Blair sailed through the door of Scarro's, yelling a happy hello to Margot, the cook commanding the grill. Halloing back, her Creole accent making it music, she waved her spatula and added, "Blueberry buckwheat."

"Alllll right!" Blair pumped his fist once, then danced toward the rear of the restaurant where he and Naomi usually sat when they ate here. Though he was a few minutes early, she was already there, laughing and chatting with Cindy, a waitress he sometimes tutored.

Pausing for a second, he watched his mom, admiring the way she drew the younger woman out, making her feel noticed. She *was* - that was truly Naomi's gift; she gave everyone she spoke to 100% of her attention, and they couldn't help but respond. But that was all she gave, Blair noticed for the first time. Using her chatter as a shield, she kept other people at a distance. No one really got close to her, just as they hadn't with him, until Jim. Mentally, he sighed; he'd seen that in his meditation Saturday. Now he knew where he got it.

Naomi noticed him watching, and waved him over. Pushing away his introspection and letting his delight at seeing his mom surface, Blair grinned widely and made his way to the booth. "Hey, Cindy. Did you pass that history exam?" Blair leaned past the young woman to hug his mother enthusiastically.

"Sure thing. Couldn't help it with what you put me through. I know more about early Native American history than I ever wanted to. Where's that big, ripped cop friend of yours?" Cindy leaned on the side of the booth and unconsciously smoothed her skirt.

Barely hiding a smirk, Blair answered, "Parking the truck. He'll have his usual, and I'm going to have some of those masterpieces Margot is whipping up, along with some mint tea." He sat, and almost jumped back up to his feet, smirk growing wider. //Sore, sore, sore... what a rotten way to be reminded of how *fantastic* last night was// he thought ruefully.

"Be here in five. Want syrup or jam with the pancakes?" If Cindy noticed his discomfort, she didn't show it.

"Syrup." Unfortunately, and Blair peeked to make sure, Naomi had, and she wasn't happy about it. //Guess I'm going to have to educate Mom on a few facts about male to male loving. Why do I have the feeling this conversation is going to be a lot more difficult than our birds-n-bees one?//

Cindy drifted away, and Blair decided to plunge in before his mother could put up her wall of chatter. "Mom, about last night... thanks. I mean, really, it was so important to me, and I know..."

"Then what Jim said was true... you really did 'marry' him." Naomi's tone was between disbelieving and alarmed.

Looking down at the bracelet adorning his left wrist, Blair ran his thumb over the links and smiled dreamily. "Not legally, no." He barely heard his mother's in-drawn hiss. "I mean, we took care of all the legal stuff ages ago. You know - insurance, power of attorney, that kind of thing. Last night was well, like a personal commitment ceremony."

He looked up from his contemplation of his wedding band, startled by the emotions chasing over Naomi's face. Uncertain on how to name them, he went on with his original thought, trying to watch her carefully as he did. "In a couple of years, maybe, when I've been in good at the U for a while, we'll do a public one," he added tentatively, thinking their wish for discretion was troubling her.

Naomi took a sip of her tea, clearly mustering her thoughts. Seeing Cindy walk past, Blair flagged her down with a smile and wave, asking when she stopped by, "Could you bag Jim's to go, please, Cindy?" He hadn't known what he was going to say until it came out, but didn't pay attention to his words. His attention was still focused on his mother.

"Sure thing, Dr. Sandburg," Cindy drawled teasing.

"Puh a lease." Blair drawled theatrically, seeing Naomi needed to center herself. "Do you really think awarding me those three letters is going to automatically turn me into a stuffy academic? As if! I plan to prove it by throwing the bestest, wildest party we'll see until 2999. Coming? It's the Friday after graduation."

"Margo will close the place for your party," Cindy laughed. "Count on it. Hey, I'm coming already," she yelled at a customer thumping a cup on their table. "Some people," she grumbled as she went on her way.

Giving his mom a quick glance, Blair decided to stay with the topic, to give her time. "Speaking of which, are you staying for graduation, Mom?"

Brightening, Naomi said, "That's why I'm here! Well, mostly. Sorta. Do you remember the Averys? Made all that money when they got interested in computer pieces or silicon chops or something? They had the most wonderful idea. About protecting the rainforest and the tribes? Bring in tourists, but not the usual kind with the loud American pushiness and wrong clothes and ridiculously expensive cameras. People like you or me, who want to see the people as they are, live with them, *know* their lives."

Cautiously, Blair nodded his approval. "Done right, in small groups, with the right permission from the right people in the tribes... it could do a lot of good, Mom."

"Oh, sweetie, I just knew you'd agree. They'd need you for a least a year, until they could get established..." Naomi gushed.

"Whoa, whoa! I only agreed it could be a good idea! What would they need me for?"

"To be a guide, of course, sweetie. With your Ph.D., you'll have the credentials to make it legit, you know the language and so many of the customs, and I know you care about the forest."

"Of course, I do..." Blair tried to insert.

"And the Averys know you, and would listen to you, and make sure the others in the group wouldn't give you any problems, not that you couldn't handle any on your own, I'm sure." Naomi hastened to reassure Blair, misunderstanding his expression.

"Mom..."

"You could so much good, sweetie, and it would be so good for you to get out and around again! Why, if it's a success, there are other causes we might be able to do the same thing with. For instance, the whaling industry is all..."

"Mom!" Blair interrupted, firmly. "I am not going. Yes, it is a great idea, and it can do a lot of good, but I'm hardly the only anthropologist qualified, and I already have plans for the next year."

"Well, nothing that couldn't wait, I'm sure..."

Not letting her take over again, Blair went on as if she wasn't speaking, "I've already signed my contract with Cascade PD to act as their paid consultant - you wouldn't believe the leeway I have in my duties and choice of cases. And, though I can't sign the contract until the Ph.D is official, the position I've been substituting in is mine, permanently. It's not often they take a new grad in a teaching position as prestigious as this one, and it's *major* boost they think I'm good enough. No way am I going to walk away from a professional opportunity like that."

Taking a deep breath, Blair tried to back down the verbal intensity somewhat. To his relief, he heard Jim call out a greeting to Margot. Feeling it was his turn to center, now, he turned and waved to his lover. Coming to squat beside him, Jim circled his wrist between thumb and middle finger, giving it a gentle tug as he did. He held up his other hand, showing his bagged breakfast. "Sorry, Chief. Naomi." He smiled bemusedly at her, still mellow from last night's loving. "Call came in, and I need to go straight to the station. Dropping by later?"

"We haven't made any plans, yet, Jim. Surely Blair won't be missed for one day? At the station, I mean."

"Yes, he will be," Jim disagreed amiably, eyes only for Blair, making him shiver. "But everyone will understand." With a visible yank, he made himself look at Naomi again, "though at least a dozen people will be very disappointed if *you* don't drop while in town. Are you staying for the big graduation bash?"

"We were just talking about it, Jim," Blair told him.

"Are you going to help Blair plan it? Sure to be a smash if you do."

Preening un-selfconsiously, she admitted, "I do have few ideas..."

Standing, Jim let his fingers trail over the back of Blair's hand, though facing Naomi still. "Great! The two of you can fill me in this evening. See you then." In an aside, whispering so only Blair could hear, he added, "Tell her everything, Chief." At Blair's startled look, he repeated firmly, "Everything."

Becoming all cop, he casually lifted his lunch in lieu of a wave, turned and walked away.

With a snort, Naomi muttered, "My center is calm, I am my center. My center is calm, I am my center."

Blair, picked up his hot cup of tea, taking solace from its warmth, and waited until she composed herself again. When she stopped speaking, he faced his mother directly, taking up where they had left off. "Mom, if for no other reason, I need both positions to help pay for my student loans. There's a grace period, but I want to be able to build some reserve first. It's going to take me a long time to pay them off, as it is. I don't want..."

"Blair Sandburg, I can't believe I'm hearing this." Naomi scolded. "Money, contracts, position, time... You sound so, so, so establishment!" Her tone made it the worst possible obscenity.

Blair burst out laughing, going into deep belly laughs at her perplexed look. "Oh, Mom," he gasped, "If you only knew how ironic..." He laughed harder, finally resorting to breathing exercises to calm it. Taking his mother's hand in his, he smiled reassuringly at her. "Ever watch that Olympic sport with the gymnasts dancing with the ribbons? That's me, Mom. Major Crimes, the teaching, the money, the volunteer work - yes, Mom, I am still earning my place on this earth - they're the ribbons in my dance. I move them to compliment my life, not the other way around. I'd drop any of them, at any point, if the dance demanded it; if my life demanded it.

"And where I am now, well, I might not be there a year from now. In fact, at the very least, I want to go back to Peru with Jim. We have some unfinished business there."

"With Jim? He wouldn't ever leave his nice, routine life with its petty power and position."

"Yes, he would. For lots of reasons, but mostly... Mom, do you even remember what I did my thesis on?"

Cindy chose that moment to arrive with their food, asking the other woman a question about her plate. "Of course, honey. Something about tribal warriors wasn't it?" Naomi asked distractedly, loading her fork as she did.

"Not exactly," Blair began.

"Ohhh, Cindy, these are heaven. Oh, oh, I have the most wonderful idea! Does Margot ever cater? Maybe we should call her over to talk." Naomi stood and headed for the kitchen.
 
 

Though it wasn't for lack of trying on Blair's part, and later, Jim's, they were never able to bring up the topic of Sentinels and Sentinel/ Guide connections. Neither felt it was the sort of subject that could tacked be onto a "And what did you do today, dear," conversation, which seemed to be all Naomi would tolerate.

He didn't share the thought with Blair, but it seemed to him that the woman had an agenda of some sort. She had been dragging Blair from one visit and activity after another, each more esoteric than the last. If her intent was to remind Blair of the life they had shared before, she was successful. Jim couldn't help but think that she'd be humiliated on Blair's take on it, though. He believed that Naomi was insecure about her place in his life. After all, she'd been the center of his life for as long as he'd been alive; how could she help but wonder where she stood now that he was married?

His own view was more cynical; he thought she was trying to make him seem boring and provincial, make Blair want to live that footloose lifestyle again. He couldn't blame her. She was only doing what he himself was guilty of - protecting Blair. Nor was he worried that she'd succeed. He and Blair were together. Period. Oddly, sometimes his own confidence in that worried the paranoid warrior who'd been taught surety was a weakness.

It was that part of him more than anything that had him slip into the bullpen out of view of Simon's office when scent and sound told him Naomi was inside. Unashamedly he tuned in on the conversation, burying his face in a file to keep anyone from noticing his preoccupation.

".... French mocha blend. You know, this flavored stuff grows on you after a while." Jim could clearly hear the practiced 'soothe the bigwig' tones in Simon's voice, and smiled. It wasn't going to work with Naomi, of course, but at least the big man knew better than to assume it was only a social visit.

"No, thank you, Simon." She said pertly, perching on the edge of a chair. "I only dropped in for a minute to say thank you."

"Not that I don't appreciate the gratitude, but could you tell me why?"

With a merry laugh, she answered, "For arranging for Blair to get paid, of course. The validation has done wonders for him."

"No need to thank me for that. It was pure selfishness on my part. If he's getting a salary out of Major Crimes' budget, I can haul him back in when another department has co-opped him for too long."

Naomi's voice lost a bit of its cheer. "Another department?"

"Oh, sure. When the other captains found out that our solve rate had gone up almost fifteen percent, they started snooping around as to why. Didn't take long for them to figure out the major difference was Sandburg and to start borrowing his services."

There was a long pause and her next words were obviously puzzled. "What exactly does he do?"

"You know, that's hard to say. Maybe it's because he's such a student of human nature, or maybe its because he's so obviously not a cop, but, well, he just makes things work better. Talking to witnesses, getting them calmed down or cooperative, listening to a cop's problem when he doesn't want to go to the department shrink, popping up with the craziest info at just the right time - you really need to see him in action. For instance, Vice had a partnership - one of the best teams they've had - that was breaking up. Sandburg and Ellison took 'em out, got 'em drunk, and they're back to 100%. They can't even tell you why."

Naomi listened to Simon's ruminative narrative patiently, but something about her rate of respiration or heartbeat told Jim it hadn't really soaked in. The falsely perky tone was back in her next statement, confirming as much as the words that this was the real reason she had visited Simon. "I can't tell you how impressed I am that your people can work with a gay man without all that macho nonsense making things difficult."

Bingo. Simon's heart picked up, but he answered evenly, though he was back to the earlier politician's tone. "Well, Ellison and Sandburg are discreet. Anyone who knows them doesn't care if they do more than work together, and anyone who doesn't has no reason to think about their private lives."

"You know?" Naomi blurted, unable to totally hide her astonishment.

"Of course. I'm their captain and their friend." Simon leaned back in his chair, took out a cigar, and began to prepare it for smoking. "I was the first, I think." In a complete turn around of attitude and voice, Simon said harshly, "And if you're thinking about having this conversation with Blair's dean at the University, I'd think twice, Ms. Sandburg. It wouldn't give me any pleasure to tell them, but they'd know who to blame five minutes after they decided not to hire Blair. I promise you."

//Simon, if you ever need help hiding the bodies, I hope you come to me,// Jim thought in gratitude.

Jim could almost see Simon sit forward in his seat and jab in the air at Naomi with his cigar. "Tell me, is it because of the man himself, or because the man's a cop?"

"You don't understand," she said urgently. "Blair is special, and Jim is everything I raised him not to be, raised him to avoid. He's violent... controlling, judgmental..."

"Don't forget stoic, uncommunicative, and distant."

//So maybe I'll remember where they are!//

"He's also honest, reliable, loyal, and the least prejudiced human being I have ever had the pleasure to meet. None of which matters a shit because he's Blair's *choice.* Look, Naomi, I'm a parent, too. Someday, maybe not too long from now, Daryl is going to bring someone home, and no matter how wonderful that person is, I *know* I'm going to hate them.

"I'm going to have to do the exact same thing I'm telling you to do. Trust him. You've done a fantastic job of raising that young man; trust yourself that you did it right, and trust him to live his life according to that. Trust Blair to love someone worthy of him."

//On second thought, Simon, I'll kill them for you, then *you* can help *me* hide the bodies.//

Jumping to her feet, pacing around the office in a style very reminiscent of her son, Naomi muttered, agitation coloring her words. "You don't understand," she repeated. "Being who and what Jim is, sooner or later he'll die, trying to fulfill his own image of himself. Jim Ellison, Supercop! Then where will Blair be? Where will my little boy be when his world crashes around him?" She dashed through the door, and Jim barely had enough time to back into a corner where he couldn't be seen.

"Naomi, wait!" Simon called, following her as far as his door. "Wait, please! Damn the woman!" He yanked off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Great, now I get to decide what, if anything to tell Ellison."

Jim barely heard Simon's plaintive complaint. As he watched her retreating back, all he could think was //Was it Blair's father, Naomi? Was it his death that not only made you afraid to love, but made you try to teach Blair to be afraid of it?//
 
 

Able to spare Simon the decision of what to tell him, Jim was not spared making his own on what and how much to tell Blair. If Blair had any inkling that Naomi had been systematically been trying to pull them apart, he had never suggested as much. If he didn't tell his partner about his mother's intentions, something was going to go wrong, soon. Blair was the one who was most likely to get hurt, and Jim couldn't stand for that.

Maybe it was time for a direct confrontation between him and Naomi. Not sure for a minute it would do any good, he would at least be able to tell Blair that he *had* talked to her. With that in mind, he left the station early, while Blair was beginning his new office hours. If she was at the loft; well, and good, they'd talk. If not, he'd at least have some down time to enjoy a beer and a roast beef sandwich in peace.

As he parked, he mentally kissed the roast beef goodbye and tried to brace himself. She was upstairs. Maybe he'd have the beer anyway and to hell with her sensitivities.

He walked through the door, and Naomi threw something at his face that he caught instinctively before it could hit. From the feel and smell, he knew instantly what it was, but bent his head over it, as if to look, to keep her from seeing the silly smile it created. It was the suede collar & lead that Blair had bought as part of their running commentary about the pre-civilized sentinel needing to keep his mate beside him, naked and leashed. The one he had seen for the first time on their wedding night.

Since then his lover's wicked imagination had found dozens of erotic uses for the length of soft leather. Once Blair had spent long minutes winding it around Jim's upper arm, thigh, or wrist, then yanking it free to cause a fantastic, un-describable sensation of heat/soft/tickle as it sped over his flesh. He had returned the favor another time sawing a length of it over Blair's nipples as he'd pumped inside his mate. Only last night he had bit on a doubled fold of it to stifle his scream as Blair gave him the blowjob of his life - with Naomi downstairs listening to music. This morning the younger man had carried matched bruises on either side of his shoulders as a reminder to make sure Jim's hands were safely placed before doing *that* again.

"What in the *hell* are you doing with my child!" She demanded coldly, breaking into Jim's memories.

Keeping his head down, Jim began to double the leash over on itself. "If you want to discuss our love-life, Naomi, you're going to have to wait until Blair gets home. I won't talk about it without him."

"Why? So you can intimidate him into saying everything is all right? I know better! I've seen the careful way he moves sometimes, the bruises. And that 'wedding band!' Slaver's shackle is a better description. Now this! What have you dragged him into!"

Realizing she expected him to fight, *wanted* him to fight, made it easy for Jim to say levelly, "Then I'll leave while you talk to him. But I won't discuss it with you."

Putting the leather in his pocket, Jim looked up as he heard the low rumble of a great beast. His panther was prowling through the loft, growling agitatedly. A quick glance told him Naomi wasn't aware of it.

"I suppose you'd like me to believe it was all Blair's idea that he wear that.. that.. obscenity," she was saying.

"What makes you think Blair's the one who wears it?" Jim answered absently, going to the phone and dialing the number of campus security. Totally dismissing her from his existence, he waited anxiously until head of campus security picked up. "Hi, Suzanne? It's Jim Ellison. Hey, could you send a guard over to Hargrove? To Blair's new office? No, not exactly, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd check. Now? No, that's good, good. Thank you."

He hung up with a finger; dialed the department dispatch. "Ellison here. Send a unit to Rainier University, Hargrove Building. There'll be a security guard there to assist."

Dropping the phone and moving at a dead run, the panther's claws tearing at his mind, Jim raced for his truck. Naomi's presence in the truck as he drove off was catalogued, filed under 'deal with if necessary,' then put aside as he extended sight and sound to make time through the traffic. At one point he heard her mutter, "Disney'd make a fortune..."

He screeched into a spin out halt in front of Hargrove, fitting the truck into spaces left by cruisers and Simon's unmarked. Hearing gunshots and angry shouts, he dropped to a crouch and scuttled over to the big man. "Blair?" he questioned.

If he was shocked by how flat his voice was, Simon was more so. Guiltily the other man gestured widely at the world in general. "I got a call that Talbot had slipped away from the hospital he was in. His doctors felt he'd go straight to Blair. I tried to call - no answer at his office or cell; Jim, is yours working? I've had someone trying to get you since I heard. When I couldn't contact either of you, I drove over here to tell him personally. Heard your call to dispatch and arrived just as the black and white did."

While one part of Jim listened to Bank's explanation, most of him was trying to focus on the building in front to them to learn what he could. Swearing under his breath, he stood, putting a strong hand on his captain's shoulder as he did. "Simon, if we survive - whatever you want, just ask." He looked directly at Simon for the first time since arriving. "*Whatever.*" he emphasized. Dropping the hold and breaking into a trot, he called back over his shoulder. "The threats and shots are a recording. Send someone around back in case they're moving that way."

With Naomi trailing, the two policemen ran up the stairs and down the long hallway to Blair's office. Silently signaling that it was empty - long before they got there - Jim took no niceties about crashing through. Scanning on all five senses rapidly, he barked out, "Blood." He pointed to a minute drop of it, then followed the all but invisible trail, backed by scent, out into the hallway to the rear of the building. Loading doors were standing open, and Jim dropped off the platform to the ground. Holding his hands scant millimeters above the paving, he felt for a hot spot indicating a recent vehicle starting up.

"Here," he grunted. Angling for the best vantage, he studied the ground and mumbled, "Wide tires, wide base. Not a car; van or truck." He stood and turned in a slow circle, looking for one in motion. "Security cameras there," he gestured, talking to Simon, still turning. "Tapes'll have something."

Speaking into his cell, Simon nodded, his next words to an officer to check it out. Jim grunted, "Green 94 Voyager, can't see the plates, moving up Wilston, northbound. Where's that cruiser, damn it?!" He watched, hopelessly, as the van was lost even to Sentinel sight.
 
 

Standing on the balcony, watching an individual ripple be born and run its life out on the water in the distance, Jim listened to Banks go over the details of the last three days one more time. Why Naomi found it reassuring, he didn't know. He was simply grateful that Simon took the responsibility to do it this time.

"The tape shows Blair alive, with only a minor injuries," he was repeating patiently. "When we found Talbot and the van, there was some blood, but not enough to think the worse. As incoherent as the kid is, he's still saying he didn't kill Dr. Sandburg, just took him to the 'quiet sacred place.' With the mileage on that service record and information we got from the van's owners, we've got a pretty good radius for the search. The soil and other trace evidence, along with his passion for camping, tells us that we're looking for a wooded area, probably one of the local parks. It's just a case of being patient while we find a witness who saw them or the van. Or until Talbot calms down enough to tell us specifically where he took Blair. It's hard, I know, but your son is resourceful. He's probably warm and safe, wondering what the hell is taking us so long."

Simon's half of the ritual done, Naomi unfolded from her lotus position on the couch and patted the big man on the cheek. "I know the department is doing everything it can, Simon. It's clear to me how much Blair is liked and respected there." Her reassurances were the other half, and she went on serenely, "I know he's ok; I'd be able to feel it if something were seriously wrong. The wheel will turn, and we'll see clearly, soon."

Unable to help the small negative shake of his head, Jim thought, //She wants to believe in that sort of shit so much, but when she's confronted by the real thing... I think that's why she kept avoiding letting Blair tell her about me, us. She has to have seen or heard things that should make her suspicious. But she can't handle the confirmation that there is *more* than most people are lucky enough to experience.//

As Naomi went into the kitchen to get tea for them, Simon came over to stand by his officer. "We'll skip the 'look like hell' part because you've got a mirror. Now, you know we're doing everything we can, and I know you'd come to me if there was something I could do. So what does that leave us to talk about? The Jags?"

As intended, Jim gave a fractional lift of his lips meant to be a smile. "We could always let Naomi do all the talking for both us," he murmured. Behind them they could hear her private monologue as she made her tea.

"Must be a family trait," Simon commented, dryly.

Jim's smile grew somewhat. "One of many." He turned to face his captain squarely, not surprised by the shock on the man's face when he saw the serenity Jim knew was deep in his own eyes. "If we don't make it, there's a package that Blair prepared a while back to help with her... it's with my stuff, you know where."

"Jim!" The other man sounded past shocked, now.

Jim pulled aside his collar to let Simon see the angry red patch on his neck with the fiery streaks radiating from it. "The cut Talbot gave him is infected, and he's running a high fever. And I don't think he's had anything to drink since before he was taken. We... don't have a lot longer."

This time Simon's voice was pleading, "Jim, your connection - there has to be a way for you to use it beside to die with him. Come on, man, don't give up."

"We haven't. We're just not afraid, that's all. Simon, I've always operated on instinct with this; understanding it, using it was Blair's thing."

"Damnit, you have to have *some* idea what'd he'd do!"

"What do you think I've been working on since we ran out of leads?" Jim answered calmly. "So far, the only good it's done is to make me feel like I'm doing something."

"Well, I'm thankful for that, at least, "Simon muttered, leaning on the balcony rails. "Keeps you out of the station and everyone's hair. Though it's so out of character for you not be down there screaming at everyone and getting in their way, it's scaring the beejusus out of them."

Returning to his tracking of ripples, Jim gave a short laugh. "Must be waiting for me to go postal - which means they're working twice as hard so they'll have something for me when I do. I'm going to have to remember that."

"Yeahhhh," Simon drawled slowly. "I can see where it could be useful...."

Both men contemplated the water quietly until Simon's phone went off, pulling him away. Jim smiled his farewell and watched as he left, Naomi fussing and cooing over him in goodbye - another Sandburg family trait.

The shoe dropped for Jim, and he suddenly strode into the living room to kneel in front of her where she sat on the couch. "Naomi, if the situation were reversed, what would Blair be doing? Not physically, but mentally, to help look?"

Clearly puzzled by the question, she said simply. "Meditate. Look for his center and ask for enlightenment."

"Ask who?"

"Oh, I don't know. That sort of thing is so personal, you don't ask and he's never chosen to share. Maybe an ancestor, or spirit animal."

Eagerly, Jim leaned forward and took her hands between his, "You mean, like a guide of a sorts?"

"Well, yes..."

"Naomi, you are fucking beautiful." Jim bussed her quickly on one cheek, then stood to find what he needed. As if pulled along against her will, she followed him, peppering him with questions he didn't acknowledge. Going upstairs to his bed, he put on the headphones, turned on the music and made himself comfortable.

"*You're* going to meditate?"

At another time, he would have found her surprise amusing - or annoying. Instead, he told her quietly, "One of the first things he taught me." Before he closed his eyes, he focused on the woman flitting around his bedroom. "If I don't come out of it, call Simon."

Before she could respond, he shut her and the rest of the world out, concentrating entirely on the image of a panther running through the South American jungle. Conjuring the feel, sounds, smells of that environment, he chased after it, sure it wouldn't go too fast for him to keep up. As he ran, the terrain around them began to change subtly, melting away from wildly profuse trees and vegetation to rockier, sandier surroundings. The transition from forest to dunes and ocean took almost no time from his perspective, and ahead of him, he could make out the outlines of a temple very similar to the one the panther usually brought him to. The major difference was that it was perched on the edge of the shore, with waves crashing on its back.

Sitting with his back to him, Blair could be seen, laughing and talking with someone or something below Jim's field of vision. Briefly wishing that sentinel sight worked around corners, he sprinted toward his partner, forgetting about anything but holding Blair.

As he leaped up the over-broad steps, Blair looked over his shoulder at him, then stood, gladly shouting Jim's name. He ran to meet the Sentinel, but was tripped to a stumbling halt by what Jim saw only as a blur of furry brown. Reaching, nearly there, he drew back abruptly as the panther turned, snarled, and swiped at him.

"Jim, man, I don't think they want us to touch." Blair said, studying the swirl of motion going over his side of the steps.

Frustrated, Jim stopped just beyond arm's length of his lover. "Why not!" he growled, sounding remarkably like the beast blocking him.

"It's probably too dangerous," Blair answered, patiently. "In fact, you shouldn't be here at all, babe. You look like hell."

Glancing down at himself, Jim saw the shredded remains of fatigues, like the ones he'd worn while with the Chopec in Peru. Under them he could see painted claw marks, dirt, and muscles thin and hard from over-use and poor diet. Reflecting that he must look worse than he did when airlifted out of the jungle, he dismissed his own condition. Lifting his hand as if to trace the image of what he saw in the air, he whispered passionately, "You look beautiful, babe."

There was a burr of sound from Blair's feet that killed his shy, pleased look as it was born. Stepping back from Jim, Blair said horrified, "Because you're feeding me your strength. Jim, you have get out of here."

"No!" Jim denied vehemently, "Not until you tell me where you are, physically. I have to find you."

Looking away as if to think, Blair's form wavered, became watery for a second, then firmed. "If I try to think about that, Jim," he said slowly, "it pulls me back. All I can tell you is that I smell wood, old wood, like a pile for a fireplace. I'm warm enough; it's dark and very, very peaceful."

"Then tell me how to find you? Please, Blair, we're almost out of time here." Jim could feel fatigue building in him, a weight that would soon drop him back into reality.

Again there was burr of sound, directed toward the panther sitting between the two men, grooming itself. It rumbled back, then Blair said, "You saw, but didn't recognize it was important - Jim, what was the most unusual thing you remember about Talbot?"

Instantly the image flashed across Jim's mind of the young black man holding his ears trying to curl into a ball as he sat in the interrogation room. "Sound bothers him. He's not hyper like me, I checked. It just.. hurts him, I think."

"Okay, that makes sense, considering the what set him off and the things he complains about. Now, if you needed *major* quiet, what would you do?"

"Go camping, " Jim answered promptly. "Which Talbot did a lot."

"And the most silent, hushed place outdoors that you know of."

Considering, Jim replied, "Old forest, old trees. There's no undergrowth, so not many animals at floor level, pines are so high, the birds can't be heard. If the wind's not blowing, yeah, it's really quiet. Like a church or a..." He snapped his fingers, "sacred quiet - the Forest Cathedral in Cascade Regional Park. Blair, that could be it."

Excited, he stepped toward Blair, only to be blocked by the animal between them jumping to its feet. Stepping back reflexively, Blair raised his hands. "It's a lead, Jim, maybe a good one. You need to leave, right now, please, leave right now." As he spoke, the he began to look weary, pained. Blood, old and new, appeared on his clothes, face, neck, and he became flushed, glassy eyed.

"What are you doing!" Ignoring the growls, Jim swayed toward the other man. "Blair!"

"You.. you need your strength...*I* need your strength with you, so you can find me. I'll hold on, I promise. I never had any doubt you'd come to me, one way or another. But if it's to be physically, hurry. Hurry!"

Stretching out both arms, as if to hug the air around Blair, Jim swore, "I will. That's the only reason I'm letting you cut me off. You hold on, and I'll get there." He backed off, going down two steps, then added stubbornly, "And if I don't get there fast enough, you'll meet me here, right? Right!? Blair!"

Blair smiled wanly, and hugged himself. "And that time, we'll touch. I promise that, too."

Not wanting to look away yet, Jim went down another step, but it wasn't there, and he came down hard
 
 

"You're not listening to me!" Naomi accused, twisting in her seat belt to face him better.

"No, I'm not," Jim agreed reasonably. "No need to. So far you've told me three times that this is the wrong road, though the only other way into this area is twice as long and doesn't fit the mileage radius we guessed. You've told me five times that we should have waited for Simon to get back with us, even though there's no way he's going to have time for us with that mess at the airport he's trying to deal with. I've lost track of the number of times you've told me I was crazy for following this hunch. If that's the case, why are you here?"

"If that's the way you feel about it," she snapped, "I'll just sit here like a rock and not say a word."

"Would you?" Jim asked, relieved, slowing down as he picked out another place on the dirt track where a vehicle had recently pulled off. "It takes concentration to read trail sign at this distance."

Opening and closing her mouth several times, Naomi finally snapped it shut and stared angrily out the side window. Before long, though, she asked, "Trail sign?"

"Blair knows what I'm capable of. He'll leave something for me to spot, to follow to where Talbot stashed him."

"Maybe he was carried," she suggested.

"Talbot is too slight, and if they hadn't moved a good distance into the forest, he wouldn't have gotten the quiet he was looking for," Jim answered, then yanked the steering wheel over. "There!"

Taking only a moment to gather up the pack filled with medical supplies and water, Jim ran to where he had seen the three parallel marks lightly gouged into a tree trunk. Several strands of hair were caught in the bark, and he brought them to his nose to check scent. Legs shaky for a second, he sucked in a vast quantity of air, then started off at a steady, ground eating lope that he could maintain practically forever.

Though more clumsy, Naomi kept up with him fairly well, and he made a point of pausing to let her rest a bit each time he spotted another marker left by Blair. After about four miles they came to a clearing in the woods where the trees stretched like pillars of the world to hold the sky. As far as he could see, there was not another sign from Blair; he had to be close.

Looking up into the mottled blue, green and white canopy above him, Jim steadied himself. Nothing to see, scent too diffused - that left hearing. Eyes closed, he rotated his shoulders several times to release the tension and opened his hearing. First he filtered out Naomi, then the scurrying of the insects and small creatures whose home they had disturbed. Into the vacuum of sound came the steady thump of a human heartbeat. Piggybacking sight and sound, he pinpointed the source.

It was a tree stump, bigger around than some industrial smoke stacks he had seen. The charred exterior revealed its demise: lightning must have struck it at some point in the past. Having fallen onto itself, it gave the appearance of a poorly designed lean-to. A hollowed base was hinted at under the cover of the fallen upper trunk, suggesting a perfect place to hide, or if necessary, hide someone else.

Without hesitation Jim ran for it and began digging at the fallen portion. To his eye, it was obvious that, very recently, it had been shifted. Straining, he broke off one of the branches to use it as a lever, and began trying to move it back. Nimbly Naomi clambered over another part of the trunk to peer into the opening at the top right side. "Blair! Blair, are you in there?"

There was a moan too faint for her to hear, and Jim doubled his efforts. Back screaming in pain, he got his make shift lever under a major branch and heaved. It rocked in place and the rotted wood cracked under the stress, creating a gap. Not much of one, but enough that he could get a shoulder inside. By sound and feel he groped until he fumbled onto Blair's leg.

At his shout, Naomi scrambled down to him and helped him pull Blair out of the tree's interior. She gathered her son close, almost smothering him at her breast. Giving her her moment, Jim hunched out of his pack and began removing the fist aid supplies. Spilling in his haste, he opened a canteen and wet down a piece of gauze. "Naomi. Naomi! He's hasn't had anything to drink! Give him this to suck on."

She knocked the gauze away and reached for the canteen. Holding it away, Jim repeated, "Give him the cloth to drink from. Damn it, if you give him too much, he'll throw it up. That's strength he can't afford to waste and water he can't afford to lose."

Stubbornly, she reached for the canteen again, and he threatened to upend it. "The gauze. When he can handle more, he'll ask for it." They stared at each other, but a moan from Blair broke her first, and she put a corner of the fabric between his lips. Jim watched him suckle weakly, then began to treat the infected wound at base of his throat, near the collarbone. Guessing from the unhealthy heat under his hands that Blair's temperature had to be over 102, he cleaned the area enough to see a hospital was a necessity. He pulled out the cell phone, but got only an out of range signal.

Tiredly he put it away, and did what he could before preparing Blair for transport. Patiently Naomi fed him water until the last moment, then helped Jim get him across his broad shoulders. The trip out of the forest took much longer than the one in, and this time it was Naomi who paused to let Jim rest.

They reached the truck, and Jim handed her the keys. "Do you remember seeing those hospital signs on the way through that last town? Can you find your way?"

"Jim, you should..."

"Drive."

Once inside he pulled Blair into his lap, settling the curly head into the curve of his neck. At the skin to skin contact, Jim felt a surge of sensation between them. Closing his eyes and laying his head on the back of the seat, he cupped the back of Blair's neck with one hand and burrowed under the filthy shirt with the other. The feeling leaped higher and he tried to feed it, lapsing into near unconsciousness as he did.

For him there was no transition time from the truck starting, then stopping. Though he felt the cessation of motion, it didn't become real to him until Blair was pulled from his arms. Automatically he reached, forcibly taking him back. "No," he mumbled.

"Jim, let go. Let the orderly take him inside."

"No. I'll carry him." He struggled out of the truck and staggered with his partner through the double doors of the emergency room. Laying Blair on a hospital bed, he kept a grip on his lover's hand, moving aside as needed to let the staff do their work. Used to dealing with distraught family, they ignored him until a doctor, a look of disgust coloring his face, ordered them to get Jim out. With practiced skill, they came between the two men, and, without a fuss, Jim found himself in the waiting room sitting beside Naomi.

The ER staff may not have realized it, but Jim had heard Blair's heart falter when their hands lost their grip. Propping his head on the wall behind him, he closed his eyes and did what he could to support Blair until he could be allowed into his room.

Again time was suspended and the doctor's appearance in the waiting room was sudden to him. He lurched to his feet, hovering behind Naomi as the doctor told her what Jim already knew - dehydrated, infection, fever, weak, antibiotics, fluids, bed rest. "When can we see him?" he asked, voice rusty with emotion and fatigue.

"He's being moved to the ICU until his condition stabilizes. Family may visit for 5 minutes every hour, as soon as he's settled in."

"Surely, if he's in no danger, I can stay a tiny bit longer. Please? A mother's touch is so soothing and comforting; it has to be a help." Naomi made big eyes at the doctor, and put a feminine hand on his forearm.

"We'll see," the doctor answered patronizingly, but with a comforting pat to her hand as he did.

"Sir, I'm Blair's partner, Jim Ellison." Jim said, noticing in alarm the change in the doctor's face at his words. "Naomi is right. Blair will take strength from having us with him. We both know not to interfere with the nurses and won't get in the way."

"I am sorry, Mr. Ellison," the ER physician answered remotely, "but it's five minutes .. for family only. You can wait here, of course, but no visitors until he regains consciousness at least."

"I *am* family," Jim said desperately. "Naomi, tell him!" He turned an unknowingly beseeching gaze at the older woman.

Something flickered deep in Naomi's eyes, then she answered, "Much as you may want to think otherwise, Jim, you're not. You don't have any rights with Blair; you're just his roommate."

In the seconds it took for her to shut him out, the primitive survivor in Jim came to the fore, and he was able to say composedly, knowing it was useless. "I can help."

"You've already helped *quite* enough," Naomi said, tartly, the emphasis a subtle form of blame. "I'll let you know when he's awake." She turned away, shutting him out physically, and turned her wiles back to the other man. "Could you please show me the way to ICU? And tell me your name; I'd like to know who I'm thanking."

Back held military straight, Jim watched them go, considering his options. An orderly was hovering nearby, obviously expecting trouble. He knew he could take him, but what good could it do in the long run? The authorities would be called, and by the time it was all straightened out legally, Blair could be beyond what aid he could offer.

Mentally, he gathered himself, plans already forming, and, with a brisk nod to the suspicious orderly, marched out of the hospital.
 
 

It took 6 hours after Blair vanished from his room for Naomi to nag the local police into bringing in the FBI and for them to arrive. It took the two agents about six more to discover that the truck supposedly used for the kidnapping had simply been driven away by an innocent accomplice. No other vehicles had been seen; from all reports, Ellison hadn't been in such great shape himself. It was logical that he was close, and moreso to start the search by going over the hospital thoroughly.

In the basement, in a discarded storage area fashioned from chain-link walls, they found homemade bombs attached to the gates and saw two indistinct shapes huddled in the farthest, darkest corner.

It took the female FBI agent, Davis, to convince Naomi that if she didn't stay upstairs, she would be arrested for interfering. Despite being the smaller and younger of the two women, she stood her ground easily against Naomi in full protective mother mode. When Naomi appealed to the male partner, Anderson, the tall, cadaverous man looked mournful and shook his head, somehow implying with the motion that arguing would be futile.

None of the eye witness reports and nothing Ms. Sandburg had said indicated the Ellison would be violent, but they drew their guns as a precaution. Approaching the enclosure carefully, Davis called out quietly, "Mr. Ellison? Mr. Ellison? It's the FBI; we'd like to talk to you a minute, if we could."

A sleepy voice answered, "Hey, he's sleeping, man. Can't it wait?"

Partners too long to need to look at each other to communicate their mutual confusion, Davis asked, "Dr. Sandburg?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Dr. Sandburg, is Mr. Ellison with you?"

"Mmmmm, hmmmm."

"Dr. Sandburg, could you please move away from Mr. Ellison?"

"Nuh uh. He might be almost as hard as the floor, but he's *way* warmer," was the still sleepy answer.

"Dr. Sandburg, you need to move away, please."

"Why?"

"Sir, are you aware that Mr. Ellison removed you from your hospital room last night against the wishes of your mother and doctors?"

There was a long pause, and the returning question didn't sound at all sleepy. "Well, that's his legal right, isn't it? That's why we signed all those papers in the first place; to make decisions like that for each other."

It was the agents' turn to be quiet. "Dr. Sandburg, what precisely is your relationship with Mr. Ellison?" Anderson asked, finally.

"Detective Ellison is my partner." The words were clipped and the tone uninformative.

"Partner? Detective?" This time they had to look at each other, and Anderson said aside, softly, "He doesn't sound delirious or medicated."

"Cascade PD, Major Crimes department. I'm a consultant there, and Jim and I have been riding together for some years now."

"Maybe you could come out here and explain further, Dr. Sandburg," Davis suggested.

The silence this time lasted much longer, but eventually, "I don't think so."

"Sir, you need medical care."

"Jim was trained as a medic when he was in the army; I'm well taken care of. Look, whoever you are, I was kidnapped Tuesday at knife-point by one of my students who apparently has mental problems. I spent who-knows-how-long tucked into a filthy hole without food or water, and wake up who-knows-where surrounded by boobytraps. My partner is out cold, but he's sleeping with his gun in his fist, indicating he's a *little* concerned about my safety. I don't know you from Adam, and I'm not coming out of here until Captain Simon Banks, Major Crimes, Cascade PD tells me it's ok to do it."

"Dr. Sandburg, your mother told authorities..." Anderson's melancholy voice trailed off, and he restated his thought. "She implied that Mr... Detective Ellison was responsible for your condition. He was denied access to your hospital room at her request, and she insisted that you were taken by a man overcome with remorse."

Fumbling, shuffling noises could be heard clearly, and once, a softly spoken curse. Then two items were shoved out to the agents from under the edge of the chain links: a detective's gold shield and a photo ID clearly identifying one Blair Sandburg, Ph.D. as a consultant. "Call Banks. I'm staying put until I see him," they were ordered briskly.

"The hospital may have some legitimate concerns with the situation." Anderson informed him dryly.

"A woman *saying* she's my mother prevents my partner from exercising his legal duty as a sworn officer of the law, not to mention his acquired responsibilities as my *chosen* representative... can we say 'lawsuit,' boys and girls? The hospital will not be a problem. Get Banks."

Retreat seemed the best option for the Federal agents, and they retired back to the main floor of the hospital. At the landing there was brief confrontation between the officers and Ms. Sandburg. It seemed both parties declared the meeting a draw, and Naomi stomped into the basement.

"Blair Sandburg, get out here right now!"

"No." The flat denial left no room for rebuttal.

"Sweetie, you should have medical attention," she tried more reasonably.

"I don't need a doctor, Mom. I need Jim."

"No! NO!" Her denial was almost hysterical. "You don't need him. Or anybody! You're independent, strong-willed, and capable."

"Yes, I am. None of that is going to change because I love him."

"Sweetie, listen to your mom." She was frankly cajoling, now. "If you really love him, you have to walk away from him. You're getting trapped in the 'happy ever after' myth, thinking that you need someone to make you happy. All you really need is inside you, and sooner or later, you're going to realize that. You're going to see that constantly accommodating yourself to another person makes it impossible to *stay* yourself, and you'll have to get away out of self preservation.

"Believe me, it's better to end it while you and Jim are still best friends as well as lovers. Before it deteriorates into regrets and pains. Leave now, honey, while it's still sweet."

The sigh from the other side of the enclosure was heart-felt and very, very sad. "How do I explain to you that I can't be anybody *but* myself? Yes, Jim is going to influence me, and I am going to change because of my life with him. *My* changes, *my* reaction to that life. But everything, everyone I encounter is going to have some impact on me, and I will react. That's what life is."

"And if the impact you have to deal with is his death?" Naomi asked harshly, obviously hoping to shock her son into thinking.

"Mom, I know he could die. I could, too." Blair told her gently. "Or you could. Do you really think that when you go, it's going to be any comfort to me that you tried to keep me from getting too attached to you by never being around? Hell, Mom, much as I'm going to cherish what we did share, I'm always going to wonder how much more we could have had. I won't do that with Jim. I want everything - the good and the bad."

She fell silent, then attacked again from another front. "Is the good worth what he's doing to you now? Is that why you let him abuse you physically?"

"Abuse me?" Blair was genuinely surprised.

"Please, baby, please! I've seen the careful way you walk and sit sometimes; seen the marks on your back, shoulders. I don't know what kind of games you're into, but you have to know they're not healthy."

It was Naomi's turn to be surprised when Blair started chuckling. "Mom, I refuse to believe you've never been made love to so enthusiastically and energetically you weren't a *trifle* cautious sitting the next day. Or didn't sport a bruise or two. Believe me, any residual discomfort just reminds me how much I enjoyed the night before."

"It's not the same!"

"Why? Because I'm a man? Look, I know the whole point of this conversation is that you're afraid I'm going to get hurt. But the only one hurting me is *you.*" Unexpectedly he grew cold and distant. "I've been telling myself that your interference was ok, to be expected, because you're my mother. That sooner or later you'd understand how deep what Jim and I share is, that you shouldn't - couldn't - come between us. You'd process through it, and detach with love. Maybe be happy for us.

"But you denied Jim's place in my life; refused to let him be with me when I needed him. You have no idea of what you were doing to me, to us. You held the most precious part of my life in your hands, and you risked it despite everything I'd tried to tell you about what we are to each other. You know what? As bad as that is, what's worse is that I can't trust you not to do it again. My own mother, and I can't trust you."

Even colder now, he ordered, "Go away, Naomi."

"Blair, sweetie, you can't mean that!"

"Go away, Naomi" he repeated, tiredly. "Just... go away. Like you have so many times before."

Several more soft pleas sounded, but there were no more answers from the huddled pair. Finally, high-heeled footsteps echoed in the basement, followed by the nearly inaudible sobs of a lost child.
 
 

Jim slowly climbed the stairs to his bed, not because he was tired, but because he was unsure of what to do once he reached the top.

After a brief stay in a Cascade hospital (Simon Banks arranging the transfer and accompanying them every step of the way) they had come home and spent the better part of a week doing nothing but eating, sleeping and taking care of basic necessities. He'd stopped feeling as if every movement was done under 10 miles of water and was ready to go back to work tomorrow. Blair would need a few more days, but was physically up to par essentially.

It was his heart Jim worried about. During their brief periods of mutual wakefulness, Blair had hardly spoken. Though he hadn't refused Jim's embraces, he hadn't reached for his lifemate, either. Jim understood all too well Blair's habit of mentally and physically turning inward when confronted with trouble or heartache. He'd even come to accept being shunted aside, confident, finally, that Blair would swim up out of his own funk and tackle life as enthusiastically as ever. It didn't stop him from needing or wanting his lover's attention.

He'd been repeatedly told, in the past, that it was all right to remind Blair of that. He'd been encouraged to take the initiative to draw Blair out of his introspection. He'd even agreed not to hold back and wait for Blair to notice him again.

None of which stopped him from feeling like he had a boner at a funeral. Over the corpse.

Blair was hurting over the one thing Jim couldn't comfort him about. That alone made him want to nail his partner, big time. He wanted to use the most basic of human touches to eclipse the pain, if only for while. Add that to his adolescent feeling of being neglected, and he wound up spending his entire shower trying to get lonely relief. He'd given up, deciding out of sheer frustration to take Blair at his word and ask for a helping hand. Maybe it would lead to something better.

Once in their bedroom, he sat on the farthest corner of the bed, towel strategically over his lap. If Blair wasn't remotely interested, he'd forget it; a persistent hard-on wasn't exactly fatal. Smoothing a thumb over the fine bones of one of Blair's ankles, he studied the smaller man. Blair was nude, lying on one side, head pillowed on one arm, his other arm clutching close the life-sized stuffed sea otter Jim had bought for him while he was in the hospital. Though Jim had claimed it was to keep Blair company during the rare moments they hadn't been together, it had really been because he'd seen the toy in the gift shop and felt drawn to it.

Now Blair had his chin resting on its belly and was apparently sound asleep, looking ridiculously young. Sighing, Jim reached for the comforter at the foot of the bed, intending to cover the resting man. As he did, he could have sworn he saw the sea otter move and wink its eye at him. He blinked; it was still just a toy, but Blair stirred restlessly, murmuring his name.

Almost unwillingly he lowered his head until his nose was mere millimeters from the well-defined hip of his mate. He stayed there a moment, turning up his sense of touch until the heat of Blair's body began to caress his face. Inhaling deliberately, he drew in the rich aroma of the much-treasured body, and his erection bobbed eagerly. Carefully, not touching Blair at all, Jim hovered over him, following the contours of his body through the wash of heat and scent. Mouth open, he could taste through memory and fragrance each of the special places he loved to savor, and he added sound by letting himself notice his ever-present other heartbeat. Waiting until his lips were level to Blair's to open his eyes, he added sight, getting an unexpected jolt of pleasure when those earth's-own-blue eyes were watching him.

Through slightly opened lips, Blair exhaled slowly, and Jim inhaled as he did, taking his lover's breath into himself. Quivering, he watched as Blair blinked drowsily and whispered sweetly, "Sooooo hungry. Aren't you, Pet? Poor baby." Blair shifted to his back, setting aside the toy, not getting closer to the bigger man, but enticing him by the possibility of an 'accidental' touch.

"I'll bet your lips are all lonely and wanting. Bet your whole mouth is. Are you starving for a kiss, Pet?" he went on. "Or is it those yummy nipples that need me? Are they tight and aching? And your cock? Is it throbbing yet? Needy? Is your asshole opening like a flowerbud, anticipating me? Or is it fisted tight shut on the memory of how good being filled is?"

Hypnotized by the low sweep of sound and the sensual promise in it, Jim remained motionless over his mate, absorbing the erotic impact of each word. Without warning Blair sprang across the tiny distance between them, simultaneously covering Jim's mouth in a punishing kiss, pinching one nipple hard, capturing the leaking cock between his thighs and thrusting a single finger into the tight ass. Unable to even shout, Jim exploded into fire and light, spilling his seed with long, hard spurts.

When he was reorganized by inertia back into himself, he realized Blair was squirming frantically under him. Thinking he was squashing his lover, he tried to rise, only to be held in place as Blair hugged him tight with arms and legs. "Help... help me, babe," he panted. "I .. I ...can't get ... close enough... finish..."

"Shhh, shhh," Jim put a hand under Blair's bottom to try to help him get a better position for his thrusts. "Don't try so hard. You're still recuperating."

Obviously too tired to keep moving, Blair sagged into the bed. "This.. from a man.. who insisted... on being.. made love to.... 102 temp."

"Well, you did all the work that time." He considered, then with a reassuring kiss he crept off his lover and laid on his stomach next to him. "C'mere, Chief. I have an idea."

"I don't want to sleep yet, Jim," Blair fussed even as he squirmed into place on Jim's back.

"That's not what I have in mind." Jim spread his legs and wiggled until Blair's cock was against the crack of his ass. "Put it in me, please?"

Blair's answer was a careful shove which Jim met with a lift of his hips. "Oh!" Blair cried out as he entered full length into the ready channel. "Oh, and you call me a slut. Oh!"

Face in the pillows, Jim muttered, "Came up to ask you to let me masturbate. Now hold still, babe, and try to keep that dick good and stiff in me." Concentrating fiercely, Jim squeezed hard with his internal muscles.

"OH!"

"Good?" he grunted.

"Yeah! Again? Oh! OH! OHHH... yeah, yeah..." Blair began to press forward each time Jim tightened around him, and Jim responded by backing slightly into the pressure. As he eased off his hold on the cock filling him, he rubbed onto the sheets. Sensitive from his climax, his penis began to fill again, and the arousal heightened the urgency in the grip of his ass.

"Jim... babe, good .... good... oh, damn, milk me! come on, work on my cock, work it..." Blair's fingers were digging bruisingly into Jim's upper arms as he tried to force himself in deeper without moving too much.

"Unh! Blair! Can... you stay right... right there.. damn!"

"Got you..." Blair muttered. "There?"

"Yes!" Though their rocking was gentle, slow, the flow of pleasure was enormous and finally Blair was unable to stay still any longer. Rising slightly to his knees, he began to pump fast and hard into the willing body under him, his cries escalating in intensity. With him at each stroke, Jim waited until the cock inside him grew the last few fractions in length in readiness for orgasm, then clenched it with all the power he could muster.

"Love You! Love You!" Blair shouted, and shot deep into his mate as Jim howled his lover's name, coming with him.

With wordless sounds of appreciation, they cuddled as they tidied up and collected themselves in the afterglow. With clumsy effort, Blair tugged the comforter over them, randomly kissing Jim's shoulder blades as he settled back onto the big man's back. "I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have let you get that horny."

"Blair, you didn't 'let me' get horny. Just looking at you makes me horny, even if we made love only minutes ago."

"But I did let you get lonely," Blair said sorrowfully, snagging the stuffed sea otter and idly stroking Jim's arm with it.

"You needed some time to heal, inside and out. Still do."

"Jim..."

"Listen to me, babe. You did what you had to do." Jim caught Blair's free hand wove their fingers together.

Zooming the plushy toy along Jim's side and down his leg, Blair asked sadly, "Do you think it's wrong for me to not talk to her?"

"I think it's risky. Look what happened with me and Steven. But she's a good woman, and she loves you so much. Worth the risk."

Sleepy again, Blair made the sea otter hop around the free space on the big bed, occasionally bumping it into Jim. "I just keep hoping she'll hear in my silence what she wouldn't listen to in my words."

"Give her time, too."

"She knows where to find me," Blair agreed, nudging the otter's leather nose into Jim's armpit.

"Right here, with me." Jim agreed this time, then tried to get away from the intrusive object. "That however," he warned humorously, "is going to spend the rest of the night on the couch if you don't quit tormenting me with it. Gods, Sandburg, isn't there anything you won't turn into a sex toy?"

"Is it my fault you're so sensitive?" Blair laughed softly, putting the toy at the top of the bed. "Ready again?"

"Go to sleep," Jim ordered lovingly. "You couldn't get it up with a crane, and I don't like playing by myself anymore."

"What if I play with you?" Blair mumbled, already half asleep, burrowing his hand under Jim's shoulder to hug him close.

"Promises, promises," Jim answered quietly. Blair's reply was indistinct even to him, and he listened to his lifemate's heartbeat and respiration as it slowed into sleep. Holding back the sigh of relief, he turned his attention to the other heartbeat in the loft, the one he had become aware of shortly after they'd begun their conversation.

She must have come into the loft while they were making love, but Naomi had made no effort to announce herself when they were done. That made Jim cautious, and he'd been tracking her movements by sound since. He had hid his awareness of her presence from Blair with effort, especially when they were talking about her. For the first time since he had moved into the loft, he had reason to wonder how much someone downstairs could hear from upstairs. Quite a lot, if the changes in Naomi's breathing and movements were any indication.

Her footsteps started up the stairs, and, without thought or reason, he slid his unoccupied hand under the pillow to ready his gun. Her perfume arrived before she did, and, after a quick peek through his lashes to see if she was armed, Jim feigned sleep himself. Trying to dismiss his paranoia - Naomi didn't believe in violence - it only grew as she stood at the foot of the bed for an undetermined time.

Finally, she gingerly sat close to them, and Jim barely hid his tension as she did. It melted completely, leaving him feeling ashamed, when she stroked Blair's hair tenderly, then bent and kissed his cheek. "I hear you, sweetie," she whispered. To his utter relief and amazement, she brushed a light hand over *his* head, and kissed his cheek as she stood to leave, "I hear both of you."

The End