Jim selected a few personal items from the myriad of jewelry,
clothing, shoes and accessories that Lindsay had amassed.  The other
items were packed carefully and neatly in cartons that would be
stacked up in the garage.  Marge had agreed the clothing should go to
charity, while she would like to have the chance to sort through any of
Lindsay's personal effects that Jim didn't keep.

     "I can do the nursery on my own, Chief.  You don't have to go
in there."

     "No way, man.  This is a joint project all the way."

     The two men collected a couple of empty cartons and made
their way to the room they had both last visited in their nightmares. 
Blair couldn't hold back a sharp intake of breath.

     The pink carpeting had been removed and replaced with a
neutral beige.  Everything else was in place, including Mandy's crib.

     "I...I can't do this," Jim backed partway out of the room. 
Memories of the hundreds of times he'd gone into Mandy's room to
comfort his fussy daughter flooded over him, along with the visions of
the hundreds of times he'd just gone in to watch her sleep, marveling at
what a beautiful little miracle she was.

     "I'll do it," Blair announced, startling even himself.  But for Jim,
he could be that strong.

     "But you--"

     "But nothing.  Take this carton and go get any of the stuff you
want out of the bathroom, and the linen closet."

     "Blair, how can--"

     "I love you, Jim.  I could do anything for you.  Now go pack
that other stuff.  I'll take care of this stuff.  I'll put everything in the
boxes and then you can sort it later.  Okay?"

     "Okay.  Thank you," Jim said quietly, unable to figure out any
way to put into words the gratitude he felt at Blair's willingness to take
on what was, for him, an unbearable task. 

     Blair faced his task with grim determination.  If he had learned
one thing from his years of education and numerous research projects,
it was the self-discipline to tackle a task that seemed insurmountable
and accomplish it.

     Ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder, he began opening the
drawers of the chest with the padded top which served as Mandy's
changing table.  He closed off his emotions to the best of his ability,
loading the box with the tiny, soft garments suitable for a four-month
old baby. 

     //Most of this stuff can go for charity.  Might as well put all the
stuff Jim probably won't want to keep in one box, and the special stuff
in the other.// Blair worked diligently at keeping his mind occupied
with mundane thoughts like these, keeping his back to the crib and the
rocker, and especially the doorway, which in his mind was filled with
the silhouette he'd never live long enough to forget.

     He stopped cold when he picked up a small, handmade dress
made of soft, natural fibers that he'd had made for Mandy by an elderly
Navajo Indian lady who was the grandmother of one of his students.  It
was brand new.  Mandy wouldn't have grown into it for another two or
three months yet. //So much development in that tiny little body in less
time than it would have taken me to complete the semester of classes at
the U.//

     Jim heard the odd choking noise, and then the sobbing coming
from the nursery.  It was muffled with something, but it was very
audible to his sensitized hearing.   He stood there staring at the half-packed carton of toiletries and towels, wishing he could make his legs
move in the direction of the nursery to comfort Blair.  But he could no
more make himself face that room than he could think of something to
say that would truly make Blair feel any better.  They both had a
certain amount of grief that just had to play itself out.  And maybe
Blair would feel freer to wallow in his own for a few minutes if Jim
wasn't there, making him feel somehow that he should turn the tables
and comfort the father who had lost his child.

     Blair finally gathered the strength to settle the spasmodic sobs
that had taken control of him.  He looked at the little dress in his hands
and folded it again carefully, laying it in the box of things that might be
keepsakes.  He planned to ask Jim if he could keep that one item
himself.

     Having emptied the drawers and the small closet quite quickly,
Blair pushed the two cartons into the hall with his foot, depositing
them finally in the living room.  

     "You need help with the bathroom?"  Blair asked, making Jim
realize how long he'd spent just staring at one of Lindsay's large
barrettes.

     "Almost done," he replied, tossing it into the smaller box of
items he planned to keep.

     "Anything in the guest room?"

     "Lindsay used the closet for storage, since we didn't have a
basement.  It's mostly cartons and a few odds and ends."

     "How about her studio?"  Blair referred to the small fourth
bedroom where Lindsay did all of her painting.

     "I told her sister she could have anything out of the studio she
wanted.  She's coming from Seattle next week to go through that stuff. 
She said she'd pack up anything she wasn't taking and either dispose of
it or give it away for me."

     "Given how her mother feels--"

     "Renee was never as hard to get along with as Marge.  She's a
nice person.  You met her at Christmas last year."  Visiting with Blair
seemed to get Jim moving again, and he quickly filled up the rest of the
cartons of the bathroom items and closed the flaps.

     "Yeah, I remember her.  She seemed a lot like Lindsay."

     "She is.  I guess the girls took after Dirk," Jim commented,
referring to his late father-in-law.  "I've only got a couple boxes of stuff
in the spare room.  The rest is Lindsay's old things--typical basement
stuff.  I'll just ship those to Marge and let her sort it all out.  I think
Lindsay had some of it when she lived at home--we're talking junk
here."

     "*Memorabilia*, Jim.  Not junk."  Blair was smiling a little.

     "Sorry.  I'll let Marge sort the *memorabilia* then."

********

     It was getting dark by the time Jim finally loaded the last of the
items into the back of the pick up.  Returning to the house to make a
last sweep and to check the doors, he found Blair standing, as if
transfixed, in the doorway of the nursery.

     "Hey, Chief.  Time to go," Jim said quietly, staying at the end of
the hall so as not to startle the other man.

     "It was getting dark like this...there was a light in the
kitchen...kind of like now."

     "Blair, come on, buddy.  This isn't solving anything."  Jim took
a gentle hold of Blair's shoulders from behind.  

     "Marge was right, you know.  It's really ironic.  I was trying to
shield Mandy and she ended up..."  Blair swallowed hard and then
finished his sentence, "shielding me."

     "Listen to me, and for once, hear me."  Jim enclosed the smaller
body in his arms from behind, resting his cheek against Blair's hair. 
"This was a message killing...a mob hit.  I know we don't have proof of
that, and we most likely never will.  I haven't given up on finding the
shooter, but I *am* realistic enough to know that the really good
hitmen don't get caught very often.  What all this has to do with you is
that Mandy was going to die no matter what you did that night.  He
didn't kill her because she was a witness or because she was in your
arms.  He killed her because she was part of a message...a-a sign to
anyone who thought about testifying.  A message that no one was safe,
and nothing was sacred, if you shoot off your mouth."

     "But if she hadn't been in front of my chest--" Blair started, his
voice breaking again.

     "You'd be dead now too.  The only difference was that Mandy
would have been shot in another location.  God, Blair, there was no
hope for any of you, the way this went down.  This son of a bitch was a
professional.  Only a real pro would be arrogant enough to walk into a
suburban home at dinner time and shoot everyone in it, and then calmly
walk away.  Only the neighbors behind us heard something, and they
thought it was a car backfiring."  Jim fell silent a moment, reaching up
to brush away the tears on Blair's face.  "You know, baby, what
happened was the very best outcome that was possible.  By some...
wonderful accident, you survived.  And if my little girl had to..."  Jim
fought his own emotions, and then continued, "If my little girl had to
die, at least she didn't die alone or frightened.  She died in the arms of
someone who loved her like his own child.  The last thing her eyes saw
was your face, not the face of the man who killed her."

     "Let's get out of here.  I never want to see this place again,"
Blair stated in a strained, husky voice.

     "Come on.  Time to go home, buddy."  Jim guided Blair to turn
around and together, they walked down the hall toward the living
room.  "Lights out, doors locked.  I guess this is it."  Jim opened the
front door for Blair.
     
********

     Jim transferred many of the cartons he'd taken from the house
to the storage area belonging to the loft in the basement of the building. 
He realized as he hauled the relatively few cartons of his own
belongings into the elevator how little he had invested in his married
life.  He had left a considerable amount of stuff stored in the basement
and many personal effects in the loft.  Blair never prodded him to come
and get them, and it gave Jim some small comfort emotionally to know
they were there...as if it was still partially his home.

     Blair was asleep on the couch when Jim finally finished settling
the last of his clothes into drawers and the closet upstairs.  Jim smiled
when he noticed that the other man was wearing the blue sweater Jim
told him would look cute on him.  Quietly seating himself on the coffee
table, Jim realized what an understatement that was.  Yes, there was
something endearing about the sloppy way it fit the smaller body, but
Jim knew when those incomparable blue eyes opened, the sweater
would set them off like the rare sapphires they were.

     It was a little after ten.  Seemed like a good time to turn in, as
far as Jim was concerned.  They'd had a tiring day, both physically and
emotionally, and the thought of cuddling with Blair in the big bed
upstairs was more than a little appealing.

     "Time for bed, Chief," Jim whispered, carefully scooping the
sleeping body into his arms.  Blair's face looked troubled a moment,
and then his eyes opened slightly.  "Ready to turn in?"  Blair just
nodded, and dropped his head on Jim's shoulder, letting his eyes drift
shut again.  The stupor meant Blair had taken another pain pill, which
he had been trying to quit.  Jim felt no small guilt at having given him
reason to do that.  

     Blair seemed to have dozed off again by the time Jim made it
upstairs with him.  He gently laid him on the bed and began the task of
undressing the limp body that offered no resistance, but no help, either. 
By the time he got to the jeans, and was wrestling with how to get them
off smoothly, he caught sight of a devilish grin on Blair's face, though
his eyes were still closed.  Jim had been so intent on his task of
disrobing the much-desired body on the bed, he hadn't even tuned in to
the fact Blair was bluffing.

     "If you weren't still recuperating, you'd pay for that."  Jim was
trying to keep the smile out of his voice and off his face.  "Lift up your
butt."

     "Are you always such a smooth-talker, Ellison?"  Blair obeyed
and the jeans were removed fairly easily, neatly folded to join his other
clothing on the foot of the bed.  

     "Don't be a smart ass, Sandburg."  Jim moved the stack of
clothes over to a chair in the corner of the room.  "I might have to teach 
you a lesson."

     "Oooh, I'm shakin' here, man!"  Blair taunted.

     "You're not that sick anymore, Chief.  I could still give your
butt a good warming without injuring you."  Jim started undressing,
grinning with his back turned to Blair.  It was taking the other man a
moment to process that thought, and to decide if he liked the idea.  The
thought of Blair's naked rear upturned in his lap gave Jim tingles in all
the right places.  Of course, he knew he'd never have the heart to hit
him.  Possibly give him a life-threatening number of butt-hickeys, but
never a spanking.

     "That's police brutality, man.  I'll file charges," Blair countered.  

     "You'll have to fill out the forms standing up."  Down to his
boxers, Jim returned to the bed to find Blair still sprawled as he'd been
left, on top of the comforter.  "Come on, lazy ass."  Despite the harsh
words, Jim slid his arms under Blair and picked him up again.

     "How're you gonna turn back the bed, tough guy?  With your
foot?"

     "Nope.  But first I'm going to kiss you silly because I'm real
tired of listening to you talk."  Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own,
leading them into a prolonged kiss.  When they finally parted for air,
Jim put Blair back on his own two feet and gave him a playful swat on
the butt before turning back the bed.

     "You really want to spank me?"  Blair asked, genuinely curious.

     "I just did.  Told you it'd be bad.  Now get in."

     "Oh, yeah, man, that was brutal," Blair responded through a
loud yawn, as he crawled under the covers. 

     "I can see you were really aroused by it," Jim said sarcastically,
laughing a little.

     "And truly scared," Blair added, snuggling closer and throwing
a leg over Jim's.  Another jaw-expanding yawn followed.

     "I'm sorry I hurt your shoulder, sweetheart.  I didn't mean to." 
Jim stroked the offended shoulder lightly.

     "What did you used to call Lindsay?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "You just called me 'sweetheart'.  I was just wondering if, you
know, that was different, or if that's what you called her and Carolyn."

     "I called Lindsay either Lin, or sometimes Linny, or honey, I
guess.  Carolyn?  Carolyn, usually.  She found pet names to be
demeaning.  I called her 'baby' once, and she just about flew out the
window, she was so pissed off.  You'd think I'd called her 'bitch' the
way she went up one side and down the other."  Jim exhaled loudly,
then smiled.  "But you, Blair Sandburg, are my one and only
sweetheart."

     "I like that."

     "Good.  Because you're stuck with it.  And me."

     "I hope so.  For good."

     "But I meant what I said before.  I *am* sorry about hurting
your shoulder.  You haven't had to take a pain pill for a couple days
now."

     "It wasn't just that.  I *way* overdid it today, which is my own
fault, not yours."  

     "Thanks for being with me today.  I'm sorry you had to hear that
crap from Marge."

     "It's okay.  She's hurting, Jim.  Grief drives some people crazy. 
Let's face it, she *is* right about our relationship."

     "She's right that I want to be with you.  As far as us having
some kind of wild, steamy affair while I was married--"

     "I didn't say she wasn't taking it in some extreme directions, but
basically, she's accusing us of being lovers, which we're working on,
even though I'm not really up to doing anything major, and I don't think
either one of us is really ready emotionally."

     "But soon.  I want that with you, Blair."

     "So do I, love."

     "Do you think Lindsay would be pissed off at me or happy for
me?"

     "A little pissed off, probably.  But she was a good person.  I
think ultimately, she'd want you to be happy, even if she was a little
jealous that you'd had feelings for me before."

     "It's so strange.  I loved her.  I really did.  And I miss her
sometimes--her laugh, her voice...sitting in the living room, hearing her
singing to Mandy in the nursery...the way she used to swirl into the
room doing an exaggerated modeling job when she got a new outfit. 
And I regret so much the times she tried to knock down a few walls
and share something with me and I wouldn't let her."

     "You were sharing it with me instead."

     "Or not with anyone at all.  In any event, I shut her out so many
times, and I was always thinking about where I'd rather be.  We could
have been really good friends if we hadn't been married."

     "That's the story for a lot of couples out there."

     "Go to sleep, sweetheart.  You sound so tired."  Jim kissed
Blair's hair and squeezed him a little tighter.  "I love you."

     "Love you too.  'Night, Jim."

     "Goodnight, Chief.  Sleep tight."

     Jim was awake a while after Blair fell back into a sound sleep. 
He was reassured and kept company by the steady thudding of the heart
beating against his chest.  Blair was peaceful for once, not stirring with
nightmares.  Jim fervently hoped that maybe they'd passed a turning
point at the house that day.  Faced some demons head on and exorcized
them.  

     He looked down at the scar on Blair's shoulder.  It wasn't very
large, really.  It would probably always show a bit more than the others,
because it marred a couple inches of smooth skin before disappearing
into a normally hair-covered area.  So little did scars matter.  Jim
hoped Blair really understood that.

     The object of his attentions stirred and mumbled a little, the
only distinct word being his name.

     "Right here, baby," Jim whispered into the soft curls.  The
sound of his voice had the desired effect, and Blair settled again.

     //Now if we can just get the bastard who did this off the street
so he's safe for good...// Jim thought to himself as he made a final
auditory sweep of his surroundings before satisfying himself all was
secure, and drifting off to sleep.

********

     The phone was ringing.  Blair sat up groggily in the big bed and
groped around discontentedly for his bedmate.  Then he heard Jim's
voice on the phone.  Looking at the clock, Blair groaned out loud.  It
was already eight.  At ten, he had a physical therapy appointment.  He
smiled when he remembered that today was also the day that Jim was
going to talk to the therapist about teaching him what needed to be
done yet with Blair's shoulder.  Blair really did trust Jim's judgement
more, since his sentinel touch was much more accurate at gauging how
much stress Blair's muscles really could take without painful pulls and
spasms.

     It had been a week since they cleaned out the house, and now
Christmas was coming.  Jim had faced the festivity of the season with
his usual quiet stoicism, putting up with the countless TV ads featuring
babies in their red velvet finery for portrait package specials, families
around trees opening gifts.  He'd even gone along with the delegation
of cops who took toys to an area homeless shelter.

     Jim was still on leave from the department, planning to return
to work after the first of the year.  He had already spoken to Simon
about returning to his old job, and was wrestling through the paperwork
and red tape to make that happen.  When it did, his observer/consultant
would be right by his side.

     "...and try to calm down, Renee.  These letters were from
Angelo DiMarco?"  Jim's voice carried upstairs, and Blair crawled to
the head of the bed and looked over the railing to see Jim, standing
there in his boxers, talking into the cordless phone.  Figuring he had to
be cold on such a frigid winter morning, Blair climbed out of bed and
after pulling on his own heavy robe, picked up Jim's and padded down
the steps to drape it over the broad shoulders.  Jim moved awkwardly
to get into it as Blair held it, and then pulled the smaller man against
the side of his body, rubbing his back in long, slow strokes.

     "I never went through Lin's desk drawers.  I don't know what
she kept in there," Jim informed Renee, Lindsay's sister.  "Why don't
you tell me what the letters said?"  Another long wait.  Blair lost
interest in the conversation, letting the hand on his back relax him as
he wrapped his arms around Jim's waist and soaked up the big man's
body heat.

     "Look, give me about an hour--oh, wait.  Blair's PT is this
morning..."  Another wait.  "Put the letters in an envelope, sealed, and
drop them off to Simon Banks in Major Crimes at police headquarters. 
Let him know what they are, so he'll put them somewhere safe.  I'll
head over there as soon as I'm done at the hospital."  Another wait,
more of the luxurious back rubbing that was making Blair purr like a
kitten, and a few nods as Jim listened to the voice on the other end of
the line.  Then he smiled.

     "He's doing great, Renee.  We've still got some work to do on
that arm, but he's coming along nicely."  Another brief pause.  "I will. 
Thanks.  I'll call you back after I've had a chance to read over the
letters.  Talk to you later."  Jim hung up the phone.  "Good morning,"
he said, smiling and swooping down for a long kiss.

     "Renee found something interesting at the house?"

     "Letters.  Apparently, about three years ago, Lindsay was
involved with Angelo DiMarco."

     "Why does that name sound familiar?"

     "Because the DiMarco family is one of the leading crime
families in the Pacific Northwest.  I don't know why Lindsay would
hang around with a jerk like that."

     "Has Angelo himself ever been arrested for anything?"

     "Possibly not.  But still...that'd be like one of us dating Charles
Manson's daughter, and not worrying about her family background."

     "That bad, huh?"

     "The DiMarco family has probably been responsible for more
'you'll-never-find-the-body-in-a-million-years' homicides than any
crime family on the West Coast.  I can't even picture Lindsay getting
tangled up with one of them.  She had to know what they were into."

     "Why?  I didn't.  I mean, if I met one of them on the street, I
wouldn't automatically know they were bad news.  The name wouldn't
have done anything for me either."

     "Well, maybe the letters'll be self-explanatory."  Jim turned and
pulled Blair tightly into his arms.  "Better get dressed, Chief.   Today's
the day I try to get you sprung from the dungeon master."

     "You don't think that Lindsay...you know, was involved in
anything...?"  Blair didn't know how to ask, but he wanted to know.

     "No, I don't," Jim responded, shaking his head.  "At least not
knowingly.  What some slimeball could have drawn her into might be
another story."

     Blair's physical therapist was more than cooperative in coaching
Jim on what he could do to work with Blair at home.  Agreeing that the
patient was well on his way back to normal, the pleasant middle-aged
woman who had worked through the early stages of movement with
Blair didn't see any reason for him to continue coming to the hospital if
there was someone at home willing to participate in therapy.

     Spirits lifted by leaving the hospital for the last time for
anything connected to the shooting, they headed over to headquarters,
where both were greeted with warm enthusiasm by their friends and
co-workers who hadn't seen Jim since the funeral, and in many cases,
hadn't seen Blair since before the shooting.

     Jim tapped on Simon's door and stuck his head in.

     "Jim!  This is a surprise.  Thought you were taking leave until
after the new year."

     "Didn't Renee Stanton drop off some letters here?"  Jim asked,
entering the office with Blair on his heels.

     "Hey, Sandburg, you're looking healthier."

     "Thanks, Simon," Blair responded, smiling.

     "No, I haven't seen Lindsay's sister since the funeral," Simon
responded to Jim's question.  "Was she supposed to come in here?"

     "She called me from the house...my house.  She was going
through some of Lindsay's things in her studio, and she found some
letters from Angelo DiMarco.  I guess it sounded like they were pretty
involved, from what Renee said on the phone this morning.  Blair had
his last PT appointment this morning, so I told her to bring them over
to you for safekeeping until I could get back here to have a look at
them."

     "She hasn't been here, Jim.  What time was that?"  Simon
seemed to be concerned now, and the other two men were as well.  

     "About eight this morning."  Jim checked his watch.  "Shit, it's
after eleven."

     "I'll send a couple units over there right away."

     "I'm right behind them," Jim said, taking off out the door before
Simon could object.

     Jim and Blair arrived at the same time as two uniformed
officers.  Jim directed them to cover the back while he went in the
front.  Blair refused to wait in the truck, taking his usual place at Jim's
side while the larger man unlocked the door, then entered with his gun
in hand.  Renee's car was still in the driveway, which did not bode well
for her fate.

     "Renee?"  He used his free hand to push Blair behind him, just
in case there was any negative response to his call.  "Renee?"  He tried
one more time, then started for the kitchen.  "Oh, God," he muttered as
he spotted a woman's legs, the rest of the body obscured by the island
in the kitchen.  "Go outside and tell the others to call it in.  Get an
ambulance just in case."  Jim gave Blair a little nudge, and the younger
man hurried out of the house to follow the instructions.

     Upon closer scrutiny, Jim found his sister-in-law had been
killed much in the same manner in which Blair had been shot.  It
appeared that two bullets had hit her, one in the chest, and one in the
abdomen.

     Blair headed Mrs. Rojas off at the end of the driveway.  The
older, heavy-set woman had rushed out at the sight of the police cars
arriving.

     "What's happened?"  she asked Blair.  There was little point in
hiding it.  What few neighbors were home through the day were
already migrating out to their porches to investigate.  

     "Lindsay's sister is dead," Blair said simply.

     "Renee?  Oh, dear God!  I just talked to her this morning.  Gabe
and I went over there when we saw a car we didn't recognize, and we
talked to her a few minutes. How...?"

     "I don't know all the details yet.  We just found her.  Ah, Jim'll
probably want to talk to you and your husband."

     "That poor man.  Another tragedy...and Lindsay's mother...Oh! 
I can't even imagine what she's living through."  Mrs. Rojas shook her
head and looked sadly over at the Ellison house, where Jim was finally
coming out the front door and heading toward them.

     "Did you or Gabe see or hear anything unusual?"  Jim asked,
having tuned into the conversation as soon as he spotted Blair with the
neighbor.

     "No.  I was just telling Blair--we went over to see who was
there, and talked to Renee a few moments--oh, she was such a lovely
person," Mrs. Rojas commented.  

     "But after that--did you see anyone else coming or going?"

     "Just the truck--one of those U-Move-It rentals."
     
     "When was this?"

     "About ten o'clock this morning," she replied, watching the
arrival of the crime lab team and the coroner, as well as the very
unnecessary ambulance.

     "Did you see who was driving it?"

     "No.  I just looked out and noticed it parked there.  I guess it
was a little after ten when I saw it.  Then, when I looked out again, it
was gone.  I thought it was awfully fast...you know, to load and be gone
that quickly."

     "How long was it there--in your estimation?"

     "Well, it couldn't have been more than half an hour, because
after I saw it, I went into the family room out back to call my sister. 
We talked a while, and I always watch the time--long distance is
expensive, you know.  Anyway, we talked for about thirty minutes and
then I went back into the living room, and when I glanced out the
window, the truck was gone.  I was a little surprised by that."

     "Okay.  Thanks, Angela.  I'll be in touch."

     "You take care now, Jim.  I'm so sorry...something so awful to
happen so soon after..."

     "Thanks.  I appreciate you and Gabe keeping an eye on things. 
Where is he, anyway?"

     "He's over at Ana's place.  She has some furnace troubles," Mrs.
Rojas explained, referring to her daughter.

     "He wasn't here at all while the truck was here?"

     "No.  He left early this morning.  They're still waiting for the
repairman to show up.  You know how that is," she concluded, rolling
her eyes.

     "Only too well," Blair spoke up, smiling a little.  The last time
he'd waited for one at the loft, he'd finished grading two classes' worth
of essay exams and made dinner before the man arrived.

     On the way back to headquarters, Blair finally broke the
silence.

     "You okay, man?"

     "Yeah, I'm all right."  Jim exhaled loudly.  "I'm going to ask
Simon to let me in on this.  Enough is enough.  This case isn't
progressing, and now Renee's dead."
     
     "You're personally involved.  What makes you think--"

     "Dammit, Blair, this case isn't moving!  It's been almost a
month since the murders and there's been nothing.  Squat!  The only
thing I've gotten was from Renee and now she's dead too."

     "I wonder why they didn't come after us?  I mean, we were there
all day, going through the house."

     "It had to be the phone call.  Hell, it could be the safety in
numbers principle.  The day we were there, the garage door was up,
and with Lindsay's car in the garage and the truck in the driveway, and
Gabe Rojas stopping over, and then Marge, and two of us visible at
various times...plus, I'm a cop, which might put them off a little...but I
still think it was the phone call.  Otherwise, why kill Renee when it
was entirely possible that we already had the letters?"

     "Unless Renee told someone what she was doing today, and
they weren't on the up and up."

     "Then they'd have to know where the letters were kept, and that
would be a damn small circle.  I lived there and *I* didn't know she
had letters from Angelo DiMarco in her desk."

     "She probably figured you'd freak, being a cop."

     "Which would mean she'd have to know what DiMarco was
into.  Furthermore, she had to be pretty hung up on him if she kept his
letters after she got married."

     "She knew you didn't go through her stuff or anything.  She
probably wasn't worried."

     "The studio was her world.  I never had a reason to go in there
unless Lin was in there or wanted to show me something."

     "Who else could have known about Angelo, or where the letters
were?"

     "Marge, possibly.  I don't think Renee herself did before today
because she was so shocked by it, and because she was turning them
over to me--or planning to."

     "What about best friends?  Lindsay had some close friends,
didn't she?"

     "Sharon Larson would be my best guess.  They had been friends
for a few years before I met Lin."

     "So during the time she was involved with DiMarco--"

     "Sharon would have known all about that.  Possibly known
DiMarco."

     "Did Lindsay ever say how she met Sharon?"

     "They met in an art class Lin took evenings."

     "So when Sharon came over, she probably spent time in Lin's
studio with her?"

     "Yeah, usually.  Sharon would show up, say hello, and then she
and Lin would disappear for about three hours into the studio.  They
did one or two paintings together, but I think mostly they just talked."

     "Where is Sharon now?"

     "She works for Innovations--it's an ad agency downtown.  She's
probably there now."

     "We could go talk to her."

     "I want to get this cleared up with Simon first.  But no matter
how that goes, I'm going to be the one to question Sharon.  I think we
might be onto something."

     Simon made all the predictable objections to Jim's involvement
in the case, and flatly refused to let him take it over entirely.

     "With all due respect, Simon, this case hasn't moved forward
since Lindsay and Amanda were killed," Jim stated.  He was all done
politely requesting to be allowed a role in the investigation.  Those who
*were* handling it hadn't exactly been impressive in their performance.

     "You know we haven't spared the manpower or the hours in
working this case, Jim."  Simon sat back in his chair, obviously
frustrated.  "Whoever did this didn't leave prints, and the one witness
he did leave didn't see his face."

     "But we know he's a big guy who's left-handed and walks with a
slight limp," Blair added in his own defense.  "How many big, left-handed, limping hitmen can there be out there?"

     "Probably not many.  But this one might not be part of our
database.  Let's face it, guys.  The elite hitmen don't have files at the
local PD.  Just the ones who have been indiscreet enough to build a
reputation on the streets.  The best--the ones who operate like this one--
aren't easy to track down."

     "Simon, he murdered my wife and daughter, and then showed
back up again at the same house in frigging daylight and blew away my
sister-in-law.  Then calmly got back in a rental truck and drove away." 
Jim paced back and forth in front of Simon's desk, while Blair sat
perched on the end of the table, watching him.  "I'm sorry, but I don't
understand how this son of a bitch can do this while we all sit here
wringing our hands."

     "Putting you on this case goes against every rule in the book,
Jim.  You're so personally involved that you're a textbook example of
who *shouldn't* be assigned to the case."

     "So turn your head then and let us do this," Blair spoke up,
uncharacteristically assertive.  He normally deferred to Jim when
points of police procedure were being argued, but not this time.  It was
a waste of valuable time to sit here while Simon expounded on why
they *shouldn't* work the case.  It was time to cut to the chase.

     "You know, Sandburg, not all rules were made to be broken."

     "Yeah?  Well, I wasn't supposed to have Jim's daughter
murdered in my arms, either, but it happened.  And whoever did that is
still running around out there, killing at will.  Quite frankly, it looks to
me like a hell of a lot more important rules are being broken while
we're sitting around here, agonizing over what it says in some dusty old
procedures manual!"  And with that, Blair slid off the end of the table
and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

     To say Simon was startled was an understatement.  Jim stared
after Blair, equally stunned.

     "He's right, Simon.  This is ridiculous.  When are you going
give me the green light to do what I do best, huh?"

     "Jim, I can't give you my blessing to be involved in this case. 
First of all, you're in Vice at the moment, and the only way I could
justify your involvement would be to say you had a personal interest in
the case, which is in itself a violation of procedure.  I'm stuck, man."

     "Come on, Simon.  Help me out here."

     "Jim, you know I've always backed you when I could.  But this
is--"

     "This is a little trickier, but not impossible."  Jim watched the
other man intently, seeing the progression of resistance into
compliance playing out on his face.

     "If you have some angle you want to work, do it.  But keep me
informed of anything you come up with.  I'll have to do the paperwork
or make any official requests from the lab, or whatever the case may
be."

     "Thank you, Simon."

     "What's your take on Renee Stanton's death?"  Simon settled
back in his chair as Jim proceeded to fill him in on the discovery of the
body, his discussion with Angela Rojas, and his and Blair's theory
about Sharon Larson or the possibility of someone knowing of the
existence of the letters and where they were kept, then killing Renee
because she was cleaning out the studio.  There was also the possibility
of the phone having been tapped, which Simon agreed to have checked
immediately, at both the loft and the Ellison house.

     Finished with his meeting with Simon, Jim started out in search
of Blair.  He found the younger man slumped in the passenger seat of
his truck in the parking garage.

     "Are you nuts?"  Jim's angry question made Blair jump.  "What
the hell's the matter with you coming out here and sitting by yourself? 
Are you trying to get your head blown off?"

     "I'm in the police garage, Jim.  Who's going to shoot me in
here?"

     "I think we've established that this isn't necessarily sanctuary
from the criminal element of Cascade."  Jim started up the engine.

     "Are you just going to bawl me out or are you going to tell me
what happened in there?"

     "Until this is settled, I don't want you pulling any more stunts
like this--is that clear?"
     
     "Don't start giving me orders like I'm some stupid kid.  I'm an
adult, in case you hadn't noticed."

     "You wouldn't know it by how you're acting.  There's a crazy
son of a bitch out there shooting my family one by one.  In case you
didn't know it, you're probably at the top of his list."  Jim pulled out
onto the street.

     "Jim, I think you're going a little over the edge here.  I came out
to wait for you in the truck.  I didn't run up and down the street with a
bullseye on my head."

     "Same difference, right now."

     "All right.  I'm sorry I went somewhere without your
permission."

     "Now you're being a smart ass.  God, I hate it when you do
that."

     "And I hate it when you order me around, but that doesn't stop
you from doing it."

     "I'm sorry as fucking hell that I care if you get your head blown
off.  I'll try to remember to mind my own goddamn business."

     Silence reigned for a few tense moments.

     "I'm sorry I took off like that.  You're right.  It was a risk," Blair
finally said, in a very genuine tone.  He could see the ice sculpture in
the seat next to him melt almost visibly.

     "I'm sorry I jumped down your throat.  There were just a few
minutes there where I couldn't find you...and you *are* still in danger. 
I didn't mean to talk down to you."

     "Still friends?"  Blair asked, grinning.

     "Better be more than that," Jim shot back, and as they slowed at
the stop light, leaned over and pulled Blair in for a fast but effective
kiss right on the lips.  "You're cute when you turn pink like that."  Jim
laughed a little, patting Blair's cheek before taking off from the rather
crowded intersection.

     Blair sat there stunned, unable to believe he'd just been kissed
on the mouth by Jim Ellison in the middle of a busy intersection. 
Would wonders never cease?

********

     Innovations Advertising occupied the entire top floor of an old
office building in downtown Cascade.  It was among many businesses
to participate in the "gentrification" of the older part of Cascade's
business district.  In Jim's assessment, that meant it was a car thief's
paradise: an oasis of overpriced luxury cars parked in a high crime
area.

     Sharon Larson welcomed Jim and Blair with friendly greetings
and offers of coffee, which both refused with thanks.  Once they were
seated in her attractively appointed office, which made the most of the
Victorian-era architecture and woodwork of the building, Jim tried to
launch their discussion in a tactful manner.  He also didn't want Sharon
to feel that she was suspected of anything.
     
     "I'm not sure if anyone else from the department has been to see
you yet," Jim began.  The pretty brunette tucked a stray lock of curly
hair behind her ear as she smiled.

     "No, you're the first.  I was a little surprised no one came to see
me, since Lindsay and I were so close."

     "Well, I've been on leave, and that's probably my fault.  After
what happened, I wasn't thinking too clearly, and I probably didn't give
the investigators a comprehensive list of people to contact.  Actually,
it's probably just as well.  I don't like turning friends and family over to
someone else to talk to about Lindsay."  He paused.  "I'm afraid I have
some other very bad news.  Lindsay's sister, Renee, was murdered this
morning."

     "What?"  Sharon stared at him, eyes like saucers.

     "She was shot and killed in much the same way Lindsay was,
while she was going through some things at the house.  So you can
imagine why I'm breaking every rule in the book to get personally
involved in this case.  Enough is enough."

     "I can't believe this...I didn't know Renee well, but she seemed
like a sweet person.  I still can't believe Lindsay's gone.  I don't know
how many times I've reached for the phone to call and share something
with her...and then I remember...  How are you doing, Jim?  This must
be awful for you."

     "It's been very hard.  Losing them both like that...there just
aren't the right words."  He smiled over at Blair in spite of himself. 
"Blair's been a big help to me though."

     "I can imagine," Sharon remarked, trying to keep her tone light. 
It was obvious Lindsay had unloaded much of her jealousy and
annoyance with Blair's role in Jim's life on her best friend.  "You look
like you're doing very well now," she said to Blair, forcing her best
polite smile. 

     "I'm much better, thanks.  Just working on getting full use of my
arm back."

     "You were very lucky," she added, still smiling.  There was an
iciness in her tone that indicated that she wished Lindsay had been the
one to have the good fortune.

     "Well, I guess I have to ask you some very predictable
questions," Jim interjected, turning the focus off Blair for the moment. 
"Do you know of anyone who would have any reason to want to strike
out against Lindsay?"

     "I was just assuming it was something related to her father's
testimony in that big case a few years back.  I was always surprised
there weren't more repercussions from that right away."

     "Most people figured it was someone trying to get revenge on
me."

     "If that were the case, they wouldn't have missed finishing the
job on Blair."  Her statement was not only chillingly accurate, but very
bluntly phrased.  A little too blunt for an ad executive, in Jim's opinion.

     "No, I suppose that's true.  Did Lindsay ever mention knowing
or dating a man named Angelo DiMarco?"

     "She never told you about Angelo, I guess."  Sharon smiled
slightly.  "They were lovers for about a year before her father testified
against Art Brennan's investment firm.  Angelo broke it off with her
right before she met you."

     "Did he give a reason?  He wasn't involved with Art Brennan, so
why should that upset him?"

     "His cousin, Mike, worked for Art Brennan.  He was convicted
on several extortion counts and is still doing time in prison for it. 
Angelo and Mike were very close, since childhood."

     "So Angelo broke up with Lindsay because of her father's
testimony?"

     "He was upset about his cousin, and it started coming between
them.  He'd make some nasty remark about her father and then she'd be
angry and hurt and say something about Mike...it just wasn't working
anymore.  So he broke it off."

     "Have you seen or heard from Angelo DiMarco since then?"

     "Just once.  I ran into him at a restaurant about two weeks ago,
and we exchanged a few words.  We had gotten to know each other
pretty well when he was with Lindsay.  Even though they'd broken up,
he felt very badly about her death."

     "Did he mention what he was doing for a living then?"

     "Running DiMarco Transport--it's one of his father's
businesses."

     "Do you keep in touch now?"

     "Not really.  Why?  Is Angelo a suspect?"

     "No more than anyone else.  But this is an angle we really didn't
know anything about before, so I have to explore it.  Did he know that
Lindsay kept the letters?"

     "I don't know if he did or not."

     "Obviously, you knew."  Jim sat back in his chair and waited for
her response.  Blair was watching this verbal tennis with great interest.

     "That isn't too unusual, Jim.  Lindsay and I were like sisters. 
We talked about everything.  Of course I knew about the letters.  I read
half of them."

     "I see.  When was the last time you spoke to Renee Stanton?"

     "At the funeral.  Why?"

     "Just wondering.  See, it's odd that Renee was even a target. 
She wasn't even living in town at the time of her father's testimony.
What did you and Renee talk about at the funeral?"
     
     "What else, Jim?"  Sharon shook her head.  "Lindsay, of
course."

     "Anything specific?"

     "I don't remember," she replied, her tone becoming icier.

     "Did you discuss her plans at all--how long she'd be in town,
whether or not she'd be coming back for more frequent visits to be
moral support for her mother...that sort of thing?"

     "Jim, I don't know.  I know we talked about Lindsay, we cried a
little, and she said something about helping her mother get some of
Lindsay's personal effects together from the house."

     "Someone took the risk of breaking in during broad daylight to
shoot her in cold blood.  Must be a reason.  Someone had to know she
had plans to be there."

     "Unless they were watching the house."

     "For what?  Blair and I were there a whole day going through
things and nothing happened to us."

     "Maybe they didn't want to tangle with a cop, or maybe their
argument isn't with you."  Sharon looked annoyed now.  "How should I
know?  Jim, if you have something to say, or to ask me, just do it.  I
have an appointment I'm already late for, and I don't have time for
twenty questions."

     "Sharon, if you have any information you're not giving me that I
should have, now would be the time to come forward with it.  I'll
consider it willingly giving in a spirit of cooperation, and I'll do my
level best to look out for your best interests."

     "This is beginning to sound accusatory.  I'd like you both to
leave now."  She stood up, and Jim and Blair did also.  "If you have
anything else to say to me, you had better give me some advanced
notice.  I won't be speaking with you again without my lawyer present."

     "I'm sorry you feel that way, Sharon.  That's your option, of
course.  Thank you for your time."  Jim nodded in her direction, as did
Blair, following Jim out of the office.

     Once back in the truck, Jim began to explain a couple of points
to Blair.

     "While I was talking to Sharon, I remembered the significance
of U-Move-It."

     "Which was?"

     "It's a subsidiary company of DiMarco Transport.  Damn, this
all fits.  Angelo was angry about his cousin going up for extortion, and
God only knows how entangled Brennan really was with the DiMarco
clan, or how much of an interest they had in his shifty investment
scams."

     "So you think Angelo hired the hit on Lindsay and Amanda?"

     "I'd bet a year's salary on it.  Now, the part about Renee.  Sharon
talked to Renee at the funeral.  Sharon knows that Lindsay kept the
letters from Angelo in the studio."

     "She didn't say that."

     "No, but she didn't have to.  She and Lindsay were in that studio
for hours on end together.  She knew.  And Renee may have said
something to Sharon about either coming over while she was there so
she could have a few things of Lindsay's, or maybe just talked about
cleaning out the studio, feeling that would be of interest to Sharon."

     "All this is conjecture, Jim. *If* Sharon knew where the letters
were, *if* Renee talked to her about cleaning out the studio...we can't
get anywhere with that."

     "Shit, you sound more like a cop than I do."

     "Yeah, well, don't go signing me up for the academy or
anything."  Blair snorted a little laugh.

     "A lot of investigations have to start with a theory.  So this is
mine.  Instead of Sharon going over to meet Renee at the house and
look through Lindsay's things, she tipped off Angelo, and he sent the
same shooter over to tie up the loose end and pick up the letters.  Now,
we have to assume that there was something about the letters that were
incriminating.  Just the fact they were lovers before wouldn't
conclusively prove anything."

     "So where do we go now?"

     "U-Move-It.  I want to find out what kind of track they keep of
their trucks."  Jim started the engine and headed out toward the
opposite end of town, where the transport company was located.

     "Looks like they've got one or two," Blair remarked as they
pulled into the lot near the office building.  The adjacent fenced lot was
a sea of trucks and trailers.  Blair's heart froze in his chest as he
watched a man move across the lot toward one of the trucks, dressed in
a business suit, clipboard in hand.

     He was at least 6'4", held the pen in his left hand as he made a
few notes, and walked with a very distinct limp.

     "Oh my God," Blair gasped, almost inaudibly.

     "Are you positive?"

     "That's the limp.  I'd know it anywhere."

     "Wait in the truck.  My back up's in the glove compartment. 
Here.  Keep the cell phone handy.  Don't you move--understand me?"

     "But you can't--"

     "Don't argue with me, Sandburg.  Just stay put.  If anything goes
wrong, get the hell out of here and then call back up."

     "We should call now!"

     "And spook him?  I don't think so."  Jim paused.  "Give me a
couple minutes, then call back up.  Okay?"

     "Okay."  Blair responded as Jim got out of the truck.  

     "Lock your door," he said, pushing down the lock on his own
side.  Blair obeyed.

     Jim walked casually across the lot to where the man with the
clipboard was leaning inside the open door of one of the trucks,
apparently checking an odometer reading.

     "Excuse me."  Jim waited while he backed out of the truck's cab
and turned to face him.  "Lieutenant Ellison, Cascade PD.  I'd like to
ask you a few questions."

     "Regarding?"  The man was calm, unruffled.  He appeared to be
in his early forties, with a good crop of dark hair and a pleasant
expression.

     "One of your trucks was spotted at the scene of a homicide this
morning.  I'll need to take a look at your records."

     "You have a warrant, I assume."

     "I didn't expect to need one.  In cases like these, businesses
generally cooperate with the authorities.  Is a warrant necessary?"

     "Mr. DiMarco doesn't open up the records to anyone without a
court order.  To safeguard customers' privacy."

     "Well then, perhaps you can answer a more personal question
for me."  Jim fell into step with the man as he made his way back
toward the office complex.
     
     "Depends on the question."

     "Where were you on the night of November 14th, this year?" 
As Jim asked the question, the man turned and glanced toward the
truck, and spotted Blair sitting there, watching them intently.  There
was a moment of mutual recognition, and in the blink of an eye, the
man drew a gun from under his suitcoat and aimed for the truck.

     Blair ducked, and the shot went wild, ricocheting off the roof of
the truck as Jim seized the man's arm with both his hands, wrestling
him for the gun.  The larger man wasn't about to go down easily, finally
breaking Jim's hold on him with a knee in the groin and an elbow to the
jaw.  Jim was back on his feet and ready to spring again, when the
other man retrieved the gun from where it had landed on the cement
and aimed it directly at him.

     "Drop it!!"  Blair's voice startled both men as he approached
them, Jim's revolver pointed out in front of him, gripped tightly in both
hands. //He has the stance down pat even if he *can't* hit the broad side
of a barn,// Jim assessed.  "I said DROP IT."

     "Bet I'm a better shot than you are, kid.  He'll be dead before
you pull the trigger."

     "You think I've been riding with cops all this time without
learning to handle one of these things?  Drop it now."

     "You won't shoot me.  You know you can't hit me anyway." 
The other man never took his eyes completely off Jim.

     "Don't try me, man.  Now drop the gun!"  Blair kept his voice
and his hands steady, despite the frenzy of terror going on inside.  He
cocked the gun, and that drew the man's attention for a moment.  Jim
sprung.

     Grabbing the gun-bearing arm with both of his, Jim pushed him
backwards, wrestling with him on the cement lot while office workers
were gathering in the windows, and a couple were visible on phones,
probably dialing the police.  Sirens could be heard in the distance.  Jim
easily overpowered him this time, wrestling the gun away from him. 
At that moment, a black Cadillac shot out of the employee parking lot,
careening onto the street with the custom license plate "Angelo 1".

     Seeing that Jim was in control of the situation and knowing
backup was only seconds away, Blair ran for the truck, jumped in the
driver's seat and gunned the engine, taking off after the black car.

     "Sandburg!!"  Jim called after him, sitting astride the other
man's back as he locked the cuffs in place.  He pushed aside the
realization that he was restraining the man who had killed his wife and
daughter, focusing instead on the fact that Blair was as good as dead if
he ever caught the man he was probably pursuing.

     Several units charged into the lot, and Jim quickly handed the
prisoner off to one of them, explaining to them to take him downtown
and book him for murder.  When he spotted Simon's car, he ran over to
it before the captain had time to get out of it.

     "Come on!  Sandburg just took off after the other half of the
team!"  He jumped in the passenger seat, and Simon followed his
directions on which way to race out of the lot.

     Blair clutched the steering wheel, unused to driving at such
high speeds and still uncertain of his left arm's ability to pull its share
of the work.  The black Cadillac held its course very well, and very
determinedly, leading Blair on a high-speed chase through quiet
industrial back streets, heading steadily toward the highway. 
Unexpectedly, the black car slammed on its brakes, barely managing to
stop without going into a spin.  Blair pressed the brake to the floor,
finally having to swerve to miss plowing into the stopped vehicle.

     He sat there, clutching Jim's gun, watching the stopped car
intently.  The glass in the windows was tinted black, obscuring the
activities of the occupant from Blair's view.  

     The driver's window lowered, and an arm holding an automatic
weapon appeared.  Blair dove down onto the seat as the shooter opened
fire, shattering the windshield and peppering the truck with bullets. 
Almost simultaneously, the passenger door opened and a tall man in a
dark business suit stood with a gun pointed directly at Blair.  The firing
from the Cadillac stopped.

     "Slide that gun over here or I'll blow your face off, is that
clear?"

     "Crystal," Blair responded, pushing the gun over to the other
man, and watched defeatedly as he tucked it in his belt.  

     "Out of the truck.  This way," he ordered Blair, stepping back
from the bullet-damaged vehicle.  Blair carefully slid across the seat,
trying to avoid the pulverized glass that was all around him.  Luckily,
his leather coat seemed to be protecting him from much of it, though
he felt some tell-tale pains in his legs as his jeans were less successful
in shielding his flesh.  "Move it!"  The man grabbed him by the left
arm, drawing a little yelp of pain as he dragged him out of the truck
and essentially threw him on the ground next to it.

     "Angelo DiMarco," Blair said breathlessly.

     "Blair Sandburg.  Now that we have the introductions out of the
way, it's time to get you out of the way."

     "Why?"  Blair still massaged his throbbing shoulder, hoping
he'd be alive long enough to care if it healed completely.

     "Why not?  The principal reason is that you're the only living
witness.  Since Carlisle couldn't handle blowing your goddamn brains
out, I'll have to finish what he started.  Good help's hard to find,
apparently."

     "Can you at least tell me why you killed Lindsay--and for God's
sake, a baby?  Why would you kill a child?"

     "I'm not in the mercy business, pal.  My father didn't get to
where he is today by worrying if a few, shall we call them innocent
bystanders, happened to get in the way.  See, when someone gets the
idea they can shoot off their mouths, you have to set them straight." 
Angelo was joined by the shooter from the car, another dark-haired
man in a black topcoat, still carrying his weapon.  "Lindsay was a
nasty, two-faced little whore who turned around and told her father a
whole lot of things I told her in confidence.  She betrayed me."

     "Amanda never betrayed you.  She was a baby, for God's sake! 
What kind of animals are you people?!"  Blair demanded.

     "Efficient ones," Angelo responded, raising the gun, pointing it
at Blair's face.

     When the noise of the shot resounded in the icy winter air, Blair
wondered why he didn't feel anything.  It wasn't until the second shot
took down Angelo's startled accomplice that Blair realized the first one
had hit Angelo in the back of the head, sending him forward onto the
cement nearby, a pool of blood forming under his ruined skull.   

     The sound of sirens was coming into focus now, and Blair
struggled to his feet to see Jim running from an impossible distance, all
the way from a neighboring warehouse, with Simon on his heels.

     Jim said nothing as he rushed toward Blair.  He ran full tilt until
he was close enough to slow down and grab the other man around the
waist and lift him a few inches off the ground to hug him tightly. 
Simon went about the task of checking the men on the ground for vital
signs.

     "Are you okay, sweetheart?"  he whispered into the curls under
his mouth.

     "That was close," Blair muttered, clutching at Jim tightly,
feeling his body shaking almost uncontrollably as the impact of the
events of the last few minutes washed over him.

     "What the hell were you thinking?"  Jim snarled, still holding
onto Blair with a fierceness that nearly crushed the younger man's
breath from his body.

     "I knew the guy you were talking to was the shooter that night,
but I figured Angelo was probably making a break for it."

     "You all right, Sandburg?"  Simon asked, satisfied that Jim was
just going to stand there squeezing the life out of the smaller body in
his arms.

     "Yeah, I'm okay.  They took a lot of shots at the truck, but they
missed."  He mourned the loss of closeness as Jim released him and
moved away a little.  "He said something about Lindsay betraying him--that he'd told her things in confidence that she told her father, and then
he must've testified about it--or looked into it."

     "Dirk was working at Brennan Enterprises at the time, so if
Angelo let something slip about Mike, that explains a lot," Jim
responded.

     "It makes sense he'd take the heat, figuring maybe Lindsay
would be safe if the DiMarco's thought he'd just stumbled on it by
himself," Simon concurred.

     "So there must have been something in the letters--something to
indicate that Angelo knew what was going on with Brennan."

     "Maybe we'll still find the letters.  Obviously, we'll be searching
Angelo's place, his office, and his car.  Something should turn up."

     "Did he hurt your shoulder?"  Jim was taking over the job of
massaging that Blair had started.

     "Just gave me a good yank.  Man, that hurts."

     "Why don't you take him over to the hospital to get checked out. 
I'll handle things here," Simon offered.

     "Good idea."

     "That was incredible shooting, man," Blair remarked, taking
one last, uneasy glance at the corpses on the ground as the two men
walked toward a police unit that would give them a ride to the hospital.

     "I had a pretty good incentive," Jim responded, taking a hold of
Blair's hand, and holding onto it until they got into the back of the
waiting car.  "Get us over to Cascade Gen--"

     "I don't want to go back there, Jim.  Come on, man.  I don't need
the hospital again."  Blair gave Jim his best puppy dog eyes, and it
worked like a charm.

     "How about just giving us a lift home then, huh?"  he asked the
uniformed officer in the car.  The other man just smiled.

     "Sure thing, Lieutenant."

********

     "Ow!"

     "Blair, I told you this was gonna hurt."

     "Blow on it or something," Blair groaned.

     "Shit, I've seen people with a limb dangling handle the pain
better than this," Jim complained, blowing on a small cut on the back
of Blair's leg that he'd removed a piece of glass from and disinfected. 
The other man was lying face down on the big bed in a bulky sweater
and his boxers while Jim tended the few scattered cuts made by the
glass that bit through Blair's jeans on the seat of the truck.

     "That's easy for them.  They're in shock.  I'm not.  Plus, they
don't have someone pouring acid in their wounds."

     "Yeah, it'd be much better for your whole leg to swell up with
an infection than to clean these cuts."  Jim shook his head and blew
again on the wound as he'd been told.  "How about your butt?"

     "What?"  Blair sounded more than a little surprised.

     "Do you have any cuts there?"

     "If I do, you are *not* putting that...battery acid on them."  Blair
knew perfectly well his butt was uninjured, but the thought of Jim
examining it closely appealed to him greatly.  

     "Lift up."  Jim took a hold of the waistband of Blair's boxers.

     "Sweet-talker," Blair shot back over his shoulder, not moving.

     "Sandburg, you've got two seconds--"

     "Or what?"

     "Oh, shit, I don't know.  I'll be more pissed than I already am.
How's that?"

     "I don't think that sounds too great."  Blair lifted up and Jim slid
the boxers down his legs and tossed them aside.  Blair settled back
comfortably on the bed, arms folded under his head.

     "There isn't a mark on you here," Jim commented, trying not to
stare at the smooth, rounded cheeks in front of him.

     "I know," Blair replied honestly.

     "You're really beautiful, you know that?"  Jim hesitantly
reached out, and finally laid a hand lightly on one buttock, stroking the
soft skin there.

     "Jim...I really...want you," Blair said, rolling onto his back and
sitting up to face Jim.  "If you're not, you know, ready...I'll understand."

     Jim took in the sight of Blair sitting there on his bed, naked
from the waist down, the oversized sweater conspiring with Blair's
folded hands to cover his manhood.  

     "What about your shoulder, Chief?"

     "I don't think that has a lot to do with it, Jim," Blair replied,
smiling.

     "I don't want to hurt you."  Jim remained completely serious.

     "I don't want to hurt you either, love."  Blair reached out and
stroked Jim's cheek.  "We can wait as long as you want.  If this is too
soon, just say so."

     "No, baby, it's not too soon.  I love you so much," Jim caught
the hand that had touched his face and kissed the palm.  "I want to
show you how much."  Then, looking a bit disappointed, he lowered
their joined hands so he held Blair's in both of his.  "But this isn't the
right time.  Simon's tying up the loose ends downtown, and I want to
follow this through the right way.  Plus, I have to talk to Marge, as
much as I hate doing that.  I just don't feel like we're free yet.  Does that
make any sense?"

     "Makes perfect sense to me.  I was pushing it," Blair replied,
smiling a little.  "But man, when it happens--fireworks!"

     "Come here."

     "Jim, I don't have any pants on."

     "I do.  You're safe.  For now."  Jim motioned to the younger
man to come closer, and before he knew it, he had a warm, heavy
lapful of Blair. //The little devil's straddling me,// Jim thought, relishing
the feeling of that warm, naked flesh sitting on his clothed lap.

     "Can't wait til we do this without clothes," Blair breathed
against Jim's ear, his arms and legs wrapped securely around his
partner.

     "Blair, all the time we've been together--as friends, whatever--
there's never been much...I guess I should say I've never...I haven't
exactly spoiled you."

     "You have too," Blair objected, pulling back to look Jim in the
eyes.  "I haven't wanted for anything since I met you.  Believe me, I
wasn't exactly loaded when we first met.  But when you let me move in
with you, you really took care of me, man.  Like nobody else ever did."

     "I don't mean routine stuff like groceries and rent.  Hell, you
earned that with your sweat equity working cases with me.  But I
thought about all the things I always did for Lindsay--flowers, gifts,
romantic dinners--"

     "That's not exactly what you give your male roommate, Jim. 
Although, I'd've probably died a happy man if I'd gotten any one of
those from you," Blair responded, nibbling at Jim's ear.

     "What I'm trying to say here--Blair, stop it, you're killing me."

     "Sorry." Blair straightened so they were almost nose to nose.

     "What I'm trying to say is that I want our first time to be special. 
You deserve a lot better than me just jumping you and then getting
dressed and going back to work a half hour later."  Jim cupped Blair's
face in both hands.  "I want it to be special...romantic.  God, I almost
lost you today.  What I'm feeling right now is so damned intense...I
don't want to rush it.  Blair, I never once *courted* you.  Even a little."

     "You want to court me now?"  Blair asked, smiling a little.  Jim
leaned in for a quick kiss and then hugged Blair tightly against him.

     "I want to wine you and dine you and buy you flowers and
dance with you--how corny does that sound?  And it's not like I'm
trying to put you in some sort of role or anything, I just--"

     "Jim?"

     "Yeah?"  He released a little of the pressure on Blair so they
were face to face again.

     "It sounds like every fantasy I've had for the last four years."

     "Mine too."  Jim smiled, then frowned a little.  "Sandburg,
you're humping me.  You've gotta get off me, or all the nice things I
just said are right out the window."

     "Tempting."  Blair kissed him again, quickly, and then slid off
Jim's lap, yanking his sweater down to cover a very obvious naked
erection.  "I'll go change."

     "Good idea.  I'll meet you downstairs and we'll go see Simon."

********

     Lindsay Stanton had learned a few very incriminating secrets
from her lover, Angelo DiMarco.  In his attempts to impress the pretty
blonde, he'd bragged about his family's powerful connections, and even
quoted some of the huge profits his cousin, Mike, was pulling in
through his involvement in several shady investment deals through
Brennan Enterprises.  Apparently thinking he and Lindsay were
together for the long haul, he had ceased checking his tongue, or even
being terribly careful what he wrote in his letters to her when he was in
Europe on business for an extended time.  All this was learned from the
letters, which were found in the glove compartment of Angelo's
Cadillac.

     Jim theorized that when Lindsay's conscience got the better of
her, she went to her father, who was a financial analyst with Brennan
Enterprises, and told him what she knew.  Fearful for his daughter's
safety, Dirk Stanton investigated her claims on his own, found
evidence to support them, and then went to the police as if he had been
the one to uncover the corruption.  His hope had been to leave Lindsay
in the clear.

     Warren Carlisle, the man who actually did the shooting that
night, was a long-time employee of the DiMarco family.  He only did
their work, never hiring out as a free-lance hitman.  He formed a close
friendship with the flamboyant Angelo, and in the process of trying to
negotiate a deal to avoid the death penalty, Carlisle filled in a lot of
missing information for the police, and made offers to provide yet
more incriminating evidence against his employers.

     When the Brennan case first broke, Angelo's family insisted on
the termination of his relationship with the star witness' daughter. 
When his cousin was convicted based on evidence that was, in Angelo's
opinion, a little too specific for Dirk to have stumbled across
accidentally, he came around to the belief that the woman he'd loved,
and somewhat involuntarily broken up with, had betrayed him.  

     Shortly after Mike's conviction, Lindsay Stanton married Jim
Ellison, and only a month later, became pregnant with Amanda.   What
little mercy or fondness Angelo still retained for Lindsay went out the
window in his irrational jealousy that she was getting on with her life,
and marrying so soon after the end of their relationship.

     Carlisle was in Europe at the time Angelo decided to use his
services to retaliate against Lindsay for her traitorous behavior.  Since
he wanted the best, Angelo was willing to wait for Carlisle's return, just
two months before the murders.

     Angelo had begun an affair with Sharon Larson after ending his
relationship with Lindsay, and unlike Lindsay, Sharon *was* both
impressed and excited by the power and influence of the DiMarco
family.  At the time of his death at Jim's hands, Angelo was still seeing
Sharon.  

     Renee had made the fatal error of calling Sharon when she was
in town, asking her if she would like to stop in and select a couple of
mementos from the items in Lindsay's studio.  In a panic, Sharon
remembered the small stack of letters from Angelo that Lindsay had
kept in the back of her middle desk drawer.  She phoned him
immediately, warning him of what could be a very incriminating
discovery.  Angelo had summoned Carlisle and dispatched him to take
care of Renee and dispose of the letters.

     Ironically, Lindsay's attempts to keep them private had
succeeded when the police made their initial sweep of the Ellison
home.  Middle drawer organizers with hollow bases for storage of
confidential papers was a trademark of Dirk Stanton.  He had gifted his
daughter with the innocent-looking black plastic tray with its paperclip
and rubber band compartments when she was still in college, sharing a
room with a very nosy roommate.  Lindsay had kept it ever since, using
it to hide anything she didn't want found.  Including the letters.  Renee
only found them because she knew where to look.

********

     Jim and Blair attended Renee Stanton's funeral on a grim,
overcast December day.  There was already snow on the ground, and
fat white flakes were wafting around the mourners who stood shivering
at the gravesite.  She was buried next to her sister, Lindsay, in the
Stanton family plot.

     As the mourners dispersed, a woman's voice stopped the two
men in their trek back to the truck.  Marge Stanton was walking briskly
across the snowy ground to where they stood.  Jim had spoken to her
on the phone, and then briefly in person, following Renee's death. 
Once the real reason behind her daughters' and granddaughter's demise
was explained to her, she was much less hostile toward her former son-in-law. 

     "I owe you an apology, Blair," she began, reaching her hand out
toward him.  He shook it readily.

     "Accepted, of course.  You've been through so much...it's
understandable."  Blair felt a great deal of sympathy for the pale
woman with the red-rimmed eyes who stood before him.  At the same
time, he respected the strength and composure with which she had
faced her losses.  

     "No, it isn't understandable.  I made some very terrible
accusations, and I had no right to do that.  I knew when Dirk made the
decision to go to the police that we were all in danger.  I never
expected it to end this...horribly though."

     "At the time, both the feds and our department were urging Dirk
to get his family into the witness protection program.  We feared there
would be some retaliation, given our suspicions that Brennan
Enterprises was connected to the mob," Jim stated.  "I guess I thought I
could protect Lindsay after we were married.  And when nothing
happened for so long, it built up a false sense of security."

     "I know you couldn't have done any more to protect her.  No
one would expect that bastard to be so bold as to walk into the house at
dinnertime and..."  Marge drew her coat more closely around herself.

     "Is someone staying with you, Marge?"  Blair asked.  The
woman seemed moved by his concern, given their rather unpleasant
history.

     "Yes, my sisters are here, thank you for asking."  She forced a
little smile.  "I'm thinking seriously of moving out East with Gretchen--my younger sister.  She lives alone, and she said she'd like the
company."

     "That might be for the best," Jim responded.

     "I'll feel safer.  Though I confess, everyone who truly means
anything to me isn't here anymore."  Marge cast an eye back at the
Stanton plot.  Lindsay and Amanda's graves were still new, though
smoothed out flush with the grass.  "Thank you for letting us use the
plot for Renee.  I know the original plan was for you to be buried next
to Lindsay someday."

     "I thought your family should be together in one spot.  Lindsay
and Mandy will always be with me, no matter where I'm living, or
buried."

     "You really did love her, didn't you?"

     "Yes, Marge, I did.  Things weren't perfect between us.  I know
it wasn't a storybook romance for Lindsay, but I did love her, and I miss
her."

     "Well, I better be going.  Will you be at the funeral dinner?"

     "We'll be there."  Jim smiled slightly.

     "Thank you--both of you--for coming."

     "Renee was a lovely person.  I wouldn't have missed it."

********

     Jim removed his dark topcoat and tossed it on the couch.  He'd
worn that garment twice in a little more than a month now.  He
watched Blair walk to his old bedroom and discard his own dark coat,
then move to the kitchen to make some hot tea.

     "Hungry?  You didn't eat anything at the dinner."  Blair filled
the pot and put the water on to boil.

     "No, thanks.  Tomorrow's Christmas Eve.  I just realized that." 
Jim loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt as he
slumped on the couch.

     "What do you want to do?"  Blair came over and sat next to
him, ducking under an arm that came automatically over the smaller
man's shoulders.

     "Make tomorrow night our night."  Jim reached up and released
Blair's hair from its pony tail, watching it tumble down onto his
shoulders.  

     "Maybe we could have a candlelight dinner."

     "But we're not cooking it.  I'll find someplace that'll deliver.  I'd
like to have you all to myself, right here in private.  Is that okay?"  At
that precise moment, the teapot whistled.

     "I couldn't have said it better myself," Blair responded, bringing
a little laugh out of both of them.  "Hang on.  I'll get us our tea."  Jim
watched the other man go back out to the kitchen, thinking that only
true love could make him drink hot flavored water and pretend he
enjoyed it.  "Is camomile okay?"

     "Whatever you're having."  Jim didn't care if it was dishwater. 
As long as he could drink it curled up on the couch with Blair.  "I'll get
a fire going."

     "Sounds great.  Hey, why don't we go get a tree tomorrow?" 
Blair carried the two cups in while Jim was starting the fire.  When it
was crackling satisfactorily, he joined Blair on the couch again.

     "Would you be upset if we didn't?"

     "No, not at all."  Blair sipped at the hot liquid and then snuggled
into Jim's arms again.  "Man, it was *cold* out there."

     "In more ways than one.  I don't think I can deal with seeing the
tree, thinking about Mandy...about Christmas at all, really.  This one
would have been so...damn special," Jim managed, stopping before his
voice really broke.

     "Didn't you get her some stuff already?"  Blair asked, feeling
that maybe Jim needed to talk about it.

     "A couple stuffed animals.  Nothing major yet.  I left them in
the stuff I sent to Marge.  I...couldn't look at them.  I sure as hell
couldn't deal with taking them back."  Jim drew in a shaky breath. 
"God, does it ever stop hurting this much?  Every time I see people
with a baby...God, Blair, it just rips my heart out."  He didn't try to hold
back the few tears that escaped.  Blair set his cup aside and then took
Jim's and placed it next to his.  He slid into Jim's lap and wrapped his
arms tightly around the other man's neck.

     "I know it hurts, love.  The holidays are always miserable for
people when they've suffered a loss."

     "I keep expecting...to feel better.  But everyday I get up and the
first thing I realize is that my little girl is never going to grow up," Jim
murmured in a broken voice as he held Blair tightly.  "It's not fair.  I
just want to ask God why...how could He do something like that to a
beautiful little baby who never...hurt anyone...  I don't understand it."

     "God didn't kill her, Jim," Blair said gently, aching himself with
each tremor of tears he felt in the other's body.  "Carlisle did.  It's free
will, man.  God let's us choose our actions.  That means sometimes, we
choose evil actions.  People like Carlisle, Angelo DiMarco--their free
will is what killed her.  Not God."

     "They wouldn't let me get near that bastard again.  It was my
arrest, damn it!"

     "Jim, in Simon's place, would you have let you near Carlisle
again?  He was protecting you from yourself, man.  You let up on
Carlisle before because you had to come after me.  But if you were one
on one with him, knowing what he did, could you have controlled
yourself?"  Blair pulled back enough to be face to face with Jim, and
carefully brushed away a couple of the other man's tears.

     "No."

     "It wouldn't bring them back for you to murder Carlisle, even if
you had the chance."

     "He should pay for what he did.  There isn't anything bad
enough I could do to him--"

     "Jim, listen to what you just said."  Blair took the other man's
face in both his hands.  "You couldn't have done anything bad enough
to him to be equal to the...the evil it takes to murder a child.  Society
can't do that.  Even the death penalty isn't that evil.  Jim, that's so huge,
so...terrible...only God knows how to cope with that."  Blair took a
deep breath.  "Look, you know I'm not overly religious, and I sure as
hell don't spend a lot of time preaching religion.  But I believe, that no
matter what name He's called by, there is a higher power in the
universe.  And I think there are certain things you have to let Him deal
with.  Whether you think it's Karma or reincarnation into a horrible
next life, or eternal damnation to a fiery pit--the point is, most religions
seem to agree that there's some way that evil is dealt with.  We can't
avenge something like this.  But there are powers that can, and will."

     "So you think Carlisle'll pay for what he did?"

     "Come on, man.  You believe in God, right?"

     "Yes, I do, though I've got to say that all this is enough to make
you wonder."

     "Well, I'll take the yes answer and run with it.  Do you really
think a deity that is *good* would tolerate the murder of innocent
babies without reprisal of some sort?"

     "No."

     "Jim, you found the people responsible.   You have to put it in
the hands of the courts, yes.  But you have to realize that it'll go before
the ultimate court eventually, and somehow, in some way we can't even
imagine, I believe that DiMarco and Carlisle will pay for all the lives
they took and the lives they destroyed."  Blair settled himself
comfortably against Jim's chest, cuddled close by powerful arms. 
"Look, even after everything I've studied and all the peoples I've dealt
with, I don't know who's 'right'.  I don't know the deity's name, or which
religion is closest to the truth about how things are run.  But I do
believe there's justice in this world, eventually.  And if we can't achieve
it on this plane, it'll happen on the next.  Somehow."

     "I hope you're right, baby.  I really do."  Jim kissed the soft hair
under his chin and squeezed Blair tightly.  

     "It's okay to hurt about Mandy, and Lindsay.  But the anger is
what'll eat you alive, man.  You've got to trust that higher power to sort
things out and no matter what Carlisle gets from the courts, remember
he's still got another judgement to deal with."  Blair was quiet a
moment.  "If I said I knew all of this for certain, I'd be too arrogant for
words.  I don't know anything for sure.  But after all the reading and
studying and researching on the subject I've done, that's what I believe."

     "You've never steered me wrong before, sweetheart."

     "Jim, if we go ahead with this...with us...  I know I'm kind of
stating the obvious here, but I can't have your children."  

     "I wish there was a way we could do something like that
together.  But my pain over Mandy isn't going to go away by having
another baby.  I'm not saying I'd never want another child, but it isn't
imperative to me.  I loved her more than my own life.  But she's gone."

     "Gay couples don't always have great luck adopting.  What if
we can't ever have any children at all?  Adopted or otherwise?"  Blair
straightened up to look at Jim.  

     "How do you feel about that?  You're great with kids."

     "I adored Mandy.  She was part of you, and that made her more
precious than anything--well, anything except *you*.  Selfishly?  As
long as I have you, I'll be happy.  We'll always have friends who need a
free babysitter once in a while."  Blair searched Jim's face worriedly. 
"But you still haven't told me how you feel."

     "Mandy was a treasure, and I'll always love her.  Losing
her...that's a gaping hole somewhere in the middle of my chest that
nothing seems to fill..."  Jim swallowed hard, then continued.  "But the
most important thing to me is being with you.  You can run me more
ragged than ten kids could hope to on their worst days."

     "Thanks, I think," Blair responded, deadpan as Jim chuckled a
little.  

     "I guess I'm trying to say that having my daughter was a
wonderful experience, but if we can be together, I could live without
having that experience again.  And if things work out for us to adopt a
child someday, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

     "You won't feel cheated?"

     "Blair, I don't know how to say this.  I even hate saying it
because it sounds so...horrible.  But as much as I loved Lindsay, and I
adored Mandy more than words...  I felt *cheated* when I didn't have
you.  When we're together, it's like I'm...complete.  When I was with
Lindsay, it was always like the other half of myself was missing.  It was
so unfair to her, because it wasn't her fault.  She was the kind of wife
you always dream of having--beautiful, intelligent, faithful, sexy,
caring, a first-rate mother...and I just couldn't love her with all my heart
no matter how much I wanted to.  Every day of my life I felt cheated
because I couldn't fight with you about the mess in the bathroom or eat
breakfast with you in the morning, or talk to you for hours like we used
to before I got married...  I was withering up in that marriage, Chief.  I
didn't know how to stop it, either.  I had no reason to leave Lindsay--hell, where would I go?  Back to living with you and not being able to
have you?"

     "Nothing mattered to me after you left.  Anything good that
happened at the U...it was just like some kind of sick consolation prize. 
It hurts to just think about what it felt like to come home to this place
and know I wasn't going to see you here.  To not have you coming in
the door *with* me, tossing your keys in the basket, arguing with me
about what we were having for dinner..."  Blair ducked his head as his
eyes filled up with useless tears for pain that was long past.  Jim pulled
him close again, enveloping him in strong arms, stroking his hair.

     "In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I love you."

     "I love you too," Blair responded, snuggling against Jim.  "And
you're all mine."

     "All yours, baby.  Always."

     "I always felt like nothing bad could happen to me when I was
close to you."

     "That's because nothing bad *will* ever happen to you if you're
close to me, unless they take me out first."

     "Don't ever say that.  I'd die if anything happened to you."

     "No, you wouldn't.  But it isn't going to if I can help it."

     "Jim?"

     "What, sweetheart?"

     "Would mistletoe be okay?  You know, like right over the
couch?"  Blair felt the rumble of Jim's laughter.  

     "As long as you get enough to put some over the bed, and in the
kitchen, and on the shower head, and over the front door--"

     "Yeah, but what about when the guys come over to watch the
game on Sunday?"

     "Forget the front door, and make sure I end up on the right
couch, with you."

     "I don't want to end up kissing Simmons from Robbery."

     "Oh, man, you sure know how to kill a man's appetite.  What's
wrong, you don't wanna cook tonight?"  Jim made a horrible face as
Blair looked up, and they both laughed.

********

     Blair checked out his image in the mirror.  He wasn't exactly
dressed up, but then they'd agreed that while this night would be
special, both wanted to be comfortable.  Starched collars chafing one's
neck didn't fall into that category.

     Dressed in a pair of tan cotton pants and the blue sweater he'd
inherited from Jim's sweater collection, freshly washed hair loose on
his shoulders, Blair certainly looked relaxed.  He smiled when he
thought of Jim's off-handed comment in the middle of the misery of
cleaning out the Ellison house that day.  He'd told Blair he'd look "cute"
in this sweater.  The color brought out his eyes perfectly, but it was too
large, and the sleeves frequently rebelled against being pushed up and
fell back down past his hands.   Jim was the only person Blair was
comfortable letting put an emphasis on his size.  He wasn't tiny by any
means.  His build was sturdy, and he'd worked to develop his muscle
tone considerably in the time he'd spent running around in Jim's much
more physical world.  

     Jim never demeaned him or failed to respect him as an equal
because of their physical size difference.  He knew the larger man felt
more protective of him because he was smaller, and part of the
physical attraction for Jim was Blair's "cuteness"; his smile, his bouncy
personality, his humor, his energy.  

     So if Jim thought he looked "cute" in a baggy sweater, Blair
could cope with that.  He also loved feeling it against his body and
knowing it was last wrapped more snugly around Jim's.

     Upstairs, Jim stood in the middle of his bedroom in his boxers,
scratching his chest and staring blankly into his closet. //This is
supposed to be casual, relaxed...why in hell is it taking me longer to
pick out a shirt and jeans than it did to pick out my prom tux?//

     Jim pulled out another shirt.  A blue plaid.  Lindsay had bought
it for him a few months earlier.  He hung it back, feeling a little stab of
guilt at the thought of having Blair remove that particular shirt from his
body as they prepared to make love the first time.

     //Black.  Now that's cheerful, Ellison.  Christmas Eve, first time
together...wear a black shirt.  Who says tragedy has made you morose? 
Idiot...// He stuck that one back in the closet and pulled out a familiar
old brown plaid.  He'd owned it for years, and it was definitely getting
the worse for wear.  But it was one Blair had bought for him one day
when he was buying some clothes for himself, and that had made it
precious.  

     Jim could remember the other man coming home with a few
modest bags from the mall that day.  Blair didn't really squander money
on a lot of expensive luxuries, and when he stocked up on clothes, it
was usually because he needed them.  Armed with a couple hundred
bucks gleaned from his stipend check, Blair had spent a Saturday
afternoon at the mall replenishing his wardrobe.  Jim had passed on
going along, preferring to avoid the crowds and spend a little down
time with the remote control.

     When Blair got home, he'd dragged his bags into the living
room, chattered on non-stop about everything he'd seen practically
from the time he'd driven out of the parking lot behind the building as
if he'd been on a year-long expedition in Borneo instead of  having
spent two hours at the Cascade Mall.  Giving up on trying to follow the
movie he'd been watching, Jim had surrendered to the account of
Blair's solo flight to the mall and listened. 

     Then Blair had dug around in his treasures and pulled out the
shirt and tossed it to Jim.  He'd tried to sound casual in telling Jim that
he'd found a really good sale at one of the men's stores and just picked
it up, thinking Jim might like it.  The sentinel could tell by the increase
in the other's heartbeat and respiration that it was *very* important to
him that Jim not only like the gift, but that he was pleased with the
gesture.  So Jim had reacted a little more excitedly than he'd felt about
the shirt that wasn't really his style--at least not then--and had made an
effort to wear it more often than he really wanted to.  Blair had been
pleased, and the gesture of spontaneous generosity had touched Jim
greatly.

     Realizing he'd been standing there in his underwear wandering
down memory lane while Blair was probably dressed and ready
downstairs, he pulled on the shirt and added a pair of favorite jeans and
pulled on socks, not bothering with shoes.  He was planning on a little
footsy with Blair anyway, so the shoes wouldn't have lasted long.

     Feeling ashamed at having taken this length of time to get
dressed in what were essentially his favorite old clothes, Jim hastily
stuffed any evidence of his long search for the right outfit back into the
closet and closed the doors. //Shit, I'm starting to put my stuff away the
same way he does...//

     Blair was busily lighting candles all over the living room and on
the kitchen table as Jim descended the stairs.  Soft music played on the
stereo.  He was smiling brightly as Jim approached him, shaking away
the flame from the match.  He was nothing short of stunned when Jim
produced from behind his back a single, perfect red rose.

     "You were serious about the flowers, huh?"  Blair said quietly, a
little catch in his voice.

     "Do you mind?"  Jim asked a little hesitantly.  He was afraid
Blair might be offended or feel that Jim was somehow "feminizing"
him by giving him the flower.

     "No," Blair responded almost without sound, shaking his head. 
"No one's ever given me roses before."  He accepted it and passed it
briefly beneath his nose, breathing in the scent, his eyes drifting shut a
moment.  Jim longed for a way to capture the magic of that sight.

     "Dance with me?"  Jim reached out a hand and Blair took it,
smiling and still holding his rose in the other hand.  "There's a song I
want you to hear.  The first time I heard it, I thought of you, and every
time I heard it after that, I imagined holding you in my arms, swaying
together to this song.  I love you, Blair."

     "I love you too, love," Blair responded, still smiling, only
drawing in the corners of his mouth to share a prolonged kiss with his
lover before Jim pressed the button the CD player to bring Elton John's
voice to life as he pulled Blair tightly against him and began to sway
softly in the midst of the dancing candlelight.

//There was a time
I was everything and nothing all at once,
When you found me,
I was feeling like a cloud across the sun.
I need to tell ya
How you light up every second of the day,
But in the moonlight,
You just shine like a beacon on the bay.

And I can't explain,
But there's something about the way you look tonight
Takes my breath away,
It's that feeling I get about you deep inside,
And I can't describe,
But it's something about the way you look tonight,
Takes my breath away,
The way you look tonight.

With a smile, 
You pull the deepest secrets from my heart.
In all honesty,
I'm speechless and I don't know where to start.

And I can't explain,
But it's something about the way you look tonight,
Oh, takes my breath away,
It's that feelin' I get about you deep inside,
And I can't describe,
But it's something about the way you look tonight,
Takes my breath away,
The way you look tonight...//

     The song ended and another slow song began, finding the two
men wrapped tightly around each other, finally relishing their love and
their first chance to express it without hesitation.

     "Is that how you really feel about me?"  Blair finally sacrificed
a little closeness to look up at Jim.

     "No, because nobody's found words for that yet.  But it comes
close."  Jim smiled, knowing Blair would blush a little and duck his
head again, which he did.  He hugged his lover close against him again,
rubbing his back slowly.  "I used to hear that song sometimes, and I
knew it was wrong but all I could think about was...this.  Holding you
like this.  Us being in love and it going both ways between us."

     "Sometimes I still can't believe this is real.  That I won't wake
up and find out that I'm alone or that we're just buddies like always--"
Blair was cut short by two gentle fingers pressed over his lips.

     "Blair, look at me.  You're awake.  I'm awake.  We've walked
through fire to get here, but we're here.  Does this feel like a dream?" 
He swooped down on his partner, sealing their mouths together, tongue
gently insisting on entry into the velvety wetness waiting there to
receive it.

     The warm substance of Jim's arms, firm but always heart-warmingly gentle, enfolding him, the reality of their mouths meeting
and tongues sliding in their own rhythm swirled together, convinced
Blair finally that this was real, and that there was no room for dreams
here...where reality was surpassing his most satisfying fantasies.

     When Jim finally broke away for air, the sight of Blair stole
what few shreds of Jim's heart the smaller man didn't already have
wrapped around his little finger.  Lips moist and slightly parted, eyes
heavy-lidded and dark with desire, the light of the candles accenting
the natural highlights in the mane of silky hair framing that perfect
face.

     Blair could do nothing more than stare up at his lover.  Jim was
stunning, with his strong features and hypnotic blue eyes.  The
powerful body that was the object of more than one lustful glance from
the opposite sex--and a few from the same sex that Blair had observed
with a growing sense of pride in ownership--symbolized both strength
and gentleness to Blair.  He'd never been touched by anyone with the
kind of love and gentleness and *softness* he'd felt in Jim's touch. 
Even when those big arms pulled him in fiercely or held him in place
for a blistering kiss, there was something in the touch that made Blair
feel like the most exquisite piece of treasured crystal--something that is
touched only with the utmost respect and gentleness, almost cradled in
the hands.

     "Think we should have dinner?"

     "Do I have to let go of you?"  Jim asked, tightening his hold a
little.

     "Just long enough to get the goodies out on the table.  I can't
wait to see how you taste with a little cocktail sauce."

     "I thought that went with the shrimp, Chief," Jim teased,
moving back into position to slow dance with Blair while they talked.

     "It does, but we aren't going to use napkins with dinner. 
Anything you dribble, I get to clean up my own way."

     "That goes two ways, baby."

     "Good.  Because I might be a little messy with that chocolate
mousse."

     "I smell the shish kabobs."

     "I put them in the oven to warm up right before you came
down.  Getting everything done ahead of time was a great idea, man. 
No break in the mood."

     It only took a moment to put dinner on the table, and as if by
unspoken agreement, both men worked efficiently to lay out their feast. 
Pulling two chairs close together on one side of the table, they began
with the shrimp cocktail, Blair making good on his promise to be Jim's
napkin at the first drip of errant cocktail sauce.  

     He used the tip of his tongue to effectively lift the drop of sauce
off Jim's lower lip, then invaded Jim's mouth to share the taste of the
delicacy, mingled with the taste of his lover.  Drawing back, he
selected a particularly choice shrimp from his dish and dipping it in the
sauce, fed it to Jim, who made a point of nipping and licking at the tip
of Blair's finger along with the shrimp.

     Having moved so close together that they shared one personal
space, they alternated feeding each other the little cubes of meat and
vegetable from the shish kabobs, following almost every bite with
kisses ranging from little nips to prolonged explorations of each other's
mouths.

     The chocolate mousse proved to be perfect finger food.  Jim
started the game by scooping a gob of the frothy dessert on his finger
and offering it to Blair, who made a decidedly obscene display of
licking and sucking it off Jim's finger, all the while keeping his eyes
riveted to Jim's.  Satisfied he'd cleansed the finger of everything but its
flesh, he released it, then offered his own chocolate moussed finger to
Jim, who mimicked Blair's earlier display, with a few embellishments
of his own, running his tongue along the underside of Blair's finger,
sending shivers through the other man's body at the thought of what
that tongue could do to other parts of his anatomy.  

     With very little of the dessert actually eaten, it was abandoned
in favor of deep kissing, as Jim pulled Blair out of his chair and into
Jim's lap, which the other man straddled, bringing their overheated
groins in dangerous proximity.  This time, when Blair began a rhythmic
humping against Jim, rubbing their hardening lengths against one
another, the larger man raised no objections.  Instead, he took Blair's
rear in both hands and pulled him closer, kneading the firm cheeks
with gentle but insistent hands.

     Blair finally pulled away from Jim's mouth long enough to
moan and gasp for air.  Their rhythm was becoming frantic, the
pleasure building to a crescendo.  Neither dared think of what it would
be like to finally be naked against each other.  Their hearts were
thundering in their ears, their breaths mingled and harsh, just at this
clothed friction.

     "Jim!"  Blair shouted finally, the first to succumb to the
sensations, spurting his completion in a spreading moist area on his
pants.   Blair's cry of his name and the smell of Blair's seed conspired
with the overload of stimulation to bring Jim to his own conclusion,
Blair's name a strangled cry wrenched from his throat.

     For long moments, the silence was unbroken except for the
sounds of labored breathing and thundering heartbeats as the two men
slumped together in the chair, a tangle of arms and legs and disheveled
clothes.

     "I don't think I've come in my pants since I was about sixteen," 
Jim finally groaned into Blair's ear, then kissed and nipped at the lobe.

     "Then you've been with boring lovers."

     "You do it often, huh?"  Jim asked, a smile in his voice as he
nibbled his way down Blair's damp throat, amazed he could start to feel
interested in making love again so soon.

     "All the time...when I'm fantasizing about you."  Blair tilted his
head back, allowing Jim better access to the tender skin of his throat
and neck.  The other man took full advantage, kissing and marking
Blair with lips and tongue, pulling back pleased at the sight of a couple
of large red spots in very visible places.

     "Good answer, Chief."  Jim aggressively grabbed handfuls of
Blair's ass, massaging it and letting his fingers find their way to the
cleft between them through the annoyingly thick material of the pants. 
"God, I never wanted anybody this bad, baby."

     "Let's get cleaned up and go upstairs, huh?"  Blair suggested
huskily, surprised he could even find that much of a voice.  "I want you
inside me, lover."

     "I want that too, baby.  Oh God, I want to feel all of you."  Jim
reluctantly let Blair move off his lap and then rose and walked to the
bathroom, hand in hand with his lover.

     They hastily undressed each other, soaked washcloths with
warm water and washed away the sticky remains of their frantic union
on the kitchen chair.  Cleaned but still naked, they made their way
through the loft, blowing out candles until only two fat white ones
remained lit.  Each man took one candle, and his lover's hand, and
together, they moved upstairs.
     
     "You're the most beautiful man I ever saw...hell, the most
beautiful *human* I ever saw," Blair said in a voice barely above a
whisper, running his fingers lightly over the firm, smooth chest in front
of him.  "It's like someone sculpted a Greek god out of flesh instead of
stone..."  Blair's genuine comments and awed exploration with his
fingers made Jim blush this time.  The younger man smiled. //I finally
made Jim Ellison, tough ex-military police lieutenant, blush!  Yes!!//
Blair thought to himself, but didn't say anything more.

     "This coming from someone with the hair of an angel and the
body of a devil," Jim responded, grinning as he scooped Blair up off
the floor into his arms, and kissed him thoroughly before depositing
him on the bed.  Taking only a moment to admire the sight of the
much-desired body on his bed, Jim lowered himself carefully over
Blair until he covered him.  Still supporting much of his weight on his
elbows, he carded his fingers through the silky hair fanned out on the
pillow.

     "I can't believe we're finally here," Blair whispered, reaching up
to caress Jim's cheek.  "I love you so much...I never thought I'd be able
to show you how much."

     "We have the rest of our lives, sweetheart."  Jim caught the
hand and kissed the palm, the fingers, then the back.  "This is it.  This
is what forever feels like."

     "I always wondered," Blair responded with a slight smile.  "It
feels...so warm and complete and...perfect."

     "If I hurt you, or anything puts a strain on your shoulder or your
incisions, you tell me, baby.  I don't want to do anything that doesn't
feel good to you."

     "I trust you."  Blair saw the coming objection and forestalled it. 
"But I'll tell you right away if something doesn't feel right."

     Satisfied by this promise, Jim lowered his head and met Blair's
lips in a gentle, lingering kiss.  He let his mouth travel over Blair's
cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead and into his hair.  The
smaller man was purring beneath him, letting Jim have his fill.

     He swirled his tongue around the shell of an ear, then invaded
the ear more aggressively, whispering hot, breathy words of love in his
tongue's wet wake.  He could feel Blair's hands come up and gentle
fingers slide into his hair as he kissed his way across the hair-dusted
chest, seeking and tormenting responsive nipples with his tongue.

     Blair arched into the hot mouth that enveloped his left nipple
and brought it to a painful hardness.  He couldn't suppress a little moan
as the right nipple was dragged to the edge of its endurance by that
insistent mouth.  

     Jim felt Blair's legs spread open wider beneath him as the
smaller body arched frantically into the flood of sensation that turned
Blair's nipples to hard little pebbles.  

     Relieved he'd taken a little of the raw hunger away downstairs,
Jim relaxed into the project of driving Blair into a delicious frenzy.  As
he licked a trail down the center of Blair's abdomen to his navel,
memorizing the taste and texture of the soft skin there, he smiled a bit
at how readily Blair had become almost fully erect and frantic again. 
Sliding up Blair's body, he whispered hotly in his ear words that
brought an almost painful whimper from list lover:

     "I'm going to taste you, baby.  I want to taste all your secrets."

     Jim retreated down to the sensitive skin near Blair's navel, then
swirled his tongue in the little valley, holding onto Blair's hips to still
their spastic movements.  

     Seeing that prolonging the sweet torment too long was just
going to mean Blair coming by himself way too soon for Jim's liking,
he began to concentrate on his priority: learning every crevice of the
most secret and private part of Blair's body.

     Avoiding the straining shaft his attentions had brought to
painful hardness, he pushed Blair's legs up from underneath, then
enveloped one of the ovals there in his mouth.

     "Oh God, Jim...Oh, man, that's...ooohhhhh..."  Blair dissolved
into nothing more than moaning and little cries as Jim moved to the
second oval, treating it to the same suckling before moving to lick and
suck at the tender skin of Blair's perineum.

     Jim felt his own arousal becoming painful, reaching its limits
quickly on the smell, taste and sound of Blair.

     "After tonight, no one else but me can touch you here," Jim
whispered in a voice rough with desire and need.  "You're all mine."

     "No one...ever has...there...like this," Blair managed.  Jim was
not only the first lover to explore these secret places so thoroughly with
his tongue, he would be the first male lover Blair had ever been with.  

     "What about women?"

     "You'll be the first...to be...inside me...with anything..."  Blair
responded honestly.  He'd never been anally penetrated by anything
before outside of a medical exam.

     "Love you so much," Jim murmured against the soft skin near
Blair's center.  Then he ran his tongue in one long, wet lap over the
little pucker, sending a shiver and spasm through Blair he feared might
mean the other man's completion.  

     Seeing that it wasn't, he settled into the project of making love
to Blair's most private place...a place only he could explore this way. 
He licked gently around the little opening at first, then purposefully
thrust his tongue into the tight darkness there.  Blair screamed and
stiffened out, arching almost off the bed, his legs falling onto Jim's
shoulders.

     "Jim...you...inside me...please..."

     "Need lube, baby," Jim ground out, having pushed himself as
near to the edge as he dared.  And whatever he did, he couldn't rush
this stage of things.

     "Use...the spit..."

     "Not enough," Jim responded gently, digging in the nightstand
drawer for the KY he'd put there earlier.  "Turn on your side and draw
your knees up, sweetheart," Jim directed, opening the tube in his hand. 
Blair obeyed readily, and waited, panting for Jim to prepare him.  

     Moving up to spoon himself along Blair's back, Jim brushed
sweaty hair back long enough to rest his cheek against Blair's a
moment.

     "It's going to feel funny, baby.  I'll only put in one finger at
first."

     "How...do you...know?"

     "I, uh, did some reading."  Jim couldn't believe Blair was
choosing this moment to click into one of his inquisitive modes.  

     "Where?"

     "The 'net," Jim mumbled under his breath.

     "What?"  Blair turned his head until he could see Jim's face in
the flickering candlelight.  Thinking of Jim surfing the 'net to learn
about anal sex was too incredible a concept for Blair not to fully
explore.

     "I found some...material there."

     "Material?"  Blair was smiling now.

     "Stories," Jim finally replied. //Damned little inquisitor,// he
thought with affectionate annoyance. //That's my Blair.  Don't stop 'til
you wring all the embarrassing details out of me.//

     "Next time, we'll bring my laptop up here and find a really hot
one and act it out, huh?"

     "Oh, man..."  Jim fastened his mouth onto the spot where Blair's
neck met his shoulder, sucking the sweet flesh, then licking it lovingly. 
He uncapped the KY and after coating his finger, carefully probed the
little opening his tongue had explored.  Blair had been very wise to
slow this down with a little talking, Jim realized as he began the task of
readying what seemed like an impossibly small place.

     "Mmmmm," came from Blair, who drew his knees up further
and tried to impale himself on the finger.  "Feels good," he murmured
as Jim massaged the snug ring of muscle.  Encouraged that Blair was
enjoying this, he withdrew the first finger and returned with two.

     "Still okay, baby?"  Jim whispered, not having heard much of
any sound from Blair.  A quick inventory of the other man's vital signs
didn't reflect any severe pain or adverse reaction, but he was strangely
quiet.

     "It's different...still...feels good."

     "Do you know what it means to me to be doing this with you?" 
Jim whispered against Blair's hair.  "To touch you there?"

     "Only you," Blair responded in a breathy whisper, beginning to
move in time with Jim's fingers.  

     "This is going to stretch you, sweetheart.  I'm going to try three. 
If it hurts, you promise to tell me."

     "Promise," Blair replied, smiling.  

     Jim carefully slid three lubricated fingers into the relaxed
opening.  Blair's heartbeat picked up and the muscles started tensing.

     "Does it hurt, Chief?"

     "No," came the strained reply.  "Just...feels like I'm not big
enough."  Blair's head whipped around quickly to look at Jim.  "You
don't think...?"

     "You're plenty big enough, sweetheart.  It just feels tight."  He
kissed Blair's cheek and slowed the movement of the fingers.  "No
hurry, baby.  Relax.  Close your eyes and listen to the music," Jim
referred to the instrumental piano music that wafted up from the living
room stereo.

     "Are you ready?"  Blair asked, a little nervously.

     "I'm okay," he lied, figuring the straining erection could just
wait a while longer, despite the unpleasant sensation of impending
death with the further denial of release.  Fortunately, Blair wasn't the
sentinel of the pair, so he accepted what Jim said at face value.  

     After spending a considerable time just giving Blair a very
erotic internal massage, Jim ventured deeper in search of the magic
little nub.  When he found it, Blair shouted his name once loudly and
his body arched wildly, writhing with the pleasure as Jim continued to
stroke his lover's prostate.  When he was convinced Blair was almost to
the point of no return, he carefully withdrew his fingers and reached for
the lube.

     "Jim...wha--...?"  Blair asked raggedly.

     "Shhh.  I'm coming right back, sweetheart.  Think you're ready
for something a little bigger?"

     "Oh, God, yes, please, now!"

     "Try not to move too much, baby.  Let me slide in slowly.  If it
hurts, just say stop."

     "But you can't...not now..."

     "I can anytime."

     Jim carefully pushed the head of his cock past Blair's initial
resistance.  The other man's breathing was labored and his heartbeat
rapid, but he didn't express any pain.  Jim didn't need verbal cues.  He
focused every sense on determining when and how far to push ahead. 
Before long, he felt Blair's rounded buttocks against his groin.  They
were fully joined.  

     Blair was silent, breathing like a jackhammer, just lying there
trying to let his body adjust to the bulk inside it.  It felt good and
excruciating at the same time.  Jim's hand came around to pump at
Blair's flagging erection, and the other hand strayed up to lightly brush,
roll, and flick at Blair's nipples.

     Feeling Blair's body relax more around him, and hearing the
pleasured groans from the work of his hands, Jim began to move
slowly inside his lover.  Before long, Blair was moving with him,
accepting and undulating along with a series of slow, gentle thrusts. 
When Jim found the right angle to hit Blair's prostate again, he thrust
against that little secret spot over and over again until Blair was
writhing and begging him to move faster and pump harder.  

     Losing a little of his control, Jim's hungry body obeyed the
commands, giving Blair's prostate the vigorous workout he asked for,
their outcries mingling together as Blair climaxed, giving Jim a return
massage with clenching internal muscles that brought him to an
incredible peak and conclusion.  On a scream of Blair's name, Jim
filled his lover, finishing in a series of rapid, passioned thrusts.

     Silence and thundering heartbeats were the only sounds in the
loft for long minutes as both calmed down from the sexual frenzy,
snuggled tightly together through the little after shocks of what had
been a wrenching orgasm for both.

     "Are you all right?"  Jim whispered into the nearest ear.

     "Oh my God," Blair murmured.  "I...that was..."  Blair's voice
trailed off.

     "That was love, sweetheart," Jim supplied, pulling Blair tightly
against him with both arms, kissing his hair, his cheek, his hear,
anything he could reach from behind.  "I love you with all my heart and
soul, Blair.  For the rest of my life."

     "I love you too, Jim.  I never want to be with anybody but you. 
Ever again."

     "I'm going to pull out.  It might hurt a little, baby.  Squeeze my
hand if you want," Jim said, lacing their fingers.  As he withdrew, he
got a firm squeeze and little grunt.  "Hurts, huh?"  Jim asked gently.

     "Yeah, but...oh, man, that was...  I...it was love, and in my heart,
it meant all these things that just don't...I don't have words...being
joined like that...  And the sex...I came so hard I almost blew up."

     "Me too, baby," Jim responded with a little laugh.  "I shouldn't
have listened to you when you told me to do it harder."

     "If you hadn't, I'd've been forced to strangle you."

     "Guess you mean what you say during sex then, huh?"  Jim
responded, grinning into Blair's hair, stroking a sweaty flank.

     "Before, during and after when it's with you."  Blair shifted with
a little wince, turning over to face Jim, sliding up so their lips met and
clung, exchanging a prolonged kiss and lazy mingling of tongues.  Jim
pulled his lover fully into his arms, hands sliding reverently over the
sweaty, naked flesh until one settled on Blair's buttock, stroking it.

     "Think it's time for a nap, sweetheart?"  Jim kissed Blair's damp
forehead and pushed his hair back gently.

     "Yeah.  When we wake up, make love to me again?"

     "We'll see how you feel when we wake up, baby.  You might be
a little too sore for that.  You could always return the favor," Jim
whispered hotly in Blair's ear.

     "Let's go to sleep then so we can wake up fast, huh?"  Blair
asked, grinning devilishly.

********

     Blair stirred and feeling a little cold, instinctively groped in his
semi-conscious state for the large, warm body that had blanketed him
all night.  Encountering only cool sheets, he forced his eyes open and
found, somewhat to his dismay, that it was already daylight.  Bitterly
disappointed at waking up alone, Blair pulled himself up into a sitting
position and groaned a little.  Jim had been so right about him being
sore when he woke up that it wasn't even funny.  Still, Blair had to
smile as he thought back of the night before.  The morning after
discomfort was more than worthwhile, he concluded, crawling out of
bed and locating his robe.

     "Jim?"  He started down the stairs, not seeing any sign of his
lover in the apartment.  Then he noticed the solitary figure out on the
snowy balcony, standing deathly still as he stared out at the expanse of
Cascade on Christmas morning.  Steeling himself for the cold blast,
Jim opened the patio door gingerly.  "Jim?  Man, you're gonna freeze to
death out here."  Blair scurried out to where Jim stood, feeling the
merciless bite of the wind through his robe and socks.  Jim was
standing there in his robe, also, oblivious to the cold.  "Jim, come on,
love, it's me.  Come back to my voice, Jim."  Blair was shocked to have
to talk Jim out of a zone out.  It had been ages since anything remotely
like this had happened.  

     The younger man kept up his steady litany of soothing
commands until Jim shivered a little, then looked at Blair as if he'd
never seen him before.

     "Come on, Jim, we've gotta get inside.  It's freezing out here,
buddy."  Blair took one of Jim's clammy hands and pulled him along
through the door, which he hastily closed behind them.  "How long
have you been out there?"   Blair continued to lead Jim by the hand,
heading up the stairs toward the bedroom.  "Get in."  He piled a double
thickness of blankets and the spread over Jim.

     "Where're you going?"

     "Just down to make you some hot coffee.  Stay under the
covers.  I'll be right back."  Blair didn't wait for agreement or objection,
hurrying down to the kitchen and starting the coffee.  While he was
waiting for it to brew, he picked up some of the discarded clothes from
the night before, tossing them into the bathroom hamper.  He smiled as
he reflected that Jim's house rules had become second nature to him,
even during the time Jim himself was absent from the loft.

     When the coffee was ready, he filled a thermal pot and
gathering two mugs, headed upstairs.  Jim was still up to his neck in
the blankets, shivering a little now.

     "How long were you out there?"  Blair climbed back into his
side of the bed and poured a cup of the hot coffee.  "Come on, scootch
up so you can at least hold this.  Drink it as soon as soon as it cools a
little."  Jim followed the instructions, still silent.  Blair slid over so the
back of Jim's head was resting on his shoulder, and he had his arm
around the larger man's shoulders.  "Did you zone out, love?"

     "I was thinking about Mandy," Jim responded simply, finally
taking a cautious sip of the coffee, seeming to relax as the warmth
spread through him.  "I didn't want to do that today.  I honest to God
didn't want to wake up and...and have that be the first thing on my
mind...the murders."

     "But it was?"  Blair asked softly, kissing the top of Jim's head.

     "Well, the very first was that there had to be a hole in the sky
because somebody dropped a sleeping angel in my bed," Jim
countered, rolling a couple of tired blue eyes up at Blair, who blushed
the color of the red mug Jim was holding.  The other man smiled a
little at that and then continued.  "I wanted to lie here with you and kiss
you awake...and somehow, there was just this...horrible, sad, sick
feeling inside...so I got up and somehow ended up out on the balcony
to do my thinking."

     "It hasn't been very long, lover.  It would be kind of odd if you
were over it and able to put it behind you this fast.  Is there anything
you want to talk about?  About Mandy?  Or whatever you were
thinking?"

     "This is never going to go away, is it Chief?"

     "The pain?"  Blair rested his cheek against the top of Jim's head. 
"I don't think so, no.  But it's like any other terrible wound.  It hurts
worst when it's just first healing.  You know, when you get hurt really
badly, how the shock kind of shields you from the worst of the pain? 
Then, when you come out of that, it hurts like hell.  At least, that's how
it felt when I got shot.  What I'm trying to say is, I still have a scar on
my thigh from that, and when the weather's really terrible, sometimes I
still feel some pain around the injury site.  Nothing debilitating, but it's
still there."  Blair paused to sip at his own coffee, then continued.  "I
think you're in that awful stage where the shock's gone, and you're
healing.  The wound still needs a bandage, and you still aren't 100%
yet.  Eventually, I think it heals, then leaves a scar and some residual
pain.  But I think the part that makes you hurt so bad that you can't
hardly stand to take your next breath is going to get better.  Way
better."

     "I'm not healing too well, sweetheart.  It's not getting better,"
Jim stated quietly with a little tremor in his voice.

     "It's Christmas Day, love.  We knew this would be hard."  Blair
stroked Jim's hair lightly, then planted a kiss on his temple.  "You want
to talk to someone...a grief counselor, maybe?"

     "No.  I want to feel better."

     "I know, baby.  I know."  Blair took Jim's cup as the other man
turned and buried his face against Blair's robe, letting out the first of
many wracking sobs that shattered the silence of the loft.

     "I'm sorry," he moaned into Blair's shoulder.

     "No, don't be, love.  It's okay.  Let it all out.  I'm right here.  I
know it hurts."  Blair continued to stroke Jim's hair, whispering little
reassurances in his ear, all the while cursing his weak left arm that
couldn't hold Jim as tightly as he wanted to.  He willed more strength
into it, and hugged Jim as tightly as he could.  He searched his mind for
anything he could say or do to ease Jim's pain, and all that came to
mind was a little creative visualization.  "I want you to focus on an
image, love.  I want you to picture a beautiful field of flowers on a
warm summer day.  There are birds singing, butterflies fluttering
around the blooms, a flawless blue sky.  In the middle of it is this
beautiful little girl...your Mandy.  In this perfect place she's in, all she
has to worry about is chasing butterflies, picking flowers and being
happy.  There's no pain, no fear, no darkness.  She is so happy there, I
can hear her laughter..."  Jim's tears were quiet now as they flowed into
Blair's robe.  "Do you want to know what I believe, Jim?  I believe that
when she's ready, her soul will fly free like one of those butterflies, and
enter the body of another beautiful little baby somewhere, and she'll
have another chance at a long and wonderful life, to make up for the
way her past life ended.  I don't think Mandy's dead.  I think she's on
another plane, in another form."  Blair rubbed Jim's back soothingly,
and fell silent, just letting his lover cry out the last of his tears.

     "I could see it, what you were describing," Jim managed,
regaining a little of his voice.

     "You told me before that you believed in God.  Do you believe
in something after death?"

     "Yes."

     "Then the crying we do when someone dies...it's for us.  Not for
them.  Mandy isn't suffering, Jim.  And she's not in a cold dark place,
and she's not buried under snow and earth in the Stanton family plot
either.  She's somewhere beautiful, or maybe she's already entering into
a new life.  Who knows how all that works?  The point is, we all have
souls, spirits.  These bodies are just like houses.  Mandy moved out of
the one you knew and loved, but she still exists.  I know that's not the
same as holding her or having her here, but please don't cry because
she lost her life.  She just lost this one.  There'll be others.  And if there
aren't, then her beautiful little soul is somewhere wonderful."

     "God, Blair, I need you so much."  Jim's arms fastened tightly
around his lover.  "How do you make sense out of everything like
that?"

     "I'm just telling you what I believe, love.  You can make it
through this.  You're the strongest person I ever met."

     "Funny...I always think that about you."

     "Crying and hurting isn't a sign of weakness, man.  It's just
something natural.  Part of the healing process."

     "I'm sorry this was such a depressing way to wake up for you." 
Jim straightened up and pulled Blair in for a gentle, prolonged kiss.  "I
love you."

     "I love you too."  Blair stroked the strong jaw softly, and Jim
caught and kissed his hand thoroughly.  "And part of loving each other
is getting through the rough spots together."

     "Last night was the most...I've never felt anything that intense--emotionally, physically...everything."

     "Intense...that's the right word.  God, it was amazing.  Like the
whole world was going to explode..."

     "How do you feel this morning?"  Jim asked, his tone
concerned.

     "I'm sore.  You were right about that part," Blair admitted,
grinning a little.  "But it's this kind of sore I don't mind.  Every time I
move and I feel it, I remember you inside me..."  Blair shivered a little. 
"It was...electric."

     "Come here.  I want to hold you."  

     Sliding down on their sides under the covers, the two men
twined arms and legs together, getting as close as possible.  

     "Warming up a little?"  Blair asked.

     "Lots."  Jim cuddled him closer.  "How's your arm?  We didn't
do any damage to that, did we?"

     "Nope.  It's fine."

     "I had all these fantasies of loving you awake...spending the day
together.  It's just that when I woke up, something happened...I don't
exactly know what.  It was just all there again."

     "Last night was kind of a fantasy trip for me.  For those hours
we spent together...dancing, feeding each other, making love...I just
forgot everything but us.  But, you know, it's all still there when you
come to.  I still jump out of my skin every time a car backfires, or I
hear any loud, unexpected noise.  Maybe I always will.  And I still miss
Mandy, and Lindsay--we had kind of made peace with each other in the
last few months.  I think we were getting to be friends."

     "I got thinking about last Christmas.  Lin was so excited about
the baby coming, and this year, you know, was going to be so special." 
Jim was quiet a moment.  "I missed you on Christmas Day last year.  I
mean, all of Lin's family was there, and she was there...but it was
lonely in the middle of all those people.  At least it was nice that you
got a chance to go meet Naomi in Seattle for a couple days."

     "Yeah, well, that didn't exactly come together."

     "What do you mean?"

     "She broke up with the guy that lived in Seattle about two
weeks before Christmas.  She was really bummed out about it, so she
went on a retreat."

     "But you said you--what did you do Christmas Day?"

     "Finished an article I had been writing for a sociology journal."

     "Why didn't you come over?"  Jim pulled back to look at Blair.
     
     "Because I didn't want to drive Lindsay nuts.  I already had
spent Christmas Eve with you guys.  Her family was all there.  I wanted
her to be able to enjoy the holiday.  It was your first Christmas
together.  Seemed like the right thing to do."

     "So you spent it by yourself writing an article instead?"

     "Well, I went downtown and volunteered at the homeless
shelter.  They sometimes have trouble getting people to serve the food
on the holidays, and it's kind of a nice thing to do--makes you feel good
to do something for people who don't have it so great.  Plus it's kind of
fun to get the kids rounded up to play games...Christmas can be real
grim for them."  Blair was smiling a little.  "By about late afternoon, I
headed home and worked on the article, and by the time that was done,
it was late and I went to bed.  It isn't as pathetic as it sounds, Jim.  I was
busy."

     "Every Christmas, from now on, we spend together.  No matter
what."

     "No argument here," Blair responded, happily burrowing into
Jim's arms again.  

     The two men spent most of the morning nuzzling, kissing and
exchanging all the mushy little sentiments they felt for each other. 
Growling stomachs finally drove them down to the kitchen by late
morning, where they prepared breakfast together and then spent the
remainder of the morning feeding it to each other between bouts of
kissing.

     "Jim?  I was wondering if you, um, want to go visit the graves
today."  Blair hated to ask the question as they cleared the breakfast
dishes, but he also wanted Jim to know that he would be willing to do
that if it would help.

     "You wouldn't be depressed doing that on Christmas?"

     "Hey, man, I just got everything I ever wanted for Christmas." 
Blair smiled as he took a hold of Jim's hand and laced their fingers
together as they stood by the sink full of dirty breakfast dishes.  "How
could I possibly be depressed by anything today?"

     "I don't deserve you."  Jim leaned forward and kissed the other
man's forehead.

     "I don't deserve you either.  I guess fate just sort of cut us a
break then, huh?"  Blair grinned up at his lover, and Jim laughed.  Blair
was delighted by that.  It was a real accomplishment in light of how the
morning had started.

********

     Blair suggested stopping by the one grocery store in town that
was open Christmas Day and picking up some flowers for the graves. 
The large supermarket had a surprisingly nice selection of fresh
flowers arranged into little bouquets, as well as a refrigerated case with
plastic tubs full of various colors of roses.

     Together, they selected an armload of mixed bouquets, Jim
having been enchanted by Blair's idea of recreating the visualized "field
of flowers" on Mandy's grave.  Jim paused by the case containing the
roses.

     "You going to get some of those for Lindsay?"  Blair asked,
holding the first batch of flowers.

     "Would you mind?"  Jim asked, wondering how Blair would
feel if he bought roses for his dead wife the morning after the two men
had made love for the first time.

     "I'd mind if you didn't," Blair replied simply.  

     Wondering where he had managed to find such a lover, Jim
smiled with relief and reached into the container of yellow roses,
gathering up a dozen.

     "I thought Lindsay liked the red ones," Blair commented,
leading the way toward the check out lanes.

     "There's only one person I buy red roses for now."  Jim planted
a quick kiss on Blair's very surprised and unprepared mouth, then
continued toward the check out lane nonchalantly, as if he'd just given
Blair a high-five instead of kissed his lips in the middle of the grocery
store.  But then, Blair couldn't really remember Jim ever apologizing
for his lifestyle choices or fretting over the opinion of others before.

     With the flowers in their arms, they trudged across the snowy
ground of the cemetery to the Stanton plot.  Jim stopped halfway there,
stunned by the number of flowers that were already in place.

     "I guess Lin's family must have been out here earlier."  He
resumed his trek, with Blair close behind him.  When the arrived at the
graves, Jim knelt in the snow near his daughter's headstone and began
looking through the flowers.  "Oh, man," he murmured as he read the
little cards that were attached to most of them.  Each bore a message of
sympathy and moral support from someone at the Cascade PD.  The
same was true of the proliferation of blooms on Lindsay's grave.

     "Guess we've got some wonderful friends," Blair said, ignoring
the unpleasantly cold sensation of kneeling in the snow as he joined
Jim .  He didn't mention that he'd talked to Simon a couple days earlier,
and expressed concern about getting Jim through Christmas in light of
the tragedy, and said he figured they'd probably end up visiting the
graves.  He would have to make sure Simon understood how much his
obvious efforts in organizing support from the PD team had meant to
Jim.

     Blair quietly set to work on opening up the bouquets, beginning
his project of blanketing Mandy's grave with the bright flowers.  Jim
moved to Lindsay's grave and laid the yellow roses among the other
flowers and crouched quietly there for a considerable time.  

     When he rose and returned to Blair's side, the younger man had
most of the baby's grave covered with flowers.  He had concentrated
his efforts on the barren white ground, as the area near the headstone
was already bedecked in flowers.

     "It's beautiful," Jim said, taking in the expanse of flowers before
them.  "Almost like what you got me to picture this morning."  Jim ran
his hand along the cold surface of the stone, then over the small statue
of a lamb that graced the top of the marker.  "I just want to hold her
one more time, you know?"  Jim began, still staring at the stone.  "All I
can touch is a cold piece of granite.  I want to feel how it felt to hold
her and rock her and when she used to take a hold of my finger...or that
toothless little smile..."

     Blair said nothing, but slid an arm around Jim and rested his
head against the larger man's shoulder.

     "That morning...I went into the nursery and picked her up...she
was crying," Jim said, almost smiling as he spoke.  Mandy was almost
always crying or at the very least restless.  "While I was holding her, I
just thought about how much I loved her...how beautiful she was.  I
didn't want time to move fast because I didn't want her to grow up too
fast, but I couldn't wait to see what she'd look like when she got a little
bigger, to hear her talk, to watch her turn into a *person*...  God, Blair,
it still hurts so damn much," he concluded in a strained voice.
     
     "I know, love.  I know it hurts."  Blair ran his hand back and
forth across Jim's back, but said nothing more.

     As if he had suddenly gone through some type of
transformation, Jim straightened and stood.  Blair did the same,
watching his lover with a little curiosity.  Jim stared at the two graves
for a long moment, then turned to Blair.

     "Let's go home."

     With a smile, Blair happily slid under the offered arm and
draped his own around Jim's waist as they made their way down the
snowy slope of ground to the truck.

********

     "I know you're not here anymore, and I haven't been out here
since Christmas," Jim began, laying the bouquet of pink carnations on
his daughter's grave, sitting Indian-style on the grass beside it.  It was a
sunny July morning, promising to be a glorious day.  "This would have
been your first birthday.  Sometimes I can't believe you've been gone
that long.  It's kind of fitting, I guess, that Carlisle's sentencing is today. 
The only reason it went to trial is that he was contesting one murder
charge, which was kind of silly since he'll get several consecutive life
sentences, no doubt about that," Jim stated, shaking his head.  "He sang
like a canary to avoid the death penalty.  Now we know where all the
DiMarco bodies are buried...literally.  'Course it doesn't really matter
that he isn't going to be executed.  The family'll take him out anyway." 
Jim sighed and stared out at the expanse of green dotted with a
proliferation of granite markers. 
 
     "Listen to me," he said, smiling.  "As if you'd even know what I
was talking about.  I used to talk to you like this all the time, though. 
Right from the first time I went into the nursery when you were crying. 
I guess it helped me think, and the sound of my voice seemed to calm
you down.  So I guess we were helping each other somehow."

     "Blair's actually starting to lift some small weights with his left
arm now.  Man, that bullet really damaged some muscle tissue in there. 
Took him a long time to build his strength back up.  You know, he
loved you so much, Mandy.  It's taken a long time for him not to feel
guilty that he survived instead of you.  You are probably the only two
people in the world I couldn't have chosen between."  

     "That doesn't mean I didn't love your mom, because I did.  I still
miss her sometimes.  I think about something she said, or about how
beautiful she looked just sitting there in the nursery in the morning,
rocking you.  My two favorite girls..."  Jim smiled a little sadly.  "I was
in love with Blair from day one practically, and fighting it all the way. 
I tried not to want him, to be faithful to your mother.  I *was* faithful
to her--at least in my actions.  But in my dreams and my fantasies, I
was anything but, and that's something I just have to live with."

     "We haven't really told anyone in so many words about our
relationship.   After all that's happened in the last year, I'm not ready  to
face it all.  I need things to go smoothly, at least for a while.  Work is
great right now.  I got back into Major Crimes, but in a new position. 
Being a lieutenant, I'm like second-in-command to Simon.  So I have
some administrative duties, but Blair and I are still out in the field
about 50% of the time.  It's a healthy balance.  See, I'm just enjoying
my life so much right now...you know, loving Blair, my job going the
way I want it...  I'm not ready to have to deal with the ostracism and
harassment that's going to come when I take the plunge and make an
announcement."

     "Blair says I'm secretly hoping we'll get caught, because I often
kiss him or take his hand when we're out in public.  I think losing you
and your mom taught me that much--if you want to do something, do it. 
Say it.  Don't let it pass because when you decide to go back it could be
too late.  I wanted to spend more time with you that last morning, when
I was getting ready for work.  I was a little angry at Lindsay because
she was getting dressed and asked me to go to you instead of her doing
it.  I was running late.  But as soon as I held you, I wanted to be there
forever.  Instead, I handed you off to her and with barely a kiss
goodbye, I was out the door.  Looking back now, that meeting with
Narcotics wasn't nearly as important as that last moment with the two
of you.  So in that way, yeah, I won't *not* kiss Blair or hold his hand
or take him out on 'dates' just to stay in the closet.  But Cascade's a
pretty fair-sized city, and we haven't happened to kiss in front of
anyone we know yet.  We ran into Ryf and his girlfriend a couple times
at a Chinese place we all like, but the most he saw was me touching
Blair's hand.  If we'd had a really intense conversation before we were
lovers, I would have done that much if Blair was upset or needed me
to."

     "So what do you think, huh?"  Jim laughed a little.  "I used to do
that when I was rocking you, and I'd tell you some big long, boring
story about a case I didn't know how to handle.  Then I'd ask for your
opinion.  The weird thing is, I used to stare into those big blue eyes of
yours, and somehow, I could figure out an answer.  So maybe you gave
me one.  Blair thinks you might have inherited my abilities, you know. 
He said he thought you were abnormally perceptive, and that it could
have come from you having heightened senses.  And maybe that's more
why you were crying all the time--because everything bothered you and
kept you from resting.  No wonder you used to quiet right down when
Blair held you and sang to you or talked to you.  He's been peeling me
off the ceiling for years now."

     "I know, I should be above board about this relationship.  But I
just don't feel the need to shout it from the rooftops.  My life is my own
business.  I'm not going to hide Blair or not touch him or go out on fake
dates or whatever.   I've just never been big on telling people my
personal business unless I have to.  I'm a private person.  Blair and I
already live and work together, not to mention the fact we eat every
possible meal together, vacation together and spend all our free time
together.  That's been going on for years now, with the exception of
while I was married.  No one pays much attention to it anymore.  All
announcing it would do is confirm for everyone that we were having
sex.  Somehow, that seems like nobody's business but ours."  

     Jim drew his knees up, resting his elbows on them.  It was
starting to heat up under the intense brightness of the sun.  Today
would be a hot one.

     "We're happy right now, and even though I know there's a part
of Blair that wants us to be officially 'out', he knows I've had enough to
handle lately, so he doesn't push it.  Someday I'll be ready, and I'll just
surprise him.  Maybe plant a big wet one on him at the precinct
Christmas party.  I don't know.  He deserves to be acknowledged.  God
knows I'm proud he's with me.  Blair's so damned gifted and talented...I
know he's had scores of offers from other universities.  But he stays
here at Rainier, much to their delight, publishing his little heart out,
acting like the academic Pied Piper with his students.  They love him. 
I don't blame them.  Who wouldn't?"

     "I know you're not here.  Everything inside of me tells me this is
silly.  That I could have this conversation with you in the truck or in the
loft or while I'm grocery shopping, and you'd be just as likely to hear it. 
But I wouldn't say it.  Sometimes I think the point of the cemetery is to
give people a place where they don't feel--or look--insane for sitting
and talking into thin air.  You know how much I think about you.  It
still hurts like hell to see people with little kids--babies.  I don't know if
I ever want to adopt.  Maybe I will want that someday.  But it doesn't
give *you* back to me.  That's something that's lost forever...or at least
lost in this life.  Blair has a real firm belief in life after death of some
sort.  He seems torn between reincarnation and all that Eastern religion
doctrine of karma and the more traditional heaven and hell concept.  I
don't know what I think.  Maybe studying complicated it more for him. 
For me, I think there's something, but I don't know what it is.  I just
hope it lets me find you again when my time comes...and I pray that it's
good for you.  That you're happy...that you're really playing in that big
field of flowers.  Blair and his imagery," Jim shook his head, smiling. 
"He saved my sanity with that image."  He stood up and looked back at
the headstone.  Amanda Blair Ellison.

     "Four short months.  So many people loved you so much in that
short time, peanut."  Jim felt a lump in his throat using the little love
name he'd given Mandy right after she was born.  He hadn't said it since
her death.  "Blair was right that this gets a little easier to live with, but
it never goes away.  I'd still give my life in a heartbeat just to hold you
one more time."  Jim swallowed hard and looked back at the truck,
where Blair was perched on the hood, feet dangling.  Just seeing that
beloved figure there waiting gave him a little shot of strength.  He
looked back one last time at the headstone.  

     "I love you, Mandy."  Then, pausing by Lindsay's grave, he
crouched a moment and ran his fingers over her name carved in the
cool granite.  

     "I love you too, Lin.  I'm so sorry it wasn't more, and that things
weren't perfect, because you deserved perfect.  But thank you for giving
me all you had to give, and for Mandy.  Sleep well, honey."  He stood
and began a brisk walk back toward the truck.

     "You okay?"  Blair asked, sliding off the hood.

     "Fine, sweetheart."  Jim stopped to give him a swift, tight hug
as he walked around the front of the truck.  He started up the engine
once they were both inside and drove toward the front gate.  "I want to
stop by the station and check our messages before we go to court.  And
Joel told me to stop in and see him this morning if I had time."

     "Jim?" Blair hated to broach the subject he was about to bring
up, feeling the timing couldn't be more inappropriate.  Still, he had to
get it out in the open, and know what Jim's reaction would be.

     "Yeah?"

     "Joel said he knows this really nice woman.  She's a defense
attorney."  Blair waited nervously, knowing with a sick feeling in his
stomach that this woman is what Joel would be telling Jim about when
they got to the station.

     "And?"  Jim prodded, joining the early morning traffic on the
road that would take them to headquarters.

     "He wanted to set up a dinner or something so he could
introduce you."  Blair didn't look at Jim, but out the window at the
passing cars as he spoke.  "He thinks she'd be good for you."

     "I can't believe Joel is so damned clueless," Jim responded
honestly.  He really believed that some of their closer friends would
have figured out the score by that point, even if they didn't have proof.

     "So, um, when he asks you about her...what're you--"

     "Don't worry about it, baby."  Jim scooped up Blair's hand and
squeezed it.

     "But he said--"

     "We're going to invite Simon, Joel, Ryf, and Brown over for
some pizza and beer and a little honest conversation this weekend." 
Jim smiled, and gave a quick kiss to the back of Blair's hand.  "I'm not
ready for any big public announcements yet, but our friends have to
know that what we have is something that's exclusive...and forever."

     "Kind of sounds like marriage," Blair said, smiling a little.

     "Yeah, I guess it kind of does, doesn't it?"  Jim smiled as he
turned his attention back to the road that lay before them, still holding
Blair's hand. 

***********
The End