Blair wasn't sure what woke him up, but when he opened his
eyes, Jim was still sleeping peacefully next to him.  Blair had shifted in
his sleep to face away from his lover, but his back still pressed against
the warmth of Jim's body.  
     
     "Blair."  The name was barely more than a breath.  Blair looked
around the room, and was startled a bit to see Michael standing by the
closed door of the bedroom.  The young musician was visible and
yet...*filmy*.  His long auburn hair hung down on his shoulders in all its
shaggy splendor, and he looked as if he were dressed to go on stage. 
Black leather pants were adorned with two silver studded belts that
hung a bit haphazardly on his hips, black leather boots decorated with
silver rings and studs rose almost to his knees.  A red tank shirt was
covered with a black net tank shirt.  The silver of an earring in his left
ear glimmered as it caught the moonlight.  And he was smiling brightly,
happier than Blair had ever seen him.  

     "Michael?"  Blair whispered softly.  Jim stirred a little but didn't
wake.  The spirit by the bedroom door motioned to him to follow, and
turning away, passed through the closed door.  

     Oddly confident that Michael wouldn't lead him anywhere he
didn't want to go, Blair slipped out of bed and grabbed his robe, not
quite ready for the chill of evening through his tank shirt and boxers. 
He had worn socks to bed, having felt a little too cold to part with them
earlier.  

     Slipping as noiselessly as he could out the door of the room, he
left it slightly ajar rather than make the noise of closing it tightly.  He
made his way to the stairs, and paused at the top when he saw Michael
waiting for him at the foot.  The spirit was still smiling, his expression
almost impish and mischievous, as if he were letting Blair in on a great
secret.  

     Blair followed the spirit down the hall and into the kitchen, and
it wasn't until then that he realized that everything had been as neat and
tidy as it always was--there were no chandelier crystals on the floor, no
exploded plants, and the kitchen was more orderly than even Jim usually
kept it.  The message that had read "Vine", along with the spilled flour
and all the other destruction, had vanished.  

     Michael paused at the door that led to the back porch, and took
a long look at Blair.  A light, warm breeze toyed with Blair's hair, then
swirled around him, making him feel as if he'd just stepped into the glow
of warm sunlight.  His other worldly friend was smiling again, and then
he was moving through the closed door.  

     Released from the wonderful moment of warmth, Blair hurried
to the door, opened it and stepped out on the back porch.  He grabbed
onto the railing, staring across the moonlit lawn, his mouth agape.

     Michael was sprinting across the grass toward the gazebo, no
sign of the limp that had labored his steps in life.  And when he hurried
up the two steps into the ornate white structure, he met another figure
there.  Considerably taller, long blond hair picking up the glow of the
moon, dressed in a stunning white leather stage outfit, Brian waited for
him there.  
     
     Blair sat on the top step of the porch, not only reeling from the
shock of such a vision, but in acceptance of what it meant.  Brian had
passed to the other side, and Michael hadn't wanted to leave without
saying goodbye.

     The two figures in the gazebo met enthusiastically, Brian
catching his smaller lover in his arms and lifting him until his feet cleared
the ground by a good two inches.  Once Michael landed on his feet
again, the two lovers kissed passionately, hands sliding into each other's
hair, over each other's bodies.  Michael pulled back finally, holding out a
hand to Brian.  The taller man's face broke into a huge smile, and he
accepted the outstretched hand.

     Michael led his lover down the steps of the gazebo, and both
paused to look back toward Blair, who was watching them with tears in
his eyes.

     "Be happy and love each other," Michael whispered, smiling. 
Whether or not he actually said the words, Blair would never be sure
later.  But his message reached Blair clearly, and he smiled at the vision
in the garden.

     "You too," he responded.  "Thank you for being here for me--both of you," 
he said softly.  

     Both figures lingered a moment longer, and Blair felt the warm
breeze again, and the windchimes danced lightly.

     And then Michael turned, pulling his lover by the hand, and
walked toward the woods.  In the last moment they were visible to him,
Blair smiled as he saw Brian's arm go around Michael's shoulders as the
smaller man's arm circled Brian's waist.  

     Then they were gone, and all that remained was the subtle song
of the crickets and the cool night air, the light of the moon and the
memory of what he had just witnessed.

     "Blair?"

     This voice was earthly, and Blair turned around to look up at its
source.  Jim was standing inside the open back door, one arm in his
robe, the other side hanging sloppily over his sling.

     "They're together," Blair said, looking back out at the gazebo. 
Then he noticed something different, and he got up off the step and
hurried across the lawn to the half-finished garden.  "Jim!!  Come and
look at this!!"  It was a silly request, because all Jim had to do was stand
on the porch and he could see anything he wished.  But this was a
miracle that deserved the respect of a close inspection.  

     "What is it, Chief?  Oh, hey, one of the roses bloomed."  Jim
noticed the fat yellow blooms borne on tall, thick, glossy green stalks
with abundant foliage.

     "It's too early!  Just a day or two ago, there was like, *nothing*
on this plant but a few ratty little leaves."

     "Maybe it had a growth spurt."

     "Mae said we'd have yellow roses in the garden--Jim, it's a sign!" 
Blair looked off towards the woods behind the house.  "You didn't see
them, did you?"

     "Who?"  Jim frowned, looking in the same direction as Blair, but
seeing only trees. 

     "Jim...Brian's dead," Blair said softly, looking up at his lover.

     "Did the hospital call?  Did you call there?"

     "No.  I...I saw him.  With Michael."

     "You saw him?"

     "Just before you came out."  Blair lightly touched one of the big
yellow roses.   Looking into the folds of the bloom, he continued. 
"Michael woke me up to say goodbye.  It was incredible, man."  Blair
smiled widely and then looked back up at Jim.

     "What happened?"  Jim smiled back, not really caring if Blair had
seen visions of pink elephants dancing on the lawn as long as it made
him smile that way.  The younger man's eyes were still weary from all
his tears, and the bruise on his cheek was an ugly blue-black in the
moonlight, but his smile positively glowed.

     "I woke up, and Michael was in our room.  Jim, he looked... so
different than I ever saw him look.  He was dressed like he was going
on stage--all leather and studs, his hair really long and wild.  And he
looked so...*happy*.  He led me downstairs, and then out here, and
Brian was waiting for him in the gazebo.  He was dressed in all white
leather, and with all his blond hair--he looked almost...*angelic* in the
moonlight.  And when they came together--it was like...it reminded me
of us."

     "Pretty amazing, huh?"  Jim asked affectionately, running his
hand through the side of Blair's hair, then resting his palm against the
cool skin of Blair's uninjured cheek.  He leaned forward on an impulse
and kissed the bruise.  

     "They were holding each other and kissing...they were finally
*together*.  And they were so...*happy*.  I've tried to make myself
want to cry for Brian, because he's dead...but I can't.  He's finally with
the other half of his soul.  He's happy.  And for all his attempts to back
off and push Brian into living his own life, Michael was trapped here
until Brian was with him."

     "You don't think Michael hung around because of his connection
to you?"  Jim asked, since that had been their initial theory about
Michael's presence.

     "I think he cared what happened to me.  We had a very special
bond because he spoke and acted through me before.  He always tried
so hard to protect me."  Blair looked off toward the trees.  "But the
truth is, he couldn't bear to move on without Brian, and I think he was
so lonely his heart was broken.  He needed Brian with him.  I think he
would have been trapped here however long it took for Brian to join
him."

     "That's the phone," Jim said, heading toward the house with
Blair close behind him.  He made it to catch the phone while it was still
ringing.

     "Jim?  It's Kelli."  The voice on the other end of the phone shook
badly.  "Brian...Brian's gone.  He just...it was very quiet.  He died in his
sleep."  There was the sound of a muffled sob or two.

     "I'm so sorry, Kelli."  Jim paused.  "Blair and I really thought a
lot of him--of both of you."

     "I know.  But I know he's happy now," she managed through
tears.  "The last thing he said was 'you came back for me', and then he
smiled, and then he was gone.  I know Michael came for him."

     "I think you're probably right."  

     "The man who did it...he's dead?"  she asked.

     "Yes.  There was no other way--"

     "I'm glad.  Brian didn't deserve to die that way."

     "No, he didn't," Jim agreed.  "He was a great guy, Kelli.  You'll
let us know when the arrangements are made?"

     "Yeah...I'll call you tomorrow sometime..."  There was a long
pause, then in a tearful voice, she added, "I know he's happier.  It's
just...hard..."

     "You were really good to him, Kelli.  He was lucky to have
found you."

     "I was lucky too," she responded.  "I'll let you go for now.  I'll
call when the times are set up."

     "Okay.  If we're not here, you've got Blair's cell phone number,
right?"

     "Yes.  I'll find you, or my mom will.  She's making some calls for
me."

     "Okay.  Try to get some rest, Kelli.  If there's anything at all we
can do, please--call us anytime."

     "I will.  Goodnight, Jim."  She hung up the phone, and Jim
followed suit.

     "How's she taking it?"  Blair asked, getting them both a glass of
orange juice from the refrigerator.  

     "As well as can be expected.  She's pretty convinced that he's
happier now."

     "He is.  He was miserable without Michael."  Blair handed Jim
the glass of juice.  "Like we'd be without each other."

     "How're you feeling, sweetheart?"  Jim asked, looking at his
lover with concern.

     "A little better, I think. I--" Blair stopped when Jim set the juice
on the counter and took a hold of Blair's hand, looking over the chafing
around his wrist.

     "Does it hurt?"  Jim asked, leaning down and kissing the irritated
area.

     "Not as much now," Blair responded, grinning.

     "How bad are your ankles?"

     "The skin's not broken.  It's just raw."

     "We've got some ointment upstairs that should help.  God, I
didn't even look at that earlier."

     "I was sort of...freaked out.  That was probably the least
concern."

     "They must hurt," Jim said, still holding the hand he'd latched
onto.

     "They sort of burn..."  Blair looked away.  "I've had them before. 
It's no big deal."  Jim hooked a finger under Blair's chin and gently
nudged him until the dark blue eyes looked up and met Jim's.  

     "Don't look away, baby.  You don't have anything to be ashamed
of.  And if you're hurting, it's a big deal.  Are we clear on that?"  Jim
leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on Blair's lips.

     "Yeah, we're clear on it."  Blair smiled and slid his arms around
Jim, careful not to jostle the restrained arm in its sling.  Jim used his free
arm to pull Blair tight against him.

     "Good.  You don't ever have to look away from anybody,
sweetheart.  You're a survivor.  You should be proud, not ashamed."

     "I love you," Blair whispered.

     "I love you too, Chief."

     "I'm glad Brian and Michael are together finally.  I know I
should feel badly that Brian died, but they're so...*happy* now."

     "It's good to know they're together."  Jim moved back a little. 
"Did you notice the house?"

     "Yeah...man, it's like nothing ever happened."

     "It's almost dawn, Chief.  Let's see if we can catch a nap before
we have to tackle this day.  I have a feeling it's going to be a long one."

     "Jim...when I make my statement...do I have to go into detail
about...you know...Borden...touching me?"

     "Well, we've eliminated the tape from evidence, so you definitely
don't want to refer back to that."  Jim started up the stairs with Blair
close behind him.  "I don't think it's necessary to be gratuitous in your
detail, let's put it that way.   I think it would be good to be honest about
at least some part of it, because it doesn't make sense that he'd abduct
you and tie you up that way and then just...sit there with you."

     "No, I guess not."  

     Blair didn't object as Jim led him into the bathroom and located
some of the ointment.  Even working with one hand hampered by his
arm's position in the sling, Jim efficiently flipped the cap on it, managed
to squeeze some out onto his fingers and began gently applying it to
Blair's wrist while he held onto the younger man's hand with his own
hand that extended from the sling.  Looking at the left hand, most
specifically at the left ring finger, Jim wondered why they'd never had
rings.

     Blair had bought them the mitzpah coin pendants when they
were in New England, and Jim had thought them the perfect little
symbol of their union, tucked away discretely under their clothing.

     "Jim?"  Blair's voice held a note of concern, and Jim realized he'd
been staring at Blair's hand for quite a few seconds now.

     "I was just thinking."  Jim let go of that hand and reached for the
other, working on soothing the chafed skin there.  "Just a lot of stuff on
my mind, I guess."  Jim smiled as he finished his task with the right
wrist, then directed Blair to sit on the closed toilet seat while he
removed the socks that were damp from running around in the grass
outdoors.  "Damn, these look sore," Jim commented, seeing the bright
red chafing of the tender skin around Blair's ankles.  

     "They are."

     "Why didn't you tell me, Chief?"

     "I was too tired to do anything about it, and I thought you
should be resting--and you should."

     "It was just a flesh wound, Chief.  I'm doing fine.  I'll be out of
this stupid sling in a few days at the most."

     "The doctor said a week, minimum, and then he wants to see
you."

     "Yes, Dr. Sandburg," Jim responded, smiling as he finished
soothing the second ankle.

     "Man, that feels better," Blair said honestly.

     "Good.  Let's hit the sack for a couple hours, huh?"

     "Yeah, I'm still really wasted."

     "Blair, about your statement--you tell whatever you can handle
telling.  Borden's dead.  We can't charge him with anything anyway.  I'm
not saying you shouldn't be as honest as you can, and that you shouldn't
tell the pertinent details, but we don't need to know every little touch
and taunt."

     "Thanks," Blair said, relieved.  

     The two men climbed back into bed and shifted around until they
found comfortable positions, Blair's head on Jim's shoulder.

********

     Brian Nolan was buried in the Nolan family plot three days after
his death.  The funeral was one of the biggest media circuses Cascade
had seen in recent history, with grieving fans held at bay by some of
Cascade's finest as the family and a few friends paid final respects at the
grave side.  The rest of Brian's band flew in from New York, comprising
four of the six pall bearers, Jim and Blair doing the honors in the
remaining two spots.  

     Amid the outpouring of grief from devastated relatives and
friends, and the visions of tearful fans held behind police barriers, Blair
couldn't help but feel a sense of release for Brian.  His dearest wish had
been to join Michael, to be with him and consummate their relationship. 
How consummation worked on the other side of the barrier, Blair didn't
know, but he did know what he had seen in the gazebo the night of
Brian's death.  It was a good feeling to have *proof* that love does,
indeed, survive death into eternity.  As Jim and he each laid a single
yellow rose, cut from the early-blooming bush in their garden, on the
polished wood surface of Brian's casket, they knew that wherever Brian
was, he was with Michael, and because of that, he was at peace.  

     Mark Borden was buried at about the same time, and the police
department had heard from his grieving parents, demanding an
explanation for their son's death at the hands of a Cascade PD detective. 
They were given that explanation by Simon and Jim in a meeting which
had left them well-informed about their son's offenses, and satisfied that
his death had not been preventable under the circumstances.  Like
Borden himself, his mother seemed to harbor some vague suspicion that
Blair was somehow responsible for Mark's mental problems, but short
of accusing Sandburg of putting a curse on her son, there was no way to
put that suspicion into words, or to follow up on it.

     The house had been free of any signs of supernatural activity
since the night of Brian and Michael's reunion.  There were times Blair
felt a sense of loss at the absence of Michael's presence, but he couldn't
be anything but happy to know that a spirit, trapped on this plane for
years without release, was finally free.

     Spirits of a more earthly kind were high in the house the
weekend after Memorial Day as the long-promised cookout finally took
place, and the half-finished garden finally reached completion.  With
burgers and hot dogs on the grill, bags of chips and dip in warehouse
quantities and cases of beer and soft drinks being consumed over the
course of the day, Simon, Daryl, Rafe, Brown, Joel, the Wolf Family,
Megan, Serena, and a number of other Cascade PD denizens happily
helped out with the planting projects.  Jim and Blair's sprawling back
yard had already been the site of more than one outdoor party, so there
was no shortage of willing volunteers to improve the atmosphere for
what they hoped would be more occasions in the future.  Word had also
leaked out that an inground pool was in the offing for the following
summer.

     Blair hurried downstairs following his shower, ready to spend
the evening out in the gazebo with a few remaining friends.  He was
surprised to see Simon in the hall near the stairs.

     "I still can't figure how you got that chandelier looking so good
again.  There were crystals all over the floor in here," Simon observed,
staring at the fixture with great puzzlement.

     "It wasn't easy," Blair responded, giving up on explaining to
Simon that the tidy up had been Michael's departing gift.

     "I hope you don't mind that I hit the shower in the bathroom
down here."

     "No, that's fine.  I think there was more mud on us than in the
garden," Blair responded.  Much more comfortable now in a clean t-shirt 
and jeans, he was also better dressed for the cooling evening than
he had been in the shorts and tattered excuse for a tank shirt he'd worn
earlier.  He found himself thanking all the deities for the vision of a
sweaty Jim cavorting around the yard most of the day, wearing nothing
but a pair of soaked shorts, and then quickly averted his thoughts back
to Simon.  Bulging denim wasn't something he wanted to explain to the
captain at that moment.

     "I had a talk with Chief Warren the other day."  Simon paused. 
"You know that Wendy Evans' parents are considering a lawsuit against
the department."

     "I know," Blair responded, nodding.  "As responsible as I felt for
her death when it happened...looking back?  I don't think it was our
fault."

     "No, I don't think so either.  At any rate, Warren met with them
and proposed another way in which the department could spend the
money they would otherwise offer in the form of an out-of-court
settlement.  They went for it."

     "What was it?"

     "We're going to be setting up a new Domestic Violence Unit. 
Instead of those cases being at the bottom of the priority pile in Major
Crimes, they'll be the sole activity of that unit.  It would include child
abuse and molestation cases, spousal abuse--and that would include
homicides arising from those situations.  Now when the workload
wasn't sufficient to tie up a whole unit, the detectives assigned to it
would work cases in their usual fields--I'm figuring we'll be drawing
heavily from the half-assed attempt at a child abuse task force we have,
as well as Major Crimes.  We'll be looking for detectives who have been
handling rape, child molestation and family violence cases
predominately, and also giving the unit a shot in the arm with help from
some of our best people when schedules permit."

     "Wow."  Blair leaned against the banister, smiling slightly.  "Are
they going to hire any new people?"

     "Hopefully, eventually.  There are going to have to be some new
hires down the line, but for now, it'll probably be mostly existing
personnel being re-assigned, with a couple departments undergoing
some reorganization.  I talked it over with the chief, and he agreed that
we need someone to coordinate this project--once we pull these people
and tell them they're part of this new unit, we need some sense of
direction.  I recommended you for that job."

     "Me?  But I'm not a cop."

     "Hey, wait a minute--that's my line," Simon shot back, and the
two men laughed.

     "Do I have the right credentials for something like that?"

     "Well, you've been working with Jim for a period of years now,
functioning more or less like a cop, you have a Ph.D. in Anthropology
and you're an abuse survivor yourself.  The chief didn't seem to feel we
could get anyone more closely qualified for this job if we grew one in a
lab."

     "Are we talking part-time, full-time, volunteer status, what?  I
have to know...I mean, I'm scheduled for a full teaching load in the fall."

     "The initial offer would be full-time.  We could probably work
something out part-time if that's the only way you would do it.  And it's
not a volunteer job.  It would be a full-time administrative position."

     "What about Jim?  I mean, I don't want to spend all day behind a
desk.  And I don't want to stop working with him.  And then there's the
U..."

     "Blair, those are choices you have to make.  As far as your work
with Jim, it would probably be something you did when time permitted. 
This is going to be a big project to launch.  My thinking is that it would
be very full-time for probably the first couple of years, and once the unit
is rolling and functional, your position could probably be cut back to
part-time, or folded into a more general 'consultant' position.  At the
outset, I would be the senior officer in charge of the procedural issues
relating to the unit.  Eventually, it would have its own captain, and at
that point, there'd be less of a need for your direct input into things."

     "So we might be looking at a couple years of really going after
it, and then having it taper back to part-time?"

     "Possibly.  Or be part of a more general full-time position that
would actually sanction your working with Jim as part of your job."

     "Wow."  Blair sat on the bottom step.  "I have to think this
through...talk to my department head...maybe they'd let me do some
sort of sabbatical.  I'm so new as a faculty member that I don't know if
they'll go for it."

     "Maybe an unpaid leave of absence?"

     "They might go for the 'unpaid' part," Blair quipped, chuckling a
little.  "Would Jim ever be working on the new unit at all?"

     "Well, I'll be honest with you on one point, Blair.  I can't spare
Jim from Major Crimes for a full-time reassignment, even if he asked for
it.  But I would definitely cooperate with him working an occasional
case relevant to the unit--especially one that overlapped with Major
Crimes' usual domain."

     "I have to talk it over with Jim.  And if we agree on it, I still
have to talk to my department chair."

     "Give me an answer by Wednesday?"

     "That's doable."

     "Good."  Blair stood up.  "You know, I really didn't see how
anything good could ever come out of Wendy Evans losing her life in
such a senseless, *preventable* way...but this..."

     "That's sort of how her parents seemed to feel.  See, the hook is,
you were kind of part of the selling feature with them."

     "But it was because of me she filed the complaint and because of
that--"

     "They don't see it that way.  They seem to feel you were the only
one who really invested concern in their daughter's case--I guess she
spoke to them about you, said you'd been a lot of support to her.  When
I mentioned the possibility of involving you with the project, her mother
brightened right up and latched onto that."

     "So this really wasn't just my glowing credentials that got me the
job offer?"

     "I wouldn't have mentioned you if you didn't have the right
background for it.  But your connection to Wendy, and your moral
support of her, made a big impression on her parents, and it made them
much more receptive to the idea.  Warren was a little pissed off at first,
but the more we talked, the more convinced he was that it was a good
idea."

     "This is really an exciting opportunity, Simon.  Whether I can do
it or not, I'm so thrilled it's going to happen."

     "I am too, Blair.  It's long overdue.  Well, I better find my kid. 
Last time I looked, Daryl was drooling over your new computer.  I
think he's in the study, staring at it reverently," Simon quipped.

     "Yeah, it's pretty cool.  Pentium III, 500 mega-hurtz.  Jim really
knows how to pick out a birthday present."  Blair led the way into the
study, where Daryl was, indeed, staring at the new machine like it was a
holy relic.

     "Man, this thing is *beautiful*!"  Daryl opined as Blair pulled up
a chair next to him at the computer table with Simon looking over their
shoulders.  "I bet you have to fasten your seatbelt to surf the 'net on this
baby!"

     "Just about," Blair responded, laughing.  "Power it up."  

     Simon took in the posh surroundings of the home office, the
elaborate computer and the multi-function printer connected to it--which
 had been last year's birthday present--and shook his head, smiling.

     "Sandburg, you're spoiled rotten, do you know that?"  There
was a little chuckle in Simon's voice.

     "I sure do, Simon," Blair looked up, smiling back, the love he
felt for his partner radiating from his expression.

     "Don't get lost in cyberspace for too long, you two," Simon
admonished gruffly, heading out to join Jim, Megan and Rafe in the
gazebo.

********

     "Garden looks pretty good now," Jim opined, sitting on the back
steps next to Blair.  It was almost midnight, and the only light to the
garden was the moon, since all the outdoor lanterns had been
extinguished.  

     "We've got some good friends."  

     "Who want a dip in that pool next summer."

     "Not to mention a place to hold the Fourth of July party," Blair
added, chuckling a little.  "Jim, we've got to talk about something,"
Blair began.  He immediately had Jim's full attention, and with a deep
breath, proceeded to recap his conversation with Simon.  "I don't know
exactly what to do.  I mean, in one way, it's a dream come true--to see a
PD really take issue with domestic violence this way, and to have a
chance to be part of it.  But on the other hand, I just got settled into a
routine at the U, and I don't want to miss out on us working together." 
Blair let out a long sigh.  

     "Do you think they'd give you a leave of absence from the U?" 
Jim asked, draping an arm around Blair's shoulders, happy to feel the
answering arm slide around his back. //It should be illegal to be this
happy with somebody,// Jim thought, squelching a smile.  

     "Well, actually, this job would be in my field--it's a people-oriented 
position, dealing with a social and cultural issue like domestic
abuse and family relations.  I can ask for a sabbatical.  My department
chair looks like he could use a good laugh."  

     "You haven't really built up enough seniority to get something
like that, have you?"

     "I don't even have tenure yet.  I'm supposed to get that after next
year.  But if I take time off now, that could be delayed too."

     "Blair, you've paid your dues with this whole abuse situation. 
And you did your best for Wendy Evans--we all did--even though we
failed miserably.  If you're happy at Rainier and with the way things are
going, don't feel pressured into doing this."

     "I know I come off sounding like it isn't something I want to do. 
In a way, it is.  In another way...I don't know if I can deal with reliving
all that day after day.  When I'd talk to Wendy, and she'd tell me
something about what her husband did or she'd have some big bruise or
something--it was just like going back in time."

     "Maybe it's still too fresh, Chief.  A lot of time survivors get
involved in work like this, but maybe you need a little more time to
recover yourself before you're ready to help other people do it."

     "I just feel selfish.  I mean, here's this incredible opportunity
dropped in my lap to give something back--in return for all the good
things that happened to me.  I was rescued, I was cared for, and I'm
loved--by somebody who is patient enough to deal with all the scars
inside from what I went through.  I guess I feel like I owe something, on
a cosmic level, for being that...*blessed*."

     "Did you ever think that maybe the good things were what the
cosmic scales owed *you* for living with that son of a bitch for six
months and taking his abuse?"  Jim responded, rubbing Blair's shoulder
where his hand rested.  "Sweetheart, you don't owe anybody anything
because you're loved.  You get what you give, and one thing you've
always given me is a lot of love."

     "I think about all the good things that could happen with a
program like that--if it's put together right.  And I won't have any rights
to bitch about it later if I don't like how it's handled.  Or if they pigeon-hole it 
after they get the lawsuit off their backs."

     "True.  The only way you can *control* anything about this new
program is to participate in it.  You know, Chief, they can't make you
stay if you find you can't handle it--emotionally or otherwise."

     "I'm not a quitter, Jim."

     "Believe me, honey, I know that."  Jim kissed the younger man's
temple.  "A quitter wouldn't have made it this far."

     "What about my work with you?"

     "You know I love having you with me, as much as I can.  But if
this is something you want to do, I won't be upset if you go for it.  My
senses are pretty well under my control now.  And we live together--it's
not like we won't see each other.  We'll still live together, eat together,
sleep together--the only time we won't be together are the hours you're
working, and we're apart that much now when you're teaching full-time."

     "I want to say yes to this.  I'm just...*scared*.  I've never been an
administrator of anything before.  I don't have any experience running a
whole program on my own."

     "Simon and I aren't going to just sit back and watch you
flounder.  You've got two resource people right there standing ready to
help any way we can.  You know that."  Jim rested his head against
Blair's.  "You have the ability to do this job, Chief.  And you've said you
want it.  The things you're afraid of...well, experience only comes from
doing, so there's no way to get around that.  As far as it reviving old
pain, if it does, and it's too much, you pass the baton on to someone else
and know you gave it your best shot.  Whatever you want to do, I'm
behind you, sweetheart."

     "I don't know what they're talking about for salary.  I mean,
we're in debt up to our eyebrows with the landscaping and by the time
that's paid off, there's the pool and--"

     "Blair, listen to me.  If this is something you want to do, we'll
figure out how to do it, even if the money isn't that great.  But I have a
feeling it will be competitive, and maybe more than what you're making
now."

     "You think I should go for it?"

     "I think it's an opportunity that might bother you if you don't,"
Jim responded honestly.

     "I think you're right."  Blair leaned into the embrace, smiling.  

     "What do you say we find some leftover wine and go upstairs,
huh?"

     "Yeah, that sounds good."  Blair smiled, not moving for a couple
of minutes, soaking up the contentment of being nestled against Jim's
side, planning their future, looking out over the property around their
home that they were improving and enhancing together.  Having a
house and a mortgage and bills and a predictable future was not
something Blair ever pictured wanting.  Now he couldn't picture
wanting anything else.

********

     Blair made the commitment to accept the full-time position with
the Cascade PD beginning in the Fall.  He was scheduled to teach a
course during the summer, and had a couple of academic articles he
wanted to finish and submit before taking a leave of absence.  Rainier
approved a leave without pay, but with his position guaranteed for at
least one year's time.  His department chair had found the project he was
undertaking to be of great interest, and felt that Blair could bring some
valuable insight and field experience back from it, perhaps teaching a
Sociology or Social Work course or two related to domestic violence
and intervention.

     Returning to the Rainier campus to teach his summer course,
Blair had a definite spring in his step.  While there were times that the
new job left him a bit intimidated in its breadth and level of
responsibility, he was still excited by the opportunity.  

     Wandering around the campus free of fear was another new
sensation.  First it had been Watson and his terror tactics, and not long
after the run ins with him, Blair had been dodging Borden and his
harassment.  Though he felt sorry that any human being would
degenerate to the point of ending as badly as Borden did, it was a
liberating feeling to know he wasn't going to be popping out from
behind every tree.  Knowing he was only receiving psychiatric treatment
and could be released at any time, Blair had always had a certain sense
of unease, wondering where and when Borden would pop up again. 
Most of his worst fears about such an encounter had been realized, so
while he couldn't exactly say he was relieved, at least it was over and he
could put it behind him.  

     Putting it *truly* behind him was proving a bit more difficult,
and Blair found himself wondering when Jim would develop a fatal case
of blue balls and finally dump him for good.  Sex had been almost a
daily occurrence until the incident with Borden, and now it had fizzled
to once a week *if* Jim had time to romance and ease Blair into it for a
couple of hours.  

     The first week after the assault, Blair had genuinely been too
sore to get very enthusiastic, the bruising around his genitals keeping his
sex drive at close to zero.  Jim had, as usual, had the patience of a saint,
not making any demands on Blair's body that he wasn't comfortable
meeting.  Sure, they had made love, but Blair still hadn't been able to
cope with being on the bottom during sex.  Sinking into his desk chair
and staring glumly at the pile of exams in front of him, Blair let out a
long breath.  

     "That sounds like a man who could use a lunch break," Jim said
from the door where he leaned against the frame.

     "Jim!"  Blair jumped a little in his chair.

     "You were expecting the Dean?"  Jim quipped, ambling over to
Blair's desk and leaning down to kiss him quickly on the lips before
plunking into the visitor's chair near the desk.

     "I thought you had to be in court."

     "Been there, done that.  The judge called a recess--one of the
jurors had to leave because her kid fell on the playground and was in the
emergency room to get stitches.  I guess it wasn't serious, but she still
had to leave.  Anyhow, I won't have to testify until tomorrow."

     "Great.  I wanted to be there anyway, and now I can be," Blair
responded, referring to the Evans murder trial, which was just getting
started with opening arguments.  Jim was the first witness for the
prosecution.  Blair was due to testify himself, but not until a bit later. 
He stared at his lover a moment.  "God, you look good in a suit," he
commented.  Jim smiled and waved his striped tie at Blair.

     "I look better out of it."

     "No arguments there, man," Blair retorted, laughing.  "Too bad
you have such a self-image problem."

     "If you've got it, flaunt it."  Jim smiled.

     "You better not flaunt it for anybody but me, lover."

     "It's a deal."  Jim laid his hand on the desk, palm up, and Blair's
slid into it easily, curling his fingers around it and holding on tightly. 
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"  Jim noticed the tension in the hand, and in
Blair's whole demeanor.

     "Things aren't...going too great for us...in bed."

     "They're okay, Chief.  We're working on it."  Jim rubbed his
thumb over the soft skin on the back of Blair's hand.

     "You haven't...I haven't let you...penetrate me...since..."  Blair
looked away, blushing furiously.  "I just can't."

     "It's only been a month or so, Blair.  It'll get better."  Jim paused. 
"Have you thought about seeing somebody?"

     "Yeah, I thought about it.  I even looked into this support group
for survivors of sexual assault.  They wouldn't let me in because I'm a
man.  The woman I talked to said the whole group were women and
that most of them had been victimized by men, so I would make them
uncomfortable."

     "That's discrimination."

     "It makes sense.  I understand it.  But I want to change it.   I
thought about going in and talking to a shrink one on one...and I can't
handle it.  I can't keep reliving this over and over again.  But I am
planning on talking to one about setting up a support group for adult
male sexual abuse and assault survivors.  I mean, I just proved to myself
that there's no place for men with this problem to go for support or
counseling besides a private one-on-one shrink."

     "Maybe you can get something going in relation to the domestic
violence project at the PD."  

     "I hope so.  It's one of the main things I want to address with the
administration--the treatment and processing of *male* abuse and
assault victims, and developing some resources for them."  Blair
slumped back in his chair.  

     "You know, when I was really little, I had this dog--he was a
nice dog--you know, something presentable and pedigreed."  Jim smiled
as Blair laughed a little at thinking that even Jim's dog had to measure
up to the Ellison standard for prestige.  "He was a thoroughbred beagle
from a really good bloodline.  He was supposedly my dad's dog, and I
think my dad took him hunting one time to impress a client, but
honestly, he didn't like hunting and he was even less interested in dogs. 
He got the account and I got the dog."

     "Sounds like a good deal," Blair responded, smiling, but
wondering how they'd gone from discussing the possibility of therapy to
Jim's beagle.

     "Anyhow, I had him for about three years, until I was nine.  He
was a lot of company for me.  Stephen was still pretty little, and Sally
didn't allow him to get as far out of her sight as I could when he was a
toddler, so Caesar went with me."

     "Caesar the Beagle?"  Blair repeated.

     "My dad wouldn't have named a dog something like 'Spot',
Chief.  His papers said something like 'Ellison's Emperor Julius Caesar' --
you know how those dogs in the dog shows have longer names than
most humans?"

     "Sometimes I tune into the dog show just to hear the names,"
Blair said, laughing a little.

     "Well, one day, Caesar got a little carried away when we were
playing, and he chased a ball right out into the street.  I yelled at him
and ran, but there was no way...it was a busy street, the cars moved
fast..."

     "Oh, man, that's lousy," Blair sympathized, squeezing Jim's hand
a little.

     "He was dead.  The guy who hit him felt terrible.  He was an
older guy, really nice.  It wasn't his fault, but I felt so bad about it, I
swear the old guy had tears in his eyes when he talked to me.  He loaded
Caesar on a blanket in the back seat and drove me home.  Of course
Sally had a fit that I'd taken a ride from a stranger.  Anyway, the reason
I'm telling you all this is because of something Sally said to me.  I was
miserable for weeks after that, skulking around the house.  One day
when I was sitting on the steps, sort of staring into space, Sally stopped
what she was doing and sat down with me for a few minutes.  And then
she said that when a big hurt happens, sometimes it just takes so many
sunrises and sunsets before it gets better, but it *does* get better
eventually."  Jim covered Blair's hand with his other hand.  "I'm not
comparing the terrible things you went through with Borden to
something as simplistic and common as a child losing a pet, but maybe
Sally's words were good ones to take to heart.  It just takes so many
days and nights to pass to ease the hurt a little."

     "But that means you have wait through all that time with me,
and that's not fair to you."

     "I've got you, Chief.  That's more than fair.  That's the best. 
We'll recover from this.  We made it through Watson, we'll make it past
Borden."

     "I just can't...give up that...*control* yet.  I can't handle...being
so...vulnerable.  You know what I mean?"  

     "Exactly.  As much as you participate when you're on the
bottom, the top is still mostly in control--they have the most power
physically."

     "That's just it.  I need to feel like I'm in control.  I can't give that
up yet."  Blair shook his head.  "And I feel so fucking lousy about that,
because it's not like I don't trust you.  I'm just..."

     "Scared?"
     
     "Yeah."  Blair nodded, looking away.

     "It's okay, honey.  I understand.  You know I think you're worth
waiting for."  Jim pulled the hand he held up to his mouth and kissed it.

     "Thanks for loving me so much."  Blair smiled and leaned
forward, and Jim met him halfway for a long kiss, only broken by the
uneasy shuffling of feet near the open door.  When they parted, one of
Blair's students was standing there.  A pretty girl with long, dark hair,
she smiled shyly.

     "Sorry, Dr. Sandburg.  I didn't know you were...uh...busy."

     "That's okay, Diane.  He was just finishing up his extra credit
project," Blair quipped.  That broke the tension and all three of them
laughed.

********

     "To the victorious assistant DA," Simon declared, raising his
beer mug high above the table in salute to Beverly Sanchez, who, along
with her co-counsel from the case, had joined the victory party Major
Crimes had assembled at The Tavern Grill, an upscale bar favored by the
cops and attorneys of Cascade, given its central location near the PD
and the courthouse.  The Evans case had ended in a conviction of first
degree murder.

     "I couldn't have done it without that nice, tidy case you
gentlemen assembled," she responded, as hers and the other glasses
were all raised in response to Simon's toast.  "Now if we can get
through the penalty phase successfully, we'll be all set."  

     "You're going for the death penalty, right?"  Jim asked.  Seated
at the large table next to Blair, Jim leaned back in his chair.

     "I'm trying for it, but I have a feeling we probably won't get it.  I
think there are a couple people on that jury that are just a tad too liberal. 
I don't see them voting death."  

     "We probably don't have enough strength in our case for special
circumstances," Beverly's co-counsel, Andrea, an attractive blonde in
her early thirties, spoke up.  "Frankly, I have to admit that I don't think
the death penalty in this case will solve anything.  It'll only cost the
taxpayers more money in the long run to finance Evans' career of
making appeals.  I think life would be the best sentence."

     "I have to agree with that," Blair responded.  "I mean, there's an
element of revenge that society looks for in criminal punishments, and
the death penalty is a whopper in that regard--it's this primal, ultimate
payback.  But I honestly don't think that it's very effective.  Studies have
shown it doesn't really have a deterrent effect and it's more expensive
than life.  And of course, that puts aside all the moral issues of two
wrongs not making a right."

     "I completely agree," Andrea enthused, leaning forward a bit in
her seat.  "I'm all for giving the scumbag the worst penalty he can get,
but I don't think the death penalty is it.  He'll spend the next ten to
twelve years becoming a jailhouse lawyer, and then he *might* be
executed.  Or some bleeding heart along the way will probably commute
his sentence because he'll find Jesus about the time he's on his final
appeal."

     "Yeah, there are quite a few religious experiences in prisons,
aren't there?"  Blair retorted, smiling a little.  

     "Well, let's just say that if anyone truly wants to find God, they
can always check death row, because he seems to make a lot of
visitations there," she added, laughing.

     "I think sometimes it's genuine.  Being faced with your mortality
for real, when the appeals are running out," Blair commented.

     "Oh, I'm sure there are some people who really do find a sort of
redemption under those circumstances.  I'm just not sold on the idea that
quite *so many* of them do."

     The conversation slowed a moment while the waitress arrived
with drinks.  Rafe asked Megan to dance, and the two of them headed
for the jukebox first, where they laughed and talked over the selections,
and chose something that would play when the current song ended.

     "Would you like to...?"  Andrea nodded toward the dance floor,
looking hopefully at Blair, who managed to catch Jim's eye as subtly as
he could.  He did love to dance, and it was pretty apparent that Jim
wasn't going to be asking him any time soon--at least not in a setting
like this one.  Still, the old ghost of Watson's brutal jealousy kept him
hesitant to expect Jim to see it as the innocent activity it would be.  He
wasn't sure if he was happy or disappointed to see Jim's little smile of
approval.

     "Sure."  Blair got up and the two of them walked to the dance
floor and started dancing to the slow song Rafe and Megan had chosen.  
     "You could always cut in," Beverly suggested to Jim, leaning
over to whisper.

     "I don't think Andrea's too interested in dancing with me," Jim
responded, chortling a little.  

     "I wasn't talking about Andrea, you nitwit."  She laughed,
leaning back in her chair, shaking her head.  Jim was relieved the rest of
the group seemed to be engrossed in other conversations.  "I think she's
hit on every eligible man in the Cascade criminal justice system.  She
must be expanding the ripple effect outward to include consultants
now."

     "Mee-ow," Serena observed, having overheard Beverly's
comment.  The two women laughed at that, but Beverly defended
herself, still smiling.

     "Hey, I don't present my case unless I have all the facts straight. 
You better get out there and defend your turf, Ellison."

     Jim laughed it off, but as he watched Blair dancing with the
pretty blonde, he realized that his partner was still, for all intents and
purposes, an eligible man.  While most of their friends certainly knew
they were in a committed relationship, Jim had laid no public claim on
Blair.  They wore no rings, there had been no ceremony...

     Without realizing his body was actually acting now and setting
him into motion, Jim found himself at the jukebox, agonizing over just
what he'd pick out to play as the backdrop for his first public dance with
his lover.  He finally spotted one he liked, an old song by The
Carpenters, and made his selection.  Remembering the lyrics, he realized
it described how he felt about Blair so perfectly that he couldn't believe
he hadn't thought of playing it for him before.  As the current song drew
to a close and Blair and Andrea were heading away from the dance
floor, Jim approached his partner and caught him by the arm.

     "Think you've got the strength to go another round, Chief?"  Jim
asked, immediately cursing himself for putting the question to Blair in
such a blunt, completely pedestrian manner.

     "Another round of what?"  Blair looked totally confused now,
and Andrea smiled, moving toward the table to let the two men settle
whatever their discussion was about in private.

     "Uh...this...I picked something out...on the jukebox."

     "You want to *dance* with me?  Here?"  Blair asked, his eyes
bugged.

     "It's okay, Chief.  I shouldn't have put you on the spot.  I mean I
thought you'd like to so I--"

     "Like to?"  Blair laughed slightly.  "I would *love* to, man!  I
literally thought you'd *never* ask!"

     The two men moved back to the dance floor and took their spot
among the other dancers.  Blair slipped easily into Jim's arms as the first
words of the song came through the speakers.

//Day after day
I must face a world of strangers
Where I don't belong
I'm not that strong
It's nice to know there's someone 
I can turn to who will always care
You're always there

When there's no getting over that rainbow
When my small list of dreams won't come true
I can take all the madness the world has to give
But I won't last a day without you.//

     Jim looked down into his lover's eyes and returned the broad
smile beaming up at him from Blair's face.  It felt good to give this
moment to Blair, almost as wonderful as it felt to hold him close and
move to the music.  Thinking back on the early days of wrestling with
his newfound sentinel abilities, remembering how lonely life had been
before Blair, Jim felt a lump in his throat.  He pushed away the painful
memory of their year-long separation, and his own inability to recognize
soon enough that the man he held in his arms was the one person he
needed most in the world.  That Blair had been subjected to Watson's
abuse all because of bad timing.  Blair knew they belonged together,
were meant to be a couple, but it had taken Jim longer to recognize and
accept that fact.  He found himself pulling Blair more tightly against his
own body, almost protectively, haunted by the thoughts of what he'd
been unable to protect him from in the past.  They were together now,
and Blair himself had said the best way to battle the pain of the past was
with the love they had in the present.

//So many times 
When the city seems to be without 
A friendly face
A lonely place
It's nice to know you'll be there
If I need you
And you'll always smile
It's all worthwhile...//

     Blair rested his head against Jim's shoulder, feeling the warmth
and security there, and realizing just how true the words were.  Jim was
his safe harbor, his protection, not to mention his best friend, lifetime
lover and favorite person.  He tried to reach back in his memory for a
single time he had brought some terrible problem or fear or anguish to
Jim and not gotten comfort, solace and help.  Not a single moment in
time sprang to mind.  If Jim had drawn strength from his smile and his
unwavering allegiance, Blair had drawn more than his share in return
from his lover.  And despite the horror he'd lived through to get to the
place he was now, Blair knew in his heart he wouldn't do things any
differently if that was what it took to bring them together.

//If all my friends have forgotten 
Half their promises they're not unkind
Just hard to find
One look at you 
And I know that I could learn to live 
Without the rest
I found the best

When there's no getting over that rainbow
When my small list of dreams won't come true
I can take all the madness the world has to give
But I won't last a day without you...//

     Jim drew back a little and then moved down to cover Blair's
mouth with his own for a slow, gentle kiss.  When he moved back, he
rested his forehead against his lover's.

     "I think the song's done," Blair said quietly.

     "Nah.  Not for us," Jim responded, kissing Blair again.  "Ours is
just getting started."

     "Do the rest of those guys know what a hopeless romantic you
are?"  Blair teased, barely noticing that another song was starting to
play, and the dancing was starting up again.  Neither of the two men
moved or swayed to the music.

     "Well, I think they've got a pretty good idea now," Jim quipped,
chuckling softly as Blair laughed with him.  Hand in hand, they returned
to the table and sat down again.

     "You didn't tell me you were taken, Blair," Andrea chided,
smiling.

     "Well, he was before, but now it's official," Jim responded,
sliding an arm along the back of Blair's chair.  

********

     "You really surprised me, man," Blair said, pausing in the middle
of what had been an epic round of kissing and groping, having begun
the moment the two men fell into the bed together.  

     "I surprised myself a little."  Jim lifted a stray curl out of Blair's
eyes and kissed the end of his nose.  

     "I didn't think you'd ever want to dance with me in public like
that."  Blair looked down a moment.  "When Andrea asked me, it really
felt *wrong*.  I just wanted it to be you."

     "I know you like to dance, Chief.  I didn't want to turn into
another jealous lunatic that keeps you chained by one ankle to the chair. 
You should have the right to do something as innocent as dancing with
someone else if you feel like it.  I don't have to *like* it."  Jim added,
smiling and then claiming Blair's kiss-swollen lips again.

     "You didn't like it?"  Blair asked, grinning.

     "If wanting to rip every last shred of that dyed blonde hair out of
her head by its dark roots counts, no, I didn't like it."

     "Whoa--she's not a real blonde?  Oh my God, Jim, I don't believe
you were using your sentinel abilities to scope out the competition!" 
Blair started to laugh, and Jim feigned annoyance.

     "It's not funny, Sandburg."

     "Oh, Jim, it's a riot.  Dark roots, huh?  Man, I thought she was
for real."

     "Yeah, well, she's a bottle blonde, sweetheart."  Jim rolled onto
his back, bringing Blair with him until the smaller man sprawled across
his body, his legs spreading to straddle Jim, their cocks meeting and
rubbing together.

     "Mmmm," Blair opined eloquently, rocking back and forth,
increasing the friction.  Jim's hands moved down to knead the firm
buttocks, fingertips trailing into the cleft between them.  He hadn't been
inside Blair since the kidnapping incident several weeks earlier, and
while he was resigned to wait forever if that's what it took, his desire to
explore that most secret and tender of places was almost overwhelming. 
Reading his lover's thoughts, Blair ceased his movements.  "We can try
it if you want," he said softly.

     "Not unless you want, too," Jim responded, patting Blair's butt
gently with both hands.  

     "I do want...it's just..."

     "Not time yet?"

     "I don't want to make love with you that way and be thinking
about...  I just keep seeing that damned video in my head and...  I don't
know how to explain it."

     "You don't have to, baby."  Jim moved his hands away from the
inviting cheeks and pulled Blair into a tight embrace.  "When the time's
right, it'll happen."

     "Why don't you relax and let me do something for you?"  Blair
pulled back and looked down at Jim, flexing his eyebrows.

     "Why don't we both relax and do something for each other?" 
Jim grinned up at his lover, watching Blair's expression as the concept
of a 69 dawned on him.  

     Shifting positions with the coordination of professional dancers,
each man found himself facing the other's semi-erect cock.  Both men
gasped as they were engulfed in wet warmth, soon losing themselves in
the dual sensations of giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously.  

     Hands roamed over sensitive skin, silky curls brushed the insides
of Jim's thighs as Blair settled himself there, sucking in earnest now,
working at bringing Jim to his climax.  Jim picked up the pace of his
own ministrations, cautiously slipping a finger into the valley between
Blair's cheeks, caressing the little pucker there, hoping to relax Blair
enough to at least enjoy being touched there again.  

     The younger man wasn't objecting.  He was writhing with his
own pleasure, concentrating on keeping up the stimulation that would
bring his lover with him to climax.  
     
     Suddenly, Jim stopped, pulling away and releasing Blair's rock
hard erection.

     "Why don't you finish up in me, baby?"  Jim suggested.  "I really
miss that feeling, Chief," Jim admitted quietly, stroking Blair's thigh.  

     "But I still..."

     "You don't have to look at this like some kind of debt you have
to repay.  I want you inside me for me.  Not as some sort of incentive to
make you return the favor.  Just because I want it."

     Blair looked at his lover, realizing how difficult a verbal
admission like that was for Jim.  And hating himself for making him
spell it out.  He should have known better than to think that Jim was
trying to push him faster than he could move.  He should have known it
was just a desire to have sex that way, to get that intimate with Blair. 
There were never "payback" strings attached to anything they offered
each other in bed.  

     "I want it too," Blair finally responded, smiling softly at his
lover.  

     Jim rolled over on his stomach, drawing his knees up, presenting
his aroused partner with an easy target.  Blair fumbled in the drawer for
the lube with shaky hands.  For as long as Jim hadn't been inside him, he
hadn't been inside Jim either, not feeling comfortable with asking that of
Jim when he couldn't reciprocate.  Up to this point, Jim hadn't asked for
it.  Whether that was out of concern for Blair or just the fact that Jim
didn't feel the urge to be "on the bottom" as often as Blair did, he wasn't
sure.  But whatever the reason, the exceptionally beautiful, firmly-muscled 
body was laid out before him now like a feast.  And feast he
would.

     Ignoring the lube and his own painful arousal for the moment,
Blair moved between Jim's spread legs and with a gentle hand on each
buttock, exposed his little hole.  Moving in closer, Blair began to tease
the tender skin with the tip of his tongue, loving the surprised moan that
drew from Jim.  He moved away from Jim's center, licking and sucking
at his perineum, nuzzling the heavy balls.

     "Oh, God, Blair...please, baby..."  Jim pleaded breathlessly with
the little demon who was now purposely ignoring his hungry center,
waiting to be filled.

     Blair finally returned to his goal, dragging his tongue in broad
strokes over the little pucker before darting his tongue inside, again and
again until he was satisfied that Jim was almost mindless with the
teasing pleasure of it.  He let his hair brush the skin of Jim's ass,
knowing that feeling was a major turn on for his lover.

     Pulling back, he located the lube and began the process of
lubricating and stretching Jim to accommodate Blair as comfortably as
possible.  He made sure to reach one long finger deep inside Jim to
brush over the little nub that he knew would drag the first animal shout
of pure ecstasy out of the larger man.  He rubbed the little spot a few
times, putting enough pressure on it to make Jim scream and writhe
shamelessly on the intruding finger, the muscles in the powerful back
springing to life as strong arms spread out for fingers to curl over the
top edge of the mattress.

     Satisfied Jim was as ready as he could be without coming, Blair
coated himself with lube and slid steadily but carefully into Jim's waiting
body.  

     "Oh yeah," Jim muttered, receiving his lover readily and eagerly.

     "Feels good, mine," Blair responded, kissing the middle of Jim's
back before he straightened a bit and began to move slowly within the
tight channel, picking up the pace of his strokes to match the rhythm of
Jim's backward thrusts.  

     "That's it, baby...oh yeah...faster..."  Jim ground out, thrusting
up to meet each one of Blair's strokes until their frenzied rhythm stilled
momentarily as Jim came, contracting around Blair and wringing a
shattering climax from him as Jim's receded, their cries alternating and
mingling until they slumped together on the bed in a heap of sweaty,
sated, spent flesh.

     "Love you, mine," Blair whispered against Jim's back, sliding out
of him slowly, then crawling up to lay his cheek against Jim's.

     "Love you too, sweetheart," Jim responded, managing a
sideways kiss against Blair's mouth.  

     Blair rested there a moment, soaking up the warmth, feeling and
scent of his lover.  His own body somehow felt a bit vacant, something
in his spirit almost asking to be physically filled by Jim the way Blair had
just filled him.  The intensity of the love he was feeling at that moment
made him long for that connection, and to bitterly wish to banish the
images of that ungodly video from his mind's eye.  To shove back in its
box the memory of that pain and violation, to again associate opening
himself and being filled to his capacity with love and Jim and their
commitment to each other, and not some painful endurance test forced
on him by a sadist.  One he invariably failed, one that always left him
shaken, torn and bleeding, feeling used and humiliated.

     "Blair?"  Jim's voice drew him out of the horrible thoughts and
back to his lover.  "It's okay, honey.  I know the memories are there." 
Jim reached behind himself to stroke Blair's hair.  "We're going to beat
this thing."

     "I didn't mean to think about it. Tonight was...beautiful," Blair
said quietly.  "I love you so much."

     "Ditto, buttercup."  Jim smiled as Blair laughed with a loud snort
against his shoulder.  

     "You're not going to let me live that down, are you?"

     "On our 50th anniversary, I'll still be reminding you," Jim responded, 
laughing.

     "Promise?"

     "Promise," Jim responded, as both men shifted positions so Jim
was spooned around Blair, on their sides, ready to fall into a lethargic,
post-sex sleep.  "Although if we celebrate that occasion this way, you'll
probably have to call the rescue squad to get my knees out from under
me."  Both men laughed at that mental image, and before long, dozed
off to sleep, wrapped around each other.

********

     Blair put the finishing touches on the notes for his lecture the
following day.  Though he'd taught the course before, he'd come across
some new information he felt would liven it up a bit, so revising his old
lecture notes was a must.  There were times it seemed almost odd
working alone in the study and not sensing Michael's constant presence. 
On those occasions when his mind did drift back to Michael, he
remembered the vision of him meeting his lover in the gazebo, and the
joy he'd seen in the two men's faces.  

     Thinking of reunions with lovers reminded him to head out to
the kitchen to start the steaks grilling.  It was Jim's birthday, and when
given the choice of spending it any way he wanted, Jim had chosen a fat,
juicy t-bone and a slender, juicy guide, both to be devoured wantonly
over the course of the evening.  He much preferred a quiet celebration
for just the two of them.  Given the somewhat noisy and ribald donut
party Jim had been given that morning, Blair figured he was ready to
kick back a little.  Blair had never seen so many creatively frosted
donuts in his life, and wondered how safe Cascade was now that all its
finest were flying around on sugar buzzes.

     Blair tossed the steaks on the grill on the back porch, hoping
they'd soon be able to afford to expand it.  With the garden work just
completed and the pool on the agenda for the following year, that wasn't
too likely.  The heat of the afternoon was waning a bit, but was still a
contrast to the coolness of the air conditioned house.  The overhang
kept the porch in the shade, and there was a nice breeze, so 
Blair had no complaints.  

     Going back inside to get the potato and veggie kebabs he'd put
together earlier to go on the grill with the steaks, Blair froze in his
tracks as a memory hit him broadside.  A *good* memory.  The very
first time he'd had sex with Jim, all the way, had been on Jim's birthday,
three years earlier.

     He pushed the thought aside and took out the kebabs, walking
back outside and adding them to the grill.  Jim had guaranteed he'd be
there at six o'clock sharp, and since it was almost that now and Blair'd
heard nothing to the contrary, it was time to get the food started.  If he
waited for Jim, the other man would insist on doing part of the food
preparation, and Blair wanted Jim to be treated like royalty on his
special day.  Smiling, he wondered what Jim would think of his present.  

     A few weeks earlier, Blair had wandered into the music store in
the mall to buy a string for his guitar.  While he was transacting that big
purchase, he had noticed Jim spending an inordinate amount of time
examining a drum set displayed in the center of the store.  He had finally
watched his lover with some fascination as sentinel fingers wandered
lightly over the surface of the drums themselves, those cool blue eyes
taking in every detail with great interest.  Unable to stand the curiosity
any longer, Blair joined his lover.

     "Nice drums," Blair said casually.  Jim nodded.

     "Beautiful.  I would have killed for set like this when I was a
kid."

     "You played drums? Why am I having trouble picturing you in a
garage band?"  Blair teased.  Jim chortled a little at that.

     "I never got that far.  I had a drum set for a few months when I
was in high school.  I got pretty...*okay* at it.  I really loved it," Jim
admitted honestly, obviously thinking back on the feelings playing the
drums had engendered.  

     "Why'd you give it up?"

     "I didn't, exactly.  My dad couldn't stand the racket, and he
thought it was a waste of time.  One day I came home and they were
just...gone."  Jim was silent a moment, then he chuckled a little. 
"Probably just as well."

     "He didn't tell you or anything?  Just...got rid of them?"

     "He'd been complaining about it the last few times I practiced.  I
wasn't surprised."  Jim looked away from the drums to Blair.  "Hey, you
get what you need?"

     "Yeah, I'm all set."  Blair had still been in a sort of funk when
they left the store, thinking how attached Jim must have been to his
drums, given the almost affectionate stroking he had been giving this
set.  When he'd tried to open the subject again later, Jim had laughed it
off as ancient history.

     Blair turned the steaks, thinking to himself, a bit sadly, that it
was no wonder that loud music and rock and roll often got on Jim's
nerves.  Maybe it wasn't so much that he didn't like it as it was a painful
reminder of how much he did love it and how that passion had been
squelched so ruthlessly.  As he heard the truck pulling up out front,
Blair hoped the drum set wasn't a mistake that would revive more
painful memories than it would exorcize.

     "I smell food," Jim called to Blair as he came out the back door
of the garage and made his way to the porch, bounding up the steps and
wrapping his arms around Blair from behind, burying his nose in the
loose curls.  "And chamomile."

     "Happy Birthday, love," Blair responded, smiling at Jim's
reference to one of the shampoo ingredients that Blair had found to be a
real turn on to Jim's sentinel sniffer.  Why it seemed to be an
aphrodisiac, Blair wasn't sure.  He only knew what the results usually
were, and that suited him just fine.

     "Food looks great.  Man, I'm starved."

     "You wanna help out here?"  Blair asked with a little laugh in his
voice as he tried to turn the kebabs with Jim draped happily over his
shoulders, arms still around his middle.

     "No, I'm just enjoying the scenery.  All of it."  Jim kissed a bare
shoulder.  It was still hot outside and Blair was in his favorite blue
shorts and a loose white tank shirt.  

     "You want to change clothes before we eat?"

     "Great idea.  Maybe I'll grab a shower too."

     "Nope, that's my job.  Got something special in mind for that,
lover."

     "You do, huh?"

     "I've got a lot of things in mind for tonight."

     "I've thought of one or two myself."  Jim kissed Blair's cheek
before moving away from him and heading toward the house.  "Chief?"

     "Yeah?"  Blair looked up from his work on the grill.

     "I'm glad we're staying in."

     "So am I," Blair responded, grinning.

     The two men shared a pleasant dinner in the kitchen, looking out
the window at their garden area and discussing the possibilities for
doing the porch and the pool the following year.  When it was
determined that there was a choice between the porch expansion and
groceries, both men opted to put off the porch project.  

     Blair brought out the cake he'd managed to hide--though he had
little doubt Jim had smelled it as soon as he'd entered the kitchen--and
placed a few candles on it.

     "Don't want to set off the smoke detector, so I won't put the
right number on," Blair quipped.

     "Your day'll come, smart ass," Jim shot back, chuckling.

     "I haven't sung 'Happy Birthday' yet."  Blair set the lit cake in
front of his lover at the table, and then straddled his lap, facing him. 
"Happy Birthday to you," a kiss to Jim's forehead, "Happy Birthday to
you," another on his mouth, "Happy Birthday dear Jim," a thorough
tonsil probe with a hungry tongue, "Happy Birthday to you," Blair
concluded with a little thrust of his groin against his lover's.  Resting his
arms around Jim's neck, he grinned wickedly and flexed his eyebrows. 
"Aren't you gonna make a wish?"

     "Why bother?"  Jim said seriously, pulling Blair into a tight
embrace.  "I've already got it."  That left Blair a bit speechless while he
soaked up the closeness of the moment and the beauty of Jim's words.

     "I love you," Blair said, pulling back and looking into Jim's eyes.

     "I love you too, sweetheart," Jim said, stroking Blair's cheek and
then kissing his lips tenderly.

     "Time to cut the cake," Blair presented Jim with the knife, not
moving off his lap.  Jim looked at the white frosted confection with the
light blue roses and "Happy Birthday Jim" scrawled across it.  Then he
looked back at Blair.  There was no question which of the two desserts
he wanted to devour first, but since Blair had even caved in to buying
him something as unhealthy as a big, sticky, frosted cake, Jim figured he
should take on the task at hand.  

     With Blair's warm body still snuggled against him, an evil
thought seized him.  He set the knife aside and stuck his fingers into the
side of the cake, pulling off a chunk of cake and frosting.

     "What--?"   Blair gaped at the messy assault on the cake with
glassy eyes.  Jim offered him the chunk of cake, waggling his eyebrows. 
Grinning back, Blair carefully ate the cake off Jim's fingers, then seized
his lover's wrist to hold the hand in place long enough to languidly lick
clean the frosting-covered digits.  

     In the spirit of it now, Blair grabbed his own chunk off the cake,
complete with a rose, and started feeding it to Jim, loving the feeling of
the hot, wet mouth devouring the cake and then licking his fingers. 
When it was Jim's turn again, he took a large gob of frosting-drenched
cake and stuck it in his own mouth.  At Blair's surprised look, he pulled
his lover in closer.

     "If you want it, you're gonna have to take it," he mumbled
around the mouthful.  Blair pounced on Jim's mouth, their tongues and
the sweet dessert sliding around together.

     They continued working their way through at least a third of the
cake until Jim intercepted Blair's hand, kissing it.

     "I'm gonna blow up, Chief."

     "I think there's more frosting on us than on the cake."  Blair
laughed softly as he surveyed their hands and mouths and the fronts of
their tank shirts.  "Only one thing to do about that, I guess," Blair said,
sighing and shaking his head.

     "Can't get frosting all over everything."

     "Nope.  Gotta keep neat and clean..."  Blair hoisted himself back
on his feet, off Jim's lap, and held a sticky hand out in invitation to his
lover.  Jim glommed onto the hand readily and the two of them made
their way upstairs to the shower.

     Clothes flew carelessly in the direction of the hamper, and both
men climbed into the shower, washing each other and splashing around,
kissing and groping until Blair moved down on his knees and engulfed
Jim's hardness in a motion so swift it had almost escaped even sentinel
detection.

     Sighing with pleasure and bracing himself on the tiles, Jim lost
himself in the sensations of that hot mouth working his shaft, and the
sight of the full lips closing around it.  Though he fully acknowledged
that he was tightly wrapped around one of Blair's little fingers, one look
in the desire-clouded blue eyes that looked up at him reminded him all
over again.

     "Oh, baby, that's good," Jim moaned, feeling his climax building. 
"Oh, man!"  Trying hard not to thrust too wildly, Jim felt the tide
building and flowing through him, exploding in hot juices that Blair
swallowed greedily.

     Coming out of the fog of his own orgasm, Jim noticed Blair's
scent mingled with his own.  As he pulled his lover up for a kiss, he let
one hand slide down to feel the other man's lax, sticky cock.  

     "You came?"  Jim asked stupidly.  He knew the answer, but still,
the thought that Blair would come solely from pleasuring him was an
exotic thought Jim wanted to confirm and save for one of his best wet
dreams.

     "I was pretty worked up from downstairs, and doing that for
you...I couldn't hold it."  Blair grinned.  "Happy Birthday, mine."

     "I'll tell you one thing, baby.  This sure beats the fish tie Brown
gave me."  Jim was startled by a slap to his wet rear.

     "Smart ass," Blair shot back, laughing.  "Your present's
downstairs."

     "Ah yes, the basement.  I wondered when I'd get to see what
you've been hiding down there."  Jim pulled Blair into a tight hug.  "I
don't see how anything can beat what I've gotten so far."

     "The night is still young," Blair responded, returning the
pressure of the embrace.  "Come on.  We're starting to shrivel in here."

     After toweling each other off and sharing a few more kisses,
they both wandered into the bedroom and found clean shorts and tank
shirts, clothing which had become their summer around the house
"uniforms".  Sliding their feet into comfortable old sneakers, they
headed for the basement.  As soon as they'd reached the foot of the
stairs, Blair stopped, and turned to look up at Jim, who was right behind
him.

     "If you really hate this, I want you to tell me.  I mean, if I called
this totally wrong and you don't like it or it's not what you want it's okay
and I'll take it back no problem--"

     "Blair, before you return it, could I see it?"  Jim asked, smiling. 
Blair had to laugh then, and he nodded.

     "Wait here.  I've got to get the lights.  I'll call you, okay?"

     "Okay."  Jim waited patiently at the foot of the stairs while Blair
hurried around the corner into what was the big, open area of the
basement.  They had talked about doing *something* with it, but with
as much space as they had in the house, it really wasn't needed space,
and there were other renovations and repairs that had been more urgent
and plenty costly.  

     "Okay, you can come now."

     "No, thanks.  Maybe later," Jim called back, grinning devilishly,
waiting for Blair's retort.

     "Not at all if you're gonna be a wise ass," Blair replied, drawing
a chortle out of Jim, who walked around the corner into the area where
Blair waited with his birthday present.  "Happy Birthday, love," Blair
said, a little hesitantly.

     The room had been converted, a la Blair, from a big, barren
cement room into something friendly and inviting.  There were a number
of wall hangings decorating the white painted brick walls, most of them
either Native American or South American in theme, interspersed with a
few framed tour posters from bands like Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, and
of course--Santana.  The floor was still mostly bare, but there was a
large woven area rug in blended colors of brown, orange and gold
framed by a big, cushy-looking couch and two matching chairs.  End
tables held fat, pottery-style lamps with burlap-look shades that cast a
soft, friendly light into the room without benefit of the naked overhead
bulbs.  

     There was a matching area rug beneath the central attraction of
the room: the elaborate drum set that Jim had last seen in the center of
the music store in the mall.  Beautiful white drums with bright, chrome
accents that had drawn Jim like a magnet on that shopping trip were
now his, sitting in what was his own little musical paradise.

     "There are a few stools down here too.  Um, Henri likes to play
a little music in his spare time, and I play guitar...I was thinking...we
could have some fun with this...if you want."  Blair seemed a little
disconcerted by Jim's almost catatonic reaction to the gift, and
continued filling up the uneasy silence.  "I was gonna put a little bar
over there, but I sort of...ran out of money.  But I was thinking for
Christmas, if you find you'd like something like that, I could get Simon
to help me--he likes to play around with building stuff, and I'm not really
all thumbs either, and we could put it--"  

     Jim made a couple of long strides toward Blair and ended the
nervous chatter by covering his lover's mouth with his own, kissing him
deeply.

     "Does that mean you like it?"  Blair asked, smiling as he looked
up into Jim's moist eyes.

     "I honestly...don't know what to say, Chief," Jim moved away
from Blair, looking around the room.  "It's...beautiful.  And these..." 
Jim walked over to the drum set and let his fingers dance over the
surface of one of the drums.  "I haven't played in years.  I probably suck
now," Jim added, laughing.

     "Very well, I might add," Blair retorted.

     "One of these days, Sandburg, *pow* right to the moon," Jim
quipped back, invoking his best Jackie Gleason voice.

     "I figured we've got enough property around us that you should
be able to really cut loose and have some fun.  If you're not interested in
playing again, I understand, no problem."

     "Blair, I..."  Jim looked back at the drums, touching one of the
cymbals as reverently as he'd stroked the drum.  "I *loved* playing...
when I was a kid..."  Jim looked around the basement room.  "I'd have
given anything for a room like this."

     "Now?"

     "Some things never change, sweetheart."  Jim sat behind the
drums on the stool there and picked up the sticks.  "Oh, man, I don't
even know where to start."  There was a little laugh in his voice as he
tried twirling a drumstick and it dropped gracelessly out of his hand on
the floor.  Blair picked it up.

     "Not there, obviously," he teased, handing it back to Jim.

     "I think I spent most of my time when I was a teenager
perfecting the move of thumping the big bass drum with the foot pedal
and twirling a drumstick over my head--I'd seen some of the rock
drummers do that, and I thought it was pretty cool."

     "Yeah, or the way they sort of propel them into the audience--
when it looks like they're bouncing them off the drums?"

     "I tried that once.  Hit Stephen in head with it.  He never let me
hear the end of it."  Jim laughed at the memory, and at his thirteen-year-old 
brother's indignant insistence to Sally that he had been seriously hurt
by the flying drumstick.  That she had laughed out loud at his complaint
hadn't exactly endeared her to Stephen's heart.

     "Thanks for the warning.  I'll duck when I come downstairs
unannounced."

     "It's weird.  My mind's totally blank.  I can't think of anything to
play."

     "Maybe I can help out with that."  Blair went over to the beige
tweed couch where his guitar was propped against it.  Pulling up a
wood stool near the drum set, Blair seated himself and drew his guitar
into his lap, his hands poised to start playing.  "Ummm...'Black Magic
Woman'?"

     "Too complicated.  I'd fuck it up in the first two notes."

     "Me too," Blair responded honestly.  "Carlos Santana I'm not."

     "You do okay, Chief."

     "Oh--I've got one.  How about 'Smoke on the Water'?  The big
thing's the guitar riff, and you can sort of plug along with the backbeat
until you get the knack of it again."

     "I used to play that one all the time," Jim said, a glimmer of
recognition crossing his features.  "Let's give it a shot.  You have to
promise not to laugh."

     "I swear," Blair replied, raising his right hand, laughing.

     "You're already laughing and I haven't played anything yet."

     "I'm getting it out of my system early.  Come on.  I'll get
started."

     Blair started out the classic guitar riff, with only a few faltering
notes from his own lack of practice, and it wasn't long before Jim
ventured to tap on the drums in front of him, joining Blair in singing a
somewhat off-key and undoubtedly inaccurate rendition of the lyrics
while they played.  By the time they were finishing up the song, Jim was
keeping up with his lover quite well.  When they were done, Blair let
out a little whoop of approval.

     "Yeah, man, we're *good*!"  he enthused.  Jim raised a single
eyebrow.

     "I don't think we should give up our day jobs just yet, Chief." 
Jim paused, looking back at the drums.  "Thank you, Blair.  This is
probably one of the most incredible gifts anyone has ever given me."

     "Kind of how I feel about you," Blair responded, setting his
guitar aside and moving to stand behind Jim, wrapping his arms around
his lover's neck.

     "How long have you been working on this, sweetheart?"  Jim
asked, reaching up to pull Blair's face close to his.

     "As long as I've kept you out of the basement," Blair responded,
and Jim could feel the smile against his cheek.  

     "You trusted me not to peek while I had that day off that you
had to work at the U?"

     "You didn't, did you?"  Blair asked, as if he didn't consider it any
real possibility.

     "No, I didn't.  It damn near drove me insane, but I didn't."

     "I trust you, lover.  I knew you wouldn't spoil my surprise for
you."

     "This had to have cost a fortune."

     "Actually, the drums and the furniture were the only items that
were pricey at all--and the furniture is just some sort of cheap but
comfortable stuff I found at that new discount place out by the mall.  I
had some of the hangings stored down here, and I ordered the posters
from a collectibles place and framed those myself...it was a fun project. 
A labor of love," Blair added, kissing Jim's cheek.

     "It's really great, Chief.  Thanks," Jim added, twisting to look at
Blair, then kiss him on the mouth this time.

     "The party's not over yet," Blair said, grinning.  "Can you stay
down here and play with your new toy for a while?  I have a couple
things to do upstairs."

     "Upstairs, huh?  As in, second floor upstairs?"  Jim probed.

     "As in bedroom level upstairs," Blair responded, moving away
from Jim.  "I'll call you when it's time for you to come up."

     "I'll be waiting...*impatiently*," Jim added, grinning and
attempting to twirl the drumstick again.  It made it a bit farther before
falling this time.  "Obviously I can use the time to practice," Jim
commented, laughing as he leaned down to pick up the stick.

     "I won't be long," Blair called back as he hurried up the steps.

     Jim thumped around on his drums a little, examining them and
experimenting with the sound of each one.  It had been years since he'd
actually had access to drums to try his hand at playing them, but he was
fast feeling the old surge of excitement he used to feel as a teenager
when he'd pound away, convinced he was the next John Bonham.

     He could hear the floorboards upstairs, then Blair's footsteps
heading up to the second floor, and of course, all his movements up
there.  He heard rustling fabrics, lots of footsteps, water running,
drawers opening and closing, a few sounds he couldn't really place, and
finally, a little soft instrumental music, and the sound that was truly
music to his ears--the creak of the bed springs.  

     "Jim."  The word was soft, not even a call.  Just the speaking of
his name.  Casting a last fond glance at his birthday gift, Jim turned out
the lamps and hurried upstairs, through the kitchen and up the steps to
the second floor.  The hall was dark, the door to the master bedroom
was partially closed, and the soft flicker of candle light was visible
through the small space it stood away from the frame.  

     Jim slowly pushed the door open, and smiled at the sight before
him.  The bed had been changed to white satin sheets, and a very naked
Blair sat in the middle of it, propped on a mountain of pillows, holding
two glasses of champagne.

     "Wow," Jim mumbled.

     "No clothes allowed in this bed, lover," Blair said, halting Jim as
he moved toward the bed. 

     Grinning, Jim happily complied with the rule, tossing his clothes
every which way before joining Blair on the delightful satin sheets. 
Between the luxurious sensation against his heightened sense of touch,
the soft candle light to relax his eyes, and the soft music to soothe his
ever-vigilant ears, it was obvious that Blair knew how to plan a
celebration fit for a sentinel.

     "Here," Blair handed him the glass of champagne.  "We have to
toast.  To all our occasions--no matter how we celebrate them, may we
always celebrate them together."

     "Amen, baby."  Jim touched his glass to Blair's and both men
took their first drink of the champagne, then shared it with one another
in a languid kiss.  

     "I wanted to give you something special for your birthday--"

     "You already did, Chief.  Everything downstairs--it's great."

     "I mean besides that.  Something more...meaningful."  Blair took
a deep breath.  "You remember the first time we made love--all the
way?"

     "It's not likely I'd ever forget that, baby."  Jim smiled
affectionately, cupping Blair's cheek in his hand.

     "It was on your birthday."  Blair looked into Jim's eyes intently.  

     "Blair...tonight...?"  Jim asked carefully, afraid to hope for what
he thought was being offered.  His heart resumed a normal rhythm when
Blair nodded--or perhaps a slightly elevated rhythm.  "Are you sure?"

     "I'm sure I want us to have that again.  I'm not sure everything'll
go perfectly for me...but I want to feel you inside me again, and I want
us to be that close...and tonight, it just seems more meaningful
somehow."

     "It's very meaningful, sweetheart."  Jim leaned forward and
kissed Blair's forehead.  "Just for the record, anytime we've made love
has been meaningful...*precious*...I wouldn't trade a second of any of
them."

     "I know it's been hard waiting this long.  I'm really sorry--"

     "No apologies.  You don't have anything to be sorry for. 
Besides, we've managed to entertain ourselves the last couple of
months."  Jim smiled and flexed his eyebrows a little.  Blair had to
chuckle at that.

     "I just wanted you to know...that it means so much to me... how
patient you are with me, about everything with Vince and then Borden...
I didn't feel like I could even get through it for a while there.  I mean,
you pull yourself back up above water from the whole mess and then all
of a sudden something comes along and drags you back under again."

     "If anyone should apologize, it's me.  I should have never left
you alone the day Borden got in here."

     "That wasn't your fault."

     "Maybe not my *fault* exactly, but I still should have protected
you.  If I had--"

     "Jim, you had to go into headquarters, and Brian was going to
be with me...quit beating up on yourself.  You didn't do anything wrong
by leaving me."

     "And you didn't do anything wrong by holding back on some
part of sex until you felt comfortable to do it again.  When I touch you,
I don't want you to feel afraid.  I want you to enjoy yourself.  If we can't
both enjoy what's happening, we don't need to be doing it."

     "It's still a little scary...but I want to try it.  I want it to happen. 
Just be patient with me, okay?"

     "You know I will be, sweetheart."  Jim stroked Blair's cheek,
then took the champagne glass out of his hand, setting it, along with his
own, on the night stand.  Moving back toward Blair, he pulled his lover
into his arms and claimed his mouth, sliding them down on their sides on
the slippery sheets.  

     Jim let his hands roam gently over Blair's body, caressing him,
cherishing him, avoiding lingering on any of his more erogenous zones. 
He let his lips travel down from Blair's mouth to his chin, then beneath it
to his neck, burying his nose in the soft, clean hair that smelled of
chamomile and some other sweet herb that Jim didn't recognize. 
Whatever it was, it was part of the shampoo that Jim had teased Blair
should come with a warning label.  The minute he smelled it on his
lover, Jim was ready for action. 

     Blair was holding onto him tightly, caressing a little, but mostly
letting Jim make the moves.  Jim didn't really need Blair to tell him that
this step was a scary one; the sentinel could pick up the rapid heartbeat
and the slight tautness in the muscles.  The memory of the video that
Watson had made still lurked in Blair's mind, and up to now, the
association between that incident, which was tantamount to a torture
session, and penetration, had been too close to allow Blair to even relax
enough to let it happen, let alone to want it.

     "Try to relax your muscles, buttercup," Jim said, smiling as Blair
snorted a little laugh against his chest.  When gentle kissing and
caressing didn't relax Blair, laughter usually did.  "That's the ticket, my
little apple turnover."  Jim licked and sucked at a tender spot on Blair's
neck, sliding a hand down to caress the firm mounds of the other man's
buttocks.  He let the hand linger there, massaging, as he pulled back and
kissed Blair's mouth again, a bit more aggressively this time.  "I'm going
to take care of you, angel.  Relax for me," Jim coaxed, rolling them so
Blair was beneath him.  

     He trailed his lips down Blair's neck to his chest, moving to the
left nipple, lapping at it before taking it into his mouth.  He sucked
firmly, happy to hear a little groan of pleasure out of Blair as the
younger man's hands slid into Jim's hair, attempting to hold him in place. 
Satisfied when he had turned the little protrusion into a rock hard nub,
Jim moved to its mate and began inflicting the sweet torture on it. 
Leaving both of Blair's nipples impossibly hard, Jim considered them
sexy decorations for the heaving, sweat-sheened chest of his lover. 
Blair loved having his nipples sucked, and Jim made a mental note to
return to the task shortly.

     "Jim...more..."  Blair panted, trying to thrust his chest up toward
the retreating mouth.

     "In time, baby.  Got a little more work to do down South."  Jim
licked a path down the center of Blair's chest, over his belly, stopping to
dart his tongue into the little valley there, happy to feel Blair spreading
his legs, trying to nudge Jim in the chin with what was becoming a
raging hard-on.  

     Reaching in what he hoped was a subtle manner, Jim snagged
the lube from the spot where he expected it would be.  They usually
stashed the tube under the pillows for one of their planned encounters,
making it easier to reach in the heat of the moment.

     "Pull your knees up for me, baby," Jim commanded gently.  He
could hear a little spike in Blair's heartbeat at the order, but his lover
complied quickly, drawing his knees back up toward his chest, exposing
himself completely.  "It's gonna be good, sweetheart.  Relax," Jim
soothed, rubbing gentle hands over the backs of Blair's thighs.  He
started peppering the soft flesh there with kisses and licks, working his
way toward his goal.  

     He teased Blair's perineum with the tip of his tongue, smiling as
Blair let out the first full-bodied moan.  He knew each little sensitive
pleasure spot on Blair's body, and tonight, he was going to drive them
all to the brink, make the experience so fantastic that Blair would never
fear it again.  Ignoring the obvious erection and sensitized balls, he
moved down to the little pucker and started teasing it with his tongue,
smiling at the little jerks as Blair's body spasmed at the pleasure of it. 
He took his time making love to Blair's hot little hole, darting his tongue
in and out of it, getting Blair used to the sensations of something
entering him;  something small, wet and slippery without the capacity to
hurt.

     Moving back up, Jim opened the lube and squeezing some out
on his fingers, descended on Blair's right nipple, sucking it hard into his
mouth at the same time he ventured a tentative fingertip inside the
smaller man's body.  Blair grasped the sheets with both hands, the
intensity of the grip being too likely to leave bruises if it had been used
on Jim's body.  

     "Jiiiimm..."  It was a half cry, half moan, undecided if the
onslaught of stimulation was pleasure or torment.  Judging by the
response of Blair's cock, it was pleasure.

     As Jim eased a second finger into his lover, he moved to the
other nipple, treating it to the same suction its mate had endured. 

     "Oh, God...Jim...I'm...gonna...  Oh, yeah...*NOW*!!"  Blair
shouted, knowing he was on the brink of coming, and if Jim didn't take
him then, they'd never climax together.

     "Love you, baby," Jim said against Blair's mouth before kissing
him hungrily, then moving back between Blair's raised thighs, coating
himself with lube, he positioned the head of his cock at the entrance to
Blair's body.  In one long, smooth slide, he was sheathed to the hilt.

     Blair let out a long moan of pleasure, too hungry for completion
to think about discomfort or fear or memories or anything else except
reaching what promised to be a volcanic orgasm.

     "Jim...take me..."  Blair ground out, wrapping his legs around
Jim's body, drawing him in tight.  

     Jim responded by beginning a slow, firm thrusting, spurred on by
Blair's passionate cries of delight and his own hunger.  He built the pace
and force of his strokes, finally beginning to aim them directly at Blair's
prostate.  Blair screamed then, pulling one fistful of the sheets so hard
that some little corner of Jim's brain noted that they were being ripped
off the mattress.

     "Oh yeah...come on, man, make me come..."  

     "Love your ass, baby.  So hot, so tight," Jim managed, making a
sloppy attempt at kissing Blair's mouth, thrusting his tongue into that
warm, wet cavern while his cock was thrusting into the willing body
from the other direction.

     Blair was groaning out a string of nonsensical words, and in the
middle of his raging lust, Jim had to smile.  Even during sex, Blair was a
talker, even if he didn't make any sense.

     Jim didn't have time to think for long, feeling the rising tide of
his own climax building, building and then wrenched from his pulsing
cock by the frantic contractions of Blair's internal muscles as the hot
wetness of Blair's completion spurted across Jim's chest and belly,
Blair's cries of pleasure filling his ears as the scent of his completion
filled the air.  With a long, throaty howl, Jim thrust a few final, wild
times, filling Blair with his seed.  Exhausted, he slumped on his lover,
finding the strength to gather Blair into his arms.  

     Blair's legs dropped away from him, landing with an
unceremonious plop on the rumpled bed.  The younger man's chest
heaved for breath beneath Jim's head, and as soon as he had the
strength, Jim pushed up on his elbows to take some of the pressure off
his lover.

     "Wow," Blair said quietly, smiling a little.  His face flushed and
damp, a few stray curls sticking to it, his breathing still a bit labored,
Blair was a vision Jim wanted to savor.  He smiled back at the younger
man, stroking a warm cheek with the back of his fingers.

     "Yeah, wow," Jim agreed.

     "Best ever," Blair said, grinning up at Jim, shifting as Jim
carefully withdrew from the snug passage and then gathered Blair close
in his arms, turning them on their sides.  

     "Feeling okay, sweetheart?"

     "Great," Blair responded, still grinning.  "You knew just what I
needed," he added, his expression a little more serious.

     "I'm glad.  I hoped so."  Jim kissed the full lips gently.  "I think I
know what you like."

     "Yeah...and you did it all."  Blair snuggled into Jim's arms,
holding on tightly.  "I love you, mine."

     "I love you too, baby."

     "Happy Birthday," Blair said, and Jim could hear the grin in his
voice and feel it where Blair's face rested against his chest.

     "Every year, I think I can't have a better one."  Jim reached
down and hooked a finger under Blair's chin, encouraging his face
upward until their eyes met.  "Each year, you prove me wrong."  He
kissed Blair's forehead, then each eyelid, his nose, and finally his mouth. 
"I know how scary this was for you tonight.  I hope you know what it
means to me that you faced that for me."

     "I trust you," Blair said softly.  Then he unsuccessfully stifled a
huge yawn.

     "I trust you too, Chief.  Maybe we should catch a nap?"  Jim
asked, smiling.

     "Sounds good," Blair muttered, wrapping himself more firmly
around Jim.  Within moments, both men were sleeping.

********

     When Blair awoke, the room was bathed in shadows, the moon
peeking through the curtains, spilling a little light across the foot of the
bed.  He had flopped on his back at some point as he slept, and now he
turned his head to see Jim propped on one elbow.  Though it was hard
to make out the other man's features in the darkness of the room, Blair
knew he was being watched with sentinel eyes.  

     "I was hoping you'd wake up pretty soon--before midnight," Jim
said, a smile plain in his voice as he leaned down to kiss Blair's forehead. 
"Of course, I was enjoying just watching you sleep."

     "You mean watching me drool.  Gross," Blair opined, wiping at
his mouth with his hand.  "That's really sexy," he berated himself.

     "You haven't slept deeply enough to drool in a long time, baby." 
Jim smiled at Blair's puzzled expression, which the younger man knew
could be seen in the darkness.  "Or to sleep without a little line right
here."  Jim rubbed a gentle finger over the spot between Blair's
eyebrows.

     "It feels like things are...*okay* again."

     "They are, sweetheart."  Jim was quiet a moment.  "I want to
talk to you about something."  Jim rolled over toward his night stand
and lit the candle there, mainly for Blair's benefit.  Then he reached in
the drawer and pulled something out, obscuring it in his hand while he
rolled back over to face Blair, who turned on his side, propping himself
on his elbow to mirror Jim's position.  "I know we made a commitment
to each other, and we've never really questioned that we'd always be
together...but I've been thinking a lot lately...and..."  Jim let the words
trail off, finally letting action speak for him.  

     He revealed the small velvet box that had been hidden in his
hand and then opened it, holding it toward Blair.  Inside were two
identical, plain gold bands.  

     "Are you sure...?"  Blair asked, looking from the rings to Jim's
eyes.

     "For the last few months, it's like I keep looking at your left
hand and it seems like something's missing.  I know you'll probably say
this is me exercising my territorial imperative or something..."  Jim
shrugged.  "But I love you and I want to put a visible claim on you. 
One that says hands off, that you're mine."  Jim paused.  "And because
I'm proud of us...I'm proud of you--proud to have you by my side
forever."  Jim waited as Blair stared at the rings, his voice caught behind
the lump in his throat.  He swallowed a time or two, then looked up at
Jim again through glistening eyes.

     "I always wanted this.  Always," he said softly, looking back at
the rings.  "I love you so much.  I've wanted so badly to do something
to...to *show* it."

     "The best birthday present you could give me would be to agree
to let me put this on your finger, and promise me it'll stay there the rest
of our life together."

     "As long as I live," Blair responded.

     "'til death do us--" Jim's words were cut off when Blair pressed a
finger against his lips. 

     "No.  Death doesn't part two people who love each other like we
do.  Love is forever--if we didn't know it before, we know it now--look
at Brian and Michael."

     "I wouldn't want you to be sad and depressed and give up living
if something happened to me, sweetheart."

     "I wouldn't want that for you either, but you can't control that--how 
another person feels or grieves.  I'd never be angry if you found
someone else--I'd want you to be happy."

     "So would I--for you, I mean."

     "If I did, it would be living a lie, man.  After what we've
had...Jim, I could never love anybody else this way.  Somebody new
would be just...a sad imitation."

     "I feel the same way, Chief."

     "Maybe we could just say 'forever' and let it go at that?"  Blair
suggested, smiling.

     "Forever works for me."  Jim smiled back, nodding a little.  He
took the first ring out of the box and took a hold of Blair's left hand. 
"With this ring, I promise you forever."  He looked into Blair's eyes as
he spoke, easing the ring into place.  Blair smiled so widely Jim feared
his face might split in half.  Then, the younger man took the second ring
out of the box and took a hold of Jim's left hand.

     "With this ring, I promise you forever," Blair repeated, catching
Jim's gaze, smiling softly as he slid the ring into place.  

     They kissed to seal the pact, sliding back down in the bed,
devouring each other's mouths until the need to breathe forced them
apart.

     "Looks like they belong there," Jim commented as they
examined the rings, and evaluated how it "looked" to be married.

     "They do."  Blair slid his arms around Jim and held on tightly. 
Jim returned the strong embrace, rubbing Blair's back in long strokes.

     "They always did.  I'm sorry I made you wait so long, angel."

     "I didn't know how much I wanted this until right now," Blair
muttered, his voice a little shaky.

     "I knew, baby.  It just took me a little while to get up the nerve
to...take *ownership* of us."

     "You never hid our relationship.  Not from anybody."

     "No, but I didn't go out of my way to show you off as my lover." 
Jim laid a hand on either side of Blair's face and looked into moist blue
eyes.  "Now I want bragging rights."  He kissed the end of Blair's nose.

     "You mean that?"

     "With all my heart.  Besides, I have to protect my territory from
predators.  I thought the rings would be a better idea instead of my
being forced to do them great bodily harm."

     "You don't have to protect your territory.  Your territory isn't
going anywhere.  Not ever.  Not without you."

     "Technically, we haven't consummated the marriage," Jim said,
bumping noses with Blair.

     "I'd hate to have the whole thing be invalid on a technicality like
that," Blair responded, grinning devilishly.

     When the morning sun finally made its appearance, it found two
damp, warm, completely sated and totally oblivious men sleeping in a
tangle of clinging limbs, ringed hands entwined, as the windchimes sang
a soft melody.


**********
The End ;-)