"I took candles and space heaters to all the guests," Blair said,
returning to the motel office, cringing at the loud clap of thunder and
vibrant flash of lightning.  The previous night had been tumultuous, but
the day had dawned downright treacherous, with periods of heavy rains
and severe thunderstorms.  Both men felt certain it was only a matter of
time before they lost power.

     "I suppose they're going to want refunds.  Like we can predict
Acts of God, now," Jim grumbled, shutting down the office computer
and dowsing the lights.  "We might as well go batten down the hatches
at the house.  Everything's as secured here as it can get."

     "I've got a big roast in the oven--been there all day.  Hopefully
it'll be slow-cooked in time for dinner, and we can make sandwiches
out of it if we can't cook for a day or two."

     "I knew we should have gotten the damn generator for the
motel.  That old one is hopefully going to give them heat if they don't
crank it up too high, and maybe a light or two, but that's about it."  

     "What about the one up at the house?"

     "Well, it'll keep the refrigerator going, hopefully the heat, one
or two lights, but we'll have to take it easy."

     "I think there's a break in the rain.  Wanna make a run for it?" 
Blair suggested.

     "Yup."  Jim pulled the door of the office shut and ran with Blair
across the rain-slick ground and up onto their porch, relieved to be
under the overhang and only wet, as opposed to drenched, which had
been his condition after getting caught in the day's first downpour on
the way home from fixing breakfast.

     "Man!  This is getting ugly!"  Blair opined, shivering as the
wind whipped against the house, encouraging them to hurry inside and
shut the front door.  "Wonder how long the power'll hold out?"

     "Maybe we'll get lucky."

     "You don't need the lights for that, lover," Blair quipped,
pulling off his damp coat and hanging it on the hook inside the front
door.  "Give me that."  He took Jim's coat and hung it up next to his
own.  

     "Mmm.  That roast is smelling *great*.  Think it's ready?"

     "I sure hope so.  I know I am."  Blair led the way to the kitchen,
where they rescued the meat from the oven and served themselves
hearty plates of roast beef along with the veggies and potatoes that had
been slow cooking with it.

     Halfway through dinner, the lights flickered, and then went out,
leaving the two men in darkness only briefly until Jim lit the two
candles they had placed in the center of the table.  

     "We haven't done candlelight in...well...uh...have we *ever*
done candlelight?"  Blair pondered, wrinkling his brow.

     "No, and now I know I've been missing something."  Jim smiled
at his lover, staring at him in open admiration.  "God, you're beautiful." 
He reached out and took a gentle hold of Blair's chin.  

     "It's the dim lighting," Blair quipped, gulping a little at the open
praise.

     "No, it's this incredible face."  Jim leaned forward, out of his
chair, and captured the startled lips in a deep kiss.  "Now I get what the
magic's all about with the candles," Jim said, sitting back in his chair
but pulling it closer to Blair's.  

     "Like I'm the first person you ever had a candlelight dinner
with?"  Blair asked, smiling affectionately at what he thought was a
romantic snow-job from Jim.

     "No.  You're just the first one who made me understand why it
was so special."

     "That's really beautiful, man," Blair said quietly, his voice a
little strained.  

     "Still hungry?"  Jim asked, picking up a small piece of meat
between his thumb and forefinger and holding it up for Blair to eat. 
With a devilish glint of understanding, Blair wrapped his lips around
the meat and the two fingertips, licking and sucking at the food and the
digits.  In response, he picked up a baby carrot, which he knew Jim
loved, and held it up for his lover.  He shuddered at the feeling of his
own fingertips being engulfed in wet heat.  

     "Come here," Jim said softly, taking a hold of Blair's hand and
tugging on the wrist until Blair got up, then straddled Jim's lap.  He was
immediately consumed in a full body embrace, Jim's mouth hungrily
devouring Blair's, then trailing kisses down the younger man's chin and
throat.

     The thunder clapped loudly, rattling the old windows and the
flash of lightning that followed was a blue-white blaze in the gold-lit
room.  Through it all, the two men kissed and stroked one another,
oblivious to the show nature was putting on, or maybe goaded by it, as
they stood, reluctant to part, then embraced again, unable to forego
another round of kissing long enough to move to the couch.  Finally,
they parted for air and stumbled into the living room, stretching out on
the couch, devouring each other's mouths almost frantically.

     Just as Jim pulled the shirt out of Blair's pants and began to pull
at the buttons with passion-clumsy fingers, there was a roar of thunder
followed by lightning, and another sound only Jim picked up on.

     "Son of a bitch," he grumbled, moving off Blair and standing,
hurrying toward the door, grabbing his still-damp coat.

     "Jim--what--?"

     "It hit the motel.  Stay here.  Call the fire department.  I think
we've got trouble, Chief."  

     "I'll go with you!"

     "Dammit, Blair, call 911 and stay here!"

     "Jim, don't go out there.  What if it happens again?"

     "We've got a motel full of people out there.  I can't just sit here." 
Jim rushed out the front door before Blair had time to raise another
argument.  

     The wind whipped wildly at the house, loosening an old shutter
and sending it slamming against the house loudly enough to make Blair
jump as he grabbed for the cordless phone to dial 911.

     "Dammit!"  he cursed, realizing the phone was dead.  The
thunder boomed again, and in the flash of lightning, he saw a large
form silhouetted in the front open front door.  The next moment it was
dark, the wind from the door blowing out the weak flames on the
candles that had been left over from the brief romantic interlude at the
table.  

     "Jim?"  Blair's eyes' widened a little, and he felt his throat close
off a bit.  Whoever was there wasn't answering, and there had been
something about the outline that had looked wrong.  "JIM!!!"  Blair
called out as loudly as he could, unable to see anything in the darkened
room until the lightning flashed again and the room appeared empty.
*Appeared* empty.  There were so many shadowed corners, so many
doorways, so many nooks and crannies where a mere shadow could
slither off unnoticed...and wait.

     Jim didn't appear in response to the shout of his name.  Either
something was horribly wrong down at the motel, or...or the large
shadow in the doorway had already dealt with Jim.

     "No.  Don't go there," Blair told himself aloud.  Cursing his
inability to see a hand before him, Blair took a deep breath and groped
his way to the kitchen, finding the matches and a candle.  He lit it with
shaking hands and quickly scanned the room, his hand cupping the
little flame.  It appeared he was alone. //Could it have been an
illusion?// he asked himself, wishing desperately that he could convince
himself that was the case.  

     Swallowing hard, he took a few steps forward, eyes darting
frantically to every part of the room he could see.  He just had to make
it to the front door and run for the motel.  Jim was down there, and so
were several other guests.  Even if the phones were all out, there was
safety in numbers.  

     He took a few more tentative steps, and when he wasn't
accosted in any way, made a dead run for the door, not slowing down
until he was in the middle of the yard in the driving rain.  The ghosts he
had suspended from the trees flew wildly around his head, the storm
giving them an eerie life all their own.  

     Running for the motel, he caught his foot on something and fell
face-first into the soaked bed of leaves.  Turning back, he was horrified
to see the shape of a man on the ground, more terrified when the flash
of lightning illuminated the familiar brown coat.

     "Jim," he croaked, crawling back to the prone form on the
ground, carefully easing him over on his back, stifling a gasp when he
saw the spreading dark patch on the right front of the coat.  "Oh, God,
no."  He yanked off his own flannel shirt, leaving only a henley shirt
between himself and the elements.  Balling up the soggy garment, he
pressed it against the wound in Jim's chest.  "Jim, come on, love, tune
in to my voice.  God, Jim, I need you to hear me!"  Blair shouted,
knowing there were tears running down his face along with the driving
rain.  He groped for a pulse, and found one.  It was too rapid, and not
terribly steady, but it was there.

     He assessed his options in that horrible moment.  His best bet
was the Chevy Blazer, drive like hell down the forest road to the main
road.  Pray they didn't get stuck in the mud or stall out the engine
driving through deep water. 

     The keys to both vehicles were back in the house.  Blair looked
down at his partner frantically, not wanting to risk leaving him, but
knowing the only hope of help lay down at the motel.  Pulling off his
belt, he slid it under Jim's body, fastening it over the top of the balled
up shirt, pulling it in tight, trying to put as much pressure on the wound
as he could.

     "Jim...lover, I've gotta go get help.  You *hang on* for me, man. 
I can't do this without you."  He leaned in and kissed his lover's cool,
still lips before making the wrenching decision to run for the motel.

     Skidding to a stop in front of the first occupied cabin, Blair
pounded on the door.  Getting no reply, he ran to the next one and
banged on that door.  

     "I need help!!!  Help me!!!"  he screamed at the top of his lungs,
finally lurching over to the window of the little unit and gasping at
what he saw in the white flash of lightning.  The man staying in that
unit was sprawled across his bed, unmoving.  

     Mind swimming with horror at the possible explanations, and
the thought that the motel might be just one giant mausoleum, Blair
leaned against the cold wood of the building's exterior, praying for
some sort of inspiration.  

     Jim's gun.  It was upstairs, in the drawer of the night stand. 
Blair had teased Jim about keeping it next to the lube.  With an almost
hysterical laugh, Blair wiped off his soaked face with one shaking
hand, then built up his resolve to go back inside the house.  Jim would
die out on the ground in the rain, bleeding from a wound somewhere in
his upper right chest.  No one in the motel could help them, and Blair
was unarmed.  Somewhere on the grounds lurked the perpetrator of all
these atrocities, and now it had to be a battle of wits between Blair and
his stalker.

     There was the possibility of playing cat and mouse, hide and
seek--but unless Jim survived too, Blair had little interest in making it
through this either.  Forcing himself away from the solid support of the
building, he made his peace with himself to accept death if that's what
it took to make this one shot at saving them both.

     His first stop was the motel office, where he took the flashlight
out from under the counter and used it to find his way back to Jim
again.   He checked Jim's pulse again, leaning in to kiss the wet
forehead and mumble a few words of love and encouragement. //God if
I just had something to *cover* him with!!//

     Tearing himself away from Jim, he mustered all his courage
and ran for the house, forcing himself to stride through the door as if he
hadn't left it, running for his life, just minutes earlier.  Now, he flashed
the beam of the light around the living room and into the doorway of
the kitchen, not finding any sign of the ominous shadow who had
wreaked such unspeakable havoc.

     Stealthily, he made his way up the stairs, praying silently that
he would be allowed to make it to the bedroom, to retrieve the gun.  He
edged his way along the wall, sick with fear for Jim, fear for himself,
fear of what kind of death he was going to endure if the shadow popped
out of one of the many doorways he was passing.  

     Stumbling into the bedroom, he opened the night stand drawer,
his hands shaking almost too hard to take out the gun--but not quite. 
As his hand closed over the heavy, cool metal.  He didn't know if it was
the fact it was Jim's or the fact that at least now they had some
snowball's chance in hell of surviving, but holding the weapon made
the situation seem bearable.  In that moment, he was unspeakably
grateful for the weapons training he'd had back in Cascade.

     Keeping the gun up and close to his body, Blair hurried back
down the hall, vigilant as possible, and then down the stairs to the front
door.  The basket where they kept the car keys was empty.

     Something jangled behind him, and then a vise-like arm was
around his neck, restraining him.  But he still had the gun.  And he still
had a few self-defense maneuvers under his belt.  

     Swinging his elbow back as hard as he could, he stomped on
the assailant's foot at the same time, and when the hold loosened, he
lurched forward, spinning around and aiming the gun at the other man
who staggered back a little, startled by his unsuccessful attempt to
restrain Blair.  A gun still hung loosely from his hand.

     "Drop the gun."  Blair held his own weapon in both hands, the
stance he'd learned from Jim coming back to him easily.  The other
man didn't immediately comply, and in the glow of the beam from the
flashlight that lay on the floor not far from the attacker's feet, Blair
could just barely make out the face of Arthur Whitcombe.  "Don't try
me, man.  Drop it now!!  I'm not messing with you!"

     "Your partner is dying out there in the yard.  Your *lover*. 
You know it's an awful thing losing a lover.  Even worse when it's by
your own hand.  But I had no choices with Arlene.  No choices at all
thanks to Ellison.  Thanks to him riding in on his white knight to
avenge your skinny little ass."

     "I mean it, Whitcombe.  Drop the gun."  Blair released the
safety on his weapon, swallowing hard and offering one in a series of
dozens of prayers he'd sent up, this time hoping he wouldn't have to
actually shoot this man point blank.  And knowing he would do it in a
heartbeat to get his hands on those car keys...to give Jim some chance
at survival.

     Whitcombe jangled the keys again.  

     "Come and get them," he sneered.

     "Toss them over here, at my feet.  And *drop the fucking gun
now*!!"  Blair shouted.  The other man laughed, swinging the keys
around by the ring, letting them circle his pinky until he clutched them
in his hand again.  

     "I don't think so.  And I don't think you're going to shoot me. 
You haven't got it in you."

     "Drop the gun, and give me the keys, because if you don't, I'm
going to shoot you right here, right now."  Blair's hands flexed a little
around the weapon. //Dear God, no, not this way...not in cold blood...//

     "You thought you were just going to destroy my life and then go
on like nothing ever happened.  No, that's not quite right.  I lost Arlene. 
It's only fair that--"

     "Give me the keys!"  Blair felt his finger pressing harder against
the trigger, almost of its own volition. 

     "Make me," Whitcombe taunted.  

     Blair knew he could never win against Whitcombe in a hand to
hand fight, and Jim was dying like a dog on the ground in the rain, the
blood running out of him faster than the rain was coming down.  And
Whitcombe held the keys to Jim's life in one beefy hand, dangling them
so close and yet unattainable.  And each moment they spent like this,
Jim inched closer to death.  This stand-off could last all night, and in
the end, Whitcombe would be alive and Jim would be taken away from
their home in a body bag.

     Blair fired.  Twice.  With deadly accuracy.  

     Whitcombe looked truly stunned in that moment as time stood
still, as the bullets ripped through his flesh and lodged in vital organs,
as his life hung suspended in that horrific instant of death just before he
dropped to his knees, and then fell forward on the floor, the keys
clattering on the hardwood surface, landing inches from Blair's feet.  


     Pushing aside the reality of what he'd just done, Blair let his
shock guide him, numb him, as he scooped up the keys and ran back
outside, tucking the gun in his belt.  He found Jim easily, thanked God
that the pulse was still there, though growing weaker.  

     Not accepting the possibility that he would be unable to lift Jim,
Blair pulled his lover into a sitting position, and more awkwardly than
he wished, given Jim's condition, hoisted the larger man onto his back
in a fireman's carry, every muscle in his body screaming out at the
unbearable burden.  An unbearable, but precious burden that would not
be sacrificed at any cost.

     Staggering through the trees, not sure what moisture on his face
was a cold sweat from what he'd done, what was sweat from the
exertion of carrying Jim toward the Blazer, what was rain and what
were tears coursing down his face at so many things that he couldn't
even name them all, he persevered, finally stopping at the side of the
truck, holding Jim up against the side of it, easing the larger man into
the back seat, hoisting him until he lay as comfortably as possible,
finally in a dry place.  Blair went to the back of the truck and pulled out
two emergency blankets, ignoring the shivers that were wracking his
own body while piling the warmth onto Jim.  

     He climbed into the driver's seat, his hands shaking so badly
that he dropped the keys.

     "You killed a man for these keys, Sandburg.  Goddammit, use
them!"  he berated himself, picking them up and starting the engine,
headed for the road through the trees.  

     //You killed a man...you killed a man...you killed a man...//

     "I had to!"  Blair shouted at the voice in his head, fighting off
what felt like some sort of hybrid between a panic attack and shock. 
He shivered, his stomach convulsed, he was bathed in a cold sweat
beneath the icy cold wetness of the merciless rain that had soaked his
body.  

     "Blair," came a groan from the back seat, just at the moment
that Blair felt his sanity slipping completely away from him.  In that
one little gasp, all of what he'd just been through made perfect sense. 
For that gasp, he'd have killed ten men with his bare hands.

     "We're going to the hospital, love.  It's okay.  You hang on,
man.  You're gonna be fine."

     "Whit..."

     "I know, babe.  Forget him.  We're safe, man.  We're almost out
of here, and then it'll be smooth sailing on the main road."  

     There were no more hushed words from the back seat, and Blair
did his best to keep his mind on driving, swallowing hard to force the
bile back down and to bolster his resolve to drive through the ominous-looking 
pool of water that had collected across the final stretch of road
before the juncture to the main highway.  

     When the Blazer emerged victorious, tires finally making
contact with the highway, Blair bit his lip until it nearly bled, trying to
hold back tears of relief, trying to stave off the inevitable meltdown he
knew would come when he once reached the safety of the hospital. 
The closest facility was Bayport, and that was still thirty minutes away. 


     "Jim, lover, you still with me, babe?  Come on, man, I need
you.  I need you bad.  Talk to me."  Blair waited, glancing in the
rearview mirror.  He couldn't see much more than a little of Jim's head
where it rested against the back of the seat.  

     "Hard...to talk, baby," Jim gasped out weakly.

     "Then don't.  I love you, Jim.  You hold on for me.  We're
almost there.  We're gonna make it."

     By the time Blair brought the truck to a screeching stop at the
emergency entrance of the Bayport Hospital, he questioned if his legs
would even support him to go inside.  Still, he feared something as
sharp as the horn might slice through Jim's senses like a razor. 
Opening the door, he forced his shaky legs to accept his weight, then
opened the back door and looked in at Jim.

     "Hold on a few minutes, love.  I have to get some help for us." 
Blair checked Jim's pulse as subtly as he could with a gentle hold on
his wrist.  The other man had passed out, but the pulse was unchanged
from its earlier rapid rhythm.

     Blair hurried through the doors into the tranquil emergency area
of the small hospital.  

     "I...I need help.  My partner's been shot.  He's in the truck out
front," Blair told the nurse at the desk.  She was on her feet instantly,
paging a doctor, then rushing toward the exit with a gurney, two
orderlies racing down the hall to join them.

     The medical personnel quickly and efficiently loaded Jim on
the gurney and wheeled him toward an examining room, finally
blocking Blair's entrance with a closed door.  a man in a white lab coat
Blair assumed was the doctor rushed in shortly thereafter.

     Blair leaned against the wall, then felt his feet sliding out from
under him, until his butt made a hard contact with the floor.  He was
shaking uncontrollably now, wrapping his arms around his knees,
curling inward on himself...

********

     "Hey, take it easy!"  a male voice said gently, as hands pushed
back on Blair's shoulders, keeping him down on the mattress.  He
forced his heavy lids open, praying to see Jim.  Instead, Adam Kelley
sat by his bedside.  

     "Jim?"

     "Is resting comfortably in a room on the floor above you.  They
removed the bullet last night.  It didn't hit any major organs, but he lost
a lot of blood.  Doctor thinks he'll be just fine."

     "Is he awake yet?  What time is it?  How long was I out?"

     "You passed out in the hall last night after you brought Jim in.  I
got the call because it was a gunshot victim.  We also started getting
calls from people on cell phones from your motel once the storm eased
off and the reception was halfway clear."

     "They're okay?"

     "You know that complimentary meal you served them all last
night because of the storm?"

     "Yeah?"

     "It was tainted with some sort of tranquilizer.  They were all out
like lights."

     "Why am I here?  I need to be with Jim."  Blair tried to sit up
but the dizziness he felt made him fall back on the pillows.

     "Well, shock, borderline hypothermia--those things floor you a
little.  Your temp's almost normal now, so I imagine the doc'll let you
loose pretty soon."

     "You found Whitcombe?"

     "Yeah, we found him.  He had a weapon, you didn't have any
choice.  No phones, your partner was wounded and bleeding...  It was a
justified shooting, Blair.  There'll be a coroner's inquest, but you don't
have anything to worry about."

     "I killed him."  Blair turned away and stared out the window.

     "I've never killed a man in the line of duty before.  I wish I
could share some wise words, but I can't," Adam said honestly.  "But
you were in a no-win situation.  How you did everything you did, and
got your partner out of there in one piece...  It was against the odds,
that's for sure.  You shouldn't feel guilty about taking out Whitcombe. 
You had no alternatives."

     "I had to just shoot him in cold blood.  He wouldn't give me the
keys, and he wouldn't drop the gun, and Jim was bleeding--" Blair
swallowed hard and bit his lip.  He didn't feel inclined to share his pain
completely with Adam Kelley.  He was a nice man, and obviously a
compassionate one, but there was only one shoulder Blair wanted to
cry on.

     "You want me to get the nurse?  Get you another sedative?"

     "I want to see Jim."  Blair sat up, ignoring the dizziness this
time, knowing now it was from some sort of tranquilizer.

     "Your clothes were pretty well trashed from last night, so I
picked you up some stuff at the house.  It's in the bag right there.  Need
any help?"

     "Uh...just stick around until I see if I fall on my ass when I get
up, okay?"

     "Sure."  Adam moved out of the chair near the bed and took a
hold of Blair's arm, giving him a little support as he stood.  

     "I'm okay.  Thanks," he said, managing a smile.  

     "No problem.  Least I could do after dragging you two into this
mess."

     "I think we were in it, one way or the other, with Whitcombe."

     "Maybe.  I'll go let the nurse know you're taking off."

     "Thanks."  

     Blair pulled on the jeans, t-shirt and brown plaid flannel shirt
Adam had brought.  He pulled on the socks and slid his feet into the
well-worn athletic shoes that he always kept by the back door.  

     //Everything is going on, like nothing has changed...like I didn't
snuff out another human life in the blink of an eye...//

     Shaking off the thoughts, Blair walked out into the hall, just in
time to meet the nurse who raised a few objections she knew would be
unheeded.  He signed off on the necessary paperwork, and then walked
with Adam to the elevator, where they rode up to the fourth floor to see
Jim.  

     "He's in 412.  I'll just take the load off and catch up on my
National Geographic," Adam said, jerking a thumb in the direction of
the waiting area.

     "Thanks, man."  Blair smiled slightly and made his weary way
down the hall, stopping by Jim's door, gathering his composure, and
pushing it open.  

     Jim lay on the bed, pale but very much alive, and awake.  Those
stunning blue eyes locked on Blair the instant he stepped into the room.

     "Hey, Chief," Jim said a little hoarsely.  

     "Jim...you're awake," Blair said, smiling genuinely for the first
time, moving quickly to his lover's bedside.  

     "Good guess, Darwin," Jim teased. 

     "I'm so...glad..."  Blair couldn't manage the words, but he
couldn't stop the tears that started to flow either.

     "Left side, baby.  Come here."  Jim directed Blair to his
uninjured side, encouraging him to fit himself into the tiny space along
the edge of the bed.  Laying his head on Jim's shoulder, Blair sobbed
out the anguish of the whole experience, drawing solace from the
feeling of one strong arm around his shoulders.

     "I killed him," he whispered against Jim's shoulder, giving in to
another torrent of sobs.

     "I know, baby.  You had to.  It was the only way.  We'd have
both died if you hadn't.  That was the plan."  Jim stroked the tangled
curls.  "I'm so sorry, sweetheart.  So sorry you had to do that."

     "I know...it shouldn't matter...but..."

     "Sure it matters.  You were in shock last night, baby.  How you
ever got us here, I don't know.  But it's going to hurt now, when the
shock wears off.  But you shouldn't feel guilty, Chief.  You had to make
the decision you made."

     "But I...he...didn't aim at me.  He wouldn't give me the keys!" 
Blair moaned miserably.  "I shot him for the keys!"

     "The keys?"  Jim frowned, making the effort to plant a kiss on
Blair's head.  

     "He had the truck keys, and you were outside, and he kept
taunting me with them and I knew you were dying out there and I
couldn't get the keys, and I needed to get you out of there, and the only
way was the truck, and he wouldn't give me the keys!!  So I shot him!" 
Blair sobbed.

     "Damn.  Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry.  But it doesn't change the
fact you had no choice.  Well, only the choice of letting me die, and
then standing around while he shot you.  And you thought everyone at
the motel was...?"

     "Dead...somehow.  I didn't know.  I thought he'd just...*killed*
everybody.  I was so freaked by the time I ran into him and I had the
gun."

     "I know, baby.  It's okay.  You did the right thing.  I know it
doesn't feel like it right now, but you did."  Jim used as much strength
as he could find to rub Blair's shaking back.  "You saved my life.  The
doc says I'll be fine, but if you had waited any longer, I probably would
have bled to death."

     "I love you."

     "I love you too, Chief.  Everything's going to be okay now."

     "You should rest," Blair protested weakly.

     "You too.  So let's grab a nap, huh?"

     "I have to tell Adam--"

     "He's a detective.  He'll figure it out.  Now sleep.  That's an
order."  Jim felt his own energy waning, and he managed one more kiss
to the matted curls near his face before drifting off.  Blair was close
behind him, clinging to his lover for dear life.

********  

     "Where's your Siamese twin?"  Adam asked jokingly as he
walked into Jim's hospital room.  The last time he'd stopped by, several
hours earlier, the smaller man had been curled around Jim's body,
sleeping soundly.

     "I gave him a mission to go get me some decent food.  I'm not
all that hungry but I'm hoping he'll eat something if I do," Jim said
honestly.  "I was hoping you'd stop by.  I'm still trying to figure out
what the hell happened."

     "Well, it was a wild ride."  Adam pulled up a chair and sat
down.  "Whitcombe must have gotten into the kitchen at the motel
somehow, because the food was laced with some sort of tranquilizer--the 
lab still hasn't confirmed the exact chemical composition yet.  But
that's why Blair couldn't raise anybody at the motel.  After they ate
dinner, they passed out.  Whitcombe has an undergraduate minor in
Chemistry, and judging by some of his reading material, and the
reference stuff at the house, this isn't the first time he's studied up on
how to drug somebody."

     "How'd we miss that the first time?"  Jim queried, rubbing his
forehead, hoping the painkillers would recede enough to let him think.

     "We didn't exactly miss them.  We knew he had books on
chemistry and herbal medicine in his collection, but he also had books
on the Salem witch trials--that didn't mean he was a warlock," Adam
concluded.  "The guy had an eclectic collection of stuff.  Unless you
knew that was significant, why would we look at it?"  Pausing, Adam
leaned back in his chair.  "So he drugged the food, and cut the phone
lines to the house and motel--but he could have saved the trouble
because the phones were out anyway.  Even a cell phone would have
been pretty useless out there in the boonies during the storm.  Aside
from that, he just waited for an opportunity to start the mayhem."

     "What did the lightning hit?  I heard it hit *something* out
there.  I thought it was the motel."

     "It was one of the big trees right behind the motel.  Luckily, it
fell the other way."

     "We had to get lucky somewhere in this whole thing, I guess,"
Jim said tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

     "When you went outside to check, that gave Whitcombe the
ideal opportunity.  With all the thunder, he was able to shoot you
without Blair hearing the shot up at the house."

     "Where'd he get a gun?  And for God's sake, how did he go off
like that?  I know the guy was disturbed--bludgeoning someone to
death isn't exactly the sign of a healthy mind.  But still..."

     "The gun was an antique, and was usually mounted and framed
in a glass display case on his wall.  That's one of the reasons you got off
relatively easily with your wound.  It wasn't a high caliber, and not all
that powerful--at least not by today's standards.   As for him going off...
well, since he's dead, we're never going to know the exact mind set
involved, but from what we can piece together, he was having an affair
with Arlene, and when all the scandal broke about the sexual
harassment and then the innuendo of possible kiddie porn charges, she
broke it off.  I guess he went a little berserk at that and killed her.  
Obviously, he thought you had something to do with his downfall, so
this was his revenge.  At least, that's my personal theory.  The official
theory is that he was targeting Blair because he identified the blanket."

     "Why are you covering for me?"  Jim asked, point blank.

     "Well, probably because I would have done the same thing in
your place.  Or maybe because I have an ulterior motive."

     "Which is?"

     "I just sat in on an interview for the police chief position
yesterday, before all hell broke loose out at your place.  The guy was a
bozo.  And the mayor is actually *considering* him."

     "And this is relevant to me because...?"

     "I think you should throw your hat in the ring for the job."

     "For police chief."

     "Yeah.  We wouldn't normally have a snowball's chance in hell
of getting someone with your background."

     "You think they're going to want a police chief with a male
lover?  I don't think so."

     "A male lover who just held his own facing off against a
murderer.  And who also happens to be a nationally-known crime
writer.  I think they could overcome it."

     "I don't know.  I'm more worried about Blair right now than I
am about a career move.  Are the motel guests okay?"

     "Oh, yeah.  Actually, they're great.  Very well-rested, enjoying
the free extra night or two they're assuming you're throwing in for their
pain and suffering."

     "Figures," Jim responded, shaking his head.
     
     "Will you consider trying for the job?  I could let the mayor
know you're thinking about it--maybe he'd stall doing anything for
another few days until you're up to talking to him."

     "I'll consider it.  You can tell him I'm thinking about it if you
like, but I'm not making any promises.  I can't really think about that
right now.  Not until I know Blair's gonna make it through this okay."

     "Man, I wouldn't have wanted to be in his position.  It's hard
enough to pull the trigger on a perp who's got a piece aimed right at
you.  But to have to shoot to kill to get a set of keys?  That's rough."

     "We're not going to have a problem with the DA on that point,
are we?"

     "No.  I spoke to him this morning, and he isn't planning to file
charges.  Like I told Blair, there'll be an inquest--there always is in a
case like this--but it's routine.  He had no choices, and if he hadn't made
the one he did, you'd be dead now.  The doctor said it was a close one
because of the blood loss."

     "We both know Blair did the right thing.  I just want to be sure
he's not going to be led off in handcuffs over it."

     "Not as far as the DA's concerned."

     "Look, I know this is asking a lot, but is there anybody you
know of in the area that could clean up the house for us?  Blair'll
probably want to sleep in the room here tonight, and I'm not going to
fight him on that, but eventually, he'll have to go back there, and I don't
want Whitcombe's blood all over the living room when he does."

     "As soon as I get the all clear, which I expect first thing
tomorrow morning, I'll get somebody out there to clean it up, take the
tape up, things like that.  I also got a hold of the phone company about
the lines, although they're pretty busy after the storm.  It might be a
couple days for the phone and the power."

     "Thanks for your help.  We both appreciate it."

     "Don't mention it.  I'm gonna get going.  Is there anything you
guys need tonight?"  Adam stood up, heading for the door.

     "I think we'll be okay tonight.  Thanks again."

     "Sure thing.  Besides, I've got to get you two back in action
again.  We still haven't found Sheila Ryan's killer."  He smiled slightly
as he stepped through the door, pulling it shut behind him.

********

     Blair sat in the cafeteria, letting the coffee warm him. //Jim is
okay.  He's going to be fine.  He'll be going home in a couple of days.// 
Blair took another drink of coffee and tried to let his nerves settle a
little.  When he'd left the room, Jim was still a little dopey from the
painkillers he was on, and seemed content to nap or stare at the
television.  And Blair needed time to think.

     He held his right hand out in front of him, relieved that it had
stopped shaking.  Looking at the hand as if it were a separate entity, he
thought about the fact that it had taken another life, pulled the trigger
not once, but twice, shooting to kill just the way it had been taught in
the police firing range.  

     When this was all over, Blair promised himself he would go to
his favorite place in the woods, and meditate.  Spend many hours just
getting back in touch with himself, examining his feelings about all
that had happened, and try to make some sense of it.   For now, he had
to get back upstairs to Jim.  His partner was not only awake and
hungry, but thoroughly dissatisfied with the bland bill of fare on his
meal tray.  Spotting a take out place across the street, he started out to
pick up some food that would meet with Jim's approval.

********

     Blair spent the balance of that day, and the night, in Jim's
hospital room.  If the staff were annoyed at his constant presence, they
were kind enough not to show it.  Jim broached the subject of the
shooting more than once, but Blair had put him off about it.  He wasn't
ready to talk more about it yet.  The most he could do at the moment
was hold himself together, and draw his strength from being with Jim,
and the knowledge that not only was Jim safe and alive, but that he
would recover fully.

     When the next day dawned, Blair realized that the time had
come to face the music--to face the motel, and the house.  Jim would
need clothes when he was released, and there had to be a first time for
him to walk through the front door, to overcome the memories that lay
on the other side of it.

     Coming out of the bathroom from shaving with the supplies
he'd picked up in the gift shop downstairs, Blair pulled his hair back
and sat on the foot of Jim's bed while he fastened it in place at the nape
of his neck in a loose pony tail.

     "I'm going home to get you some clothes.  You're getting sprung
tomorrow."

     "Are you okay with that, Chief?"

     "You coming home?"

     "Don't avoid the subject, Blair.  You know what I meant."

     "I'll tell you better after I get there.  But I have to face it, and
now's as good a time as any."

     "Adam said he'd--"

     "Not with Adam or anyone else.  I have to do this on my own.  I
drove out of there myself, and I'm going to drive back in there.  If I
can't do that, I can function there."

     "Why don't you just pick something up for me at the store here,
and we'll go back together?"

     "I have to do this, Jim.  I mean it.  I love you for worrying about
me, but I have to be able to face this."  Blair got up and grabbed his
jacket, sliding into it.  "I won't be long."

     "Chief--"

     "I'll be okay, man.  See ya later."  Blair pulled the door of Jim's
room shut behind him.

********

     The huge puddle that had been Blair's last hurdle between the
nightmare at the house and the main road had shrunken considerably,
and Blair hoped that was somehow symbolic--that everything would
look more surmountable on the return trip.

     He steered the Blazer through the final curves of the road and
into the clearing by the house.  There was an unfamiliar pick up truck
out front, a stocky older man loading supplies into the back of it.  Blair
drove up next to the white vehicle and got out, walking around to speak
to the other man.

     "You must be Sandburg," he said pleasantly, his creased face
breaking into a smile.  "Joe Pasternak."  He extended a hand, which
Blair shook, still a little confused.  "Adam Kelley called me to get
things cleaned up inside for you folks.  I just finished up.  Good as
new."

     "The living room...?"  Blair asked, uncertainly.

     "Yup.  Should be all set now.  I'll send you the bill in a couple
of days."  He got into the truck.

     "Thanks, Joe," Blair said as the other man closed the door of his
vehicle.  He gave Blair a little wave in response, and started up the
engine, heading for the road.  

     Blair turned and looked at the house, facing off with the front
door as if it were a tangible enemy.  He climbed the steps and stood on
the porch in front of it, finally taking a deep breath and unlocking the
front door, pushing it open and standing right where he had stood the
night before, next to the empty key basket on the table just inside the
door, looking straight ahead at the spot where Whitcombe had
stood...and fallen.  

     Pasternak certainly had done his job well.  The polished
hardwood floor was shiny as ever, and the smell of fresh paint signaled
the work done on the wall affected.  Since they had just painted it
recently, the new coat of beige paint blended easily with the other walls
in the room.  

     "Just like nothing ever happened," Blair muttered to himself,
not sure if that made it more surreal and unnerving, or if walking in to
see Whitcombe's blood splattered on the floor and the walls would
have been easier.  That mental image answered his question.  Adam's
thoughtfulness in getting the room cleaned up had been a great help.

     Shaking off the momentary freeze of facing the spot for the first
time, Blair turned and headed up the stairs, grateful for the bright
autumn sunshine and the sound of birds chirping happily outside.  He
made his way to the bedroom, a little chilled to see the night stand
drawer still open from where he had taken the gun two nights earlier. 
Pushing it shut, he walked to the closet and took out a pair of jeans and
some favorite shoes of Jim's, then went to the drawer and pulled out a
t-shirt, a baggy green sweater and clean underwear.  He set those items
on the bed with the jeans and swallowed hard when a thought hit him.

     //If I had made a different decision that night, I would be back
here, if I had survived, laying out clothes for Jim.  Only it would be a
suit, a white shirt, and maybe that striped tie Jim always wears with his
best gray suit...//

     "Oh, God..."  Blair groaned, dropping to his knees on the floor
of the bedroom.  It wasn't what he had done that haunted him now, that
filled his soul with a numbing sort of terror.  It was what had *almost
been*...what *might have been* if he had hesitated...if he had been
unable to pull the trigger on Whitcombe. 

     He braced himself on his hands, letting the wracking sobs tear
through his body, wondering if he had somehow crossed a line and was
on his way to insanity.  Jim was alive!  He was fine!  

     //But it was too fucking close...//

     He crawled over to the bed and pulled the green sweater off it,
holding it close, smelling a slight trace of Jim's aftershave in the fibers. 
He remembered praying for help, begging God to listen to him, to let
him help Jim, to get Jim to the hospital, to let Blair live long enough to
do that...  He hadn't cared about his own life, not without Jim.  He had
only begged for that ability to save the man who was everything to him. 
And in the darkest moment of his life, he'd been given a flicker of light
at the end of the tunnel.  An opportunity.  He'd taken it, and a man was
dead.  But that man wasn't Jim.  Jim was alive.  

     Blair clutched the sweater tighter to himself, sobbing into it.  If
he hadn't gotten the gun...and if he hadn't used it when he did...a few
favorite sweaters holding little traces of fading cologne would be all
Blair would have had left.  The empty arms of Jim's sweater would
have been the only arms around him, and the desolation in his soul
would have left him bereft, a walking shell with no heart.

     "Thank you...thank you...thank you...thank you..."  Blair kept up
the litany, rocking on his knees there in their bedroom, crying into
Jim's sweater, hoping that the same God who had let him keep Jim with
him could hear the fevered gratitude being offered up now.  

********

     Blair headed back up to Jim's room, carrying two milkshakes. 
When he opened the door, and his lover turned and smiled sleepily at
him, Blair felt a great inner peace spread into his frazzled soul.  This
man was worth any price, any action...anything it could have cost Blair
to save him.  This man was his life.

     "Smells like...chocolate," Jim observed, his voice a little
fatigued.

     "A large chocolate shake.  Two of 'em.  One's for me, though." 
Blair sat on the bed and after opening the top of it, handed one shake to
Jim, who began guzzling it with gusto.

     "Chief...  I appreciate all the good cheer, but are you okay?  We
never really talked this about what happened.  Except for a little that
night and--"

     "That night, I was in shock," Blair responded honestly, pausing
in drinking his milkshake.  "Both physically and emotionally.  It was
probably the worst night of my life."

     "I know that, sweetheart.  I just want you to know that you don't
have to put on a good front for me.  I'm going to be okay and I can
handle being there for you."

     "You are.  You were when I was freaking out.  That was all I
needed--just to be close to you."  Blair smiled a little.  "I was getting
your clothes, at the house, and I realized how close...how close I came
to doing that same thing along about today...but for a different reason,
different clothes...  And I just thought, it was going to be Whitcombe or
you that night.  One of you had to die, because he was never going to
let me have those keys, and I never could have taken him in a fight. 
Plus, he'd have probably shot me before I could really take him on. 
That I could have faced--dying.  But I wouldn't let you die.  And when I
realized how close we were to that happening, from my whole...*soul*
being ripped out by the roots, and you, well...I can't even say it.  But
*gone*...  It all fell into place."

     "And you're okay with what happened?"

     "No.  I know I'm gonna need some help working through all of
it.  But I accept what I did, I see it as a necessity, and I don't regret it.  I
regret that it ever had to happen, but I don't regret handling it the way I
did."

     "Sounds kind of familiar."

     "Yeah, in a way," Blair said, smiling.  He had told Jim the same
thing about the fateful press conference--that he'd been sorry a choice
had to be made, but that he didn't regret the one he'd made.

     "If it's any consolation to you, Chief, I know how you feel."  Jim
took as deep a breath as his small incision allowed.  "I had to kill
someone under similar circumstances during my time in Covert Ops.  I
know how hard it is to get past it, because it was the hardest kill to deal
with."

     "What happened?"

     "One of the men involved in this operation I was part of was
captured by...well, at the risk of getting cheesy here, *the bad guys*."

     "I know, you can't name names.  That's okay."

     "It was up to me, and one other guy, to get him out.  Now, these
guys were real bad-ass types--guerilla types.  We knew they were
torturing people--probably our man as well as a few others.  But our job
was to get him out.  He had information that...well, let's just say that if
he didn't hold out, we'd have been in serious trouble, and probably lost
a few other lives.  When we made our move, we had to take out the
guards.  Not hit them, not tie them up--*take them out*.  There were
reasons for that at the time--reasons not to leave them alive.  What it
boiled down to was that when we went in, we had to kill the first two
we encountered with our bare hands because the gunfire would have
been too noisy.  Oddly enough, the memory that lingered with me most
was the final guy--I shot him, point blank.  He was coming out of what
looked like some sort of break room--not really expecting anything,
and he looked so damned *surprised* when he saw me.  I could have
tied him up, I could have knocked him out--hell, even taken his
weapon.  But my orders were to take no prisoners.  So I didn't."

     "That must have been horrible--to have to do that, when you
weren't really committed to the idea."

     "Well, I had to just move past it at the time, complete the
mission.  Later, when the dust settled, we found out that the guy I had
shot was one of the main ones who conducted the torture sessions--he
was the bloodthirsty one.  And you know, the truth is, every one of
those guys who were involved in that operation were cut from the same
cloth.  And I knew that when I fired.  But it was still hard to do it.  And
still left me feeling...*guilty*--that I had killed someone who didn't
need to die.  But there were other people undercover in that operation,
and other lives at stake, and leaving that one maniac alive would have
been a disaster."

     "Like my hesitating too long to pull the trigger."

     "Exactly.  Neither situation was an immediate personal threat.  I
could have overpowered the guy.  But your case is even more clear-cut
because you *had* no other options.  One lucky right hook when he
wasn't armed is a far cry from physically overpowering someone who
has eight inches and fifty or sixty pounds on you.  You had to choose
my life or his, and you chose mine."  Jim shook his head.  "But there's
that moment of decision, and in that moment, you feel something in
your gut...twist...and something in yourself...*die a little*.  So I do
know how you feel.  Because it took me quite a few years to get that
guy's surprised face out of my mind."

     "Is it gone now?"

     "Mostly.  I still remember it.  There are things I've done that I
still remember.  I don't know if I regret them, or if I'm sorry--maybe it's
really best to say, like you did, that you regretted the situations, not the
way you handled them.  I guess that's how I feel.  I regret being in those
situations, looking back, but I'm not sure there was any other way to
deal with them."

     "I know you, Jim.  Whatever you did back then...it had to be for
a good reason.  a right reason."

     "You don't know all the facts, Chief."

     "I don't have to," Blair said solemnly, looking into Jim's eyes--seeing 
into the depths of his soul, or at least that's how Jim felt under
the intense gaze.  "I know you.  I know your heart, and your soul.  I
don't have to know details to believe in you."

     "Nobody's ever accepted me, carte blanche, the way you do,"
Jim said quietly, studying his lover's face. 

     "I could say the same thing, love.  Nobody's ever wanted me
exactly like I am, without my having to...*shapeshift* to be something
they wanted."  Blair sighed and looked out the nearby window a
moment.   Then he turned back to look at Jim.  "I know what kind of
man you are, Jim.  I know you're decent, compassionate, caring--and
you're the one who's held me when I was hurting, made love to me like
nobody else could, and stood by me even when it meant walking away
from everything you had and starting a new career as a breakfast fry
cook and maintenance man,"  Blair quipped, and Jim laughed a little. 
"How could I possibly judge that man on something that happened a
lifetime ago?"

     "I love you--you know that, right?"

     "I had some pretty strong suspicions along those lines, yeah,"
Blair replied, smiling widely.  "I love you too."

     "I sort of figured."

     "Shakes are melting."  Blair started slurping at his, and Jim
followed suit, the two of them feasting silently and a bit voraciously for
a few minutes.  

     "Adam thinks I should apply for the police chief's job."

     "Do you want to?"  Blair asked, his whole demeanor changing
to one of enthusiasm, as if he thought it was the best idea in the world.

     "Looks like you think I should too," Jim said, smiling as he
finished off his milkshake.

     "I'll be done with classes after this semester, so I could do most
of my writing from the house or the motel office, and keep an eye on
things, plus when I needed to be away, Tony could watch the motel for
us.  I was thinking, if the next book sells well, we ought to offer him a
job as manager."

     "I agree.  He does a great job.  If something happened and I
*did* get that job, we could afford a manager right away," Jim added.

     "I think you should go for it.  But what about us--I mean, how
are they going to react to a gay police chief?"

     "Adam seems to think they'll cope with it.  Plus, it's not like my
partner is putting up pink gingham curtains in our honeymoon cottage. 
He thought that with your reputation as a crime writer, you'd be much
less likely to draw their scorn, in spite of our relationship."

     "Oh, man, I think you should apply.  Do you *want* to do
something different?"

     "I have to admit, I'm feeling a little...*stagnant* with the daily
routine."

     "Chief Ellison.  Has a nice ring to it."

     "You're still the number one 'Chief' around here, *Chief*," Jim
teased.  "Now get over here where you belong."

     Blair happily settled back into the spot he'd slept in, his heart
expanding with the pure joy of being able to share these moments with
Jim, kissing and bumping noses and groping a little.  They had come so
close to losing this...to losing each other...to losing everything.  

********

     "You look great!"  Blair enthused, always amazed by just how
handsome Jim was, and in how many different ways.  Every last drop
of the wealthy Ellison blood was flowing through those veins now, Jim
looking like he should be the CEO of some huge corporation.  Dressed
in his gray suit, white shirt and tie, he was the embodiment of class and
good taste.  

     "I feel like I'm being slowly strangled," Jim grumbled, flexing
his neck.  

     "How's your shoulder?"

     "My arm's been out of the sling a week, Chief.  I'm fine."

     "Sorry.  I'm hovering, right?"

     "Like a UFO."

     "Right."  Blair nodded solemnly.  

     "I better get a move on."  Jim grabbed his long black topcoat,
and Blair snatched his own leather jacket, following Jim to the door.

     "I'll drive you," he said by way of explanation.  "I have to turn
in a paper at the college.  My side trip to Bangor to do that should be
just about the right time for your interview.  I can pick you up and we
can have dinner and celebrate."

     "Don't you think that's a little premature, sweetheart?"  Jim
asked, locking the door behind them as they headed down the front
steps to the truck.

     "They'd be insane not to hire you.  You can run rings around
any old stooge they've looked at so far.  You heard what Adam said--
that they were all a bunch of broken down old geezers who couldn't get
administrative jobs in a real department."

     "Nice to know I'm in such distinguished company, isn't it?"  Jim
said, snorting a little laugh.

     "That's not what I meant, Jim."  Blair got into the driver's side
of the Blazer and started it up.  

     "I know, Chief.  Couldn't let that opportunity pass though."  He
took and hold of Blair's hand and squeezed it.  

     The two men passed the time on the road talking about the
motel and the upcoming winter.  This year, there were more
reservations for skiing season, and things were looking up financially. 
If Jim did in fact end up with the new job, they would be more than
comfortable.

     "I've got my cell, so call me if you get done before I get back.  If
not, I'll be out front here probably around four, okay?"  Blair asked.

     "Sounds good, sweetheart.  See you later."  Jim leaned over and
kissed his lover once quickly, then leaned back in for one more, longer
kiss.  "Love you."

     "You too, lover.  Now go knock 'em dead!"

********

     Happy to have turned in the most extensive term paper of the
semester, Blair now only had about a month of classes, a couple minor
papers and finals to get through, and he would be a free man again. 
Getting the extra education had started out as fun and challenging, and
certainly had given him a solid foundation for his writing, but getting
through the semester had been tough.  After the whole shooting
incident, Blair had been distracted, frazzled, and unable to concentrate
very well for a few weeks.  Sessions with a well-respected local
psychiatrist had helped him work through some of the issues he still
had with the whole incident, and many long meditation sessions had
helped heal his soul.  He knew he'd done the only thing he could, but
the reality of taking another life had still put him through an emotional
wringer.

     Driving back into downtown Bayport, Blair was stunned to see
Jim flagging him down from in front of the little Italian restaurant up
the street.  He was earlier than he'd planned as it was, and judging by
Jim's loosened tie and open shirt collar, it looked like he'd been out
wandering around for a while.

     "That was fast," Blair said as the other man got into the car. 

     "I can't do it, Chief."

     "Can't do what?  The job?"  Blair frowned, confused.

     "The job, the politics, the ass-kissing.  You know administration
isn't me.  It never will be.  I got in there today and here's the mayor,
these two old windbags from the city council--and all I can see is a
future of assuaging these old farts while I supervise a department that's
lucky to have one high speed chase every four years."

     "So you walked out of the interview?"

     "I told them I had reconsidered, and that I wasn't interested in
the administrative end of police work, and thanked them for their time
and then came down here and had a beer while I waited for you."  Jim
shook his head.  "I'm sorry, Chief.  I'm just not ready to rot behind a
desk.  I'd rather flip pancakes at the inn."

     "You don't have to apologize, man.  If it's not right for you, you
did the right thing walking out on it."

     "We were counting on that income to hire Tony and deal with a
few other things at the motel."

     "We're not in bad shape financially.  Between the motel and the
books, we're fine.  The important thing here is that this wasn't the right
job for you.  The right professional opportunity will come up.  This just
wasn't the one."  Blair paused.  "You want to take home a pizza?" he
asked.

     "Sounds good.  Let's stop at the video place in Gull Coast and
rent something."

     "I got that covered.  Rented us a gay porn flick in Bangor."

     "a what??"

     "I heard this one was really hot--and pretty well done, actually. 
Besides, I figured we wouldn't want word to spread in a little town like
Gull Coast that we were renting dirty movies."

     "Probably be front page on the Gull Coast Gazette," Jim
responded laughing.

********

     As Jim sat on the edge of the bed in his boxers, setting the
alarm, Blair shed his robe and climbed on the mattress behind him on
his knees, nimble fingers starting to massage the taut muscles of Jim's
neck and shoulders.  With Jim leaning into the soothing touch, Blair
finally asked the question that had been weighing on his mind.

     "Do you want to tell me now what *really* happened in that
interview?" he asked softly, fingers still kneading the knots out of Jim's
shoulders.  He hadn't felt the other man this tense since they'd moved
here.

     "What do you mean?"

     "I mean why you didn't even finish the interview.  I know you,
Jim.  You'd have gone through the motions until it was over--unless
something really negative happened."  Blair kept massaging, letting the
silence hang there a few moments.  

     "Apparently the mayor wasn't aware of our relationship prior to
the interview."

     "What happened?"

     "Well, instead of asking me about my philosophy of policing,
he got stuck in this rut of asking me all these veiled questions about us. 
When I mentioned that I lived with my partner, that we ran the Inn, he
sort of glommed onto that and probed and probed about the whole set
up to the point that it was obvious he was trying to ask if we were
sleeping together.  When I made it pretty obvious, without getting
crude about it, that we were *together*, he started going off about
Bayport being this traditional small town and all their family values--I
got his point.  Faggots don't belong in public administration in their
fine little community.  If they have a gay cop, they probably deal with
it because he isn't a prominent figure--they can pigeon-hole him
somewhere chasing shoplifters."

     "Did they say anything...anything that could be--"

     "What?  Anything I could use to sue them for discrimination? 
No, they were smart enough to skirt the issue in so many words, but
anyone with half a brain would have gotten the message.  It was clear
that if I had a wife and kids, I would be acceptable.  If I had a male
partner, I didn't fit in with the community atmosphere."

     "Man, that sucks!"  Blair sat back on his heels, shaking his
head.  "Adam seemed so convinced they'd be okay with us--that they'd
know enough to take advantage of your credentials."

     "My credentials?  You know how long they spent talking about
my professional credentials?  Two minutes.  They looked at my
resume, asked me a couple polite questions about my degree and a
couple of the commendations from the Cascade PD, and then launched
into these little probes about my personal life."

     "I'm really sorry, man."  Blair slid his arms around Jim's neck
from behind, kissing the back of his neck and then resting his chin on
Jim's shoulder.  "You deserved a shot at something like that."

     "I'm not sure anyone deserves that job."

     "You're probably right," Blair responded, smiling.  "But I meant
that you deserve to get back in your field.  To do something you love."

     "I *am* doing something I love."  Jim took a hold of Blair's
hand and kissed it.  "I'm living with you."

     "I meant with your career, babe."  Blair kissed Jim's cheek.  "I
love you too, by the way."

     "Thanks for clearing that up for me."   Jim chuckled, reaching
behind him to pull Blair forward so they could lock lips.

     "Well, I guess it's back to the drawing board.  What about some
of the bigger departments near here?  Like Bangor or--"

     "Residency requirements, Chief."

     "You could rent a cheesy studio apartment in town.  Maintain a
local address and still live here."

     "I'll think about it."  Jim stood up, facing Blair who was still on
his knees on the mattress.  He wound his arms around Blair's waist and
hoisted, and as Blair's legs wrapped around him, he threw them both
back on the bed.  "Now, let's think about something more interesting." 
Jim flexed his eyebrows, his hand straying down to gently rub and
squeeze at the bulge beneath the plaid boxers Blair was wearing.  "I
think somebody's interested," he teased, moving off Blair long enough
to slide the underwear down the smaller man's legs.

     "Jim..."  Blair sighed the name, spreading his legs a little,
relaxing into the mattress while Jim took him in his mouth.  "So
good..."  he said, closing his eyes, his hands moving down to caress
Jim's hair.  He moved the hands away just as quickly, holding onto the
sheets as the pleasure built.  "Jim...I...I want to finish with you...inside
me," he managed, hoping Jim would pull away before it was too late.

     "Let's try it on your side tonight, huh?"  Jim suggested gently,
moving up and whispering in Blair's ear before kissing it.

     "Yeah...you wrapped around me," Blair added, smiling.  He
shifted onto his side, and Jim solicitously tucked a pillow under his
lover's head.

     "Comfortable?"  he asked, kissing Blair's shoulder.

     "Mm-hm...but lonely."

     "We can fix that."  Jim smiled and spooned up behind the
smaller body, wrapping his arms around Blair and running his foot
along his lover's calf.   He spared one arm to snag the lube, handing it
to Blair, who opened it and squeezed the gel out onto Jim's fingers. 
"You know where those fingers are going, don't you, baby?"  Jim
whispered, sliding the first one in gently, working it around, massaging.

     "Mmmm."

     "You know how much I love you, don't you?"  Jim murmured
against Blair's ear.

     "Me too," he whispered back.

     "You're so beautiful, baby."  Jim slid another finger in to join
the first.  "Love to feel you open up for me."

     "Feels good," Blair breathed, bearing down on the fingers.  In a
moment, they were withdrawn and a third one added.  Jim was
avoiding putting much emphasis on Blair's prostate now.  It was
obvious he was going to make this last, and Blair couldn't think of
anything he wanted more than long, slow lovemaking.

     "Get ready for me, sweetheart.  Gonna fill you up," Jim
muttered, removing the fingers from the moist heat and coating
himself.  Then, slowly, gently, he slid into his lover's body, wrapping
his arms tightly around Blair, one hand straying down to pump at the
engorged cock.

     "Love you...in me," Blair sighed, settling into the gentle rocking
motion Jim was setting.  Neither of them wanted to rush this union,
content to soak up the closeness, letting the pleasure build until their
bodies demanded more aggressive action.  

     Jim's cock nudged at Blair's prostate, dragging forth a cry of
pleasure and a spasm of Blair's already overheated body.  He kept up a
slow, rhythmic rubbing of the little nob, moving closer to his own
release, and feeling Blair's body tense up for his climax.  

     With a cry of Jim's name and a few inarticulate shouts of
pleasure, Blair came.  Jim followed him over the edge, riding the tide
of Blair's body's contractions around him until he was spent, limp and
sated, wrapped around his lover.  

     As Blair punctuated the whole experience with a jaw-stretching
yawn, Jim sighed and settled in for a nap, wrapped around his lover,
bodies still joined.  

********

     Blair was bagging the carved jack-o-lanterns for the trash when
he heard the approach of a vehicle just before it emerged from the trees
and pulled up near the house.  Adam Kelley got out of the new red
Grand Prix and walked up to the porch.

     "'morning, Blair.  Is Jim around?"

     "His turn to do breakfast.  He should be done in the next few
minutes."

     "That has to be a drag--getting up every morning and making
breakfast for what, ten people?"

     "Sometimes more, sometimes less.  We rotate who gets stuck
with the job.  Hopefully we can hire someone to do the housekeeping
stuff for the motel pretty soon, but we're just getting ready to hire a
manager, so we have to take it one step at a time.  You want to go
down to the dining room and have some coffee?"

     "No, thanks.  I'll be pumping caffeine all morning at work.  I
guess I mainly wanted to apologize for what happened at the job
interview.  I *really* overestimated Mayor Phillips."

     "You thought he'd be okay with a gay police chief, huh?"

     "I thought he was smart and forward-thinking enough to
overlook what was an irrelevant personal lifestyle choice in the
interests of hiring someone who normally wouldn't even be *found* in
a one-horse town like Bayport."  Adam crossed his arms over his chest
and shook his head.  "There are days it wouldn't take a hell of a lot for
me to pack up and get the hell out of here."

     "What keeps you here?"

     "Honestly?  I'm not entirely sure.  I've got some family here, but
they're mainly shirttail relatives.  I guess because it's home, I just...
*stayed* here."  

     "Home has a certain lure.  But take it from us--that old saying
that you grow where you're planted is true."

     "Must be a switch from Washington, huh?"

     "Cascade was wetter, not so much snow...  The big adjustment
was leaving all our friends, leaving Jim's job..."  

     "You guys are pretty content here now?"
     
     "More or less.  Things aren't perfect.  I hate that they're close to
perfect for me now, and Jim's bored unconscious.  I mean, somebody
with his history--fixing breakfast and cleaning guest rooms?  No
wonder he's going bananas."

     "Well, he could be leading a life of constant excitement like
me.  We have a crisis going on downtown--someone broke into the
party store and stole a case of beer.  I have to hunt down the lawless
bastards before they turn this city into a looter's paradise."  Adam
snorted a laugh.  "That was a direct quote from the store owner,
incidentally."  He headed toward his car.  

     "You can go down and see Jim if you want.  He's probably just
cleaning things up."

     "Maybe I'll do that."  Adam frowned at the puckered pumpkins
still sitting on the porch.  "My God, it's Mayor Phillips!" he said,
pointing at one particularly gruesome jack-o-lantern.  With a laugh, he
turned and headed for the motel, leaving Blair laughing as he bagged
the image and likeness of the Mayor.  

********

     Jim settled back in his airplane seat, trying vainly to get
interested in the article in the magazine he was reading.  He glanced
again at Blair, absorbed in yet another volume on evidence gathering,
this time concentrating on weapon identification and ballistics testing. 
With the last of his college classes finished for the year, Jim had hoped
Blair's nose might not be in a book most of the time, but he seemed to
seek out even more knowledge when left on his own to choose the
subject matter.   As they headed for their first visit back to Cascade
since leaving for their new life a year and a half ago, Jim wondered
what was going on in his lover's head, besides patterns on bullets.

     "Is it really that interesting?"  Jim asked, smiling.

     "What?  Oh, this?  Not really."  Blair closed the book and took
off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes.  "It was the one area that I didn't
feel I got enough exposure to in my classes, and somebody told me this
was a really good book on it, so..."  Blair shrugged.  "Plus, my next
book is going to be about Carasco, so I thought I should know a little
more about weapons."

     "We're almost there."

     "It'll be good to see all the old sights again."

     "We're invited to dinner at the loft tomorrow night."

     "Now that's weird," Blair commented, laughing.  

     "Rhonda's brother and sister-in-law are giving a little Christmas
dinner party, and she thought it would be fun if we joined them--I guess
Rafe's taking Rhonda."

     "Interesting," Blair said, smiling and nodding.  "So when did
this develop?"

     "I asked Rhonda the same thing, and she got all flustered, said
they were just friends.  But you never know.  She called while you were
in the bathroom this morning, and things got so hectic getting ready to
leave that I forgot all about it until now."

     "It'll be weird to eat there with someone else cooking besides
us," Blair commented, stashing the book in his flight bag and leaning
back in the chair.  He reached over and took a hold of Jim's hand,
lacing their fingers.  "Do you miss Cascade a lot?  Honest?"

     "Honest?  Sometimes.  It was home for a lot of years.  We have
a lot of good friends, good memories there.  a few bad ones."  

     "You'll get a laugh out of this.  Guess who e-mailed me with an
inquiry about making a public speaking appearance?"

     "I'm afraid to ask."

     "The student who runs the Program Board at Rainier."

     "No shit," Jim responded, laughing.  "I wonder if she ran that
one by old tight-ass Edwards."

     "Yeah...'you've embarrassed this university for the last time'--wanna bet?!"  
Blair laughed out loud then.  "It's, like, so hard not to
accept it and then quote her, along about the time the guys from the
local TV station show up to cover the lecture by the best-selling
author."

     "You gonna do it?"

     "Speak there or lambaste Edwards?"

     "Either one."

     "I might speak there, just for the personal satisfaction.  But I
wouldn't reduce myself to the level of mudslinging at the old bat." 
Blair smiled a little evilly.  "It'll be punishment enough to have her
nose rubbed in it.  But I probably better tip off the student in case she
doesn't know what she's doing with inviting me.  I don't want to see her
get in hot water later."

     "You're a nationally-known writer now, Chief.  They probably
don't care.  At least, the students trying to get some big names to speak
probably don't care."

     "Well, I have to respond before the holidays, so I guess I'll drop
in and visit her in person."

     "That'll freak her out."

     "No point e-mailing someone whose about two miles away
from you.  Are we going to have wheels while we're here?"

     "I'm sure we can borrow Simon's car, or maybe he'll get a loaner
from the PD.  If we need one, we'll rent one.  Probably should anyway,
just so we can get around on our own."

     The impending landing at Cascade International was
announced, and both men fastened their seat belts, ready to touch down
on their own home base.

********

     "I guess Daryl turning 18 has some benefits," Jim quipped as
Simon pulled up in front of his newly purchased one floor home in one
of Cascade's new developments.  

     "Yeah," Simon laughed.  "Finally got my mortgage approved
without the child support.  Didn't even need Joan co-signing."  

     "Nice neighborhood.  This wasn't even *here* when we
moved," Blair observed, getting out of the car as the other two did.  He
took in the well-landscaped yard and the attractive house with its tan
brick exterior and arched windows.  

     "It's a three-bedroom, so nobody's sleeping on the couch or the
floor this time out.  Daryl's already settled in--got home yesterday.  God
knows where he is right now though," Simon added, chuckling. 
"Probably hanging out with some old high school friends."

     They unloaded the luggage and headed into the house.  With its
light neutral decor and vaulted ceilings, it had an open, airy feel to it.  

     "This is really nice, man," Blair opined.

     "Thanks.  I like it.  Your room's right down this way."  Simon
led them down a short hall to a large, square room.  "These two
bedrooms share a bathroom, so you'll have to fight for the first shower
with Daryl."

     "I think we'll survive, Simon," Jim replied, smiling as he set
their large suitcase next to the bed, which was covered with a
bedspread bearing a blended beige and tan leafy design.  The room was
very tailored, with vertical blinds in the large window covered by
square valances.  The furniture was oak, a queen-sized bed with a
square headboard, a dresser and an armoire.  a tan leather easy chair sat
in the corner.

     "Good.  If you two want to get settled, I'll go grab us a few beers
and some snacks.  We can decide on what to do about dinner when
Daryl gets back--which better be soon," Simon noted, checking his
watch.

     "Thanks, Simon."  Jim closed the door as Blair had opened the
suitcase and started to unpack.   "Alone at last."

     "Don't get any ideas, man.  I am *not* going to scream like a
sex maniac the first ten minutes we're in Simon's house."

     "I'll keep your mouth busy then," Jim suggested, wrapping his
arms around Blair from behind."

     "You're bad, Jim.  So bad," Blair responded, laughing and
turning in Jim's arms.  

     When they emerged from "unpacking", they wore different
clothes and Blair's hair, which had been pulled back was down.  When
Simon commented that they looked refreshed, it was all they could do
not to burst out laughing.  They certainly were that.

********

     Blair strolled across the grounds of Rainier University, feeling
an odd sort of triumph on his return visit.  Not only had he made it
through a near-death experience on that campus, he had also overcome
the banishment he thought was going to be the death of his professional
life.  Not anymore--Blair Sandburg was back, no thanks to these
people, and it felt damn good to walk in like he owned the place, with a
reputation that would now make them re-think their stance that he was
an "embarrassment" to them.

     None of that recovery would have been possible without Jim,
and Blair knew that.  Sure, he could have found some sort of job, and
would have gotten on with his life, but if Jim hadn't been willing to
pull up stakes and give up everything to make Blair's lot in life better,
things definitely wouldn't have progressed to this point.  Blair had
needed not only the emotional support, but the total change in their
lives, to recover as completely as he had from the fall out of the fateful
press conference.

     He walked into the Student Association office and approached
the young girl seated at the desk there.

     "I got an e-mail from someone named Laura--is she around?"

     "I'm Laura--wait, are you Blair Sandburg?"  she asked, smiling. 

     "That would be me.  Hi," he said, holding out his hand, which
she shook enthusiastically.  She was an attractive girl with short blonde
hair and small wire glasses.  

     "It's really great to meet you.  I read both your books.  They
were creepy, but they were great."

     "Thanks.  I wanted to take you up on your invitation to speak
here."

     "Really?  That's fantastic!  I never thought you'd be interested.  I
know we were offering on the low end of what the guy at the speakers'
bureau quoted.  Our budget is a little pathetic right now--hey, would
you like some coffee or a soft drink or something?"

     "Coffee's great," Blair responded, noticing the full pot in the
coffee maker nearby.  She poured two cups and handed one to him. 
"Thanks."

     "Well, we were hoping to do something in February.  I have a
few possible dates to run by you."

     "If you can make arrangements for my travel and
accommodations to be covered, you don't need to worry about the
honorarium."

     "What?"  She gaped at Blair, a look of total disbelief on her
face.

     "When I was an undergrad here, I worked on the Program Board
for a couple semesters, and I know how pathetic the budget really is. 
Getting decent speakers is tough.  I don't mind doing it for the cost of
the travel and accommodations.  I have a lot of friends here, and I like
the excuse to come back and visit Cascade."

     "I don't know what to say. *Thank you*."

     "That'll work.  Now what were those dates?"  he asked, smiling.

********

     "At least this year we've got a prayer of paying the bills," Jim
said, assessing the damage they'd inflicted on their credit cards as they
ate lunch in the food court of Cascade's biggest shopping mall.  Not
wanting to haul Christmas gifts in their luggage, they decided to do
their shopping when they arrived, which put them in the middle of the
holiday rush, just four days before the big day.

     "I called Tony this morning.  He said everything's a-Okay at the
motel.  His dad was out there helping with the snow removal--they've
got a blade on the front of their four wheel drive.  And guess what--with 
that winter festival in Gull Coast this weekend--you know with the
ice sculptures and stuff?"

     "Yeah."

     "We're booked solid."

     "We're never booked solid."

     "We are now."  Blair grinned.  "It's official.  We have *arrived*
as innkeepers."

     "Figures.  While we're out of state."  Jim laughed a little, poking
at the Chinese food with his plastic fork.

     "But isn't it great being back here?  Man, it feels like...*coming
home*."

     "You too, huh?  I thought it was just me."  Jim shook his head. 
"It's not that I don't like where we're living now--it sort of grows on you
in a fungal kind of way, but I've gotta say, when we walked into the
airport, and then started seeing all the old streets again, it was like
coming home."  

     "We could relocate back here."

     "I tried flying solo at the PD.  I didn't enjoy it too much, Chief. 
I don't blame you at all for not wanting to go the cop route.  But it's not
something I enjoy doing alone anymore.  And being paired up with
some dingbat rookie isn't my idea of fun either."

     "You survived being paired up with a dingbat anthropologist," 
Blair quipped.

     "Tell me about it.  I'm still recovering from that one," Jim shot
back, then smiled at his lover, who laughed out loud.

     "Man, you must really *not* want to get any on this vacation."

     "You know you can't live without it that long, Chief," Jim said
smugly.  As soon as he'd said it, he regretted it.  Blair raised one
eyebrow.

     "Oh can't I?"  he challenged.  "How much you wanna bet?"

     "I was kidding, Chief."

     "Ah, I see.  So now who can't live without it that long, huh?" 
Blair smiled triumphantly.  "I thought so," Blair responded to Jim's
chagrined chortle.

     "Can't last a day without you, sweetheart."  Jim took a hold of
Blair's hand where it rested on the table.

     "Oh, man, I shoulda worn my boots in here."  Blair laughed and
squeezed Jim's hand.

     "Your eyes are as blue as...as..."  Jim looked around.  "As the
swoosh on those Nikes over there.  Your lips as sweet as this orange
chicken--should I go on?"

     "God, no," Blair responded, still laughing.  

     "Just trying to be romantic."  Jim squeezed Blair's hand and
withdrew his, picking up his fork again.  Blair turned around to check
out the Nike store display.  

     "That blue, huh?"  he asked.  Jim laughed, rolling his eyes and
going back to his lunch.

********

     The bullpen of the Cascade PD was strangely unchanged.  It
was a bit surreal to walk into the room and see it just as he'd left it the
last day he was there.  Jim noticed that his desk was occupied by
someone else now, other photos and nick knacks on it, files stacked up
near the computer.  Rhonda was at her desk, typing something into the
computer.  Rafe was on the phone, and Henri was talking something
over very seriously with Megan, the two of them poring over a file
folder.  Joel was also on the phone, taking notes furiously, nodding as
his caller talked. 

     The last time Jim had been here, he'd been alone, wrapping up
loose ends before he and Blair escaped to the opposite coast of the
country.  He realized that much of that exodus was a need to crawl off
somewhere safe and lick their wounds, for Blair to heal, and for Jim to
heal by watching him do it.  To prove that they really were an
invincible team that could strike out and accomplish anything together. 
And turning that money pit dive of a motel into a money-making
business was proof that they were.

     Now Blair was standing at his side, long hair loose on his
shoulders, earrings catching the light occasionally.  But this Blair was
older, wiser and more...seasoned than the Blair who had first burst into
the bullpen with that same long mane of hair and the earrings and the
big IQ.  He had a different depth now, one born of pain and adversity,
and of triumph over that adversity.  This Blair was more mature, more
assertive, and more businesslike.  He'd been on several talk shows,
signed books at a number of bookstores in the New England states, and
gone back to college to add to his vast repertoire of knowledge.

     And he'd faced and shot a man point blank to save his partner's
life.  The very thing he'd feared most about being a cop had found him
in the illusory safety of their little corner of the world.  

     "Sandy!  Jim!  When did you two get here?!"  Megan
exclaimed, running over to them and hugging Blair first, then Jim. 
"You both look wonderful!  You have to tell us all about Maine!"

     "Well look what the cat dragged in, man," Henri chimed in,
greeting the other two men warmly.  

     "Looks like business as usual," Blair commented, looking
around the room.

     "Yeah, we're all just working like hell to get Christmas off. 
Gotta make the big party at Simon's."

     "We thought you'd forgotten about us back here--all this time
and no visit?"  Megan chided.

     "Unfortunately, we were only just able to hire a full time
manager for the motel, so up til now, we had to stay pretty close to the
home base--at least one or the other of us--all the time," Jim explained. 

     "I read about the mess with that murder case you two consulted
on in that little town...oh, what was it..."  Megan wrinkled her brow.

     "Bayport," Blair supplied.

     "Yes, that's it.  I'm so glad you're both all right.  Sounds like a
close one."

     "Let's just say you can add one more to the shoulder scar club," 
Jim joked, referring to Megan's own wound to the right upper chest--in
almost the same spot as Jim had been wounded.

     "We should probably be getting your autograph on something
now, Blair," Rafe joked, moving in to greet his two old friends.  "So
which case are you doing next?"

     "Carasco.  Gotta take a break from psychotic serial killers for a
while.  But still, someone who deals in weapons--and has people who
get in his way killed--is a serial killer of sorts.  So it's not much of a
departure."

     "So, Jim, when're you coming back, man?"  Henri asked, and
Jim just shook his head.  

     "Sorry, H, but we're just visiting."

     "That's a shame.  It would be so nice to have you two back
again," Megan said.

     "Well, once I wasn't 'observing' anymore, Simon couldn't really
tap dance around the chief to get me a job here, and Jim and I prefer to
be partners, so we just had to find something else we could do
together."

     "I hate to break this up, gang," Joel said, joining the group.  He
had spent some time at Simon's house with the visitors the night before. 
"Rafe, Schuler's been spotted near a warehouse down by the docks.  We
better roll."

     "He would show up now.  Dirtbag.  Two days before
Christmas," Rafe groused, grabbing his jacket.  "We'll see you guys
later--at Simon's for sure for the party Christmas Eve, right?"

     "Right.  Plus we'll be in town until the 29th," Blair replied.

     "Great!  See ya 'round, then," Rafe added, heading out the door
with Joel right behind him.

     "So they're partners now?"  Jim asked Megan and Henri.

     "They worked a homicide together, and they've gotten to be a
pretty good team.  None of us are really officially partnered, but since
they work well together, they do a lot.  I like working with Megan.  She
has better legs," Henri said, nudging Megan with his elbow.

     "Hey, Sandburg, how about coming down to Records with me?" 
Henri asked, then shot Megan a look as she rolled her eyes.  

     "He's trying to make points with the new data entry clerk down
there.  Pretty little thing, isn't she, H?"

     "She doesn't believe me that I used to work with you.  She read
your books."

     "Sure, let's go," Blair responded, chuckling a little. 

     "Hey, Chief--remember, we're supposed to be at my dad's for
dinner in an hour."

     "We won't be *that* long, man," Blair responded, starting out
down the hall with Henri.

     "How is he doing?"  Megan asked.  "After that shooting
incident, I was worried...  I know that's why he didn't accept the
detective's job here."

     "Ironic, isn't it?"  Jim agreed.  "He's actually handled it very
well.  I know it's something he's always going to carry with him, but I
think he's at peace with his decision, with what he did.  It was my life
or Whitcombe's.  Blair didn't have any choices.  Not to mention his
frame of mind at the time--I'm surprised he held it together long
enough to do the job."

     "That must have been horrible--thinking all those people in the
motel were dead--aside from you being shot."

     "He made it to the hospital and as soon as they were working on
me, he passed out in the hallway.  He was in shock, borderline
hypothermia--the shock combined with the fact he was soaked to the
skin and had no coat on and it was about forty degrees outside.  I've
always known Blair was a tough customer, but I never knew how tough
until that happened."

     "I'm betting he didn't either."

     "I think you're right.  I'm just...amazed the way he's rebuilt his
life."

     "What about you?"

     "What about me?"

     "What about rebuilding your life?  Jim, you can't tell me that
running a motel is the right career path for you."

     "No, it's not.  Something'll develop.  I applied for a police chief
job in Bayport, but they got hung up on my lifestyle--the fact Blair and
I are a couple--and it didn't fly."

     "That's a shame."

     "Well, truthfully, playing politics all day would have gotten to
me pretty fast.  And the caseload there was pathetic."

     "We really do miss you two around here, Jim.  It's not the same
without you.  Are you sure you won't reconsider and come back?"

     "Not without Blair, and there's no place for him here unless he's
a detective.  That's what the chief kept telling Simon.  So I guess we'll
just have to do something else.  After working with Blair, working
without him was a very...*flat* experience."

     "Well, I think it's a shame things all ended the way they did. 
But I'm glad you two are happy together."

     "We are that," Jim responded, smiling.

********

     "Congratulations on that point average, Daryl.  That's fantastic," 
Blair said, relaxing with a glass of egg nog, enjoying a late night chat
with Daryl in Simon's comfortable family room.  Simon and Jim had
both called in a night, but Blair figured that was largely an attempt to
give him some time to visit with the captain's son.

     "What you said last year, it made sense, man.  This is the time
to get the education--and the job market is really competitive based on
grades."

     "Job market?  I thought you were going right into the academy
as soon as you got done with college."  Clad in his robe and a favorite
old pair of sweats and heavy socks, Blair drew his legs under him on
the big leather couch, rescuing his feet from the draft that seemed to
come from the patio doors leading onto what was now a snow-covered
patio.

     "I've been giving that a lot of thought, and I'm not so sure it's the
right thing to do."

     "Any special reason?"

     "You didn't want to be cop.  Why not?"

     "It's kind of funny, really."  Blair smiled a little ironically,
humorlessly.  "I didn't want to have to shoot to kill someone."  He
looked away toward the wooded backyard, visible through the patio
doors, the room only lit by the fire in the fireplace and the multicolored
lights threaded through the pine boughs on the mantle. 

     "So now that you had to do that, does it change anything?  I
mean, would you feel better about handling a gun?"

     "Honestly?"  Blair looked back at Daryl.  "I probably shouldn't
answer your questions about this.  I'm the last person to be giving a
potential future cop advice."

     "We're friends, man.  I want to know what you think.  How you
felt about that whole mess.  I mean, I just can't picture you...*shooting*
somebody."

     "Me either," Blair replied.  "I still wake up screaming, every
now and then, picturing his face...what it looked like when I...when I
pulled the trigger.  He didn't believe I'd do it.  He thought I'd chicken
out.  That I didn't have it in me or that if I did, I wouldn't have a good
aim.  He was so...surprised."  Blair looked down at the half empty glass
of egg nog.  "You asked me if I'd feel better handling a gun.  Truth?  I
don't even like to *see* Jim's gun around, let alone touch it or think
about using one.  He got a different one after that, because he knew it
upset me to know *that gun* was in the night stand, or to see him
cleaning or loading *that gun*.  It's a little better knowing it isn't the
same weapon, but I still feel worse about it now than I did before."

     "See, I keep thinkin' that if some guy was gonna shoot me, or
my partner, or some innocent person, I could shoot 'em, no problem. 
Now I'm not so sure."

     "Everyone's different, Daryl.  Your experience could be totally
different from mine.  And if you're lucky, you don't ever have to kill
anyone."

     "You had to shoot that guy to save Jim, right?"

     "Right.  I know I did the right thing.  I made my peace with it
spiritually and intellectually.  But there's this part of me, that
sometimes, in the middle of the night, just...*aches*.  I don't know if I
feel guilty exactly or just...unsettled.  I would do the same thing again
faced with the same choice.  Jim would be worth any price--I'd kill or
die for him in a heartbeat.  But I've gotta be honest, Daryl.  I've got my
doubts I could even get through a round at the firing range now."  Blair
was quiet a few moments, then took a sip of his egg nog.  

     "This all just makes me think that maybe I'm not gonna be cut
out to be a cop either.  With all you're goin' through about this guy you
*had* to take out, I don't know if I want to deal with that, man."

     "Some people aren't cut out to handle guns as part of their job,
Daryl.  It doesn't mean that you won't be able to just because it's such a
hot issue for me.  Hell, I *still* jump at the sound of gunshots.  I never
wanted to touch a gun as long as I lived.  I had to do it a few times
working with Jim.  But I never felt comfortable with it."  Blair smiled a
little sadly.  "I don't think I'll ever hear a gunshot without some little
tiny part of me...*remembering*, even if not consciously.  It's a feeling
of fear and horror and...*trauma* that you can't explain."  Blair set his
glass aside, convinced his stomach wouldn't like the rest of the egg nog
right then.  It might like Jim's hand soothing it, rubbing gently...  "The
thing is, I don't want you to make a decision based on *my*
experiences.  You have to judge for yourself.  Listen to your own heart
and conscience.  And listen to Jim and your dad and the other cops you
know.  Learn more, about the good and the bad parts of being a cop. 
You've got a couple years before the academy.  Grow up a little more,
live a little more, explore your options a little more--and if you still
wanna be a cop, don't let what happened to me ruin it for you.  I had
my reasons for feeling the way I did."

     "Thanks for telling me that, Blair.  That had to be hard to talk
about, man."

     "Not my favorite subject, no.  I just don't want what I went
through to screw up your whole set of career options."  Blair stood up. 
"I think I'm going to turn in."

     "Probably better.  Dad's always up at dawn," Daryl grumbled,
rising and heading toward the doorway of the room, Blair behind him.  

     "Don't close any doors yet, Daryl.  You've got time to explore
all of them."

     "Yeah, I know.  I will.  See you in the morning."

     "Not too early," Blair said, smiling a little before turning to go
into Jim's and his bedroom.

     Blair found Jim deeply asleep, snoring softly.  Exhaling a little,
he tossed his robe aside and slid into the bed carefully, curling up
behind Jim as he lay on his side.  With his head almost touching his
lover's back, Blair dozed off into a fitful sleep.

     Jim woke to the distressed sound behind him, something
between a sob and a spoken word.  Blair was shifting around in bed,
whining agitatedly, starting to thrash around a little.

     "Blair, come on, baby.  Wake up."  Jim rolled over and gathered
the wriggling body into his arms, pulling him close, stilling the
tremors.  "Shhhh.  It's a nightmare, Chief.  I'm right here.  Wake up for
me, sweetheart.  Come on," Jim coaxed. 

     "Jim?"

     "Bad dream, sweetheart?"  Jim asked gently, loosening his hold
to let Blair turn so he could wrap his arms around Jim.  

     "I was talking to Daryl about Whitcombe...I guess I just...it
came back so...*vividly*."  Blair burrowed into the embrace, tremors
still coursing through his body.

     "He wanted to know the details?"

     "No--more like how I felt about it.  He's having second thoughts
about being a cop because of what happened with me."

     "Maybe that's a good thing.  Blair, he needs to accept both sides
of being a cop--the good and bad.  One of the downsides is having to be
prepared to kill another human being if you have to.  Usually without
much time to decide if it's right or not--it's a snap judgement,
sometimes a reflex action.  If Daryl is deeply affected by what
happened to you--GOOD.  If he still wants to be a cop now, he'll be an
even better one, because he'll have thought it out carefully.  If he
chooses something else because of this, then he's truly better off."

     "I knew you'd make me feel better," Blair said quietly, nestling
against Jim.  "I need you so much."

     "I need you too, Chief.  For my next breath."  Jim kissed the
smaller man's head, then tightened his embrace.  "Think you could
sleep, baby?"

     "I can now."

     "Good.  Just poke me if you need me.  I'll be right here."

     "Yeah," Blair responded, smiling, "with me.  Always."

********

     Jim stood in the living room of the loft, sipping a glass of
holiday punch, trying to get used to the floral sofa and silk flowers, the
oak and glass coffee table, and the mauve lamp that now occupied the
area.  Everything Rhonda's sister had chosen was very traditional, and
somehow seemed out of place in the very atraditional living space Blair
and he had called home for almost four years.  

     "Jim?"  Rhonda's sister, Renee, came up behind him.  She was
another pretty blonde with blue eyes and a pleasant smile.

     "Seems odd to stand here and see someone else's belongings. 
It's a little...*surreal*," Jim said, smiling.  The other dinner guests were
milling around the kitchen area, nibbling hors d'oeuvres from the buffet
that had been provided.

     "Well, actually, I have some news.  Jerry just got transferred,"
she said.

     "Should I congratulate you?"  Jim asked, not sure if Renee was
happy with that turn of events.

     "It's a promotion, so we're happy about that.  But it's in Chicago. 
All our family is here..."  She shrugged.  "Well, anyway, we're going to
be moving in a few months, so I thought you might want to be keeping
your options open to get new tenants."

     "Thanks for letting me know.  I'll have to tell Jerry
congratulations on the promotion.  Pulling up stakes is hard--trust me,
we've been there.  But you guys'll make it just fine," Jim said, smiling.

     "You and Blair seem pretty happy."

     "We are.  We've had some hard times, but as long as you're with
the right person, you can handle those."

     "I am, so I guess we'll be okay," she said, smiling back, glancing
over at her husband, a tall man with reddish brown hair and a
mustache.  He was a man of few words, but he had been very charming
to their guests, and seemed genuinely in love with his wife.

     "So what's the story with your sister and Rafe?"  Jim probed,
raising an eyebrow.

     "I just hope there *is* a story.  I think they make a cute couple. 
Rhonda really deserves to meet somebody special.  She had a couple of
bad experiences with guys--made her a little gun-shy.  But he seems
really nice."

     "He's a good guy.  I hope it works out," Jim responded.

     "I think the chicken's almost ready, so we should probably
round everybody up," she said, leading the way back to the kitchen.

     Rafe, Rhonda, Jerry, Renee, Jim, Blair, Daryl and his girlfriend,
Alicia, Simon and Megan all enjoyed a friendly dinner, laughing and
talking about old times.  More than once, one of the wild cases Jim and
Blair had worked on with their old friends were recalled, and even with
all the different accessories, and the different residents, the loft felt
oddly like home.  While there had been something almost honeymoon-
like about their isolation in Maine, these good times with friends drove
home to the two men just how alone they'd been since leaving Cascade. 

     Blair ventured out on the balcony briefly after dinner, just to get
one look at the old view.  Jim came out soon after, wrapping Blair's
coat around his shoulders, letting his hands linger there.

     "You're going to freeze out here, Chief."

     "I just wanted to see the view again.  It was always beautiful at
Christmas.  The lights on the water, some of boats with colored
lights..."

     "You miss this old place?"  Jim asked, sliding his arms around
Blair from behind, smiling as he felt his lover lean into him.

     "Seems like all the big moments of our lives happened here--I
moved in, we became good friends, then loved each other, then went
through so many hard times, then reconciled, then made love for the
first time...  I feel that all come back to me when I'm here."

     "Mm.  Making love.  I remember that."  Jim nuzzled Blair's
neck.

     "Jim, come on, man, they can see us out here."

     "So what?  You think they haven't figured out that we do more
than shake hands?"  Jim sighed.  "If you stand there and tell me you're
suffering no sexual frustration, I'm going to throw you over that
railing."

     "If we go one more night without fucking like rabbits, I'm going
to throw *myself* over that railing."

     "You don't look a bit well, Chief."

     "What?"

     "I think we should leave early.  You know, go back to Simon's
house, while he and Daryl finish enjoying their evening.  Rhonda and
Rafe would drop them off home, and you're just not going to get over
that headache at a party."

     "I'm not, huh?"

     "Nope.  Gonna take a visit from Dr. Love."

     "Oh my God," Blair burst out laughing.  "I don't believe you just
said that."

     "Straighten up, Chief.  If you're laughing uncontrollably, it's
going to be hard to sell the headache story."  Jim was chuckling
himself, but was still committed to the idea of sneaking out for a
couple hours of privacy.

     After making their somber-faced excuses to their friends, and
taking Simon's car keys, as he assured them he, Daryl and Alicia would
catch a ride home with Rhonda and Rafe, they made their escape.  

     Neither man bothered with turning on lights.  They simply
made a beeline for their bedroom, and slamming the door behind them,
sent clothes flying in all directions.  Snatching the bedspread out of the
way and yanking back the blankets, they fell together in the cool
sheets, kissing, stroking and tasting each other, letting their moans of
pleasure out freely, without worrying about being overheard.

     "I hope you brought the lube," Blair panted, pulling Jim in for
another searing kiss.  Which wasn't returned.  The two men just stared
at each other a moment, their lips semi-joined.

     "Uh..."

     "Jim, I swear, you better find *something* slippery, or *I will
kill you*."

     "Rhonda called about that dinner invitation while I was
packing, and I guess I just didn't get back to the bathroom to pick up
the tube."

     "Great.  Ugh."  Blair let his head drop back on the mattress. 
"Okay, this isn't a problem."  Wriggling out from under Jim, he got up
and walked out the door of the bedroom, buck naked, while Jim gaped
after him, wondering if Blair had forgotten where they were.  Moments
later, he returned with a bottle of hand lotion, closing the door behind
him, then making a flying leap at Jim, who wrapped him in a tight
embrace as they rolled around playfully.

     "I can't believe you ran around Simon's house naked," Jim said,
laughing.

     "I forgot about being garment-challenged when I started out. 
But then it was sort of exciting."

     "I'll show you exciting."  Jim slid his hand down and cupped
Blair's balls, rolling them gently, smiling at the moans of pleasure he
was drawing from his lover.  

     "Make love to me," Blair said softly, running a finger along
Jim's jawline.  He knew the words weren't really necessary, but he also
knew that Jim loved the soft-spoken little invitation.

     "Love you, baby," Jim whispered in his ear, reaching for the
lotion.  "You want to sit in my lap?"  Jim asked, kissing Blair's nose.

     "Yeah," Blair agreed, grinning.  It was fast becoming one of
their favorite positions, giving them the best chance to hold each other
and kiss while they were making love.

     Jim slid up on the bed, stuffing the pillows behind himself. 
Blair knelt in front of him, facing the foot of the bed, waiting for Jim to
prepare him.  With gentle but assertive fingers, Jim carefully stretched
and lubricated Blair's passage, then coated his own cock with the
lotion.  Blair straddled him now, facing Jim, lowering himself on the
hard, slick cock until they were fully joined.  

     "Come here," Jim said raggedly, his senses almost on overload
with Blair's scent and the feel of his body, the sensation of his cock
sheathed in the tight tunnel, and the vision of his lover, long curls
hanging on his shoulders, eyes dilated with desire.

     Blair went into Jim's arms willingly, wrapping his own arms
around his lover, settling in to a prolonged kiss as his body adjusted to
the large visitor impaling him.  Still kissing, they began a gentle
rhythm, their tongues sliding together, in and out of each other's
mouths as their bodies pumped in the same cadence, Blair's cock
rubbing against Jim's stomach.

     Jim slid his hands into the mass of curls, finally tearing his
mouth from Blair's to kiss across his face, then nibble at the earlobe
bearing the two small earrings.  He tongued them, and the lobe.
     
     "You like those?"  Blair managed, before lapsing back into a
series of little moans of pleasure.

     "Oh, yeah..."  Jim responded, pumping a little harder now,
grazing Blair's prostate and making him scream out his pleasure at the
stimulation.  "Like that, baby.  Scream for me.  God, I love hearing you
scream for me."

     "Jim...yeah, harder...ugh...yeah, come on..."  Blair let out
another roar of pleasure as Jim nailed his prostate again, then made a
point of keeping up the practice until Blair was clutching Jim's
shoulders, head thrown back, chest heaving.  His cries were raw,
primal expressions of approaching ecstasy as Jim took him to the brink,
and then swallowed Blair's scream of completion with another kiss,
sealing their mouths together as the wet heat of Blair's come spread on
their bellies.  Jim finally broke away from that hot mouth long enough
to let out his own groan he filled Blair's body with his seed.

     Blair slumped forward against Jim's chest, still impaled, panting
and smiling.

     "I've missed that so much," Blair murmured against the damp
flesh of Jim's chest.

     "Mmm.  Me too, baby."  Jim held Blair close, stroking his hair
and kissing his forehead.   "Love you."

     "Love you too," Blair responded, smiling and snuggling into the
embrace.  "Can I give you your Christmas present early?"

     "My Christmas present?"  Jim sounded a bit stunned, wondering
why Blair would think of that at this particularly sublime moment
when they were still physically joined, relaxing in the somewhat
sweaty, rumpled afterglow.

     "It's...at least I hope...it's kind of special, and this feels like the
right time..."

     "Whatever you want, sweetheart.  I'd love to see it."  Jim smiled
when Blair pulled back, looking completely pleased with that reply. 
"Ease up, honey."  Jim held onto Blair's waist with strong hands as the
younger man moved up slowly to free Jim's cock from its confines.  

     Blair crawled to the edge of the bed and got out of it, rifling
through his carry-on bag until he found what he was after.  He returned
to Jim's side, pulling the covers up over their cooling bodies as he
scooted into Jim's arms.  Then he handed Jim a small, blue velvet box.

     "I hope...I hope you like the idea.  Merry Christmas, love."

     "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."  Jim smiled and then they were
kissing again, the little velvet box clutched in Jim's hand.  "Can I open
it now?"

     "Yeah, but let me put the little lamp on."  Blair reached next to
them on the night stand and turned on a lamp that cast a dim, subtle
glow on the bed.  "Okay," he said, smiling tentatively, watching as Jim
opened the lid on the little box.  

     "Blair...they're...beautiful."  He was looking at two gold rings,
each with a small diagonal channel bearing four tiny diamonds.  

     "I know we've been *married* a while, but...I'd really like it if
we could have a little symbol...like the rings.  I understand if you don't
feel comfortable wearing it..."

     "If you'll put it where it belongs, I'll never take it off, Chief,"
Jim said in a husky voice.  Blair smiled, taking the box back and
removing Jim's ring.  

     "I love you forever, Jim.  You're my yesterday, my today, and
my tomorrow.  My everything.  Whenever you look at this ring,
remember how much you're loved--and how much I love our life
together, wherever it is, and whatever we do," he said, taking a hold of
Jim's left hand and sliding the ring into place.

     Jim took the box back from Blair, blinking at the moisture in
his eyes, unable to get his voice to move past the lump Blair's words
had put in his throat.  Finally, he took Blair's hand, and holding the ring
near the proper finger, he made his own vow.

     "I never knew what it meant to really *live*, to really *feel*
until I met you.  And I never knew what it was like to love, and to be
loved, until we made love the first time.  I'll love you the rest of my
life, and beyond, Chief.  You'll always be my light, and I'm never going
to lose sight of you again.  Not even for a minute.  So when you look at
this ring, you remember that you're the center of my world,
sweetheart."  Jim slid the ring into place.

     "Merry Christmas, Jim."  Blair smiled widely.

     "Merry Christmas, Chief.  Now, I seem to recall something
about sealing marriage vows with a kiss?"

     "Or several."  

     The two lovers lost themselves in each other again, making love
throughout the night, finally falling asleep at dawn, tangled in each
other's arms, ringed hands entwined.

********


     Coffee.  Jim shifted in bed, his nose tantalized by the scent of
coffee, mingled with...oh, God...eggs...bacon...  Blair.  He smiled,
picking his lover's scent out from among the culinary delights that were
teasing his sensitive sniffer.  Of the stimuli, that was the one he most
wanted to explore.  But something was wrong.  The scent wasn't
mingled with sweat and sex...it was just fresh Blair, with a little dash of
that musk oil Jim loved so much, a little after shave balm...

     Giving in to opening one eye on the day, he saw his lover sitting
on the side of the bed in his plaid robe, grinning at him, dangling a
piece of bacon over Jim's face as if he were teasing a very large, very
hungry dog.

     "'morning, lover," Blair lowered the bacon strip and Jim lustily
chomped off the lower half of it.  "Thought you might be getting
hungry in here.  It's noon, you know."

     "NOON?"  Jim asked, his eyes bugging.

     "Don't worry about it.  I told Simon I was up sick most of the
night, and that you stayed up with me, and I was letting you sleep.  He,
of course, didn't buy any of that, so I told him the truth."

     "You told him we fucked our brains out until five this
morning?"

     "Well, actually, I said that we just needed a little time alone,
and that we were awake late."

     "Same difference."

     "Well, yeah, but it was easier to say it to Simon that way," Blair
responded, laughing.  "Come on, sit up.  I brought a tray." 

     "Thanks, Chief.  God, I'm starving."  Jim leaned forward as
Blair stuffed the pillows behind him, then relaxed, accepting the glass
of cold orange juice and chug-a-lugging it down rapidly.

     "I figured the fluid level had to be down."

     "You ate already?"

     "No.  Well, I had one of my shakes.  Mainly to horrify Daryl. 
But I waited to eat anything until you rallied."  Blair set the tray over
Jim's lap and took the cover off the dish.  It was loaded with food,
plenty for both of them.  

     "Coffee.  I might wake up yet," Jim said, taking a sip as Blair
picked up his own cup for a drink.  

     The two men feasted off the tray of food in virtual silence,
occasionally feeding each other some morsel judged too good not to
share.  When the food was devoured, Blair set the tray aside and
crawled up on the bed next to Jim, resting against the larger man's
chest.  Jim picked up Blair's left hand, kissing the fingers and looking
at the ring again.

     "I really love the ring idea, Chief."

     "Me too.  I didn't know if you'd feel comfortable with it, but it
feels...*right*." 

     "Yeah, it does."  Jim nosed the curls near his face.  "You smell
good."

     "Don't get started, man."  Blair chuckled, kissing the skin over
Jim's heart.  "We did it *how many* times last night?  I'm beginning to
wonder if we used up our supply."

     "Maybe for last night.  But today is another day."

     "Yeah, well, Simon's waiting on us to go over to the PD--they're
having the staff Christmas party this afternoon, remember?"

     "Oh, right.  Okay.  I guess that means I better shower, huh?"

     "Well, as much as I might like your raw essence, I think your
cologne would be more appreciated by the bullpen crowd."

     "Smart ass."  Jim kissed Blair's mouth quickly and got up,
looking back to see Blair lounging on the bed, ogling him blatantly, a
hand straying down to untie his robe, revealing that he was nude
underneath it.

     "Maybe we should check."

     "Check...?"  Jim stared at his partner, in all his naked glory
except for the robe hanging seductively on the edge of one shoulder,
cock already at half mast.

     "See if the supply's all used up," Blair said in a husky voice,
eyeing Jim with a predatory grin.

     At the conclusion of their frenzied experiment, both men were
pleased to see that the "supply" was anything but depleted..

********

     The Major Crimes bullpen looked as festive as it always did at
the holidays, bedecked with tinsel, the occasional big red bow, a
menorah and a Christmas tree.  While it was business as usual the rest
of the season, Simon always acquiesced to the Christmas spirit on the
24th, and those stuck working over the holiday did so among the
festive accouterments of the season.  

     The smell of hot snacks and various confections drew Simon,
Daryl, Jim and Blair to their destination.  Christmas music played at
low volume in the background added to the atmosphere, and those who
would be working late into the evening felt compelled to party multiple
times--with those leaving at five, and again with their cohorts who
were stuck there all night.  

     "Good thing that punch isn't alcoholic, or no one'd be standing
by about seven tonight," Simon observed, laughing good-naturedly at
the gluttony of his detectives, happy that the criminal element of
Cascade didn't seem to get into quite as much trouble on Christmas Eve
as they did the rest of the year.  By Christmas night, all bets were
generally off, and it would most likely be business as usual.

     "Just like old times," Blair added, smiling and taking another
drink of his own punch.  "Hey, are we all just gonna sit around stuffing
our faces, or are we gonna have a sing along like we used to?"

     "The sing alongs are usually your idea, Sandy, so we're a little
out of practice."

     "Oh, come on, Megan.  You mean to tell me you couldn't get
these jerks to sing a few Christmas carols?"

     "I guess I'm just not as persuasive as you are," she responded,
looking around at their fellow partiers, hoping to see them look
sufficiently guilty.  They did.

     "Well, hey, then you've had a year to rest up.  Come on, guys,
let's get with it," Blair goaded.  "Henri--you got your axe in the car?"

     "Great idea, man.  I'll be right back."  With that, Henri hurried
out of the room and to the elevator.  

     "So how many of you guys have to stay here all evening?"  Blair
asked, wondering who would end up at Simon's house that night.

     "Gary and I drew the short straws," Craig Marshall, one of the
new detectives, spoke up.  "It's that whole seniority thing," he needled,
shooting a look at Megan.

     "Don't look at me, gentlemen.  I've paid my dues for two years
straight now."

     "Yeah, Simon, when're you going to give Megan enough
vacation to go see her family over Christmas?"  Blair asked.

     "Yes, Captain, when would you be planning to do that?"  Megan
chimed in, smiling sweetly.

     "Sandburg, you've always been a troublemaker," Simon
groused.  "Some things never change."

     "Actually, my dad's coming here to spend some time this spring. 
I wish you and Jim were going to be around here to meet him."

     "We might be.  Depends on when he's coming.  I just confirmed
a speaking engagement at Rainier for March 13th."  Blair grinned a
little evilly.

     "Oh, Sandy, that's delicious.  Tell us all about how that
happened," Megan enthused.

     "Well, the student who runs the Program Board there contacted
me about speaking, about the first two books and my next writing
project.  So I dropped in and chatted with her the other day and told her
I'd do it for the cost of my travel and lodging."

     "You can count on us *both* being here for that one," Jim
chimed in.  "I wouldn't miss that for the world."

     "Okay, folks, who's ready to jam?"  Henri asked, holding up his
electric guitar.

     Before long, the whole Major Crimes crew were gathered
around Henri and his guitar, belting out Christmas carols with their old
vigor.  Jim managed to edge closer to his partner until he had an arm
around Blair's shoulders, and felt Blair's arm circle his waist.  There
was something almost bittersweet about this moment--it was so perfect,
back there with all their friends, back *home*, wearing their new rings,
Blair's life back in order, much of the old pain of the past a distant
memory.  And knowing that in a few days, it would all be over again,
and they'd be back in Maine, isolated in a remote little corner of the
earth.  

     As they all joined in on a wild version of "Jingle Bell Rock", all
would have given any amount of money for a camera to capture the
looks on the faces of the two patrolmen and the handcuffed suspect
who arrived in the doorway.  Undaunted, they continued, only Gary and
Craig, who were still on duty, slipping away to take care of business.

     "Before we move this party to my place," Simon began as the
singing died down, "there's something I'd like to propose to our two
visitors.  Well, two things.  One is a toast, because I see there's been a
new addition to their jewelry wardrobes since the last time we all got
together."  At the other two men's surprised expressions, Simon
chuckled.  "I didn't make captain by being a lousy detective.  So can we
say it's official now--you two tied the knot, finally?"

     "It's official, Simon," Jim said, smiling down at Blair, who
returned the expression.

     "And permanent," Blair added.

     "Well, then if anyone's still got any left, let's drink to that." 
After glasses had been raised and drinks consumed, Simon continued. 
"The other thing I'd like to propose," Simon paused, pulling a detective
shield out of his pocket and holding it up, then handing it to Jim, and
then pulled out a laminated ID and handed it to Blair, "is that
*Detective Ellison* rejoin the Major Crimes Division, where he
belongs, and that Blair Sandburg give serious consideration to the
Cascade PD's offer of a position as a full-time consultant and criminal
profiler."

     "I don't understand, Simon," Blair said, confused.  "You said the
Chief wouldn't okay my being hired as anything but a detective."

     "That was before you decided to write two best-sellers, with a
third on the way--all books that, by the way, made the Cascade PD look
pretty damn good--and then go back to college and pick up a certificate
in Forensic Science.  I realize the salary and benefits package we can
offer is a bit modest, but we hope that you might consider the job, due
in part to the fact that I anticipate Detective Ellison requiring your
services quite frequently, since he handles many of our high-priority,
intricate cases."

     "Jim...?"  Blair looked at his partner, who was still staring at his
old badge, with a mixture of reverence and familiarity, as if he were
seeing an old friend again for the first time in years.  Jim looked up at
his partner, smiling faintly, his jaw twitching a little with barely
contained emotion.  Blair had his answer.  "I would be delighted to
work full-time with the Cascade PD.  I'll even put up with working
with Detective Ellison here, if that's really necessary," Blair quipped.

     "Guess it's in your court now, Jim," Simon prodded.

     "Yeah...I uh...yeah, I would really like to have my old job back,
Simon."  Jim smiled widely, and simultaneously, he and Blair turned to
share a fast, tight hug, just before they were besieged with hugs and
back slaps from the rest of their friends, and soon to be colleagues.

     "Hey--we should celebrate--we gotta sing something else--one
more song before we break up the party!"  Blair suggested.  "Come on,
Henri.  Play us something festive!"

     Henri obliged, launching into the first notes of "Joy to the
World", the whole group joining him with enthusiastic, if not always
on-key, voices.  While the singing carried on, Jim found a stray clump
of mistletoe and dangled it over Blair's head.

     "Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he said near Blair's ear.

     "Merry Christmas, love," Blair responded just as quietly,
knowing Jim would hear him over the din and merriment all around
them.  With that, they sealed their new beginning with a kiss.

********

     Blair dug through the big carton he had open on the kitchen
table.  Their furniture had arrived at the recently vacated loft at 852
Prospect the day after they did.  While they'd had fun in the sleeping
bags in front of the fireplace, it would be good to sleep in their own
comfortable bed that night in the very familiar loft bedroom.  Blair's
speech at Rainier was just a few days away, their final move back to
Cascade taking place on March 10th.  Both men planned to report for
duty at the Cascade PD by the end of the month.

     "Find it yet?"  Jim asked, coming downstairs from making the
bed and putting away a few cartons of clothing and personal effects.

     "Oh, yeah, right here," Blair said, pointing at the carton that
contained most of their nick-knacks, bound for the shelf unit that had
been placed by the stairs in its usual spot.

     "What's that stuff?"  Jim asked, coming up next to Blair to look
over his shoulder into the carton where the younger man was digging
furiously.

     "This is all the stuff out of my desk--where my notes for the
speech were *allegedly* packed."

     "You didn't lose them, did you?"

     "Well, there was this big pile of stuff I tossed out right before
we left..."  

     "Damn."  

     "Would you call Tony and ask him to look in the recycling bin
in the kitchen?"

     "Sure.  You want him to FedEx it if he finds it?"

     "Oh, yeah, definitely."

     "Okay."  Jim went to the living room and sat on the couch,
picking up the cordless phone. 

     Both men were delighted that Tony's parents had decided to buy
the inn, which meant Tony would stay on as manager.  The Beacon
Pointe Inn had given them an unparalleled opportunity to escape the
world and heal, and both of them felt oddly indebted to the place for
that, as if it were a live entity they wanted to leave in caring hands. 
With Tom and Stella Sherwood as the owners, their son Tony as the
manager, and Tillie leaving her job at the general store to be the cook
and part-time housekeeper, they had done just that.  The house would
be inhabited by a happy family, the inn run by people who truly loved it
and the beautiful setting it offered.

     "Tony found the notes, and he'll take them into Gull Coast in
the morning and FedEx them to you."  Jim came up behind Blair,
sliding his arms around him from behind.  "Nervous about the speech?"

     "Not now that I've *found* it," Blair responded, laughing, and
Jim joined him, then moved away to look through the pile of mail on
the kitchen table.

     "Looks like we got a letter from Adam," he said, opening the
white business envelope.  "They made an arrest in the Ryan case."

     "Great!  What did he say about it?"

     "That this guy was fresh out on parole from a prison in New
York State, where he did time for a felonious assault and rape of a
woman in Albany.  They're also looking into the possibility--working
with the Albany PD--that he may be responsible for a couple of other
murders there with similar M.O.'s.  Apparently he had some relatives in
Augusta, and ended up in Bayport on his way down the Coast, where
he met Sheila Ryan in a bar.  The evidence points to him murdering her
in his car, then dumping her where she was found by the lake."  Jim
shook his head.  "I'm glad they nailed that bastard."

     "Really."

     "Adam's applying for a detective job here."

     "That's great!  You told Simon about him, right?"

     "I told Simon if he ever gets off the pot and actually applies,
they should snap him up.  I think Simon'll put in a good word for him,
and put his support behind hiring him.  I really think Adam's ready to
make the move to a bigger city department.  He's got the skills, just
nothing to use them on there."

     "I really enjoyed working with him.  I think he'll fit in here." 
Blair went back to his unpacking.

     "So do I.  Now you can quit giving me a hard time about being
the wildest driver in Cascade."

     "Geez, with two of you loose on the streets, I feel like I oughtta
put out some kind of warning," Blair teased.

     "Keep it up, Chief.  One of these days, you're gonna go too far."

     "Oh yeah?  Then what?"  Blair challenged, looking defiantly up
at Jim.

     "I'll be forced to take drastic measures to correct your
behavior."  Jim held out both hands, flexing his fingers.

     "Oh no."  Blair backed away, but when Jim pounced, both men
went over the back of the couch, thankfully landing on it instead of the
floor, a round of merciless tickling fast giving way to a round of
passionate lovemaking.

********

     Blair waited backstage at the auditorium of Rainier University. 
It was filled to capacity, which surprised him, but Laura told him this
kind of crowd was just what they had hoped for and expected.  Not
only were Cascade residents turning out in good numbers, but people
from out of town had been calling to get tickets as well.

     "Nervous?"  Jim asked, smiling at his lover, who was poring
over his notes one last time.  Hair pulled back, glasses in place, Blair
was in full academic mode again.  He had brought his materials in the
briefcase Jim gave him before his ill-fated stint of teaching at Bayport
College.  Dressed in that same outfit--which they had jokingly come to
call his "professor suit", he seemed prepared to take on the world--at
least to those who couldn't tune into his heartbeat and his pulse.

     "a little."  Blair looked up, forcing an uneasy smile.  "It's
just...weird.  Being back here.  It feels like I've got so much to prove to
everybody here."

     "Chief, you've proven anything you had to prove to them. 
You're a best-selling author.  You've packed the house out there. 
You're doing them a favor by accepting their invitation.  Remember
that."

     "What would I do without you, huh?"  Blair asked, taking a hold
of Jim's hand and squeezing.  "I count on you so much."

     "Good."  Jim planted a quick peck on Blair's forehead.  "You're
going to do great out there, sweetheart.  Just remember to breathe,
okay?"

     "Okay.  I'll try," Blair added, chuckling a little.  "If I start
turning blue, give me the high sign, huh?"

     "Will do.  Better go get my seat."

     "Yeah.  When I get nervous, I can just focus on you."

     "You'll be fine, Chief."  With a last pat to Blair's shoulder, Jim
headed out for his front row seat which the members of the Program
Board had assured Blair would be reserved, his only requirement for
his appearance.

     "Mr. Sandburg," a familiar female voice caught Blair's attention
just as Laura was getting ready to introduce him.  Chancellor Edwards
was approaching him, in one of her usual dark business suits.  

     "Chancellor Edwards," Blair responded, his tone polite but
distinctly cool.  He was surprised when she extended a hand, but opting
to maintain his courtesy, he shook it.

     "I wanted to personally thank you for appearing here today. 
The students were very excited about your appearance, and Laura told
me you were donating your honorarium back to the Program Board. 
That was very generous of you."

     "I had a number of personal reasons for wanting to accept this
engagement.  The money wasn't one of them," he said.

     "I realize you left the University under less than ideal
circumstances, and it's my hope that you will let bygones be bygones--
this is a very important event for the University--we have a number of
media people in the audience--"

     "You're concerned I'm planning to embarrass the University, is
that it?  Remind everyone in the audience that I was exiled out of here
when the whole Sentinel scandal broke?"  Blair smiled a little and
shook his head.  "I wouldn't embarrass *myself* by stooping to that
level.  Furthermore, I'm sure the press will make the connection all on
its own.  I won't have to.  And it'll be up to their readers and viewers to
pass judgement--just as you passed judgement on me."

     "I can see you're still bitter about this--"

     "No, actually, I'm not.  I don't feel anything about it anymore. 
It's in the past, and there's really nothing I'd want to change about my
life at the moment.  And if you hadn't fired me, I'd still be here dancing
to your tune and courting the favor of jerks like Brad Ventriss and his
rich father.  Believe me, the independence is liberating, and I wouldn't
change a moment of the past, if this is where it led.  So I think I should
actually thank you.  You firing me was probably the most positive
event in my career.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I think they're about to
introduce me."

     "Of course.  I will certainly appreciate your discretion in your
comments to the press."  And with that, she turned and strode away,
most likely headed for some spot in the auditorium, to watch the
proceedings.  

     "Ladies and Gentlemen, first I would like to thank you all for
joining us for our program today," Laura began as she stood at the
podium where Blair would soon speak.  "We are proud to have with us
today a graduate of Rainier University--one of our best known alumni. 
Blair Sandburg received his Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology from
Rainier University.  After earning his Master's Degree at Washington
State University, Mr. Sandburg returned to Rainier University to pursue
further graduate study.  Many of our students were fortunate enough to
take classes from him during his time as a teaching fellow.  Mr.
Sandburg has two best-selling books to his credit--'Yellow Scarf' and
'Penance', both of which have topped the New York Times' Non-Fiction
Best Seller List."

     "When we approached Mr. Sandburg about speaking here, we
weren't too confident that he would accept--we were definitely offering
him an honorarium much lower than he normally could command.  To
our delight, not only did Mr. Sandburg accept our invitation, but he
generously donated his honorarium to our Program Board, which will
make possible an additional lecture program later this semester."

     "It is my pleasure to introduce Mr. Blair Sandburg," she
concluded, leading the audience in applause.

     Blair walked out on the stage, scanning the packed house only
briefly, his eyes settling almost immediately on Jim, who was
applauding with everyone else, looking as if he might even be
containing a tear or two.  Blair knew how emotional he felt himself at
this moment, returning a hero of sorts to the place he had left, head
hung in shame, less than two years earlier.  Thanks to the love and
support of the man in the front row, Blair had been able to tap his inner
strength and overcome that painful setback.

     The applause died as he settled at the podium, arranging his
notes.  He found this audience no more intimidating than the many
groups of students he'd addressed over the years, and soon, he was
talking, gesturing, and finally unhooking the microphone so he could
walk around while he spoke.  He fielded questions from the audience
with humor and enthusiasm, and gave them a sneak preview of the
content of the next book.  As he concluded his speech, he returned the
microphone to its holder and stood behind the podium to make one
final statement.

     "I've made some appearances on a few talk shows since the
books came out, but this is my first official public speaking
engagement.  I hope you'll forgive me, but I have to take a moment to
make a personal statement here."  Blair could imagine Chancellor
Edwards' blood pressure at that moment, which only broadened his
smile.  If she only knew how little he cared to waste his time
regurgitating old news.  

     "When I left Rainier University, it was under less than ideal
circumstances.  That's not a secret--I've been asked about it in more
than one interview.  I went through a very difficult time in my life after
that.  I can't let this event end without thanking the one person who
stood by me, who turned his back on everything he knew and struck out
to start a whole new life--because *I* needed him.  He's been in the
background, cheering me on, supporting me, convincing me I was
capable of much more than I thought I was.  And never losing faith in
me, no matter what new project I undertook.  He's here with me today,
of course, cheering me on again, giving me the strength from just his
presence that I could never match from any other source.  I just want to
say thanks, Jim, for being my life partner, for standing by me--and I
want you to know that if I am flying high now, it's only because you
have always, truly, been the wind beneath my wings."  Blair smiled
down at Jim, who was now nervously brushing a hand past his eyes, but
smiling back.

     "Thank you all very much for joining me today," he concluded,
smiling and stepping away from the podium, then walking backstage.

     "It was a wonderful program, Blair!"  Laura enthused.  She was
joined by the University president.  a tall, slender man with receding
gray hair and glasses, Dr. Meredith extended his hand and Blair shook
it.  

     "I second that.  We appreciate very much your appearing here
today, and your tasteful handling of your past with the University." 
Withdrawing his hand, he added.  "I would like to offer you
reinstatement in the Anthropology doctoral program, if you would be
interested in pursuing your degree, with a new dissertation subject."

     "What about my department head--and Chancellor Edwards? 
They were--"

     "I have conferred with your department head, and Chancellor
Edwards will abide by any decision I make in this matter.  I understand
you never submitted the fraudulent dissertation--that makes a
considerable difference.  If you should choose to accept our invitation
to complete your doctoral studies here, any conflicts regarding conduct
or any similar matters will be handled directly through my office.  I
don't expect an answer right now.  I realize your schedule is probably
quite packed at the moment.  Give it some thought, and know that the
door is always open."

     "Thank you, Dr. Meredith.  I will give it serious thought.  And I
appreciate the invitation, no matter what my final decision."

     After the president left, Jim wandered up to where Blair was
standing, and smiled softly.

     "That was quite a speech, Chief," Jim commented.

     "I meant every word of it," Blair responded, referring to the
only part of the talk that had any deep, emotional meaning to him.

     "I don't know as I deserve all that credit, sweetheart.  You did
this on your own, rebuilt your life--"

     "No, Jim.  It's true I worked hard to get where I am now, but I
would have never had the strength or the courage to do it if you hadn't
been by my side, loving me and supporting me--making me feel
*worth* something when everyone else was making me feel
*worthless*.  Running away with me to Maine and hiding out there on
the bluff, in that obscure little place, taking me away from the prying
eyes and the ridicule here, letting me heal..."

     "You gave up your life for me, Chief...such a huge sacrifice--"

     "And you gave it back to me.  Maybe that's the real sign that we
should always trust each other.  I thought I was sacrificing my
professional life at that press conference.  But because of the sacrifices
you were willing to make for me, I got a new professional life.  a better
one.  I put everything I had into our relationship, and then because you
did the same, we both won in the end.  We've got our lives back, and
we've got each other."

     "You going to go for that degree now, Chief?"  Jim asked,
clearing his throat, trying to push down the emotion that threatened to
bubble to the surface.

     "Maybe after the next book," Blair said, nodding.  "We'll see
what I have time for--if I can pencil them in somewhere."  Blair linked
his arm through Jim's and pulled gently, starting them walking.  

     "I can't tell you how proud I am of you, Chief.  You're a real
class act, the way you handled this whole thing.  You should probably
get out there and speak to the reporters--there are a few of them
hanging around pretty tenaciously."

     "Good.  I want to show you off."

     "I don't want to horn in on your spotlight, sweetheart."

     "*Our* life, *our* spotlight," Blair corrected, sliding his arm
around Jim's waist as the other man's arm came up around his
shoulders.

     "I love you with all my heart, Chief."  Jim leaned down and
Blair tilted his head up so they could share a prolonged kiss before
moving out of the relative privacy of the backstage area to the little
group of reporters.

     "Dare you to do that in front of them," Blair teased.

     "Dare you to try and stop me," Jim retorted, squeezing Blair's
shoulders, both of them laughing together as they went out to meet the
press.


THE END
********

All My Roads

Looking back from where I stand tonight,
I wouldn't change a thing about my life.
Wrong turns I had to take 
Back in those crazy years,
Could not have been mistakes
If they brought me here.

'Cause all my roads have led me to
This night, this love I share with you.
And thought the road was never smooth,
Life has made me someone who
Could be the right someone for you.

I don't regret a single broken heart,
That taught me what love is,
And what it's not.
Someone must have planned
Our two paths would cross.
I couldn't see it then,
But I was never lost.

Detours, dead ends, endless explorations,
You were my only destination...