. He toyed with the idea of waiting for Jim in case he slipped or needed anything, but he felt too cruddy to wait.

Standing under the warm spray, he let his mind wander back to the strange events that had preceded his hospital stay. He remembered almost nothing from the time of the rape itself until he'd called to Jim in the ER that night, and then there was a blank spot again until they were arguing in the loft the next day. Then had come the terrible realization that there was something left inside of him, something malignant and horrible, something implanted there by the ceremonial rape. Something that had entered his body with the flow of what felt like molten lava as it flooded his insides.

Jim had stared the thing down, wrestled it, challenged it, and ultimately paid the price for it by being dragged into the pits of Hell. The Netherworld, as Incacha had called it. Jim had said very little about his experiences there, but Blair knew there was more to it, more that Jim wasn't telling, and he worried about the effect the whole mess really had on his repression-prone partner.

Incacha... Blair worked on shampooing his hair while he thought about his encounter with the dead shaman who had passed his gift to Blair. In the jungle, Incacha had prayed over him in a language Blair seemed to miraculously understand at the time, and he'd chanted, and burned some strange-smelling mixture of herbs and plants to form a sort of incense. He had mirrored his own body markings by painting them on Blair, and then something very...amazing had happened.

Something else entered Blair Sandburg's body.

This time it wasn't evil, and it wasn't physical, and he had received it willingly. It was a power surge--that was the only term he could give it. It had flowed through his body and infused his soul with a sort of energy that could only come from a supernatural source. Then he had been traveling, running through the jungle, and somehow had emerged into a place of darkness and shadows, and had followed the sound of Jim's anguished howl of grief to that horrible illusion of the funeral home. Of their friends all mourning. Of his mother grieving. Of himself lying in state in his casket. And Jim draped over the lifeless corpse, his anguish perhaps the most profound of all.

Incacha hadn't explained anything about the life force. Blair had just known--as if he'd suddenly been granted the knowledge he'd worked so hard to discover on his own. He'd spent countless hours meditating about the merge, what it meant, what he should assume from it... Not once had he really come up with a clear answer. The whole issue of Alex had muddied the waters considerably. When he was hospitalized after the fountain incident, he'd thought perhaps it had meant that they were joined now, one with each other. Then he'd seen Jim and he seemed even more distant than before, and even when they both discussed sharing the same vision, it seemed as if Jim were pulling away from him, not moving closer. They joked a little, but somehow, it had fallen flat. Then Jim had been on a plane to Sierra Verde, and Blair followed with Megan, and all the craziness with Alex ensued...

Jim feeling drawn to her was no big surprise, really. They were two of a very unique kind. Jim was big on instinct. The instinctual drives in someone with Jim's heightened senses were bound to be stronger. That hadn't made it hurt any less to see Jim kiss her--not once, but twice; to know that he could go to her without repulsion after what she had done.

So when Blair meditated on the spirit merge, he found no answers because the thoughts those meditations evoked were more painful than useful. More confusing than enlightening. Finally, he had stopped thinking about it much at all--only when he had no choice and it snuck up on him in the middle of the night.

But that merge had been Jim reaching out to him, pulling him back from death. And the power Incacha had told Jim to use was Jim's own life force. He had merged with Blair, shared that healing force with him, and within moments, Blair had coughed up water and started breathing again. They were two men with two souls...and a single fate. Blair literally could not live without Jim, and by joining with Blair, Jim would not survive Blair's death. It was a concept that was enormous, and yet remarkably simple. And incredibly reassuring.

Blair turned off the water and got out of the shower, drying himself off thoroughly and then mustering the strength to shave and do what needed to be done with his hair. Standing so long was tiring, but he'd been matted, mangy and disheveled way too long for his tastes, and emerging from the bathroom in a fresh suit of sweats and heavy thermal socks, clean hair loose on his shoulders, Blair felt as close to normal as he could under the circumstances.

"You hungry, man? I could make you something," Henri offered.

"I can get it."

"Are you nuts? Jim'd take me out if he came home and caught me lyin' around eating while you were cooking. You're supposed to be resting."

"Yeah, well, rigor mortis is setting in. I need to move a little."

"You make the toast, then. I'll make the world-famous Brown Family omelets."

"Omelets, huh?"

"Whatever you got in the fridge, I'll turn it into an omelet--well, provided you've got some eggs in there."

"We've got a few of those," Blair responded, smiling. "Sounds great, but, uh, just scrambled eggs for me."

Henri worked on his omelet concoction while Blair slowly made his way around the kitchen, setting the table and starting the coffee, expanding his duties just a bit.

"How about your partner?"

"Tony's keepin' an eye on the rest of the building--patrolling around the entrances. After breakfast, I'll trade with him so he can take the load off for a few hours. I'll leave him an omelet he can nuke."

"Are you guys permanent partners now?"

"Nah, he's trying to transfer over to Missing Persons--I think he'd like a desk job for the next few years 'til retirement--or his wife would. She gets real nervous with him out on these high risk jobs. He's a good guy. Tough old bird, that's for sure."

"So Megan and Rafe are partnered now?"

"Doesn't he wish!" Henri laughed a little evilly, adding more ingredients to his creations. "Captain put an end to that little party before it got started. Megan's working with Taggert, and Rafe is on his own for now--we'll probably work together as soon as Rawlings transfers."

 * * *

 Jim finally returned to his desk mid-morning, having spent the darkness and the early dawn hours searching all of Redding's known hangouts, dropping in on all known associates, and still, nothing. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number for the loft.

"Hello?" Blair's voice greeted him, sounding a little stronger than before.

"Hi, sweetheart. How do you feel?"

"A little better. Henri made breakfast--"

"One scrambled egg. Don't over-eat, Sandburg!" Henri shouted from the background.

"I have to take my medication in a half hour or so. You know how great that always makes me feel."

"Have you checked your temperature?"

"I took a shower and stuff this morning, and when I checked it about a half hour ago, it was around 99, so I think it's going down and staying lower now."

"Good."

"Anything?" Blair asked.

"Not really. I've dropped in on just about all his known associates, and nothing. We're going to start chasing down all the cult members and all their known associates next, but that could take a while, and since officially we're talking about a missing corpse here, it's not top priority."

"That means you're pretty much the only one full time on this?"

"The only one here full time on it. Brown and Rawlings are also tied up since I'm here instead of guarding you."

"Man, that sucks. It's more important than just a missing body."

"I know that, Chief. But, officially, it isn't."

"Maybe if H. brought me over there, I could--"

"Don't even think about it. You're housebound. That's the end of that argument."

"I know I'm not moving very fast, but maybe I could help."

"You are helping. I know where you are, and you're taking it easy, and I don't have to worry about you. That helps."

"I feel so fucking useless!" Blair said dismally.

"Blair, you've been through a lot, and your body needs time to recover. I won't risk that recovery for anything. Now I want you to promise me you're not going to pull another ostrich chili maneuver, and that you'll behave yourself and stay put."

"Jim--"

"Blair," Jim returned in a very stern but well-modulated tone.

"Fine."

"Good."

"Love you," Jim said quietly. There was a pause, and Jim could almost hear the answering grin. Then he did hear it in his lover's voice.

"You, too. More. For longer."

"You competitive little shit." Jim laughed, and Blair chortled a little.

"That's me. Always the overachiever."

"Go back to the couch and stay there. Got it?"

"Got it," Blair responded, smiling. There was a little pause, and Jim could hear more background noise, as if Brown were cleaning up from breakfast, which he probably was. "Miss you," Blair said quietly.

"Me, too, baby. I'll come home as soon as I can. If you need me, call."

"I will. Be careful."

"Always. Talk to you later." With that, he broke the connection, and sat at his desk, staring into space. Where the hell did you go, Redding?

 * * *

 "A fire is the only way," Redding said, looking at the corpse of a young girl, no more than fourteen years old. "There must be no evidence." Then he looked up at the other man, dressed in black, his white hair a striking contrast. Victor Redding, his uncle, had done a fine job in organizing the tiny remaining membership of the cult and in performing a sacrifice worthy of the power of resurrection. The resurrected man bore an unnatural white pallor, with a tinge of blue around his eyes and mouth. It was made all the more striking by the dark suit he wore.

"Your life was earned through the death of a runaway."

"And what made this little girl so special?" Redding asked, one eyebrow raised.

"She was a virgin child. She was in a shelter--it's unlikely she'll be missed."

"Still, we can't take chances. Ellison's smart. He'll be looking for a ritual sacrifice."

"We'll handle disposing of the remains. Yates has disappeared--he vanished somehow in the confusion when you were shot. We turned our efforts to your resurrection instead."

"How many of our loyal followers have cut deals with the district attorney?" Redding asked, pacing the cool cement floor of the basement room.

"Ten or twelve."

"Hm. Interesting."

"Indeed. But a dead man can't be tried for crimes, and no one has tied me to your operation yet."

"True, true." Redding turned with a smile. "I was merely thinking that it was very opportune that so many elected to become traitors. It has made the selection of the next twelve lives rather simple."

"You aren't going back for Sandburg, are you?"

"The Master wants him. My duty is to get the Master what he wants."

"They've got him under police guard."

"They don't have Ellison under guard. If we have him, Sandburg will come on his own."

"What about Yates? We have to use the power of the next Thirteenth Sacrifice to ensure his continued life."

"Yates isn't here. I would hazard a guess that he's an unsightly pile of unrecognizable human mush by now. No, I think we'll turn our attention to the future, rather than playing with the dead things of the past. We are on the brink of great things; Warren Yates served his purpose, but this is the time to more forward. Come on. We've got work to do."

 * * *

 Fatigued and defeated, Jim returned to the loft by early evening. They were no closer to finding Redding than they had been in the small hours of the morning. At the moment, the thought of curling up in bed with Blair and sleeping for a few hours was drawing Jim more strongly than his commitment to the case.

When he entered the apartment, Blair was stretched out on the couch reading while Rawlings watched television. Brown had greeted Jim downstairs, having taken over the roaming duty to give his older partner a chance to take the load off for a while.

"Everything quiet?" Jim asked as he walked into the apartment, resisting the urge to sit too close to Blair and hug him whether Rawlings was sitting there or not. Instead, he sat on the arm of the couch closest to Blair, where he could feel the younger man's body heat, breathe in his scent and center himself on his favorite heartbeat.

"So far so good. You in for the night now?" Rawlings asked, looking hopeful.

"Yeah, I'm here for a while. Why don't you and Brown take off for the night?"

"Sounds like a plan." The stocky older man hauled himself up out of the couch cushions and picked up the tweed sportcoat he'd tossed aside earlier. He slid into it and smiled at Blair. "You take care of yourself, kid."

"I will. Thanks, Tony."

"I gotta remember that story about those tree people--my grandkids'll get a kick out of that."

"Don't forget the canoe story."

"I won't. G'night," he said, heading out the door.

"Thanks, Rawlings," Jim called after him. When the door was closed, Jim moved off his seat on the arm of the couch and Blair moved over while he took the corner seat. Blair happily snuggled against him then, wrapping an arm around his middle.

"I missed you."

"Same here, Chief."

"No luck, huh?"

"Nothing." Jim sighed. "It's like the son of a bitch disappeared into thin air."

"We know he didn't do that."

"No, I doubt it. You ready to turn in?"

"I can read a while yet if you want to take a shower."

"I think I will. You wait for me--I'm going to carry you upstairs. No arguments. You don't do steps until the doctor okays it."

"I'm not that bad off, Jim. I can--"

"Pull out half your stitches on the steps. Now stay put. Deal?"

"Deal. We could sleep downstairs if you want. Might be easier than lugging me upstairs."

"And the bathroom's closer for you."

"So you don't have to lug me downstairs if I have to go at three in the morning."

"Good point."

"I'll go turn back the bed and stuff--and before you object, I need to move around a little bit."

"You're probably right. You feel nice and cool, sweetheart." Jim placed a hand on Blair's forehead. "I think your temp's probably normal."

"You think?" Blair brightened at that assessment.

"Let's find out." Jim got up and retrieved the thermometer and stuck it in Blair's mouth. He spent the time it took for it to register to tidy up some snack food debris from the living room. Blair had obviously told Rawlings to help himself to their stash of munchies, and he hadn't stinted himself. Jim figured it was doubtful that Blair had eaten much, but Rawlings spent enough time at the vending machines in the break room to make it a sure bet that he had done some serious damage to the supplies. Jim returned and took the thermometer out of Blair's mouth. "Just like I thought. 98.6. It's official, Chief. You're normal."

"I'll remind you that you said that."

"I vouch for your temperature only on that point, sweetheart," Jim teased, kissing the top of Blair's head before moving toward the bathroom. "Did you eat anything else today besides that part of breakfast?"

"I had some soup. I can't...the mush diet's a little limiting," Blair added, referring to his instructions to eat only very soft foods or liquids.

"How about a little yogurt?" Jim asked.

"That might be okay."

"Okay." Jim took one of the small containers out of the refrigerator and delivered it to his lover, along with a glass of cold water and a spoon. "Eat up, and have a little more water. I won't be long."

"I really missed you all day." Blair smiled as he took the yogurt and opened the lid.

"I missed you, too, Darwin." Jim was smiling as he headed for the bathroom.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Nobody's ever taken care of me the way you have. I just... It really means a lot to me," Blair said softly.

"You're pretty important to me, you know that, right?" Jim said, smiling as he saw the curly head nod. "Good. I'll be out in a few."

After Jim's shower, the two men settled into Blair's old bed, snuggling together under the covers, Blair's head on Jim's shoulder.

"It's safe to go to sleep, baby. I'll hear anything out of the ordinary."

"I don't think I can live through...if he got a hold of me," Blair said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He won't. I won't let him hurt you," Jim reassured, squeezing Blair's shoulders.

"Jim...I'm going to try...to be okay, when things heal up. I'm not afraid of you."

"It's way too soon to worry about that, honey. We'll work out the mechanics together when we get there."

"I didn't want you to think that I was going to push you away all the time, and that I was going to say 'no' forever."

"I didn't think that. Blair, this recovery process is about you. What's good for you. I want you to feel relaxed and ready and comfortable before we do anything. You don't have to make me promises while you're still healing up physically. We already made our promises to each other--the ones that matter."

"When we were together...it was really beautiful. I wish it wasn't all screwed up."

"So do I. But it won't be forever."

"Some people are raped and they're screwed up forever. What if I'm screwed up forever?"

"Then we'll figure out some other way to love each other that we both like. Fair enough?"

"Not to you."

"Blair--"

"I'm just scared, okay?" Blair said, his voice shaking a little. "I'm scared of how bad I feel inside about...about having someone...something... in me."

"The trauma is way too fresh to push yourself this way, sweetheart." Jim shifted onto his side and pulled Blair into his arms, holding him close. "You're all I want. You're everything to me. So just relax and concentrate on healing. We'll rebuild the sexual side of things together, when you're better, and at the speed you feel okay about."

"I love you so much." Blair squeezed Jim, hard.

"I love you, too--even more." Jim squeezed back, measuring his strength not to overdo it.

"Now, who's competitive?"

"Sleep, Chief."

Slowly, but surely, his body relaxing in Jim's arms, Blair followed the direction. Jim let the fatigue of the day catch up to him, and soon joined Blair in the realm of dreams.

 * * *

 There was an altar at the front of the room, and a prone form lying on it. Redding stood over the intended sacrifice, chanting and grasping a large dagger. As Blair made his way closer to the scene, the man on the altar turned to face him. He looked straight into Jim's eyes.

 * * *

 The scream shook Jim immediately out of sleep, and he was sitting up instantly, turning to see Blair sitting next to him, his breath horrible and loud as he began to hyperventilate.

"Chief, come on, take it easy." Jim got an arm around him. "Breathe, Blair. Listen to me. It was a nightmare. Breathe, damn it!" Jim felt the swell of panic as Blair continued to struggle for breath. "Blair, look at me. Look at me!" He got hold of Blair's face in both hands. "Watch me breathe, and breathe with me." Jim started taking in deep breaths and watched his partner's frantic face, willing him to connect, to join him in the pattern of healthier respiration. "That's it. Nice and easy. Breathe, baby. Come on."

Slowly, Blair began to follow the directions, and within a few minutes, he was in rhythm with Jim's breathing pattern.

"Good boy. That's it. Calm down."

"You're next."

"What?" Jim frowned at the cryptic remark.

"You were on the altar. Jim, you're next. They're going to come after you!"

"It was a nightmare, Chief."

"But it makes sense! You're the only one who'll look for Redding, and not for his corpse. They're going to come after you next, Jim."

"Good." Jim pulled his partner into his arms. "Because I want to have a little quality time with Redding."

"No, Jim. They'll kill you."

"They can try." Jim rested his head against Blair's. "Redding is going to pay for what he did to you. One way or another. I killed that son of a bitch once, and by God, I'll keep doing it until the fucker doesn't get back up again."

"I'm so tired, Jim."

"I know. Lie back. Let's get some sleep, huh?" Jim got them back in position for sleep again, making sure Blair was covered and comfortable.

"My soul is tired."

"That's a good way to say it, buddy. Mine is, too. But we don't have any choices. We have to fight this. We made it literally through Hell and back. We should be able to do just about anything."

"You never told me much...about what it was like...before we were reunited."

"Not something I want to revisit, Chief."

"Not now, but sometime...you'll tell me?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Because, you know, holding it all inside...it's not good for you."

"I know. I promise I'll spill my guts as soon as we get this taken care of."

"Okay," Blair responded, smiling at the phraseology. "Night, love." Warmed by the endearment, Jim smiled.

"Night, sweetheart."

 * * *

 Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose and stared at the monitor. He'd delved into just about every nook and cranny of Redding's life, and still, nothing. Redding wasn't at any of his property holdings, and if any of his friends or family knew where he was, they weren't talking, and there was no evidence to contradict their stories. He only had one more stop to make later, back out to Redding's uncle's estate. When he'd been there the previous day, only a teenage girl, Angela, had been there to greet him. Victor Redding was a widower, and he was out of state on business, due back home today.

Picking up the phone, he called home, wanting to touch base with Blair before he started out again.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Chief, it's me. How're you doing?"

"Okay. I'm just on the couch with my laptop. My babysitter's making lunch."

"Better watch your mouth, Chief. Brown's good humor might not hold out."

"Brown's downstairs. Tony's making--what is it again?" Blair leaned away from the phone, and Jim heard the response from the kitchen. Nonetheless, Blair repeated it for him. "A Rawlings deli special."

"Feeling better, then?"

"Right now, I could eat a horse. I skipped the pain meds this morning, and bam! Instant appetite."

"How's the pain, though?"

"Lousy. But I'm getting sick of feeling like puking, so it's the lesser of the evils for now. If I can tough it out, I feel better this way."

"Temp's still normal?"

"Exactly 98.6. I called the doctor to find out if he still wants me to take the whole run of pills. He does, so I guess I'm stuck."

"Have a good lunch, sweetheart. I've gotta get moving. I'm going out to talk to Redding's uncle this afternoon."

"He's the one with that big mansion out west of town, right?"

"That's the one."

"The girl you talked to there--his daughter? She didn't seem to know anything, did she?"

"No, but I've got to double-check with her father--after all, he was unavailable about the time Redding's body disappeared from the morgue."

"Be careful."

"I will." Jim cast a furtive glance around the bullpen. Satisfied it was safe, he added, "I love you."

"Same here, man," Blair said with a false casualness.

"Didn't figure Rawlings was up for that revelation today, huh?" Jim teased, grinning.

Blair laughed. "No way."

"Okay. Talk to you later, Chief.

"You know where to find me."

Jim looked at the phone a few long moments after he'd hung up. Blair was on the mend physically, and he seemed okay on the surface at least... Leaning back in his chair, Jim wondered how okay either of them would ever be again. Facing the worst atrocities of his life, Jim could honestly say that it had stirred up more angst in his soul than he'd felt in years. He'd felt responsible for Jack's death, been burdened by survivor guilt when he'd been the only one to make it out of Peru alive, and truthfully had blamed himself for not doing something back when he was a child--in spite of his father. For not getting on his bike and riding down to the PD and insisting that someone take him seriously. The wrong man had been accused of the crime, and more people had died as a result. Their ghosts were in Jim's mind constantly, along with Pendergrast, and his crew from the ill-fated Peru mission.

If that was Hell, it had certainly lived up to its name. Going through Blair's death, albeit temporarily, had been the worst of all. The image of Blair, dead, laid out in his casket, prepared in that meticulous and artificial way that all corpses are prepared, was a vision Jim would never live long enough to erase from memory. Feeling the hard stiffness of death beneath him as he'd thrown himself across the body was a sensation that seemed to linger on his nerve endings. Maybe it was the reason he couldn't get enough of holding Blair now. Of feeling his breath and his heartbeat, of smelling his scent and hearing his voice...and despite the misery Blair had been through, Jim couldn't help longing for just one stolen moment of feeling Blair's naked body moving under him, of making love again, of reassuring himself with that ultimate connection... He wondered how Blair would feel about being touched sexually, the fleeting fantasy of tasting Blair from head to toe, sucking him to a shattering climax and listening to his cries of pleasure, to finally obliterate from memory his screams of anguish that lingered in Jim's mind...

Nice, Ellison. He's still taking it easy and under a doctor's care, healing up from being brutally raped, and you sit here getting a hard-on thinking about sucking him off, thinking about those warm hands skimming over your skin, thinking about his hair falling all around your face when he's straddling you... Disgusted with himself, Jim started tidying up his paperwork before going out to Victor Redding's place. I keep hearing him, half-screaming, half-crying, begging Redding to stop, begging for mercy, screaming as his body was violated and his flesh torn... I want to make it go away, pretend it never happened, because it's too awful. But there it is, and it did happen, and there's no escaping that reality. Every time I watch him wince in pain or walk with that sort of labored shuffle, the reality is back. Every time he cries and clings to me like a life preserver, the reality is back. That isn't Blair. That isn't my tough, resourceful, energetic partner. That's my raped, traumatized, shaken up lover being tormented by demons I can't dispel.

Sliding into his coat, Jim headed out the door for Victor Redding's estate.