Blair stirred and as he started to crawl out of the grip of sleep,
he could hear soft music playing.  Before he opened his eyes, soft lips
kissed each lid, and then dropped down to claim his mouth.  He opened
his eyes to see Jim crouched there by the couch, still in his robe.

     "How long did I sleep?"

     "Just a couple hours.  You needed it."  Jim smiled and stroked
the tousled curls that caressed Blair's cheek and spilled over his
shoulder as he lay on the couch.

     "Wow, candles," Blair commented, grinning as he surveyed the
candlelit loft.  

     "Dance with me?"  Jim straightened and held out both hands. 
Blair smiled broadly and slid out from under the throw and into the
warmth of Jim's arms.  The words of the song on the stereo wafted
softly around them:

//These eyes will worship and adore you,
These hands will love you everyday,
Darlin', the only guarantee I can make,
These arms won't let your heart break...//

     In the flickering candle light, holding each other and swaying to
the soft music, neither man could picture any problem being so
insurmountable that it couldn't be conquered together.

********

     Predictably, the three men who had attacked Blair were
released on very moderate bond pending trial.  They had been
suspended from the department without pay.  The press got a hold of
the story, and before long, every newspaper was chewing on the story
of the three veteran cops who were facing felony charges for assaulting
a police observer in a men's room at police headquarters.  The only
thing saving the reputation of the Cascade P.D. was the hard-nosed, 
by-the-book way the offenders had been dealt with.  The Chief of Police
was now able to stand amidst the reporters who stalked him for quotes
and announce that these charges were most serious, and the accused
men were being subjected to due process like any other citizens
accused of crimes.

     The issue of Blair and Jim being lovers hadn't entered into it yet,
but it was only a matter of time before someone helpfully provided the
press with that tidbit.

     Jim ran background checks on Nicole Pierce, her boyfriend, Dr.
Tillman and a couple other students Blair thought of who might
possibly have grudges against him.  So far, they were coming up empty. 
Tillman contacted Blair to inform him that his hearing would take
place on Friday morning of that week, just two days away.

     On Thursday, Julie arrived for her hours working with Blair,
grinning widely as she handed him a piece of paper.  He was sitting at
his desk, trying to keep his mind on a stack of essay exams that didn't
really register when the energetic young woman triumphantly plunked
a stack of paper in front of him.

     "Pam Patterson."

     "What?"  Blair started flipping through the pages.  They were
copies of the Admissions Office's complete file on one Pamela Jane
Patterson.

     "That's the Pam that lives with Nicole."

     "How did you--?"

     "I never reveal my sources."

     "Missy in the Admissions Office?"

     "You're no fun.  You already know everybody."

     "Yeah, but not well enough to get this out of her."  Blair didn't
mention Scott, his spy in the Student Services Office.  "Do you know
anything about her?"  Blair tried to keep the shock from registering on
his face when he saw Pam's father's name: Randall Patterson.  His
occupation was listed as "Detective, Cascade Police Department".

     "I see you spotted who her dad is.  Funny he's one of the jerks in
the paper for pushing you around."

     "You read about that, huh?"

     "Blair, I'd have to have lived under a rock or been in Europe for
the last two days not to have spotted something about that situation. 
Even with your name not released, it didn't take an Einstein to figure it
out.  At least, not when I knew you were already having problems."

     "So if Nicole Pierce is roommates, and presumably friends,
with Pam Patterson, it would be a perfect set up for Patterson's old man
to get at me through the back door.  Damn!"  Blair slammed his fist on
the desk.

     "I thought you'd be glad we had a lead."

     "I'm delighted we have a lead.  But this by itself doesn't prove
anything, and if Nicole holds up her part of the deal, I'm still screwed."

     "Yeah, well, that's *if* Nicole holds up her part of the deal." 
Julie finally tossed her book bag and purse on the floor and sat on the
corner of Blair's desk, skillfully placing her rear in the tiny spot not
littered with some form of paper or book.  "How long do you think it
would take for Tillman to have her for breakfast?"

     "Tillman hates me.  Why would he pressure her?"

     "What about Dean Ryman?  She likes you."

     "She'll send me back to Tillman, since he's the Department
Chair.  After what he said about Jim and me--"

     "Which was what?"

     "He made some remark about us 'necking' in the parking lot."

     "Oh my God, were you really?"  Julie smiled widely as if she
thought that would be the most wildly romantic and decadent thing she
could envision.

     "Not hardly.  Jim kissed me good bye when he dropped me off. 
Simple, quick, relatively dry little kiss.  No tongue."

     "Then he's already biased against you.  If you explain that to
Dean Ryman, maybe she'll nail Nicole for you."

     "I don't know, Julie."

     "Blair, you have to put some pressure on this bitch before she
gets you fired."  Julie shook her head, then picked up the copies.  "If
you won't go to Dean Ryman, I will.  I swear to God.  This whole
situation stinks like a week-old tuna sandwich, and you know it."  She
plunked the papers back down for emphasis and then stood up. 
"You've got to fight this with everything you've got.  Personally, I think
Dr. Tillman will be on your side against Nicole if she's a fraud, because
she's using him and the whole faculty review board to harass you--probably 
for personal gain.  I imagine Pam's screwball father is
probably paying her a nice little lump of money to do this.  Or he's
letting her off a drug charge.  Nicole's parties are rarely drug-free, from
what I've seen and heard."  She sighed in exasperation.  "What's wrong
with you anyway?"

     "I'm fucking up Jim's whole life.  It doesn't seem right for me to
fix this all up just right for myself and go on like nothing ever
happened while he loses the respect of 75% of the people he works
with."

     "So does that mean that Jim wants you to suffer just because
things are getting hot for him?  Somehow I don't picture that."

     "No, of course he doesn't.  But I don't feel right to have
everything work out for me while everything is so...shitty for him."

     "Maybe if things are straightened out here, he can get his mind
back on straightening out his mess.  Did that ever occur to you?  He's
spending half his time trying to figure out what's going on with you,
and that's distracting him from his job and from getting his own
problems taken care of."

     "I guess that's possible."

     "So who are you going to see--Tillman or Ryman?"

     "Ryman.  Tillman's going to want to know where I got the
information on Pam's parentage.  Dean Ryman will let me plead the
Fifth," Blair concluded, sliding his chair back and jumping up to get his
jacket for the walk to the Student Services Building.  "Want to go along
for moral support?"

     "Sure.  I'll walk over there, and then I can wait for you in the
Commons."

     "Great."  Blair grinned and held the door as Julie passed
through it.  For the first time in days, he felt marginally cheerful and
somewhat hopeful that maybe the screwed up mess that was passing
for his life could get straightened out.

     Charlotte Ryman was a tall, statuesque woman in her late
fifties.  Her imposing demeanor and tailored business suits, upswept
graying hair and commanding presence masked a very kind and
sympathetic disposition.  She had the ability to verbally shred a deviant
student worthy of such a tongue-lashing, but also to sympathetically
listen to the problems of a student who was troubled by emotional or
academic turmoil. 

     Blair generally brought out the best in her, though during his
early years at Rainier when he'd still had a little growing up to do, he'd
had occasion to see her wrath unleashed.  It was not a pretty sight.

     Kelsey, Dean Ryman's secretary, invited him to have a seat
while she called in on the intercom to let her boss know that Blair was
there and would like to see her.  

     "She'll be with you in a few minutes, Blair," Kelsey informed
him before going back to her typing.

     "Thanks, Kelsey."  Blair slumped back in the chair and tried to
figure out what he was going to say first, and what he really wanted
Charlotte to do.  His thoughts were interrupted by the woman herself.

     "Blair, come in," she invited from the doorway of her office. 
Blair rose and entered the room while she closed the door behind him. 
"Have a seat."  She indicated a chair, and took a seat herself on the end
of the nearby couch in the informal seating area distanced a bit from
her rather imposing desk and wingback desk chair.

     "I'm sorry to just drop in like this, but I've got a real problem."

     "I've heard.  Nicole Pierce has made some serious charges
against you.  Under the circumstances, I approved her dropping your
class."

     "They're phony.  I need your help to prove that, though," Blair
shot back, his nervousness sending out the sentences almost together in
one breath.

     "Why don't you calm down and start at the beginning?  Would
you like some coffee?  It's decaffeinated," she quipped.  Blair had to
laugh a little.

     "No, thanks."  He took a deep breath.  "If you've heard about
Nicole, you've probably heard that I'm involved in a relationship...a
relationship with another man."

     "I've heard a few rumors.  Are you happy?"

     "Oh, yeah," Blair responded, suddenly fearful his face might
split with the sappy grin that decorated it.

     "Then I'm glad for you."  She smiled warmly.  "But I also know
that can still cause some difficulties."

     "Yeah, it causes some big ones.  See, Jim--my partner--is a
detective, and same sex relationships aren't exactly condoned in police
departments.  So we've both gotten our share of harassment.  You know
that case pending against the police detectives right now for assaulting
an observer in a restroom?"

     "I read about that."

     "Well, I was the observer.  And they went after me because of
my relationship with Jim."

     "I hope you weren't seriously hurt--well, obviously you weren't,
since you're here."

     "No, fortunately, I wasn't.  But where this is significant is that
one of the detectives who attacked me is Randall Patterson.  His
daughter is Pamela Patterson, a student here.  Pamela Patterson is
roommates with one Nicole Pierce."

     "And suddenly it becomes clear why a student who holds no
other viable grudges against you decides to target you for false sexual
harassment charges," Charlotte concluded, nodding.

     "You checked out Nicole?"

     "I looked over her academic and incident report records.  While
there's nothing exemplary, she hasn't been here long enough, nor taken
any prior classes from you, to form a grudge.  Is she passing your
current class?"

     "Yes, she's pulling about a B-minus right now."

     "What is it you think is happening here?"

     "Another student has told me that Nicole quite frequently has
certain...controlled substances at her parties."

     "There's an interesting piece of news," Charlotte commented,
raising her eyebrows a little.

     "Well, I'm thinking that Pam's dad is either getting her off the
hook for something or is paying her, or both."

     "It would be helpful to know which, if we're going to break
Nicole."  Charlotte concentrated a moment.  "Perhaps Nicole isn't the
one we should target.  Pamela might be susceptible to a little pressure,
and if we can get her to level with us, chances are good that she'll know
if Nicole is getting money or legal help from Detective Patterson."

     "Do you really think Pam would squeal on her father?"

     "I'm not sure.  I have to give this some serious thought.  I've met
Nicole, since she was on probation for a while regarding a drunk and
disorderly party she hosted a while back.  She isn't the strongest
personality I've ever encountered.  I don't recall meeting Pamela.  I'll
look over her records and see what I can come up with."  

     "I suppose we could confront the father."

     "Well, he's smart enough to know that we need proof.  But
perhaps if we scared it out of Nicole, and she admitted to Pamela's
involvement, and *then* we throw it at the father, telling him that his
little girl's head is on the chopping block for being involved in bringing
false charges against an instructor...  If he cares anything about her at
all, he might admit to being behind it just to get her out of hot water."

     "You mean you'd offer that deal--if he talked, you wouldn't
punish Pamela?"

     "I would tell him that I could forgive a daughter being blinded
by her devotion to her father and becoming involved in something
dishonest.  However, if he refuses to take responsibility, we have
sufficient evidence to dismiss Pamela from Rainier for conduct that is
not only unacceptable under every code of conduct we've ever
maintained, but is also bordering on criminal."

     "Wow.  That might actually work."

     "If he's any kind of father at all, it will."

     "Forgive me if I don't have a lot of faith in his decency as a
human being."

     "Everyone has his Achilles heel.  We just have to hope that
Pamela is his."  Charlotte sighed.  "How are you holding up through all
this?"

     "Okay, I guess. Don't have much choice," Blair shrugged.

     "None of us do, really.  Life throws things at us, and it's up to us
to handle them."  Something that might have been called "maternal"
passed over Charlotte's features briefly.  For all his education and his
status as a teaching fellow, Blair was still a student himself, and a
student with serious problems.  From her early days as a counselor until
her present job as Dean of Students, she had spent a whole career
listening to, and trying to console and assist troubled students.  "If you
need to talk, I hope you'll feel free to stop by the office.  That's why I'm
here--to help students--part of the title and everything," she concluded,
smiling slightly.

     "Thanks," Blair replied quietly, not sure why he felt his throat
closing a little.  Maybe for that moment he missed his own mother, or
maybe it was just the feeling of having someone in a high place at
Rainier on his side that gave him a rush of relief that was almost
pungent.

     "For all our progress, this society still holds a lot of cruel
prejudices.  I know it isn't easy trying to run against the wind, so to
speak.  Tires one out very quickly."

     "I just...I just wish people didn't make an issue out of it.  It
shouldn't matter.  I don't write or lecture or study or grade differently
now than I did before Jim and I...got involved.  He isn't any less
efficient in his job than he was before." 

     "Bigotry is rarely based on sound statistical and performance
data, Blair.  You know that as well as I do."

     "Yeah, I do."  He smiled slightly.  "Thanks a lot for your help,
Charlotte."

     "Don't mention it.  I want this situation to be resolved justly. 
The hearing is set for day after tomorrow, right?"

     "Right."


     "I'll get to the bottom of this situation with Pam and Nicole by
then."

     "Thanks again," Blair repeated, following her lead as she stood.  

     "Let me know if you come up with any new information that
could speed things along."

     "I will."  Blair was still smiling slightly as he left the Dean's
office, and when Julie spotted him walking briskly across the
commons, she brightened immediately.

     "Man, you look like a different person."

     "Sounds like Dean Ryman's going to give me a hand with this
mess."

     "She'll get to the bottom of it.  I know a few people who've had
to go one on one with her, and she generally wins."

     "Tell me about it," Blair rolled his eyes.

     "What'd you do?"  Julie demanded immediately as they made
their way across the campus.

     "Oh, man, if you think I'm telling you that...!"  Blair laughed
and shook his head.  With Julie continuously prodding him, the
freezing air biting into his skin and a smile on his face, Blair felt
"normal" for the first time in days.

********

     Blair parked the rental car Jim had presented him with that
morning in the garage beneath headquarters.  He figured it was only
fair to share the good news with Jim, since his lover had been almost
more stressed out over Blair's career than Blair himself had been.

     He started away from the car when he found himself
surrounded by three plainclothes cops.  Knowing they were there to
harass him just by their demeanor, he let his irritation with the situation
come through loud and clear.

     "What is it?  Do all of you Neanderthals travel in packs or
what?"  He started to push past them but the one closest to him pushed
him back against the car.

     "You're not testifying against Walker, Hooper and Patterson,"
he informed Blair in a cloud of breath that included tobacco and some
sort of greasy Mexican food.

     "The hell I'm not.  Now get out of my way."  

     "When we've reached an understanding."  He pushed Blair back
against the car again and leaned on it with an arm extended on either
side of Blair's shoulders.  He was older by a few years, and roughly the
same height as Jim.  His other two friends weren't quite as tall, and
both looked like they spent most of their time doing paperwork and
eating donuts.

     "Understand this," Blair retorted, bringing his knee up full force
into the man's groin.  As he doubled over with pain, Blair swung his
right fist with all his strength into the jaw that was lowered to just the
right level.  Once that blow had turned the stunned man slightly, he
clasped both hands together and slammed them into the back of his
attacker's head, sending him sprawling on the cement.  The other two
looked at each other, and then back and Blair, and then to their fallen
comrade, who was groaning a little but stunned sufficiently not to
move.  "You want some?"  Blair demanded of them.  He was angry
enough at that moment to wrestle a grizzly bear, and energized by his
success thus far, figured he could take on at least one of the other men
who had confronted him.  One of the other two turned and walked
away, and the other spat out a warning as he helped his reeling friend
straighten up and stagger away.

     "You'll pay for this, Sandburg!"

     "Stay out of my face.  And you can cram your fucking threats. 
I'm not interested."  Blair pushed past the men easily and strode
purposefully toward the entrance to the building.  He was wondering
when one of them would get his second wind and pounce on him and
beat the living shit out of him.

     He was shocked to run into Jim about twenty yards away.  The
larger man was grinning broadly.

     "How long have you been here?"  Blair asked, still rubbing the
knuckles on his right hand.

     "I think I came along right about the time you said 'understand
this'.  It was pretty apparent you had the situation under control."  Jim
snickered a little.  "I think you just established yourself as nobody's
doormat, Chief."  Jim flopped an arm over Blair's shoulders and Blair's
arm came up around Jim's waist.

     "So I did okay, huh?"

     "Well, I guess my days of rescuing you are over."

     "Uh, well, the thing is, Jim--there's such a thing as a lucky shot,
man.  Don't hang up your cape just yet."

     "How about we still watch *each other's* backs, huh?"

     "Sounds good," Blair replied, grinning.  "I love watching your
back."  He cleared his throat.

     "Maybe you could teach me a few moves sometimes, huh?" 
Jim playfully tapped Blair's jaw with his fist.

     "Wouldn't be the first time," Blair shot back arrogantly.  

     "You'll pay for that one later, baby," Jim warned, swatting
Blair's rear end before they were in view of the other cops.

     "Promises, promises," Blair sighed, leading the way back to
Jim's desk.

     "So what are you doing here, anyway?  I thought you were
going to work at the U and then go home and do some writing."  Jim
settled in his chair next to Blair and passed his coffee over to the other
man.  Blair gulped a couple swallows of the warm liquid and sighed as
he felt his wind-nipped body thawing out a little.

     "It's cold out there, man."

     "Good night for going to bed early," Jim whispered in Blair's
ear as he reached past him to grab a file folder.

     "Want me to go downstairs and call you from the car so we can
talk dirty?"  Blair whispered back.

     "No.  I want to finish this crap up so we can go home and play
dirty."

     "Even better.  I've got some good news."  Blair proceeded to
explain his progress at the University with Dean Ryman and her
promise to follow up on nailing Patterson's daughter.

     "Should we be handling this instead of her?"

     "No way, man.  He'll clam up and hide behind his lawyer if we
try to asked him.  If the Dean goes after Pam, either she'll snap or her
old man will because he'll want to save his little girl from getting
tossed out."

     "And we don't have any real proof that Nicole Pierce's charges
stem from her connection to the Pattersons, so this probably *is* the
best way."

     "Don't worry about Dean Ryman.  She'll have Patterson himself
begging for mercy when she's done."

     "Sounds like the voice of experience."  Jim chuckled a little.

     "I rattled her cage a couple times when I first started there.
*Not* a good idea, man."  Blair shook his head, grinning.

********

     "Oh, man!"  Jim let out in a gasp as Blair's hot lips worked their
way down his spine as he lay on his stomach on the big bed.  Blair
definitely didn't have the patience to stick to giving a massage for very
long, and the book lay forgotten on the other side of the bed.

     Jim, for his part, was delighting in the dual sensations of
rubbing his aching arousal against the bed while his back was treated to
an expert Sandburg tongue-bath.

     Now that devilish tongue was swirling around his tailbone, as if
to tease him with the question of whether or not it would go lower.  Jim
had no interest in playing any games.  If Blair was waiting for him to
shamelessly spread his legs in invitation, he wasn't disappointed.

     Purposely bypassing the seam of his lover's buttocks, Blair
grinned against the soft flesh of Jim's left cheek as started kissing,
licking and nibbling his way over it.  Jim was always willing to play
fair, and give Blair his turn to top, but he had never actually been
thrilled to be in that role.  Despite the fact he had always climaxed
while Blair was inside of him, the penetration was usually painful and
the discomfort after the fact seemed to outweigh the enjoyment of the
moment.  Blair was certainly perceptive enough to pick up on all that,
and therefore had quit asking to be the aggressor.  It was getting easier
for Blair to accept Jim that way, and to enjoy it, so he saw little point in
torturing his lover with an act that made him uncomfortable.

     Now, it seemed, the big man was purring and moaning and
making no move to reverse their foreplay to put himself in the
dominant role.  He was relaxed and aroused all at the same time, and
seemed perfectly content to let Blair take the lead.

     Convinced the left cheek had no virgin territory not marked by
his mouth, Blair moved to its mate, tasting every inch with lips and
tongue.
     
     Without warning, he parted the globes and aimed his tongue at
the little pucker hidden there, sending a jolt of surprise and pleasure
through his partner that translated into a loud, if not articulate,
vocalization.

     Blair settled in and took his time, alternating dragging his
tongue in long laps over Jim's center to darting in and out in little
staccato thrusts.

     "Where'd you...learn...to do...that?"  Jim gasped.  

     "Always the detective," Blair chided, returning to use his tongue
to begin a preliminary stretching of the tight ring of muscle that was
always their worst enemy.

     "I want you in there, baby.  Soon."

     "Me too, mine, me too," Blair sighed against Jim's lower back. 
Dropping a little kiss on Jim's tailbone, Blair reached under the pillow
and snagged the lube.  "Relax, lover.  We've got all night," Blair
whispered in Jim's ear before returning to his place between the strong
legs spread open on the bed.

     "Speak for yourself," Jim ground out, thrusting against the
mattress.

     "Just relax, take it easy, lover."  Blair coated his finger with the
gel and carefully inserted just the tip, starting a deliberately slow
process of preparing his partner.  He let his free hand caress the smooth
spine lovingly.  Jim seemed to be relaxing and opening for him much
more easily and quickly than ever before.  Blair smiled lovingly as he
finally eased a third finger very gently past the barrier long minutes
later. //Guess I found the secret weapon,// he thought.  His tongue had
not only driven Jim wild with desire, but it had worked some miracle
that made him want a more significant penetration.

     "Sandburg, I'm dying here...come on, baby, do it now!"

     "Hang on, lover.  I'm on my way."  Blair slowly withdrew his
fingers, spread a liberal amount of the lubricant on his own straining
arousal, and lined it up with Jim's center.  "Lift up a little, so I can slide
a couple pillows under you, okay, love?"  Blair moved quickly to get
the soft support under Jim as he raised himself up.  "Slow and easy,
just relax.  I love you, mine," Blair murmured as he slipped the head
past the initial resistance, which submitted to his gentle pressure
almost willingly.

     Blair gripped the sheet on either side of Jim with white-knuckled fists.  
He would not thrust hard into Jim under any circumstances, but he thought 
the pressure of that tight passage on his throbbing member was going to kill 
him if he couldn't be sheathed soon. //So die, then, Sandburg, because you're 
not hurting him for anything,// his inner voice responded.

     "Relax, mine, it's coming--"

     "So's Christmas..."  Jim ground out.  "Come on, man, do it!" 
Blair was startled by the command, and his overloaded body couldn't
say no to it any longer.  He slid into Jim in one smooth thrust, still
careful to keep it slow and steady, not fast and sharp.  There was a
grunt from below him, which he wasn't sure should be classified as
relief or discomfort.

     "How are you, lover?"  Blair gasped. //I'm going to die right
here on your back, so answer me soon...//

     "Move, baby, give it to me!"  Jim thrust his buttocks back
against Blair, momentarily shocking him, but overloading his system at
the same time with the electric jolt of movement.  

     Blair slowly pulled back and then slid back to the hilt again.  At
Jim's pleasured moans and answering undulation, he repeated the
motion over and over again, letting Jim meet each one of his thrusts in 
a sort of dance that still allowed the larger man some control over what
was happening to his body.

     "Oh, God...Blair...baby...oh, man!"  That was Jim's last
articulate sentence before he simply gave in to joining Blair's little
symphony of moans and grunts.  Jim let out a wail of Blair's name, and
as he came, the spasms of his body drove Blair over the edge. 
Screaming Jim's name louder than Jim could remember hearing it
before, Blair filled his lover with his seed, then collapsed, shuddering,
on Jim's sweat-sheened back.

     "I love you, mine," Blair finally whispered against Jim's back,
then kissed the soft skin under his lips.

     "Love you too, sweetheart.  Stay where you are a minute, huh?" 
Jim whispered, finally understanding why Blair had been so reluctant
to let him go the last time.  This was the first time Jim could honestly
say to himself that he had thoroughly enjoyed their union when he was
on the receiving side.  It was a stirring moment, and one he wanted to
draw out as long as possible.

     "It'll be easier in a minute or so anyway," Blair responded
softly, stroking Jim's shoulder with a gentle hand.  "God, I love you so
much."

     "That was amazing," Jim sighed contentedly.

     "Best ever, lover."  Blair slowly began easing out of Jim, and
then slid off the larger man's back so he could turn on his side.  The
pillows that had been under him were cast aside, and Blair gathered
him close so Jim's head rested on his shoulder, in a reversal of their
usual positions.  Content with that arrangement, Jim relaxed in the
embrace and let Blair stroke and cuddle and fuss over him the way he
usually did over Blair after they made love.

     "Are you okay, mine?"  Blair asked softly, stroking Jim's hair
lightly.

     "Better than okay," he sighed in response.  "It was perfect."

     "Did I hurt you?"

     "Nope," Jim said through a smile, closing his eyes and feeling
himself drifting peacefully toward sleep.  Blair's heart was thudding its
usual lullaby, and Jim was nearly a goner when Blair spoke the final
time.

     "Tonight was magical, man.  Pure magic."

********

     "What do you think we were doing wrong?"  Blair asked as he
spread what he considered too much cream cheese on a bagel and
passed it to Jim.  The other man eyed it with great desire and then took
a large bite out of it.    Blair had escaped to the kitchen to get food, and
now they were eating a midnight snack in bed with the light of a small
candle and the late autumn moon.  Having pulled on their robes and
climbed back into bed, snuggling together comfortably under the heavy
quilt, bagels and cream cheese were being consumed greedily.

     "You mean before?  Because we did *nothing* wrong tonight." 
Jim took another bite of his bagel.

     "I think we were planning it too hard.  You know, 'It's Friday
night, so that means we do it all the way'.  I think we were too
regimented, and it built up our expectations too much."

     "And the anxiety level.  I mean," Jim attempted through a
prodigious mouthful, "if you're approaching it with the attitude that you
*have* to do it at a certain time, you get all tensed up.  At least I did," 
he commented candidly.  Blair nodded in agreement.

     "Yeah, it was kind of like, 'Oh, Friday night, brace yourself'." 
Blair chuckled a little.  "And then we had our unwritten scorecard
about whose turn it was to do what.  Can we toss that concept?  I don't
have any hang-ups about which one of us topped last.  I don't care, as
long as we're making love together and enjoying ourselves.  I felt like
tonight was the first time you really *wanted* me to top.  Not because
it was my turn or you thought you should let me--because you wanted
me to."

     "I guess it was.  Maybe that's why I enjoyed myself.  I was in
the mood for it."

     "I don't want you to ever do anything just because it's my turn. 
Well, letting me pick which movie we watch when it's my turn is still
nice, but I mean with sex."

     "Damn.  Almost saw myself escaping that foreign film series at
the U."

     "You're going to like those movies.  Especially the original
French movie version of 'Somersby'--'The Return of Martin Guerre'. 
The French original is way better than the Hollywood version."

     "It is, huh?"  Jim had abandoned the bagel and taken a more
active interest in Blair's earlobe.

     "Jim!  Like I don't feed you enough.  Here."  He handed Jim
another prepared piece of bagel.

     "I thought you liked me nibbling your ear."

     "My ear, my rear, whatever.  Just not while I'm eating."

     "Time to refill the tank, huh?"

     "Yeah.  Man, I think I used up about three times' worth on that
one."

     "About the foreign movies--I was only kidding, baby.  I want to
see every last one with you.  I love you."

     "I love you too.  That's why we'll see half the series--every other
week.  The in between weeks, we'll go see something current--deal?"

     "Deal."  Jim smiled and pulled Blair into his arms, letting the
food fall where it would.

     "Jim, you're dropping food, man."

     "So we'll get roaches.  I just want to hold you and I'm sick of
sharing you with a bag of bagels."

     "That guy who came after me in the garage tonight...who was
he?"

     "Ed Miller--he and Patterson saw us kissing, remember?"

     "Oh.  I didn't remember him when I saw him tonight.  Man, he's
gonna kill me next time he sees me."

     "You took care of yourself just fine tonight, sweetheart.  He
probably won't mess with you again."

     "No, he'll come back with a half dozen friends, probably."

     "We'll worry about him later.  Got a surprise for you.  Ryf's
uncle called.  He said your car'd be done by Saturday."

     "What?!"  Blair shot up into a sitting position.

     "He said he'd have it as good as new by Saturday," Jim
repeated, grinning as he thought about the subterfuge that had brought
it about.  The gouges had been too deep, so Jim had asked Ryf's uncle
if he could come up with scrap parts and essentially rebuild the body
with a replacement hood, trunk, and doors.  The man had scoured the
state, and come up with the parts.  Jim had already paid him for the
work. 

     "I don't believe it.  I thought it was toast, man."

     "Miracles happen, I guess."  Jim kissed Blair's forehead and
snaked his hand inside the other man's robe, finding his lax but quickly
responsive penis.

     "Jim, what're you...ooohhh, whatever it is?  Keep doin' it," Blair
groaned, arching into the stimulation.

     Six a.m. was very unwelcome when it arrived.

********

     Blair spent most of the morning grading the last of his mid-term
exams.  There were a few snow flurries wafting in the air outside, and
more than once, his mind wandered back to the previous night.  Being
inside Jim had been a phenomenal experience.  The first time Blair had
really enjoyed it thoroughly as well.  Knowing Jim was enduring it or
was in pain or at best discomfort, had kept Blair from really loving it
either.  Last night was pure magic...

     "Sandburg."  A male voice from his open door caught his
attention.  He started a little and turned away from the window.  Dr.
Tillman was approaching his desk.

     "Dr. Tillman," Blair acknowledged coolly but politely.

     "May I sit down?" he asked, indicating the only clear chair near
the desk.

     "Of course."  Blair turned sideways in his own chair to face the
man.

     "I received a telephone call from Dean Ryman this morning.  It
seems that Nicole Pierce has recanted her charges against you."

     "That's wonderful--but why?"  Blair played his part to the end,
not letting on that he knew anything about the plot the Dean had been
working on in his behalf.  He was, however, overjoyed that it worked. 
There were no guarantees when it all started that it would.

     "It seems that Ms. Pierce was acting on behalf of a friend, who
encouraged her to make the charges."

     "Why?"

     "Her friend's father is a detective in the same department as
your...friend, Ellison.  Apparently, it was a more covert form of
harassment.  His daughter made arrangements with Nicole to make the
false claim.  Ms. Pierce said that Ms. Patterson--the young lady whose
father was behind this--said her father was hopeful that you would
leave town if there was a sufficient scandal."

     "What made Nicole admit she was lying, I wonder?"

     "Dean Ryman asked her to come in and explain the situation
again.  Apparently something about the girl's story didn't ring true to
Charlotte, and she wanted to take another look at it."  Tillman shifted
nervously in his chair.  "Obviously, there won't be a need for a hearing
tomorrow."

     "That's great news," Blair responded, genuinely relieved.  He
couldn't wait to call Jim. 
     
     "I'm afraid I owe you an apology.  I was very ready to believe
that young lady's charges."

     "There wasn't much way to disprove what she was saying,"
Blair conceded.

     "Thank you for being so gracious about it."  Dr. Tillman stood
up and moved toward the door. 

     "Dr. Tillman?"

     "Yes?"  The older man paused at the door and turned back to
look at Blair.

     "I hope that someday you'll be able to be more comfortable
about my lifestyle.  I really do respect you aand your work, and
this...tension between us isn't pleasant."

     "Don't push it, Sandburg.  Rome wasn't built in a day."  There
was a little trace of humor in the man's voice as he turned and retreated
from the office.  

     Blair just grinned and picked up the phone to call Jim.  

********

     Jim stifled a yawn as he started out down the road.  He had
been putting off this ride out to see Henry, one of his best snitches. 
The old man had a veritable wealth of information if you had a
morning to kill sorting out the tips from the slew of trivia and stories
about the Korean War he saw fit to share at the same time.  

     Henry ran a seedy bar in the toughest business district in
Cascade, and more often than not, he had either seen or heard of a
certain perp Jim was looking for.  At the very least, he usually had
some good street gossip to pass along to the detective.  

     Seeing enough of the crime and danger while he ran his
business, Henry had retreated to a two acre plot of land well outside the
city limits, putting a nice little mobile home in the middle of it all.  He
didn't open the bar until five, so once he was up and around by about
ten in the morning, the day was his.  One of his favorite ways to spend
it was sharing war stories with a captive audience.  Jim realized he was
one of the most captive, since he usually wanted something from the
old man.

     Settling in for the long ride, Jim flipped on the radio.  He had
the advantage of being able to listen to music and still hear if he was
being called on the police radio. Blair had decided one day that Jim
should be capable of doing both, so thanks to his persistent little
guide/lover/best friend/other half, he could do just that.

     The first song that reached his ears was a soft, sultry love song. 
Jim smiled a little as he thought about the night before, incredulous
that he had not only enjoyed himself so much but that he could
seriously admit that he wanted to do it again.  Maybe not right away,
but soon.  

     //Can't show up at Henry's with a king-sized stiffy stuck out the
front,// Jim concluded, chuckling.  He changed the station, hoping for
something less likely to remind him of Blair.

     "Oh that's a big help," he said back to the radio, laughing.  Bad
Company's "Feel Like Makin' Love" wasn't going to help matters much. 
He punched another preset button. //A bouncy dance tune.  Not what I'd
pick out, but safe territory,// he concluded.  When the refrain kicked in
and the singer declared, "...you and me, we should be dancing in the
sheets", Jim laughed out loud.  Another button was hit.  An All-4-One
song was playing.  That reminded him of Blair too, since they had slow
danced to more than one of the band's songs.  It reminded him of all the
warm, wonderful, mushy feelings that were ends in themselves with or
without sex.  That was more than acceptable.  Now if he could just
ignore those damn female pronouns... //One way to solve that, Ellison. 
Out-sing 'em.//

     By the time Jim pulled up at the last busy intersection of town,
he was singing full tilt.  

     "I can love you like that, I can make you my world, move
heaven and earth, if you were my *love*, I can give you my heart, be
all that you need, show you you're everything that's precious to me, if
you give me a chance, I can love you like that," Jim concluded with the
singer, tapping a couple punctuating drumbeats on the steering wheel. 
He noted that the woman next to him at the stop light was eyeing him
as if he were insane.  And he didn't care. //God, Ellison, you're a sap
when you're in love,// he berated himself with a smile as he geared up
to take on Stevie Wonder when the first notes of "I Just Called to Say I
Love You" started playing.  As if on cue, the cell phone rang.  Jim
smiled a little as he turned down the radio and answered his ringing
phone, as the signs of civilization were becoming more and more
sparse.

     "Ellison."

     "I want to dribble chocolate sauce all over you and spend all
night licking you clean," a hushed voice breathed into the phone.  
     
     "I'll bring the whipped cream if you bring the nuts," Jim
responded, and unable to keep up the charade, Blair laughed out loud
on the other end of the phone.

     "I've got good news, lover.  Tillman just stopped by.  Whatever
Charlotte did to Nicole must have worked, because she admitted she
lied about everything.  I'm off the hook, man.  No hearing!"

     "Oh, sweetheart, that's great!  What happened?"

     "I guess she called Nicole in and put some pressure on her and
she folded.  I still have to call Charlotte and find out--"

     "Oh, shit," Jim muttered, pressing down on the brake pedal with
no results.  He was on a curve, the truck was gaining speed, and the
damn brakes weren't catching.

     "Jim?  What's wrong?"  Blair's frantic voice came over the
phone as Jim worked at pumping the brake, flattening it to the floor,
slamming on it--nothing worked.  "Jim!"

     "I've got trouble here.  No brakes.  I'm on Bell Road.  Better
send an ambulance in case.  Love you."  And with that, he broke the
connection and threw the phone aside, concentrating on trying to bring
the truck under control.

********

     Blair stared at the telephone in his hand, stunned momentarily. 
He lost very little time calling for help, sending a back up unit and
ambulance in Jim's direction.  Then he raced out of his office, down the
stairs and out to the parking lot for his car.  Maybe if the lights
cooperated, he could get there at the same time the cops did.

     "Jim, please be okay.  Oh God, I didn't have time to say it again. 
Jim, you gotta know I love you so much," Blair kept chanting to
himself as he sped through town, running two red lights and sliding
through a stop street with only marginal caution.  How he hadn't been
spotted or pulled over, he didn't know, but he just prayed his luck held. 
"Please, God, I'll do anything...just let him be okay..."

     Blair could hear sirens behind him, but they weren't pursuing
him.  Ironically, he had to pull over to let the ambulance and two police
cars whiz by.   He rejoined the parade down the long country road until
he saw them slow down and stop, one by one.  As Blair approached the
scene, he felt all the strength going out of his limbs.  He could barely
think to stop his own car.  Down on the side of the hill was a flaming
wreck.  The moment Blair stepped out of his car, the burning vehicle
exploded, the vibration throwing him to the ground.

     "Jim!!!"  Blair scrambled to his feet and raced down the
hillside, eluding the emergency personnel momentarily because they
hadn't even seen him pull up to the scene.  It was Ryf who caught him
around the waist, quickly reinforced by Brown who caught up to them
on the grassy slope.  It was obvious it was going to take at least two of
them to contain the kicking, screaming, struggling man who was intent
on reaching the flaming remains of Jim's truck.

     "Blair!  Come on, settle down!  You can't help Jim."

     "Let go of me!  I have to get him out of there!!  Oh God,
somebody do something!!!"  Blair screamed, fighting diligently against
the two men who were not only holding him, but trying to drag him
back from the wreck that had the potential to yield another explosion.

     "Blair!"  Ryf maneuvered him around with Brown's help and
slapped his face once, hard.  "Dammit, Blair, it's over.  Nobody can go
near that wreck."  

          "But Jim...he's in there..."  The slap seemed to have calmed the
hysterics, but there was still a weak struggle to move toward the
flaming carcass of the truck.  "Please let me go... I want to be with
him," Blair pleaded, the last word breaking pitifully.

     "Jim wouldn't want you to get hurt going near the fire, you
know that, man," Brown spoke up.  "Come on, come back to the car
with us.  We'll give you a ride back--"

     "No."  Blair wrested his arms out of their grip, though now he
was standing still, and sounding very calm.  "I'm going to wait here." 
And with that, he seated himself on the grass and refused to move.

     "Blair, no one could survive a crash like that.  When the smoke
clears...Jim wouldn't want you to remember him that way."

     "I'm not leaving here until Jim does," Blair replied, not sparing
the men a look.  His body was shaking from the shock, and his soul had
been ripped out by its roots.  He had nothing left for anyone.  Nothing
left but to wait until they recovered what was left of his life from that
burning wreck.

     "Then we can take off now, sweetheart," a voice came from
behind him.  Blair stood up and spun around, and would have fallen if
not for the strong hands of his lover catching his shoulders.  Ryf and
Brown were standing a few feet away in mute shock, having wandered
away from Blair after his refusal to move from the ground where he
sat.

     "Jim?  I thought...the truck...?"

     "When it went off the road I jumped.  Guess that was a good
call."  He winced a little as he looked over at the inferno that was his
third vehicle in so many years.

     "I thought...Oh, God, Jim, I love you so much and I didn't get
time to say it and then I thought you were dead and I'd never get the
chance but I do, I love you don't ever die on me I can't stand it!"  Blair
blurted out through tears as he wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and
held on.  He felt Jim's arms go around him and pull him in tightly
enough to lift his feet off the ground and hold him up a bit.  It was just
as well.  His legs were giving out anyway.

     "Shhh.  I'm right here, baby.  I'm right here.  We don't need
words, sweetheart.  I know how you feel.  It's okay."

     "Jim!"  Simon had pulled up on the scene, and while the others
had held back to let Jim have his moment with the frantic man who'd
been ready to merge with the flames moments earlier, the captain was
intent on getting the story right then and there.

     "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Jim
quipped, still holding Blair, who didn't seem to care if the president
was there to talk to Jim.  He wasn't letting go.

     "Is he hurt?"  Simon asked, wondering if Blair had been in the
truck with Jim.

     "No, just scared shitless, I think."  Jim took a moment to give
Blair a little squeeze.  "I need my neck back, Chief," he said softly into
the nearest ear.  Blair was still crying and refused to loosen his grip.

     "He thought you were in the truck?"  Simon asked finally.

     "I guess everyone at this end of the line did.  I bailed when I lost
control of it, and it crashed and exploded.  The ambulance guys spotted
me right away, but it took everyone else a little time to find me because
I was sitting in the back of the ambulance getting checked out."  Jim
inclined his head toward Blair.  "Give us a minute?"

     "Yeah, I'll go have a look at the skid marks."  Simon moved
away from them and Jim turned his attentions back to Blair, who was
quieting considerably but not letting go.

     "It's okay, sweetheart.  I'm not going anywhere.  I'm alive and
I'm fine."   Blair reluctantly freed Jim's neck and stepped back a little,
still hiccupping.  The tears were still coming, and he seemed unable to
stop them.  "Oh, baby, come on, look at me.  I'm just fine.  Just a
scratch or two," Jim consoled gently, taking Blair's face in his hands.

     "I wanted to...go with you," Blair managed.

     "Blair, look at me," Jim said firmly.  "I'm alive.  I'm fine.  I
wasn't in the truck.  Now get a grip."  He grasped Blair's shoulders and
shook him once, gently.  "What happened to your face, sweetheart?" 
Jim leaned over and kissed the red patch on Blair's cheek.

     "I guess I got a little hysterical.  I think Ryf let me have it," he
responded, trying a little smile.  "I'm sorry I freaked out, but I
thought...God, Jim, I was so damn *scared*."

     "I know.  Feeling a little steadier now?"

     "Yeah.  I feel like an idiot, actually."

     "Don't.  It's kind of nice to know how much you're loved.  I'm
not objecting."  Jim slid arm around Blair's shoulders and led him
toward where Simon was looking at the skid marks.

     "Can I hang out with you today?  I don't want to be apart right
now."  Blair looked up at him hopefully, and Jim melted like he always
did at that pleading little look.

     "Won't let you out of my sight."  He squeezed Blair's shoulders
as they made their way over to join Simon.

     "Brakes went out totally, huh?"  Simon asked as Jim and Blair
joined him, Ryf and Brown at the spot where the truck left the road.

     "I started gaining speed on the first curve back there, and when
I took my foot off the gas and hit the brake, nothing happened."  Jim
looked over at the smouldering remains of the truck.  "The brakes were
fine this morning on the way in, and they were working when I ran over
to the courthouse earlier.  I suppose they could have been gradually
letting go, but I would be more inclined to think something happened
to them while I was at headquarters, because they didn't seem overly
responsive on the way out of town, but they were working."

     "You've had the truck in recently for maintenance?"  Simon
asked.

     "Just a week ago.  Everything checked out fine."

     "So it happened at the station?"  Blair finally spoke up.

     "Almost looks that way," Jim replied, relieved to hear Blair
sounding like his old self again.  "Of course, if someone were going to
target me, that's certainly one place they could be sure of seeing my
truck."

     "Or they could blend with the atmosphere sabotaging it there if
they already parked nearby themselves."

     "Sandburg, you aren't seriously suggesting another cop did
this?"

     "Simon, last week I wouldn't have seriously suggested that three
Vice cops would shove my head in a toilet for kicks, but it happened.  I
don't have a lot of naive trust left anymore."

     "Plus we have evidence now that Patterson was behind the
sexual harassment charges made against Blair.  His daughter is friends
with Nicole Pierce, the girl who made the accusation."

     "Can you put that evidence together for the DA?"

     "I have to talk to Dean Ryman again and get the exact story, but
I don't think it'll be a problem," Blair replied.

     "Good.  I want a report on my desk by the end of the day.  Have
him sign it."  He pointed at Jim as he moved away to talk to the men
preparing to approach and inspect the smoking wreckage.  Simon had
apparently accepted that on more than one occasion, Blair took Jim's
notes and wrote the reports while the detective engaged in more
official activities with which Blair couldn't help.

     "Well, if you're going to hang out with me, Chief, I need a lift
out to Henry's place."

     "Just like that?  You almost *died*, man.  Aren't you a little
freaked out by that?"  Blair asked, all expressions and gestures.  Jim
just chuckled.

     "No, sweetheart. *You're* freaked out by it.  And it wasn't even
close.  All I got were a couple bruises from jumping out of the truck." 
Jim sighed at Blair's still troubled expression.  "I'm fine, baby.  I'm this
far out in the sticks, and it'll be a while before that thing cools down
enough for them to analyze anything, so I might as well finish what I
started.  Henry'll like you anyway.  Probably give me what I need free."

     "Great.  What is Henry?  Some kind of sex pervert?"

     "Yeah.  I bring him sexy young men for his sick pleasures in
return for information.  You don't mind putting out so I can get a few
leads on the Carpenter case, do you?"  Jim asked innocently.

     "Asshole," Blair shot back, laughing.

     "Coming from you, that could be a love name."  Jim stole a
quick kiss and then jogged around to the passenger side of Blair's car.

********

     After visiting Henry, the two men returned to headquarters
where Jim typed up a perfunctory report of the failing brakes incident,
and was informed that the preliminary word was that the brake fluid
had been drained out of the lines.  The next stop on their itinerary was
the loft, where Jim changed into some clean clothes (with the marginal
distraction of Blair hovering over him and making more of a fuss over
his bruises than the ambulance attendants had).  Refreshed and tidied
up, they made their way to Dean Ryman's office.

********

     Charlotte Ryman was discussing something with her secretary,
standing in her outer office, when Blair and Jim arrived.  She
brightened immediately and finished her discussion with the other
woman.

     "Blair, I was just about to call you."

     "Charlotte Ryman, Jim Ellison," Blair introduced.  He smiled a
bit smugly at the approving once-over Charlotte was giving his lover. 
It was a common reaction from most women when they met Jim, and it
never ceased to give Blair a little tingle that this gorgeous specimen
was all his.

     "Blair's had a lot of good things to say about you," Jim spoke
up, accepting her offered handshake.

     "I could say the same.  Why don't you two step into my office?"

     "We need to find out the details about Nicole and Pamela,"
Blair explained, as soon as all of them were seated.

     "Well, Nicole was fairly weak as far as her resolve to stick to
her story.  I simply had a little talk with her, asked her if she fully
understood the gravity of the charges she was making, and also
reminded her that if those charges were disproved and if it was later
discovered that she had intentionally made a false claim, it would mean
a dismissal from the university.  She held out a moment or two, then
broke down and told me that she was lying for a friend of hers."

     "Pamela?"  Jim asked.

     "She said that Pamela asked her if she would help out with a
plan, and explained that Blair was making things difficult for her father
at work, and that he would like to see Blair move on from Cascade. 
Nicole refused at first, but apparently Pamela had enough evidence of
Nicole's marijuana habit to coerce her into doing it to avoid being
arrested."

     "And she just told you all this?"  Jim asked, incredulous.

     "It's amazing what a stressed out girl who's only 18 years old
and is away from home for the first time--and is in significant trouble--will 
say when she finally sees some help in sight.  My goal for Nicole
was to get her into a drug rehabilitation program, which she has signed
up for this morning.  If charges are pressed against her, I would assume
that would help her case."

     "Definitely.  It shows her intention to discontinue the habit." 
Jim smiled.  "You ever consider a job in law enforcement?  I could use
you at my next interrogation."

     "This is as close to being a cop as I can handle, thank you," she
responded, chuckling a little.    

     "What's going to happen to Pamela?"  Blair asked.

     "Well, at this point, I think we'll take our cue from the police. 
Nicole agreed to cooperate with the authorities in any way on this
matter, and I certainly am willing to testify or make any statements
necessary."

     "The next thing we have to do is present this information to the
DA, who will determine what, if any, charges will be brought against
Nicole or Pamela.  My guess would be that since Nicole is cooperating,
she'll probably get off the hook with a slap on the wrist and a
requirement of drug rehab, which she's already agreed to do on her
own.  Pamela is another story.  I don't know how that'll play out yet."

     "Before you do anything, let me talk to Pamela.  If this becomes
a law enforcement issue, I doubt you'll have her cooperation."

     "You're probably right about that.  Her father's attorney will be
advising her if we handle it, and she'll probably keep quiet," Jim rubbed
a hand over his chin.   "I know you and Blair tossed around the idea of
appealing to her father to confess and save her neck, but I wouldn't
count on that being a viable option."

     "If Pamela were to cooperate, what would happen to her from a
legal standpoint?"  Charlotte asked.

     "I'm not the DA, and that's his call, not mine.  My guess?  If she
cooperates, she'll probably get something very mild--probation, most
likely.  What we're actually talking about here is two-way blackmail. 
Her father didn't want money from Blair, but he did what he did in
order to force Blair to behave in a certain manner--thus, to achieve a
'pay off' of some sort.  In turn, she coerced Nicole into lying by using
the drug threat against her.  Given that she was acting on behalf of her
father, she's very young, has no prior record...she'll probably come out
of it just fine--better, actually, without her father's lawyer putting a gag
on her."

     "I'll get Pamela in here for an appointment.  Better yet, I'll try to
catch her by surprise."

     "Good idea.  If she has time to sound the alarm to her father,
we're probably finished," Blair added.

     "I'll need Nicole's address and phone number," Jim spoke up. 
The Dean opened a file folder she had handy on her coffee table and
dictated the address as Blair wrote it down.

********

     "I hope Simon's not going to give you the run around about
helping you out with the cost on this truck," Blair said as he walked the
rest of the way up the stairs to the bedroom.  Jim was already in bed,
waiting for his partner.  He smiled as he watched Blair approach the
bed and climb in, dressed for the cold night in his sweatpants, socks
and t-shirt.  Jim figured most of the garments would end up on the floor
in the next ten minutes, but Blair looked impossibly cute dressed that
way, so it was worth the effort.  He laughed when Blair wriggled
around to shed the t-shirt and sweats and tossed them on the floor,
leaving only his socks and boxers.

     "You know me too well, Chief."  Jim doused the light and
pulled Blair close to him, enjoying the warmth that emanated from
him.

     "I figured they were history anyway," Blair said, grinning
against Jim's chest.  "Besides, body heat's more effective skin to skin. 
Purely from a scientific standpoint."

     "Of course."  Jim smiled and slipped his hand into Blair's hair. 
"Simon said the department would cover this one.  It isn't nearly as
much as the others were, and this way I don't have to make a claim on
my insurance."

     "Do you think it's somebody at the PD?"

     "God, I don't want to think that."  Jim exhaled loudly.  "I mean,
I can see those guys harassing us, and I'm not even real surprised about
what happened with Walker and his stooges.  But attempted murder...  I
really hope it isn't another cop."

     "I'm sorry this screwed everything up so bad for you, man.  I
never wanted to mess up your job."

     "You didn't, sweetheart.  Don't apologize."

     "Today, when I thought...  I love you, Jim.  I don't say it enough. 
I just kept thinking that I hadn't said it to you--"

     "Blair, baby, you've told me you loved me about a dozen times a
day since we got together.  And before that you told me in all the
zillion little things you did for me all the time.  I'm real clear on that
point."

     "I was so scared."  Blair cuddled closer against Jim.  "The worst
thing had already happened, so it wasn't like there was anything else I
could be scared of.  But I was afraid of living without you.  I knew I
couldn't.  I can't, Jim."

     "You don't have to.  I'm not going anywhere.  But you could do
it."  Jim held Blair tightly against him and kissed his forehead.

     "I'm sorry," Blair managed as he started to cry softly against
Jim's shoulder.

     "Shhh.  It's okay, baby.  I'm right here.  Don't cry, love.  I'm
fine."  Jim shifted onto his side so he could wrap Blair completely in
his arms and legs.  Blair's arms were like steel bands around his waist. 
The tears were coming out in wracking sobs now.  It was on the tip of
Jim's tongue to comfort Blair by stating the obvious again, but he
refrained.  He tried to put himself in the position of thinking Blair was
dead, of feeling all the pain and horror and the heartbreak, if only for a
few minutes.

     "I'm glad you're okay," Blair choked out, squeezing Jim more
tightly in his arms. 

     "But for that few minutes, you went through all the same things
you would have if I'd really died in that damn truck.  I'm sorry you had
to go through that.  I never expected you to get there that fast, so I
didn't think to get out of the ambulance.  Those guys spotted me
coming up the hill and had me get in the back and sit on the gurney so
they could check a few things out and clean up a couple scratches.  The
truck had just started to show signs of catching fire, so I didn't even
think about what it might look like."

     "None of it would matter without you.  I realized all of a sudden
that I didn't want the Ph.D. or my other friends or...or anything.  None
of it meant anything."

     "You're my heart and soul, sweetheart.  You know that.  I feel
the same way."

     "I love you, mine."  Blair had calmed to an occasional sniffle.

     "I love you too, Chief.  Try to relax and close your eyes.  Come
on."  Jim shifted again so he was on his back with Blair snuggled
comfortably against his side, head on his shoulder.  "Get some sleep,
baby."  

     "Maybe tomorrow'll be better," Blair mumbled as he dozed.

     "Maybe," Jim replied softly with a little grin, dropping a kiss on
the top of Blair's head. 

     //What an amazing blessing to be loved this much,// Jim
thought, smiling to himself as he settled in to sleep.

********

     Pamela Patterson did not go down as easily as Nicole Pierce. 
Loyal to her father and more than aware of her tenuous legal position,
she denied any knowledge of such a plot and feigned indignation that
her unsavory roommate would use her to wriggle out of a tight
situation.  She further blasted Nicole both barrels, giving dates and
times of dorm parties where Nicole had furnished the pot, among other
substances.  She strode out of the Dean's office, head held high, having
avoided incriminating herself in any way.  She had obviously inherited
her father's cold, unemotional demeanor.

     Both Jim and Blair were disappointed in that outcome, but not
terribly surprised.  Nicole had been a pawn in the plan, a definite
textbook "weak link".  It was in Nicole's best interest to cooperate, but
in Pamela's case, it would have meant betraying her father if she had
admitted to the plot.  Both tried to focus on the fact that the important
thing was foiling the plot and clearing Blair of any charges, and nailing 
Patterson for being behind it would have just been a nice bonus.

     Blair tried to ignore his nagging unease about moving around
headquarters alone.  So far, he'd been dunked in the toilet and harassed
in the garage.  When he saw two detectives from Narcotics headed his
way from the other end of the hall, he schooled his features calm,
though his heart was thudding up in his ears.  Both men knew him,
both normally spoke pleasantly to him (before the revelation about his
relationship to Jim), and both had good reputations on the force.  He
still didn't hold out much hope of not getting a sour remark or at the
least, a dark glare.

     "Hey, Sandburg, I hear you kicked Miller's ass in the garage the
other night," Mark Kendall said through a snicker.  His partner, Steve
Curtis, slowed down as he did to talk to Blair.

     "He was getting in my face.  He wasn't leaving me a lot of
options."

     "Miller's an arrogant asshole.  God, it was funny watching him
come back in and stagger into the john," Steve added.  "You shoulda
heard him trying to come up with a good reason why a police observer
a head shorter than he is took him out with a couple well-placed
moves,"  he concluded, laughing.  "So, Sandburg, you gonna start
teaching self defense around here?"

     "More like asshole control," Mark interjected, sending all three
men into laughter.

     "I minored in psych and asshole control, actually," Blair
quipped.  "So, everybody's not pissed about me about Miller?" 

     "Pissed?  They'll probably give you a medal," Steve started
moving away, and Mark followed suit.  "Not all of us are living in the
Stone Age, man.  People have a right to do what they want with
whoever they wanna do it.  As long as we don't have to bust 'em for it,
we really don't give a shit."

     "That's really good to hear coming from somebody here."  Blair
smiled a little.  "The last time I ran into more than one cop in the hall, I
ended up with my head in the toilet."

     "Some of the guys in Vice have real attitude problems.  I'm not
saying all of them, but I think they start getting confused that you don't
push people around like the scum you raid in the porn joints.  Anyhow,
nice move with Miller," Mark concluded, following his partner down
the hall.

     "Yeah.  See you guys later," Blair responded, smiling but still
reeling from the shock of receiving a few words of support.  He had a
definite spring in his step when he returned to Jim's desk.

     "You look happy.  Better not be Diane in Traffic again."

     "That was, like, *forever* ago, man.  She doesn't even work
down there anymore."

     "Then Linda the bagel girl."  Jim was smirking a little.

     "Actually, it's this cop in Major Crimes with the big, throbbing
rod of manhood," Blair whispered as he reached past Jim to grab a
paper clip.  The other man stifled a chortle and went back to trying to
concentrate on his computer screen.

     "So what is it?"

     "What?"

     "You've looked like someone just shot your puppy all day
around here and all of a sudden you look...normal," Jim finally
concluded, unable to find just the right words.

     "I ran into a couple guys from Narcotics who congratulated me
on kicking Miller's ass.  It was kind of nice to get a little support."
     
     "That's great, Chief."

     "I really think you should reconsider the whole resignation
thing."

     "You do, huh?"  Jim was pecking away at the keyboard,
grimacing at what he saw in front of him.

     "What're you working on?"

     "Just some background stuff for the Burnette case.  Trying to
narrow the field a little.  Right now I'm checking out parolees who
went to prison for cutting up women."

     "And they got paroled?"

     "Most of them weren't homicide cases.  The majority were
aggravated assault, some rape charges, and the rest were domestic
violence and spousal abuse."

     "Nasty case, man.  Any chance they'll leave us out of it from
here on?"  Blair asked, surprising Jim a little.  His partner normally
liked to see things through to their conclusion, whether they were easy
or not.  Their partnership with Vice in trying to bust Julian Corman, the
head of the biggest drug, prostitution and porno business in Cascade,
had been an uneasy one from the start.  Jim had a few good friends left
in Vice, but he had also locked horns with several in the past--including 
men like Walker, Hooper and Patterson.  Now, with three
veteran Vice cops suspended without pay and pending trial on felony
charges for assaulting Blair, there was little hope for the situation not
to turn into a nightmare.

     Corman's girlfriend had turned up dead, cut up in a very
creative manner.  The homicide had drawn Major Crimes in on the act. 
While the crime boss, a man in his early forties with dark good looks
and a commanding presence, had an airtight alibi for the night of the
killing, the police felt confident he was behind it.  Maria Burnette was
leaking information to undercover cops.  Her death would not only
have to be swift, but gruesome, to make a point to any others in
Corman's inner circle who entertained similar thoughts.

     "We're probably in it for the duration.  Or I should say, I'm in it. 
I would just as soon see you stay out of it from here on in.  We'll be
dealing with a lot of guys who were tight with Walker and his cronies. 
I don't want you getting hurt."

     "I'm your partner, man.  If you're in, I'm in."

     "I'm just saying that if you're in, you could be in danger.  We
both could be."

     "So you don't want me in on it, is that what you're saying?" 
There was a definite tone of anger and hurt in Blair's voice.

     "I'm saying that this case isn't about us proving some...social
justice point.  It's about nailing a murdering bastard who makes his
money off other people's perversions."

     "Us sticking together as partners in this department is about
more than a 'social justice point', Jim."  Blair shook his head.  "I can't
believe we're having this conversation.  You seriously want me out of
your hair so you can work this case, don't you?"

     "That's an unfair crock of shit, Sandburg, and you know it.  You
saw Maria Burnette.  Corman plays for keeps, and I can't be spending
half my time defending your honor when I'm supposed to be working a
case!"  Jim wanted to retract the words as soon as they'd escaped.  To
say Blair looked stricken was an understatement.  He slowly rose from
the spot where he'd perched against Jim's desk.

     "In that case, you're on your own.  Good luck with your case." 
Blair started for the door.
     
     "Blair, wait a minute.  I didn't mean--"

     "Yes, Jim, you did.  You never wanted to come out with me in
the first place, and you're not happy to be out now," Blair responded,
keeping his voice at a level low enough only Jim could hear it.  Blair
didn't see much point in handing Jim his freedom and at the same time,
irreparably humiliating him in front of his co-workers.  "And I'm not
happy being stuffed back in the closet the first time a sticky situation
comes up.  As far as 'defending my honor', no one asked you to.  I can
take care of myself, which is precisely what I intend to start doing."  

     With that, Blair turned on his heel and strode determinedly out
of the bullpen, leaving Jim standing there with his mouth slightly
agape.  He considered running after Blair, but there wasn't much point. 
At least not until the younger man cooled off a little.  Blair had the
patience of a saint, but when you pushed the final one of his buttons, he
was capable of real anger.  A deeply wounded Blair could usually be
sweet-talked and cuddled into forgiveness.  A pissed-off Blair was
better left alone until the wounded one surfaced.  That usually took a
day or two.  This time, Jim figured he was in for a good week of sexual
frustration and emotional turmoil.

     He tried to dismiss it at that, not acknowledging the sick feeling
in the pit of his stomach that he would go home to an empty loft and a
"Dear Jim" letter.

********

     Blair rode the tide of his anger as he stormed out to the police
garage, thanking every deity in the universe that he'd driven his own car
there that morning.  He only taught one class in the late morning, so it
was easier for them to drive in separately on Fridays so Blair could slip
out to the campus and back without interrupting Jim for a ride.

     "Don't move," a voice came from behind Blair as he inserted his
key into the car door lock.  "Hands up on the car, now!"  A breathy
command that was barely above a whisper.  It was Walker's voice. 
"Gimme the cuffs," he said to whomever was with him.  

     "You're making a big mistake," Blair said as the cuffs were
snapped into place, restraining his arms behind his back.  "If you guys
leave me alone right now, we can forget this ever happened."

     "You'd like that, tinkerbell.  But that isn't the way this is going
down.  We're going to take you somewhere where they'll really
appreciate your talents.  Now move."  Blair felt the gun against his
back and found himself surrounded by just the three men he expected
to see--Walker, Hooper, and Patterson.  The parking garage was nearly
deserted at this late hour.  Most cops were either out on their beats,
home with their families, or sitting hunched over their computers like
Jim. //Jim...//

     "Get in!"  Blair hesitated momentarily before stepping into the
back of the dark blue van, but a knee in the rear from Walker
encouraged him forward.  He climbed in and Patterson got in behind
him.  The back doors closed and locked.  

     "You shouldn't have messed with Pam, you perverted little son
of a bitch," Patterson spat.  

     "You shouldn't have put your daughter up to committing
blackmail for you."  Blair was silenced when he was backhanded
sharply by the other man.

     "Hey--don't mess up his face."  Walker was getting the driver's
seat, Hooper climbing in the passenger seat.  They were all dressed in
dark clothes, Walker in his usual leather gear.  Just like any other
undercover night.

     "Good point.  I could whip his ass, but we want that to look
good too, where he's going," Patterson taunted, still pointing a gun
directly at Blair.  Making a break for it would be suicide, and Blair
knew it.

     "Maybe Julian'll let you test drive him," Hooper quipped,
laughing a little.

     //JULIAN??// Blair's mind screamed at him, as all the blood
drained out of his face and he felt his extremities go cold. //Julian
Corman with the cut up girlfriend...Julian Corman who had a vast
network of prostitutes--female and male both...//  Walker and his
buddies had been part of the undercover operation to bust Corman. 
Blair had never actually met them prior to his encounter with them in
the restroom that day, since they spent most of their time in the field,
two planted as drug contacts for Corman, and Walker as a high-level
pimp. //Poor Maria--she probably trusted one of these clowns, and
that's why she's dead.  They sifted her information, gave the brass little
tidbits that wouldn't really nail Corman, and then turned Maria in to her
merciless boyfriend.// Blair shivered.

     "I think he's cold, guys.  You figure Julian'll have something for
him to do to get him warmed up?"

     "Without a doubt," Walker retorted, calmly steering the van into
the sparse late-night traffic.

     "This is kidnapping.  If you get caught--"

     "Don't start advising us on the law, you smart-assed little
faggot.  If you keep your mouth shut, you just might make it to
Corman's with all your teeth."  Patterson leaned back against the wall
of the van.  "Before this is over, you and me are going to settle up for
what you did to Pam."

     "I didn't do anything to Pam.  Her only hope of not getting into
this deeper and deeper and ending up in jail is if she cooperates now. 
You're the one who used your daughter to cover your ass."

     "Gag him," Hooper suggested helpfully, tossing an old rag of
some sort at Patterson, who was due to lunge at Blair.  "If you beat the
shit out of him now, he isn't going to be any good for anything else."

     "What are you going to do wi--" Blair was cut off by the gag
being shoved in his mouth and firmly tied at the back of his head.  The
van was moving fast now, and a jump would have been too dangerous. 
With bound hands, Blair didn't have the needed leverage to try
anything.

     The rest of the ride was completed in a tense silence.  Tense for
Blair, anyway.  The other three men were relaxed, smug even, at their
plans for the evening.  Their captive, rendered silent by the gag and
motionless by the gun pointed at him, finally closed his eyes and
started praying for the strength to endure whatever they had planned. 
He was sure of one thing: involving Julian Corman, it would not be
pleasant.

********

     "Where's your other half?"  Ryf asked as he passed Jim's desk.

     "Brown stick you with the paperwork again?"  Jim responded,
ignoring the question about Blair.

     "I could've sworn I passed Walker's van on the way in."

     "Sandburg left," Jim stated flatly, not looking up from his work. 

     "His rental car's still in the garage," Ryf said, a definite note of
concern in his voice.

     "Are you sure it was Walker's van?"  Jim gave Ryf his full
attention now.

     "Not positive, no.  It was a dark blue panel job, no customizing. 
I don't see many of those around, and I know Walker used it for his
undercover stuff--especially when he was playing pimp.  Frankly, I
think he used to sample the merchandise in the back of it."

     "Shit," Jim got up and rushed into Simon's office, startling the
captain, who was just putting on his coat to leave for the night.  "I need
an APB on Walker's van.  He's got Blair," Jim blurted.  He didn't realize
Ryf was right behind him.

     "I don't know that for sure, Captain," Ryf said to Simon's
stunned expression.  

     "Blair left quite a while ago, but his car's still in the garage, and
Ryf just spotted Walker's van on his way in."

     "I *think* it was Walker's van."

     "If he's got Blair, we don't have time to screw around.  We need
that APB now before they get where they're going!"

     "All right."  Simon went to the phone and called in the APB on
Walker's van, as well as a separate APB on Blair.  "Meanwhile, I want
you to get a group organized and search every inch of this building for
Sandburg.  He could have stopped off anywhere, and I want to cancel
those bulletins before I look like an idiot in front of the Chief."

     "Right, sir," Jim responded, heading out the door with Ryf close
behind him.  

     "I'll get everybody mobilized to look for Blair if you want to hit
the street," Ryf offered.  Jim nodded gratefully, and snatching his coat
off the hook, ran for the door.

********

     When the van finally came to a stop, Blair opened his eyes.  

     "Whrrwe?"  he fought to mumble over the gag.

     "You'll see."  Patterson opened the back door as Walker and
Hooper came around the van to meet them.   

     They hustled their still-gagged hostage along with them, across
well-worn cement to the back door of what appeared to be an
abandoned warehouse near the waterfront.  They made their way across
the large main floor of the building, to a locked steel door.  Walker
produced the key, dangling it with a glint in his eye toward Blair. 
Then, he unlocked the door and led the way downstairs.  

     Blair could hear music and voices.  It sounded like a sedate
party was going on somewhere in the bowels of this giant barn of a
building.

     "Julian!"  Walker yelled, then waved at the tall, dark figure who
met them in the concrete hallway.  "Brought you a party favor."

     "You're the last person I expected to see," the dark-haired man
commented.  Dressed in black from head to toe, he conjured the mental
image of a well-dressed, polished Satan.  "And who have we here?"  He
reached toward Blair, who ducked as far back as he could to avoid the
hand that traced his cheek lightly.

     "Friday nights are boys' nights, aren't they?"  Walker chortled. 
"Figured your customers might appreciate this one.  He's not exactly
willing, but we know he's experienced."
     
     "I've seen you before," Julian addressed Blair directly, reaching
over and yanking off the gag.  Blair swallowed a time or two, and
finally licked his lips to keep them from cracking.  "Where do I know
you from?  And don't lie to me, because that will be a hell of a lot less
pleasant than leveling with me."

     "I'm a police observer," Blair volunteered, recognizing that
there was some truth in Corman's warning.

     "Ellison's whore is what he is," Hooper spoke up, swatting Blair
on the rear end.  "We thought you could use a nice little piece of ass
like this tonight.  Plus, you've gotta love the irony."

     "You brought me a cop's boyfriend?  Are you fucking crazy?" 
Corman bellowed.  

     "It's not like he'll be leaving to tell anyone," Walker added.

     "I think you're a little mixed up here, Walker," Corman jabbed a
finger into the other man's chest.  "You're not running this show.  I
don't kill people on *your* say so."

     "Look, this little bastard is the reason we're all on suspension. 
If you don't think losing three Vice cops from the Cascade PD is bad
for your business, you're sadly mistaken.  They're getting closer to you
everyday, man.  And we're not there to run interference."

     "You know, it's a funny thing how I managed to run this
operation all by myself all these years without your guidance," Julian
retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.  "Until I met up with the three
of you, I didn't have corpses piling up around my ears.  They're bad for
business."

     "Maria was spilling major shit to the cops, Corman," Patterson
spoke up.  "If we hadn't been the ones she was spilling to, you'd be in
lock-up as we speak."  He grabbed a handful of Blair's hair and yanked
his head back.  "And as soon as you help us get rid of this little fucker,
we'll be back in business."

     "So I'm supposed to take responsibility because you three can't
keep your tempers under control?  No.  You made your own mess with
him.  He's *your* problem."

     "You can make a body disappear when you don't want it traced,
and you know it."  Walked stood back smugly.

     "You know, I ought to kill all four of you.  You three crazy
assholes bring a cop's boyfriend into my private operation, spout off
incriminating information in front of him--shit, you know damn well I
can't let him out of here alive now."

     "Well, then killing him is in our common best interest.  With
him gone, there's not much chance we'll permanently lose our jobs.  It's
his testimony that's the problem.  And, of course, we could use a little
character defamation assistance."

     "Meaning what?"  Corman pinned Walker with a suspicious
glare.

     "Since we have to dispose of him, you might as well get the
mileage off him.  How much do you suppose your...more eccentric
customers would pay for a stint with one they could have their way
with--no holds barred on damaging the goods?"  Walker lifted an
eyebrow.  "Here's the set up.  We spotted Sandburg pleasuring a paying
customer and when we confronted him in the john with that accusation,
tempers flared.  It isn't our fault if his last trick got a little too rough
with him.  You *do* have a couple of customers who like it rough,
don't you?"

     "More than a couple," Corman responded, mulling over
Walker's idea, sweeping Blair up and down with his eyes.  The younger
man fought with all he had to maintain some degree of composure in
his features.  He wanted to scream and plead for his life, but he knew
that was pointless.  Dignity was the only thing he could still keep.

     "He'll fight, be a screamer--just what they want.  Plus, you don't
have to warn them about not damaging the merchandise.  Think about
the ticket you can charge for that privilege."

     "I have a couple of connoisseurs here tonight.  Probably get
$500 a piece for no-holds-barred."

     "He's pretty strong.  He'll probably last through three, anyway," 
Hooper suggested, smiling at the horrified expression on Blair's face. 
The younger man had fallen silent, standing there in handcuffs,
Patterson and Hooper keeping a firm hold on his arms.  The atrocities
they were suggesting were too horrendous for his mind to process.  He
just stood there and hoped he'd pass out before it got too extreme.

     "I don't exactly take snapshots of my customers for my memory
book.  How do you propose to get evidence of this second life?"

     "Get one of your other boys to do something with him we can
photograph.  After that, I don't care what the hell you do with him, as
long as he disappears."  Walker crossed his arms over his chest, waiting
for Corman's reaction.  The other man looked back at Blair, and then
nodded.

     "Take him in the other room.  Make sure he can't get away.  The
last thing I need is to have one of my clients roughed up by one of my
whores."  Corman turned and walked briskly back toward the source of
the music and voices, which was a considerable distance down the hall
from where they stood.

********

     Jim had cruised every street surrounding the precinct, and now
was moving outward in a ripple effect.  Other units had been
dispatched to the three men's homes, and none of the former Vice cops
had been there.  All of them were out, and Walker had left in his dark
blue van, according to his live-in girlfriend.

     The radio crackled to life again, and Jim answered the call.  

     "We've been through every inch of headquarters.  No sign of
Blair," Simon's voice came over the radio.  "Jim, we found his car keys
under his car.  This isn't looking good."

     "No shit."  Jim rolled his eyes at his own sharp retort.  "Sorry,
Simon.  I just...is there any word from the APBs?"

     "Nothing yet.  Where are you?"

     "I'm just headed out toward the waterfront area now.  I've been
all around the immediate area, so I'm going to start turning up rocks to
see if I can find the bastards in their element."

     "Everyone's on it, Jim.  All the units will be watching for
Walker's van, or Sandburg.  We'll find him."

     "I'm sure we will, eventually.  I just want to do it before those
assholes spend a lot of time with him."

     "Keep me posted."

     "Will do."  Jim broke the connection.  He had to ignore the ache
in his heart at the last contact he'd had with Blair.  This was like
something out of a bad melodrama.  Of all the times they parted with
whispered "I love yous", or kisses, or caresses, this time, they parted in
anger, with Blair feeling like he'd just been swept under the rug again. 

     With a heavy heart and a feeling of despair at no sign of his
missing partner, Jim headed for the waterfront district.

********

     Blair shivered as he lay on the bed, his wrists still cuffed,
though this time, they'd been fastened around the rails of the brass
headboard.  His glasses were gone, his hair had been let loose, and
every piece of clothing removed.

     He'd made their photo session as unpleasant as possible,
realizing that if Corman was going to fetch a good price for him as
some sadist's toy, he'd have to be in pristine, unmarred condition for the
occasion.  They'd finally settled for restraining him face down, with the
other man on Blair's back, in a simulation of intercourse.  He imagined
that on film, it would be very realistic.  In reality, the two men had spat
out oaths at each other, and Corman's male prostitute was no more
interested in being intimate with Blair than he was in being violated.

     Now all that was left to do was wait.  The humiliation of being
stripped and tossed around like a piece of meat and then photographed
was bad enough.  Throughout that, however, Blair's mind had been
preoccupied with what would happen to him when the party really
started in this garish, overly ornate room in the basement of an old
warehouse.  

     //Where do the perverts park their cars?  Probably inside the
warehouse somewhere.  Could go up the freight elevator and all park
upstairs...or all downstairs in the basement, for that matter...// Blair
exhaled.  Concentrating on the mundane was helping a little, but not
much.  He probably wouldn't have long to make his peace with the
world.  Once his ordeal started, he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts
again until his death.

     Death.  He thought about passing through to the other side, and
that thought alone didn't scare him.  He believed in the possibility of
reincarnation, and fervently hoped he had generated enough good
karma to at least have a decent time of it on the next round.  Leaving
Jim would probably be for the best.  His life would go back to normal,
eventually.  He knew Jim loved him, but he really loved his job and the
respect of his peers just a little bit more.  Once he recovered from
losing Blair, he would have all that again, and he'd be all right.

     Naomi. //Oh, Mom, I'm sorry.  This is going to be hard as hell
for you to hear about.  For you to have to come here to bury me and
find out that I spent my last moments in pain and violence.  You'll
blame Jim.  I hope you don't.  This really wasn't his fault.  It just
happened.  It's hate and bigotry, greed, avarice, corruption...  It started
with homophobia, and ends with corrupt cops willing to kill to protect
their territory and their lifestyles.//

     //And most of all, I just want someone to come find me and get
me out of here.  Who am I kidding?  I don't want to die.  Good God, not
like this!!  I don't want to be hurt and violated and tortured...//

     Blair realized that tears were trickling down his face now, and
he had no way to dry them.  The first customer who paid for his
services would be treated to a real show, a dream come true for any
sadist: a naked, bound, sobbing, terrified, pristine, unbruised victim. 
On that thought, the sobs only came louder and harder, and as he gave
in to the terror and hopelessness of the situation, all he wanted to do
was feel Jim's arms around him one last time...

********

     "I got the van," Jim called into the radio.  "It's Walker's.  Behind
the old Pennington Furniture warehouse on Wharf Street."

     "Stay put.  I'm sending back up units out now," Simon
responded.

     "I can't stay put, Simon.  Just get that back up here ASAP.  I'm
going in after Blair."  Without waiting for Simon's response, he turned
off the radio and after checking his weapon, abandoned the police
sedan he'd borrowed and slithered stealthily up to the van in question.

     There were no heartbeats, no sounds of movement from within
the vehicle.  It was empty.  Jim took a moment to calm himself, and
take in his surroundings.  From within the building somewhere, he
could hear music, and voices.  He made his way to the door, and was
unsurprised to find it locked.  He scanned the side of the building,
opening up his vision to its fullest capacity.  He detected a large hinged
window which was not tightly closed, several yards down the building.  

     Within moments he found himself inside the warehouse, having
utilized the window.  He followed the sounds to a steel door, which
was locked. 

     Hearing footsteps ascending from the level below, Jim ducked
around the corner from the door and listened intently.  Walker, Hooper
and Patterson emerged, laughing and talking among themselves.  There
was no sign of Blair.

     "Freeze!"  Jim darted out of the shadows and the startled men
froze in their tracks.  "Hands up where I can see 'em! Now!"  He waited
while they complied, his superior night vision enabling him to monitor
their movements carefully.  Of course, as Jim fully suspected he would,
Walker went for his gun figuring the darkness was giving him enough
cover to do so.  

     Time moved in slow motion as Walker pulled the gun out of his
belt and spun toward Jim, who fired as the other weapon was aimed at
him.  Walker crumpled to the ground, blood oozing from a hole in his
chest, his gun clattering to the concrete.

     "Where's Sandburg?!"  Jim demanded, pointing the weapon at
the other two, who were obediently keeping their hands in the air.

     "Downstairs," Hooper blurted.  Never one to be the hero, he
wasn't about to argue with an armed, homicidal Ellison.  Furthermore,
Corman and all his troops were down there.  Ellison would be roadkill
before he ever got three steps down.  He didn't know why Jim was
grinning until the locked door to the warehouse burst open and police
started pouring in.  The back-up had arrived.  

     There were bullhorn shouts warning the warehouse occupants
that they were surrounded, and then the commotion of several struggles
and arrests outside.  Jim flagged two uniforms over to handcuff Hooper
and Patterson and haul them off, while a third officer checked Walker's
vitals.  Jim already knew the man was dead.

     "Guess who just ran out the back door," Simon said, snickering
as he joined Jim.  "Corman, wearing nothing but a silk robe and a
smile.  Seems he's got a little pleasure palace in the basement."

     "Blair's down there."  Jim turned on the steel door and fired into
the wooden frame until the area around the lock was shattered.

     "We could have used this," Simon stated, holding up a key.  

     Jim barely acknowledged him as he led Simon and several
uniformed cops down the stairs.  A few well-dressed "clients" of
Corman's were already being rounded up and hauled down the concrete
corridor to a second entrance that must have been used as the "escape
hatch" when the shooting had occurred upstairs and the cops showed
up to surround the place.

     "Blair!  Sandburg!"  Jim screamed at the top of his lungs.  His
hearing was on full alert, filtering out the sounds of the massive raid
going on around him.  He heard a soft, unmistakable sound that tore at
his heart.  Somewhere in that basement, Blair was crying.  He
obviously couldn't hear Jim calling to him.  "This way!"  Jim led Simon
and two uniformed cops down to the large room where Julian had been
holding his little "meet and greet" get together.  It was sparsely
decorated, but boasted that "warehouse chic" that was in at the
moment.  There was an elaborate stereo system, a bar, and a number of
men and women who were being sorted out and questioned by the
arriving police.

     Jim followed the soft little sounds no one else could have heard
until he reached a door on the far side of the room.  It was locked, and
though he knew Simon probably had a key for that too, he didn't care. 
He kicked the door in and his breath caught in his throat at what he
saw.  

     Blair lay on the red velvet bedspread, naked and handcuffed to
the headboard, but apparently unharmed.  Jim yanked his coat off as he
fled to his lover's side and covered him gently, leaning in to kiss his
forehead before unlocking the cuffs with shaking hands.

     "Baby, I'm here, it's okay," Jim whispered as the newly freed
arms locked tightly around his neck.  "Are you hurt, sweetheart?"  Jim
finally breathed for the first time when he felt the head against his
shoulder shake a negative reply.

     "They...left me here...so Corman...would...kill me," Blair
choked out.  

     "It's over, baby.  It's all over."  Jim sat on the bed and held Blair
in his arms, rocking him slowly and crooning little reassurances into
his ear.  At that moment, he didn't care if the Chief of Police showed
up to watch.  "I'm so sorry, sweetheart.  I'm so damn sorry," Jim found
his own control faltering and his voice shaking as he buried his face in
Blair's hair.

     Simon ushered the other officers back out of the room to assist
in rounding up Corman's people and the few customers who hadn't
made it out the back door--and into the waiting arms of several police
units.

     "I love you, mine," Blair whispered, trying to crawl into Jim's
skin with him.

     "You must be freezing, baby.  Let go a minute."

     "Don't want to."

     "Blair, I want to put some clothes on you.  Are your clothes here
somewhere?"

     "No.  I don't know where they are."

     "Okay.  I'm going to put my sweater on you, and then I want you
to slide your arms in the sleeves of the coat."

     "My butt's cold," Blair complained honestly.  Jim hugged him
tighter a moment and kissed his hair.

     "Okay.  You can have the pants too."  Jim luxuriated in just
cuddling Blair a moment before releasing him and helping him get
dressed.

     When they emerged from the room, Blair in most of Jim's
clothes, including the pants with the legs rolled up into cuffs at the
bottom, and Jim emerged in a t-shirt and a neatly folded sheet
fashioned into a wrap-around kilt of sorts, Simon laughed.

     "Now I know it's love.  Sandburg even got the pants away from
you."

     Leaving the scene hand in hand with Blair, Jim didn't really
give a damn if he was wearing a tiara and a pink tutu.  All he needed to
feel complete was holding onto his hand tightly, healthy and alive.

     After changing into some old gym clothes he had in the trunk of
the rental car, Blair gave Jim his pants and sweater back, and Jim set
about the task of filling out his preliminary report.  Blair gave his
statement with Jim at his side, effectively sealing Patterson's and
Hooper's fates to stand trial for charges of conspiring to murder him.

     He reluctantly shared the information about the photos they'd
taken of him with one of Corman's people, and felt warmed to his soul
when Jim reached over and took a hold of his hand for moral support. 
Right in front of God, the assistant DA, the stenographer and
everybody.

     "You doin' okay, Chief?"  Jim asked the smaller man, who was
dozing on and off in the passenger seat of the rental car.

     "I've had better days, man."  Blair sounded exhausted, and Jim
didn't blame him.  

     "You'd tell me if Corman's guy touched you, right?"

     "Yeah, I'd tell you.  He wasn't any more excited about me than I
was about him."

     "Then he has no libido."  Jim smiled as Blair chuckled at that
conclusion.  "Blair, I really meant what I said when I said I was sorry
before.  That wasn't just emotions talking.  I really *am* sorry for what
I said to you before...you left tonight."

     "I know.  I backed you into a corner.  I don't mean to keep doing
that.  I love you, Jim.  I'll always be with you no matter what you do or
say, unless you throw me out."  Blair looked out the passenger window. 
"And I wouldn't blame you if you did that.  I've fucked everything up
for you, and then I pouted because you didn't want me along on the
Corman thing."  Blair shook his head.  "This whole homophobia thing,
it's just so damned hard for me to accept."

     "For me too, baby."  Jim reached over and stroked Blair's hair. 
"You didn't mess anything up for me.  We've been through this more
than once before."

     "Can you step on it a little?  I just really want you to hold me
for a while, and if I have to sit on this console, we won't be able to do
anything worthwhile for about a month."

     Jim laughed out loud and tugged on a curl playfully.  And sped
up considerably.

     The moment they were inside the door of the loft, Jim
descended on Blair's mouth, claiming it with both passion and
tenderness.  Blair melted into the kiss, arms coming up around Jim as
the larger man slid a hand into his hair and kept the other powerful arm
around his waist.

     "I want you, baby, so bad," Jim finally breathed into his ear,
then kissed it.  "Want to be inside you."  He felt the answering grind of
Blair's arousal against his own.  He lost no time in sweeping his lover
off his feet and carrying him toward the bathroom.  Blair seemed
puzzled at the change of direction.  "Shower together first, huh?"  Jim
smiled as the arms around his neck tightened, and Blair sighed against
his neck.

     They soaped and rinsed each other thoroughly, kissing and
stroking one another lovingly.  Both were committed to making love
upstairs in their bed, so they turned their attentions to finishing their
bathing activities.  Jim always found it especially arousing when Blair
would spread his legs and lean forward for Jim to make sure he was
especially clean at his center.  He was extra gentle and solicitous in
doing this tonight, just thinking about what Blair had almost endured. 
Luckily, those thoughts didn't seem to be tormenting his lover too
much.

     Jim wrapped a towel around his waist and then set about drying
Blair.  He knew how badly frightened the other man had been earlier,
and all he wanted to do now was take care of him.  

     With most of the water dried off, Jim bundled his lover up in
the smaller of the two terry cloth robes that hung on the back of the
door and started carefully toweling and then blowing dry the mop of
curls.  He had become proficient at caring for Blair's hair, remembering
to work the conditioner into it in the shower, and then spritzing the
detangler on it and running his fingers carefully through it as he dried
it.  Blair usually took care of his own grooming, obviously, and was
faster and more proficient at it than Jim.  At times like this, though,
Jim thoroughly enjoyed pampering his lover, and taking all the right
little pains with his hair was one good way to do that.

     "You're the most beautiful man on earth," Jim announced,
kneeling in front of where Blair sat on the small chair in the bathroom. 
The gentle hands Jim loved so much cupped his face now.

     "Second most beautiful."

     "Did we call it a tie once before?"

     "Think so, yeah," Blair replied, smiling.

     "Bad call.  You're an angel, lover.  Nobody I've ever seen on
earth is as beautiful as you are."

     "You trying to make me cry or something?"  Blair grinned
again, his voice a little shaky.

     "Blair, we said the words when we were making love, in the
privacy of our bedroom.  And we were outed by accident, and I haven't
made you feel very good about that, I know."

     "Oh, lover, you've been great about everything.  You've stood by
me, taken on guys you used to be friends with...don't beat yourself up
because you snapped at me one time."  Blair stroked Jim's damp hair. 
"This has to be cold."  Blair reached for the hair dryer and started
working on Jim's hair.  "I love handling your hair.  It's so soft," Blair
said with a warm smile.

     "I said I didn't want to fight for your honor.  God, Blair, what a
damned awful thing to say to you.  I love you with all my heart, and I'd
fight to the death for you--please know that."

     "I know.  I love you so much, mine.  I know you'd always take
care of me.  We had a fight.  It was a nasty one, and some hurtful stuff
was said, but when you're in love, that shit happens.  Fortunately,
people usually aren't kidnapped before it gets resolved."  Blair turned
off the dryer and grabbed a comb to arrange the hair in the right place. 
"There.  Now we're both gorgeous.  Oh, shit."

     "What?"

     "Does this mean we're turning into hair dressers?"  Blair asked,
a little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.  The tension eased a
little and both men laughed.

     They picked up a chilled bottle of wine from the refrigerator
along with two glasses and slowly climbed the stairs together.  It had
been an exhausting day, and by the time they were snuggled together
under the covers, the most acrobatic thing they could manage was
drinking some wine out of each other's glasses.  

     When Blair fell asleep on Jim's shoulder, he didn't try to rouse
him with the little kisses and nibbles that would have started their
lovemaking in earnest.  Instead, he drew the blankets up protectively
around the precious body in his arms and dozed off himself. 
Tomorrow was Saturday, and while there was paperwork to be done,
Simon wouldn't expect them to be there at dawn.  Plenty of time to
sleep and make love, in the order Blair wanted.   

     Jim woke to a warm sensation on his left nipple.  He drowsily
noted the soft curls spilling over his chest, and then tuned in to the
sensation.  With a mouthful of wine, Blair was sucking his nipple,
blending the flavor of Jim and the wine.   When he finished with the
first nub, he swallowed the wine and then looked up at Jim.

     "I love the way you taste," he said huskily, the tone of his voice
alone making Jim's sleeping desire come out of its drowsy haze
quickly.  "Gonna taste all of you."  The mouth fastened on the second
nipple, licking and sucking.

     "What about the wine?"  Jim breathed, grunting a little at the
delightful stimulation.

     "I like undistilled Jim better," Blair concluded, raising those full
lips up from their devilish work on Jim's chest.

     "Come on up here, baby."  Jim pulled on Blair's shoulders
gently until he slid back up and joined Jim to share lingering, gentle
kisses.  

     Slow and gentle best described their lovemaking as they took
turns licking, nibbling and kissing all the secret little spots only they
could find on each other.  When Jim had worked his way down to
Blair's center, the smaller man opened himself willingly, groaning at
the wet, delightful sensation of Jim making love to him with his
tongue, licking and probing the little pucker thoroughly.

     Jim finally groped in the bedside table and found the lube.  He
carefully and gently massaged and stretched Blair, tuning every sense
to knowing when his lover was ready to receive him.  When that
moment came, he spread some of the gel on his own straining arousal
and then slid carefully into the waiting heat.  Blair shifted and groaned
a little at the intrusion, but accepted him quite easily, wrapping strong
legs around his back and pulling him in tight.

     He carefully lowered more of his weight on Blair, starting a
gentle thrusting as he leaned in for a prolonged kiss.

     "Take me, Jim.  Harder," Blair gasped.  It was the first time Jim
had heard such a request from his partner, and his passion-frenzied
body obeyed it.  Always mindful not to be too rough, he picked up the
speed and force of his strokes, dragging long, low moans and
occasional whimpers of ecstasy out of Blair, who gripped Jim's
shoulders almost painfully and undulated in time with the larger man's
movements.  "God, Jim...so good...harder...more..."  Blair let out a yell
when his prostate was thoroughly stroked and massaged, Jim adjusting
his angle to hit the little nub over and over, loving the way Blair's body
spasmed in unabashed arousal each time he made contact.  He added
the firm pumping of his hand to Blair's already weeping cock.

     Blair's muscles contracted, clamping down on Jim as the single,
prolonged call of his name warning Jim just before Blair's seed gushed
forth, bathing Jim's hand and spattering his own belly.  Driven to the
brink, Jim's final thrusts were short, rapid and sharp.  He came with a
cry of Blair's name, slumping on top of his lover, spent and sated.  Blair
adjusted the position of his legs a bit to accommodate a lethargic, post-sex 
Ellison, who essentially smothered him in warm, moist flesh.

     "Blair...oh, God, sweetheart...that was...oh, God..."  Jim couldn't
find words, so he didn't try.  

     "I wanted to feel you deep inside.  And I want to feel it
tomorrow."

     "You probably will, lover."  Jim managed to kiss a nearby ear.

     "My mouth's over here, Jim.  That's right.  A little more to the
right," Blair joked.

     "Smart ass," Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own, tongue
slipping between the full lips, sliding lazily against Blair's until they
pulled apart to breathe.  "Did I hurt you?"

     "Oh, man, it was *intense*.  I never felt anything--wow.  Yeah,
it hurts a little, but I love the way it felt.  And feels.  I wanna remember
you inside me all day tomorrow."

     "As soon as we get those damned reports filed, I'd like to *be*
inside you all day tomorrow."

     "Wanna set up camp in there, eh, big guy?"  Blair scratched at
Jim's scalp gently.  

     "Or maybe reverse this little dance so I can find out what's so
good about being fucked silly."  Jim kissed Blair again, lingering after
to nibble at his lips and lick at the full mouth that always made him
want to do this, even in the middle of the bullpen.

     "It's the intensity of watching you get it so good--seeing you cut
loose and take what you want...I loved giving that to you.  It's worth
sitting on padded chairs *only* all day tomorrow," Blair added,
grinning and blushing at the same time.

     "Why did I get so lucky, huh?"

     "You didn't get lucky, Jim.  You're a wonderful person, and a
wonderful partner.  You've given me so much love...you and I, we
made this love grow...we planted it and nurtured it and cared for it
together...luck had nothing to do with it, mine.  I didn't just suddenly
wake up one day with a revelation that you were the lover of my
dreams.  You made me love you, giving me all the wonderful things
you always had to give but nobody else has been smart enough to take." 
Blair smiled.  "Of course, being the borderline genius I am, I spotted
the opportunity."  Blair was surprised to see tears in Jim's eyes.  

     "I never expected someone like you...I mean, you could have
anybody...male or female..."

     "You don't know how wonderful and lovable you are, do you? 
You don't know how gorgeous you are, or how that smile of yours turns
me into jelly, or how much love you can show me just by looking at
me.  Or how good it feels to have you hold me and tell me everything's
going to be okay, or how loved it makes me feel the way you want to
make everything right for me even when you can't.  And you could
never know how much it means to feel how protective you are of me,
or that I can't look at anything I like too long in the mall or you buy it
for me.  It's not the nearly *massive* CD collection I have now that
makes that great," Blair was interrupted by a watery laugh from Jim. 
The other man knew he was guilty of spoiling Blair rotten any time
they were in a retail environment.  "It's not the stuff, man.  It's the love
behind it.  Jim, you're like a dream, and being with you...the way you
treat me...it's like a...like living a love song."

     "Love you, sweetheart," was all Jim could manage, taking Blair
tightly in his arms and losing the last control over his emotions.  What
Blair had said touched him so deeply that all he could do was cry in
Blair's embrace, and marvel at how blessed he was.
   
********

     Blair was positively glowing as he got behind the wheel of his
restored Volvo.  Jim had worked him over sufficiently to accept the
repairs as an early Christmas present, and not to claim it on his
insurance.  Blair had enough problems making ends meet on his bills,
which he insisted on paying himself the vast majority of the time.  He
was adamant that even though he and Jim were together, he could take
care of himself.  He did, however, concede a few things to Jim, because
he knew there was a part of his lover that really wanted and needed to
take care of someone, and to feel needed.  

     "I can't believe how great it looks!  Man, it's *beautiful*!"  Blair
ran his hands over the steering wheel lovingly.  Knowing how attached
the younger man was to his classic car, Jim hadn't seen a point in
telling him that the trunk, hood and doors weren't really the same. 
Ryf's uncle had done a remarkable job of rebuilding it, and Blair was
happy as a clam.  That was good enough for Jim.

     "I've got another errand to run before we go home, so how
about heading over toward Marshall Street, huh?"

     "Sure."  Blair started up the car and headed in that general
direction.  "Marshall...you buying me flowers again?"  Blair teased,
grinning.  The biggest florist in town was on Marshall.

     "That's a hell of an idea.  I might do that too, while we're there."

     "Jim, what's the big mystery?"  Blair was smiling, but his brow
was furrowed a little.  If there was one thing Blair couldn't stand, it was
being in the dark about something--even momentarily.

     "Just do the driving, Chief.  You'll find out."

     Blair did as he was told, and when he turned the car toward the
Marshall Street business district, Jim finally gave him some direction. 

     "Pull up right there in front of the furniture store."  

     "Furniture store?"  Blair repeated, obeying the instruction. 
When he had parked and turned off the car, he turned in the seat to face
Jim.  "So what do we need in there?  We know the bed we've got works
great."  He flexed his eyebrows over his glasses, and Jim couldn't help
laughing.  And leaning over to kiss those grinning lips.

     "I didn't say I was going in the furniture store.  I just said you
should park here."  Jim took off his seatbelt and opened his door. 
"C'mon, Chief, let's go."

     "Go where?"  Blair got out of the car and hurried around the
hood, pleasantly surprised to see Jim's hand extended to him.  He took
it happily and walked along the sidewalk with Jim, enjoying the sunny,
crisp November day as they made their way up to the corner store:
Castle Jewelers.  "Here?"  Blair asked, surprised.

     "Yup."  Jim squeezed Blair's hand a little and let go of it to open
the door and usher him inside.  

     "Pretty upscale stuff, man," Blair commented quietly, looking at
the Rolex watches in the first case he encountered.

     "May I help you?"  A middle-aged man with receding brown
hair spoke up from behind the counter.  Clad in a dark blue suit, white
shirt and tie, Jim was trying to decide if he looked more like a jeweler
or an undertaker.

     "We need to take a look at your wedding bands," Jim stated
calmly.  Blair's head snapped up from his inspection of the watch
display.

     "Right this way.  Which one of you is the groom?"  The man
smiled, obviously assuming that there was a woman involved, and that
one of the partners was there merely for moral support.

     "How *are* we going to decide that, Chief?  Coin toss?"  Jim
laughed a little at Blair's stunned expression.  The younger man
recovered quickly.

     "Oh no.  I am *not* wearing white lace, even for you, man."

     Jim laughed then and slid an arm around Blair's shoulders.  

     "The rings are for us.  Whatever they are, they have to match."

     "This is our selection of wedding sets.  Will you be wanting two
men's rings, then?"  the man asked as they occupied the two chairs
opposite the case displaying the wedding sets.

     "You don't get too many couples like us in here, I guess," Blair
said, smiling.

     "To be honest, sir, I believe you're the first."  The man smiled
politely.

     "Jim, are you sure about this?"  Blair looked at Jim hesitantly.

     "Would you excuse us a moment?"  Jim asked the salesman,
who nodded and moved to a display of tennis bracelets to do some
completely unnecessary straightening.

     "I mean, this is pretty obvious."

     "Blair, last night, when you were missing--"

     "Jim, I lived.  I'm okay.  You don't have to do this because you
feel guilty about our fight.  You sure made it up to me last night...and
this morning," Blair concluded, ducking his head with a little blush.

     "And I found a jewelry store with padded chairs."  Jim smiled
as Blair turned completely crimson and laughed a little.

     "I just mean that I don't need you to do something like this to
feel married to you.  I don't want to force you into big public displays
you aren't comfortable with."

     "You didn't let me finish before.  When you were missing last
night, I felt like I'd lost half my soul.  All I could think about was how
complete and whole and...and wonderful my life is when I have you
with me.  And all I kept seeing was the look in your eyes when I made
that stupid remark about defending your honor.  My God, Blair, I've
been letting my job and a handful of bigoted bastards dictate my
lifestyle.  That's over.  I know I can't get a marriage license with you,
and we can't change our names to match...but we can make a promise,
and we can wear rings and make it public.  And then, when I take some
of that backed up vacation over Christmas, we can fly to Hawaii and
make it legal--at least there."

     "What?"  Blair's eyes widened.

     "Hawaii allows same sex marriages, sweetheart.  I want us to
have that, along with as much legal paperwork as we can have tying us
together here at home."  Jim took both Blair's hands in his.  "This isn't 
as romantic as it should be, I know but--" Blair pulled one hand free
and covered Jim's lips with two fingers.

     "This is probably the most romantic moment of my entire life,
and I know the one that ends up topping this one will be with you too."
Jim kissed the restraining fingers and took a hold of Blair's hand, gently
moving it away from his mouth.

     "I never asked you if you wanted to wear a ring--"

     "You have to ask?"  Blair countered, with a smile that turned
into a little laugh.  "Oh, man, this is the kind of thing I dreamed about
but didn't figure would ever happen.  This is, like, the most *amazing*
thing that ever happened to me, man.  Are you nuts?  Of course I
wanna wear your ring.  I'll wear it through my nose if you want."

     "As attractive as that would be," Jim began, laughing a little, "I
had something a little more traditional in mind."

     "I can do traditional."  Blair noticed Jim's skeptical expression. 
"With you."  That brought a warm smile.

     "We're ready," Jim motioned to the salesman, who returned
from his various busy work and began showing the two men a
succession of men's wedding bands.

     "I like this one," Blair was carefully examining an ornate band
of gold detailed with rose and green gold grape leaves in its center.  It
was a substantial, masculine ring, but it had a beauty that was unique in
a sea of plain gold bands.

     "Let's have a look at it," Jim said, smiling as he took Blair's
hand in his.  "Is it your size?"

     "Yeah.  They have one in your size, too.  Right there," Blair
helpfully pointed out.  Jim had a feeling they had just found their rings. 
He knew he'd never have the heart to dampen the enthusiasm on Blair's
face, even if they were a little more ornate than what he would have
chosen.  He slid the ring on Blair's finger.

     "You don't usually wear gold, Chief," Jim commented, checking
out the appearance of the ring on Blair's hand.  It looked like it
belonged there...for a lifetime.

     "That's why I want something like this.  I've never had anything
like it, and it'll look different that anything I've ever worn.  Make it
more special."

     "I guess I better try one of these on then."  He waited while
Blair plucked one in Jim's size from the cushioned tray.  Taking the
larger hand in his, Blair slid the ring into place in Jim's finger.

     "Wow," Blair breathed in a voice little above a whisper.  "You
like it?"  He looked up hopefully at Jim.

     "I love it."  He smiled lovingly at Blair, then turned to the
salesman.  "We'll take these, and we want to wear them."

     "Will that be a cash or charge today, sir?"

     "Ah, char--"

     "Jim, I've got an idea."

     "What?"

     "I'll buy yours and you buy mine."

     "But they're--" It was on the tip of Jim's tongue to remind Blair
that they were the same price, but there was a romance and a
symbolism in the gesture that moved him deeply.  "Is there a different
code number or something on the sizes?"  he asked the clerk.

     "As a matter of fact, yes.  Each size has a slightly different code
for the computer, for inventory purposes."

     "Then I'm buying his."

     "And I'm buying his," Blair echoed, smiling.

     If the salesman thought they were a little silly, he was polite
enough not to show it.  He merely smiled and took great pains to enter
the right code number in for each transaction, selling Jim's ring to Blair
and Blair's ring to Jim.  The two men left with identical charge slips
tucked in the their pockets.

     The moment they stepped out of the store, Jim startled Blair by
grabbing him around the waist, squeezing him in a tight embrace,
lifting his feet off the ground and spinning them around twice.  Right
there on the sidewalk.  Still holding Blair up so his feet didn't quite
touch the cement, he descended on his lover's mouth for a prolonged
kiss.

     "I love you," he whispered, before letting Blair's feet rest on the
ground again.

     "I love you too, mine.  They're beautiful," Blair whispered,
examining his ring again, then grabbing Jim's hand so he could see
them both at once.

     "A matched set, baby.  Just like us."  Jim slid his arm around
Blair's shoulders, and Blair's arm came around his waist.  They started
walking slowly toward the car, exchanging all the silly, mushy love
words the occasion allowed...and making plans to celebrate properly at
home.

********
     
     Pamela Patterson was arrested shortly after her father's bail was
revoked along with his surviving cohort, Hooper.  Nicole Pierce was
the only member of the original conspiracy to be cut a good deal.  The
DA had the evidence he needed, and plea bargains weren't being
offered.  Pamela's prints even matched one of the smeared partials
from Blair's vandalized Volvo, and the girl finally admitted that she
and her boyfriend had trashed the car at her father's urging.  

     Joseph Walker was laid to rest without the fanfare of an official
funeral.  Had he lived, Walker would have faced a trial on charges of
kidnapping and conspiracy to commit first degree murder--a capital
offense.  

     Julian Corman was sold out so many times over by his stable of
hookers as well as his flustered customers that his conviction on
charges of racketeering and prostitution were in the bag.  Patterson and
Hooper were quick to point fingers at Corman and the seedy ex-con
he'd hired to kill Maria Burnette in hopes of bettering their own
situations.  Hooper revealed that Corman had the brake lines on Jim's
truck cut, after he learned the detective was questioning the very ex-con 
that had been hired to kill Maria.  Both men did manage to strike a
deal with the DA to avoid the death penalty on the conspiracy charges,
since nailing Corman for the second count of conspiracy to commit
murder, plus the attempted murder of a cop, was an attractive concept. 

     Having been duly embarrassed by the unthinkable conduct of
their colleagues, the detectives in the Vice division were more than
pleased to accept the invitation of the detectives in the Major Crimes
division for a joint celebration to mark the successful closure of the
Corman investigation.  

     With a former Vice cop dead and two others facing murder
charges, a wild party seemed tasteless.  Surprisingly, it was Ed Miller
who stepped forward to offer the use of his basement rec room for a
"beer, burgers and football" get together on a chilly Sunday afternoon.

     "I still don't know as this is such a great idea, Jim."  Blair pulled
on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

     "The only way we're going to ever find out if we can peacefully
coexist at the PD is to do something like this.  We were both invited."

     "Like Ed Miller wants me in his house."

     "He's probably afraid you'll beat him up again if he doesn't
invite you," Jim quipped, slipping into his own coat.

     "Very funny."

     "Look, I'm done playing games with this.  I thought you knew
that."  Jim took a hold of Blair's left hand and pulled it up to kiss the
gold band on the third finger.

     "I know, but--"

     "And you haven't forgotten that we're going to Hawaii this
winter to make these legally binding?"  Jim held up their joined left
hands which bore the rings.

     "No, of course not, but still--"

     "But still what?  One thing Simon told me back right after your
run in with Walker and company was true.  When you make an inroad
with bigotry, you have to keep pushing ahead, or you lose what little
progress you've made, and you sure as hell don't go any further.  I work
with some jerks, but I also work with some good people.  We have to
find out yet who the scales are balanced in favor of.  If it turns out to be
the jerks, we'll pack up our stuff and move on.  If not, well, we might
be able to work this out."

     "Sounds like a good reason to go," Blair responded, grinning.

     "Do me a favor, though?"

     "Sure, anything."

     "Don't explain to the guys what football has to do with male
aggression and testosterone levels?"  Jim was serious, but Blair
laughed.

     "Got you on your back by half-time, didn't it?"  Blair started out
the door.  

     "You made that up?"  Jim's menacing tone was the only
warning Blair needed to break into a run down the hall to the stairs. 
"Sandburg!  I'll get you for that one!"  Jim vowed, locking up and
racing downstairs hot on Blair's heels.


********

     Corinne Miller greeted the guests at the door and directed them
down to the rec room, where her husband was hosting his party.  She
was a pleasant woman in her early forties, with neatly styled short
blonde hair and clear blue eyes.  She was just as charming in greeting
Jim and Blair as she had been in greeting Ryf and Brown, who walked
in ahead of them.  

     Blair hoped he wasn't walking too close to Jim as they
descended the stairs into a basement full of rowdy cops and the sounds
of the pre-game show starting on the wide-screen TV.  He half
expected the whole thing to be a trap of some sort, hating himself for
being so paranoid around a group who had, for the most part, not
harassed him or Jim in any way.

     "Hey, Ellison!"   Kendall hollered.  "Looks like the back up
supplies are here!"  He referred to the case of beer and three bags of
chips that were Jim and Blair's contribution to the growing mountain of
food and beverage piling up on a large, square coffee table in the
middle of the grouping of well-worn but comfortable couches and
chairs.  "Sandburg--you giving any self-defense demonstrations at half-time?"  
Kendall added with a devilish grin.  

     "Shut up, asshole," Miller retorted, though in a surprisingly
friendly tone, with the hint of a smile on his face.

     "Only if somebody tries to steal my beer," Blair responded,
sitting in the empty corner of a couch.  Jim plunked down happily,
close enough for Blair to feel a bit pressed between Jim's hip and the
arm of the couch.  Jim ran his arm along the back of the couch, but
didn't make any move to ostentatiously touch his lover.  Actually,
looking back, Blair recalled another such gathering where Jim had
done the same thing, long before they were lovers.  It seemed like it
was a natural protective instinct with Jim--to hover near Blair when
they were in any environment that would be remotely unfriendly to the
younger man.

     There was a little further bantering, and a few war stories
exchanged about the Corman investigation, before the pre-game
programming ended and the game began.

     Sitting there among half the detectives from Vice and just about
all of Major Crimes, Blair didn't find himself ostracized or ignored in
any way.  When he finally relaxed enough to get into the game, he was
cheering and yelling with the rest of the guys, passing snacks back and
forth, engaging in some friendly arguments about the plays--in other
words, he felt accepted.  And in accepting him, again, as they had when
he became Jim's partner, they were at least indicating a willingness to
live and let live.  There was a little chill in the air from a few of guys
there, but the worst thing he was encountering was polite tolerance,
and at the best, friendly acceptance.  That was a range Blair could
definitely handle.

     Jim felt relaxed for the first time in weeks, there in the midst of
his friends and colleagues, with his life partner safely positioned close
at his side.  He wondered if these guys had suspected them of being
lovers before.  Looking at the way he had hemmed Blair into the corner
of the couch, he realized that the last time they'd been at a gathering of
cops, he'd done the same thing.  Blair had still be nervous around a big
group of Jim's friends and co-workers back then, and they didn't really
take him all that seriously.  Jim had plunked himself down close to
Blair at that Superbowl party like a pit bull guarding his territory.  

     Back then, they had been exchanging private comments and
jokes between themselves, and when the beer ran out, Blair had shared
his half-full bottle with Jim, passing it back and forth casually.  Jim
smiled a little when he thought of how intimate they had been in so
many small ways for years now.  Relaxing further back into the
cushions, he reached over and seized a couple of pretzels out of the
handful Blair was holding.  He was rewarded with one of those big
smiles that glowed with love.  Life was good.

********

     "Sandburg," a voice startled Blair as he re-entered the Miller
house with the extra case of beer Jim had loaded in the trunk.  No one
was feeling any pain down in the rec room, but more "refreshments"
were deemed necessary to make it through to the end of the game. 
Now, Ed Miller was confronting him in the kitchen, nodding toward a
counter for Blair to set the beer there.  "I owe you an apology."

     "I kind of took it as that when I got invited along today.  So, no
hard feelings?"  Blair extended his hand, and Miller shook it.

     "I went through the academy with Joe Walker.  He had a strong
rep in our department--really, all through his career.  He had an arrest
record most of us would kill for.  I found it very hard to accept that he
wasn't all we thought he was."

     "That's never easy, man.  Accepting that a friend, somebody you
respect...that they're totally different than you expected."

     "The sick part of this is, half the guys downstairs knew what
Walker and the others were up to with you in the restroom.  We
covered for them."

     "Terrific," Blair responded, rolling his eyes a little.  

     "I think you should know why you were getting called 'Ellison's
whore' all the time."

     "I figured it was just because Jim and I were...you know,
together."

     "Walker specialized in working the worst of the waterfront
porno scene.  He busted hookers, pimps, perverts peddling kiddy porn
out of back rooms of adult bookstores...the long and short of it is that
he spent most of his time in the sewers.  He claimed that he'd seen you
at a couple of the more upscale adult clubs downtown, and that you
were down there selling blow jobs for a pretty steep price.  The story fit
with the image of the struggling grad student making ends meet
by...*moonlighting* a little.  So when we heard that, the mental picture
of you worming your way into living with Ellison, and then drawing
him into...that kind of relationship...well, you get the picture."

     "So everybody thought I was a paid male prostitute in my spare
time, who was sponging off Jim--or paying for my room and board
with services rendered?"

     "More or less.  And that you'd managed to con him somehow
into a more serious relationship, maybe liking the lifestyle and stability
of him supporting you."

     "No wonder everybody wanted me strung up."

     "Not everyone believed it.  You've got some pretty loyal friends
in this department, oddly enough.  Captain Taggert threatened one of
his guys with getting busted back to a foot patrol if he heard another
word about it.  But people who were friends with Joe, like me, believed
it."

     "You don't believe it now?"

     "Not after what I found out about Joe's set-up with Corman.  He
was bird-dogging for him.  Picking up new talent when he was
supposed to be getting these kids off the street.  Half Corman's
underage stable came from Joe's recruiting efforts.  We should've
smelled a rat when he only delivered ugly ones to the halfway houses." 
Miller shook his head. 

     "How far were they going to take it that day in the restroom?" 
Blair asked, having wondered about that since it happened.  What he
had been most curious about, the anthropologist in him poking his head
out again, was how much the guys who were covering for the three
perpetrators were willing to go along with.

     "Walker said he was going to teach you a lesson.  We didn't ask
what that entailed."

     "I see," Blair nodded.

     "I think I can speak for most of Vice when I say that Walker,
Hooper and Patterson turned out to be real embarrassments to the
department.  Pushing around a 'male whore' in a bathroom is a hell of a
lot less inconceivable than turning someone over to be tortured and
murdered."

     "Do the rest of the guys in Vice still think I was...you know,
selling it?"

     "I don't think they put a hell of a lot of stock in anything they
heard from those three right now."

     "For what it's worth, I was never with a man before Jim."

     "Look, Sandburg, I want to bury the hatchet here.  I don't want
details."

     "I just want it clear that I didn't pick Jim out so he could support
me, and he isn't just another in a series.  He was the first, the last, and
the only, for the rest of my life."

     "I can't understand what makes two men...the whole concept
makes me want to go out and puke in the bushes.  But so do some of
the kinks that turn men and women on.  What you and Ellison do
behind closed doors is your own business, I guess that's my point.  I
wanted it to be clear that you aren't going to get your head stuck in the
toilet again anytime soon."

     "That's a relief," Blair responded, laughing a little.  "I really
understand what you're saying, man.  And I appreciate you saying it.  It
couldn't have been easy.  I don't expect everyone at the station to like
me or to accept this relationship happily.  I just want the peace of mind
to come and go without somebody slamming me against my car or
kicking my ass just because of who I love."

     "Fair enough."

     "So this is where the beer is," Ryf said as he came up the stairs
from the basement.  "Crowd's gettin' ugly."

     "They didn't have far to go," Miller quipped, grabbing the case
of beer.

     "I heard that!"  Jim shouted up from the basement.  "Did you
hear that guys?"  And so the general, semi-drunken rowdiness went,
until late into the evening.

********

     "Oh...yeah...like that," Jim growled as Blair started picking up
the pace of his strokes.  The feel of the sweaty weight of Blair on his
back and the hard cock thrusting in and out of him in an even tempo
was fast growing on Jim.  He could feel that silky hair skimming over
his own overheated skin and Blair's forehead dropped just below his
shoulder blades, the smaller man making all the little love noises that
drove Jim wild.

     "God, Jim, you're so...oh...so tight...ugh..."

     "Faster, baby, come on.  Oh, man!  Give it to me good!"  Jim
spared the last shred of conscious thought to marvel that those words
had just come out of his mouth. //Jim Ellison, the guy who thought anal
sex was like having a telephone pole stuck up his ass, is begging for
it...God, what you do to me, Sandburg...//

     Feeling Blair hit his prostate, driving into the tight channel in
hard thrusts, reaching under Jim to pump his own aching erection in
rhythm with the motions...  Jim screamed out Blair's name, and in some
fog-enshrouded corner of his brain, comprehended that his spasms
were milking Blair, driving him over the edge, making him scream
loud enough to wake the dead--and the neighbors.  He felt the other
man shudder and collapse against his back, lazily kissing the damp
flesh there. 


     "Jim...you okay?"  The voice was exhausted at best.

     "Oh, man..."  Jim groaned into the pillow.  

     "Is that good or bad?"  Jim could feel all of Blair's muscles
tensing on that question, obviously afraid he'd hurt Jim by taking the
invitation to cut loose and ride him hard.

     "It's great now.  Probably be hell on the desk chair tomorrow
morning."  Jim laughed a little, and felt Blair relax, resuming his
kissing and licking at the smooth skin of Jim's back.  "My mouth's over
here, Chief.  How about joining me?"

     "I would if I could move."  Blair exhaled.  "I don't think I've
come that hard since--"

     "Last night?"  Jim quipped.

     "Since never, man.  Wow."

     "Ah, Blair, are you going to move in back there or do you think
maybe...?"

     "Sorry, man.  Are you uncomfortable?"

     "I want to kiss you, baby.  The only way I could do that now is
if I were a giraffe."

     "God, that would make a hell of a mental picture, wouldn't it?"

     "Ouch," Jim said, laughing while Blair started laughing too.

     "Guess I should move, huh?"  Blair eased slowly out of his lover
and crawled up into Jim's waiting arms.  "You're sure I didn't hurt
you?"

     "You made me really feel it.  There's a difference."  Jim finally
took the kiss he'd been wanting, taking his time to taste every bit of
Blair's lips and tongue.

     "You like it rough or gentle?"  Blair asked, snuggling into Jim's
arms.

     "Gentle most of the time.  Rough when I'm in the mood for it."

     "Me too,"  Blair agreed.  "I love you, mine.  Tonight
was...wow..."

     "You said that already, but I love you even if you repeat
yourself."

********

     Jim stirred and woke to the sound of music coming from
downstairs.  Disappointed that Blair wasn't in his arms, he checked the
clock.  It was close to midnight.  They'd come home from the football
gathering about nine, and gotten right down to business.  Jim laughed a
little to himself. //Just like a couple of horny kids...or honeymooners.//
They'd only had the rings a few days, but they already felt like they
belonged there.

     He shifted and sat up, wincing a little.  It was uncomfortable,
and his prostate was tingling a little from the workout, but it was
nothing he couldn't handle.  And there was something strangely erotic
about feeling it like this. 

     Pulling on a robe, he started downstairs.  Soft music was
playing on the stereo, and the light of several candles danced on the
walls.  Blair was in the kitchen, dressed in his navy blue terry cloth
robe.  The scent of his soap and shampoo reached Jim's nose.

     "You showered already," he said quietly, sidling up behind
Blair and moving the slightly damp hair aside to kiss his neck.

     "You were really zonked, man."  Blair continued preparing the
sandwiches in front of him, despite the very large man draping himself
around the smaller body.  He had become somewhat used to preparing
food with a giant human backpack named Jim.

     "Whose fault is that, huh?"  Jim returned to the spot he had
kissed and fastened his mouth there, sucking the soft flesh.

     "Ohh, man, don't do this to me."

     "Hungry, huh?"  Jim asked against Blair's neck, releasing a very
nicely formed hickey.

     "Ravenous--for food this time."

     "Can't win 'em all."  Jim gave him a little squeeze and kissed his
cheek, releasing him and heading toward the bathroom.

     "Jim?"

     "What?"

     "Are you really okay?"

     "What is it you usually tell me?  Beyond okay?"  Jim smiled and
disappeared into the bathroom.

     By the time Jim had showered, Blair had a fire going in the
fireplace, a plate of sandwiches on the coffee table and was carrying
two steaming cups of hot chocolate into the living room.

     When Blair was settled comfortably against Jim on the couch,
their legs covered by the throw, nibbling on the sandwiches, Jim finally
broke the peaceful silence.

     "I really appreciate what you did today, sweetheart," Jim kissed
Blair's forehead.

     "What do you mean?"

     "I know going to that party at Miller's wasn't easy for you.  And
I also appreciate the way you responded to Ed's apology."

     "You heard all that?"

     "I was tuned into you from the time you left to get the beer until
you were back beside me.  You oughtta know that by now."

     "I don't expect all of those guys to agree with what we're doing. 
I just don't want to get slapped around for it."

     "I'm glad you feel that way, because I don't really think I want
to resign."

     "I don't want you to.  I never did."

     "I know that.  But I would have never worked in that
environment if you weren't safe there.  Because where you aren't
welcome, I don't need to go."

     "I feel the same way."  Blair was quiet a few minutes, chewing
and thinking.  "How long do you suppose it'll stay like this?"

     "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

     "This intense?  You were married before.  How long does it
take before it gets routine?"

     "This is nothing like what I had with Carolyn.  As soon as the
physical novelty wore off...well, we just weren't meant to be.  I never
wanted her...in my space all the time.  And she sure as hell didn't want
me in hers without an appointment.  We just clashed.  She's a good
person, but I wasn't what she was looking for, and truthfully, she wasn't
the right fit for me either.  So I don't know, based on that.  I never felt
this...intensely about anyone else before."

     "Really?"  Blair looked up at him with blue eyes Jim felt he
could drown in without even trying.  "I haven't either...but then I wasn't
married, so I thought maybe with Carolyn...you know...it was this good
for a while."  Blair hesitated.  "Jim...all my life...nothing's ever...lasted. 
I just don't...get comfortable in a situation all that easily.  Sometimes...
I get scared because...you know...if this...um, didn't work and you...you
know, decided that I wasn't...what you wanted...man, I don't wanna say
this because it ties you down--"

     "Blair, I'm wearing your ring, I love you, and we're going to
Hawaii in a month to get married.  I *want* to be tied down.  Just say
it."

     "If you broke up with me now...I think...I think it would
probably break my heart so badly that I don't think I could...go on."

     "Blair, you listen to me, and listen good.  The only way I will
*ever* break up with you is if you tell me to leave.  And even then,
you'll have to work damned hard to make me believe it."  Jim set his
hot chocolate aside so he had both hands free to soothe his partner. 
Why Blair was getting uncertain now, he didn't know.  But it didn't
really matter.  All that mattered was reassuring him how permanent
this really was.  He tangled a hand in Blair's hair and pressed his lover's
head against his shoulder.  "You're not used to counting on anything,
are you, baby?"

     "I'm gettin' there, Jim.  It's just taking me a little while, I guess."

     "I'm not saying we won't get used to each other, or that as we
get older, some of the frenzy won't cool off a little.  But the love is
never going to change.  Because I feel just as...dependent on you as you
do on me."

     "Really?"

     "Really."  Jim smiled and kissed Blair's hair.

     "My whole life has been...temporary.  Everything...my friends,
my mom's boyfriends, my schools...nothing ever lasted very long.  I'm
used to saying good bye, and...to...to being disappointed sometimes
when stuff didn't work out or last very long.  I guess I'm...kind of...I
don't know.  Scared, maybe."

     "Scary to know you need somebody so much, isn't it?  It is for
me too, Chief."

     "I won't ever leave."

     "Me either, baby."

     "I found a song I want you to hear.  Mind if I go put it on?" 
Blair pulled away a little to look up at Jim.

     "'Course not."  Jim smiled and sat back, sipping his hot
chocolate and watching Blair.  Watching Blair was probably his
favorite thing to do...well, okay, second favorite thing...  He accepted
the warm bundle of energy back into his arms and gave him a drink out
of his hot chocolate mug as they curled together to listen to the song.

//I was gonna see the world one day,
Maybe be a movie star,
Or buy a quiet house down by the bay,
And write about the way things are,
But the way things are right now,
I can hardly write my name,
And I've lost my taste for the wandering ways,
For fortune and for fame.

Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you
Twenty four hours a day,
All the other dreams I've had
Have faded away.
Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you
Twenty four hours a day,
If you wanna be with me,
Then here's where I'll stay.

I was gonna save the human race,
Find my place in history,
Or sail away one day far out in space,
And live a life of mystery,
But the mystery to me,
Is the life I lived before,
And the place for me isn't history,
It's with you forever more.

Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you
Twenty four hours a day,
All the other dreams I've had 
Have faded away.
Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you, 
Twenty four hours a day,
If you wanna be with me,
Then here's where I'll stay...//

     When Barry Manilow's voice had faded, Blair hit the button on
the remote to switch them back to the disc of piano music that had
been playing in the background.

     "That was beautiful," Jim said, leaning down to share a gentle
kiss with Blair.

     "That says how I feel just about the best...even when I got that
offer to go to Borneo back then...I couldn't leave you.  I was trying to
rationalize it, that I should go, that it was a good opportunity...but I
couldn't have ever gone.  It would have been like ripping my heart out
and leaving it here."

     "I don't want to hold you back, if..."  Jim took a deep breath. 
Could he really say good bye to Blair for months on end?  "If you need
to go somewhere someday--"

     "If I have to leave you, it isn't worth it.  Life's too short and too
uncertain to spend big chunks of it feeling miserable.  I guess I played
that song for you because I wanted you to know that I'll always be here. 
You don't have to worry about me leaving."

     "I wasn't worried.  I knew you wouldn't be allowed on the plane
with that 200 pound carry-on bag you'd have to take along."  Jim took a
drink of his cocoa as Blair laughed.  

     "You'd go tromping through the jungle with me?"

     "You did it for me.  Besides, if it meant I got to see you sweaty
and wearing nothing but a loincloth and a smile, I'd probably hike into
hell with you."  Jim smiled as Blair laughed and ducked his head.  He
was blushing, and Jim found that probably the most endearing thing in
the world.  "I'm already living for the moment I get to see you in a grass
skirt."

     "Over my dead body!"  Blair's head shot up.

     "Oh, come on, Chief.  I can just see you, showing off that hip
action there on the sandy beach at Maui--"

     "I suppose you want me to put flowers in my hair too?"

     "Nah.  I just want to see you do the hula."

     "I'll make a deal with you.  On our wedding night, I'll do a hula
routine in our hotel room, minus the grass skirt, you won't ever forget."  
     Jim laughed.  Now it was his turn to blush.