Title: PRIMARY SUBJECT
Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple 
Email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Rating: MAO
Pairings: J/B, S/H
Category: Drama, Episode-Related (Sentinel Too 1-2), Crossover
Status: NEW, complete
Date: 08-28-00
Archive: YES
Archive author: Candy Apple 
Archive email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Series/Sequel: Outside Influences Series, follows "Family Matters"

Disclaimers: Pet Fly owns The Sentinel.  Last time I looked, Spelling-Goldberg 
owned Starsky & Hutch.  No money being made--trust me on
that one--and no infringement intended on the rights of those who are
the lucky owners. 

Notes: This story begged to be written, and wouldn't leave me alone
until I did it. <g> If you loved Sentinel Too, Parts 1-2 and saw no need
for further resolution, you probably won't enjoy this story.  Further, this
story takes the events of those eps, as well as "Night Shift" and puts
them in the context of an established slash relationship.  Obviously,
this moves the canon of the Outside Influences Series to include the
cliffhanger and its on-air resolution.  This is my slash resolution to the
resolution.

There will be a sequel to this story in the near future.

To all the folks I owe E-mail: I hope you like this story.  This is to
blame for my not answering you yet. <g> I will...honest!

Summary:   Following the adventures in Sierra Verde, an ill Blair
travels to California to spend time with Starsky & Hutch.  With their
relationship on shaky ground, Jim and Blair deal with the issues raised
in their relationship by their interaction with Alex Barnes.

WARNINGS:   How do I warn thee?  Let me count the ways...

Taking it from the top: Endearments, romance, men in love, William
Ellison, angst, h/c, herbal tea, mating urges, S2P2-related-angst,
language, a little violence, leaping spirit animals, euphoric
sentimentalism (the S&H folks are familiar with that)...and...hmm...I
think that about covers it.

**************************************


PRIMARY SUBJECT

by

Candy Apple




     "I ordered dinner in the room," Jim said, his tone more than a
little hesitant.  "I hope that's okay," he added when faced with Blair's
silence.

     "It's fine."  Blair pulled on a pair of elastic-waist cotton shorts
and tank shirt.  He started to yank his freshly washed hair back for a
pony tail, but Jim's hands covered his from behind as they both stood in
front of the dresser mirror.  It was hard to believe these were the same
two men who, just a short time ago, thought the passionate fire of their
love and the depth of their commitment couldn't be shaken by anything. 


     Anything but the specter of Blair's dissertation and the arrival of
Alex Barnes in their lives.  
     "You mind leaving it down tonight?"  Jim asked.

     "I can.  It frizzes up in the humidity."     

     "I kind of like it that way," Jim persisted, a little bolder now,
threading his fingers through the curls.  Blair tensed a little, but made
himself relax.  He knew Jim would feel every nuance of his
movements, and the only way they could rebuild this, fix the damage,
was if they both tried.  "Blair, I--"

     There was a knock at the door, and Jim hesitantly left his place
behind Blair to go take in the food.  The waiter pushed a small table
into the room and Jim stuck a couple bills in his hand and sent him on
his way.  

     "Smells good," Blair said, moving over toward the table.  Sierra
Verde actually might have been a beautiful vacation spot if not for
what had happened here.  The stunning sunsets over the water, the long
sandy beaches...the beach...

     "Seafood enchiladas.  Supposed to be a house specialty," Jim
said, pulling a bottle of wine out of the ice bucket.  "White wine's okay,
I hope?"  Jim poured two glasses and handed one to Blair.  

     "Fine."  Unable to stand the brittle discussion any longer, Blair
set the glass down and started pacing.  "We have to talk, Jim.  Not
about wine or enchiladas or my hair frizzing up.  There's this
*elephant* standing between us and we're just talking around it and
pretending it doesn't exist."

     "Chief, I know this hasn't been easy, and I know that I said
some things back in Cascade...  Then I left so soon to come here, we
didn't have much time to talk when you were in the hospital..."

     "What would have been the point?"  Blair said, sitting on the
foot of the bed.  "You weren't ready to talk to me at the hospital.  I tried
to keep it light, you know, not make a big thing out of it...I thought that
might make things easier."  Blair tucked his hair behind his ear,
wishing he'd put it in the pony tail. 

     "There weren't words, sweetheart."  Jim knelt in front of Blair
and took both his hands.  "That day...at the fountain...I wanted to die
with you.  You're everything to me, you know that--"

     "I thought I did," Blair fought against the lump in his throat and
the stinging in his eyes. Then Jim was moving up, kissing him, pulling
him close, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to cling to
the man who was always his stronghold, always his source of comfort. 
When Blair hurt, Jim made it better.  Blair hung on fiercely, returning
the kisses, hoping that Jim could still do that.  This hurt had shattered
his heart, and it was that need that drove his responses and his
surrender.

     "Love you, baby," Jim breathed against his ear, hands moving
down to divest Blair of his shorts, then back up to pull the remaining
tank shirt over his head.  Jim raised up a moment to shed his own
clothing, never taking his eyes off his naked lover.  As the powerful
body moved down over him again, and their lips met, something inside
of Blair screamed that this wasn't the right time, or the right place, and
he knew the wise thing to do was to stop it before it went any further. 
Instead, he returned the hungry, needy kisses and clung to Jim that
much more intensely.

     Jim's arms felt so good around him, the soft, warm lips against
his neck so familiar and gentle, hands that knew just where to touch
him and what to do.  He moaned now, arching up as the hot mouth
licked and sucked at his nipples, before following a wet path to his
navel, swirling around in the little hollow and then poking into it a few
times before moving lower.  

     Blair looked down at Jim between his parted thighs, mouthing
the heavy balls there, a questing finger already investigating the little
pucker that lay behind them.  In a moment, Jim moved up and took
Blair in his mouth.  His other hand groped for the lube, and seemed to
produce it from somewhere, though Blair couldn't see where.  With a
hot mouth moving up and down his cock, and a long finger sliding in
and out of his passage, Blair began writhing and moaning with
pleasure.  This was too good...//God, he knows just how to touch me,
how I like it.  Tunes into my every moan and gasp...//

     Jim had lubed and stretched Blair, and with that tight little hole
glistening and prepared, Jim released Blair's stiff cock from his mouth
and moved away, pushing Blair's thighs up and apart before coating
himself with the lube.  Then he was sliding inside, and Blair could feel
every inch as he was filled to his capacity.  He clutched at the
bedclothes, bearing down to make the penetration easier.  For some
reason tonight, he felt stretched and uncomfortable, his body seeming
intent on not accommodating Jim's full length.  

     "Love you, baby," Jim muttered, stroking Blair's thighs lovingly,
seeming to sense the tension in the body beneath him.  Still, Blair was
silent except for whatever little vocalizations he uttered in the heat of
passion.  

     The first strokes almost hurt, and the rest were feeling
uncomfortable at best, as if he were just too tight to handle the large
invader pumping in and out of him.  For the first time in their
relationship, Blair found himself holding onto the sheets and gritting
his teeth, riding out the experience.  He wished Jim's hand away from
his cock, as the hand pumped it, pulled it, touched it in all the right
ways Blair liked best.  The same hand that had skimmed along Alex's
body as they kissed on the beach...the same hands that had felt *her*
hair, touched *her* skin, the same cock up his ass that had hardened
while rubbing against *her* body...  

     Jim was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and he was getting
more and more excited, either too oblivious to sense Blair's discomfort
or trying to tell himself that the lack of response wasn't unusual--that
Blair was just being passive, letting him take the lead.  He angled his
strokes now so they hit Blair's prostate, and Blair felt his body jerk
involuntarily at the sensations.  Despite Jim's best attempts to work the
increasingly disinterested cock in time with his thrusts, it wasn't
responding.  

     "Blair...God...I can't...I'm gonna come," Jim gritted out, almost
apologetically.  It didn't take a Sentinel to figure out that he was on this
ride alone, and Blair felt a momentary pang of sympathy for Jim,
knowing how he'd beat himself up for this later.  

     "It's okay, love.  I'm okay.  Just tired.  Go for it," Blair managed
a smile, reaching up to run his hands along Jim's arms, then holding on
for the last rapid strokes until Jim finally slowed to a halt and hung
there, braced on his arms, spent...and defeated.  

     "Blair, tell me what to do," he said, a little breathless, his
softened organ slipping from Blair's body.  

     "I can't...do this, Jim.  There's something inside me...that's just
not able to..."

     "You should have stopped me, sweetheart.  God, I never would
have done it if I didn't think you wanted it as much as I did."

     "I *did* want it...or I thought I did.  I just want to wash up and
go to bed.  I'm really tired."  Blair made to roll off the bed, and Jim
moved his arms, sitting back on the mattress and watching Blair. 
"Jim...when we get back home...I'm gonna go away for a while.  I just
need some time..."  Blair suddenly felt uncomfortable standing there
naked, and closed his eyes against the pain that thought caused.  Being
naked with Jim had been natural and comfortable and wonderful
throughout their time as lovers.  Now he felt exposed, self-conscious
about the glistening moisture on the back of his thigh and the passion
marks on his neck.  He retreated into the sanctuary of the bathroom,
leaving Jim to his own thoughts.  

     He had only been in the bathroom a few moments before he
heard Jim at the door.  

     "Blair, I...I'm sorry about tonight.  I shouldn't have...I just...I
thought it would..."  Jim let the words trail off, and Blair stood on the
other side of the closed door, resting the palms of his hands and his
forehead against it.  A part of him wanted to open the door and go into
Jim's arms, but the other part of him knew they'd tried that and it had
failed miserably.  

     "I'm not mad about tonight, Jim.  That's not why I'm leaving.  I
just need some time to get my head together about...everything."  Blair
leaned heavily on the door, wishing it wasn't taking him so long to get
his breath back from their lovemaking.  Icy fingers of dread tickled his
spine; the fear of some undetected lung damage from the drowning was
his constant companion the last 24 hours, as his body seemed less and
less responsive to the demands he was putting on it.  

     "I love you, Blair."  The words were sad, defeated, and Blair felt
the tears rolling down his cheeks at the melancholy sound of Jim's
voice.  Hurting Jim and punishing him wasn't any pleasure, and it
wasn't what Blair wanted.  Finding the part of his heart that could love
Jim joyfully and meet his passion with passion was *necessary*.  That
part was well hidden at the moment, and all that was left was the raw
pain of all that had passed between them in the recent weeks, and the
love, battered, torn and bloodied but struggling to survive.  In his heart,
Blair knew that pushing this relationship back on track against its will
now would deal the final death blow to that wounded love.  

     "I love you too, Jim," Blair said, sorry that the tears were
coming through in his voice.  "I love you so much I just...I want to..." 
Blair bit down hard on his lower lip and just cried against the
unyielding wood of the door.  "I can't be with you right now.  I need
time," he managed, the crying bringing back the heaviness in his chest.

     "I don't want you to leave, baby.  We need to work this out."

     "I never did wanna leave you, Jim," Blair said as he cried.  "I
just know, after tonight, I can't stay.  If you love me, please...don't
make this harder than it has to be," he pleaded.  

     "Having my heart ripped out is supposed to be easy?"  Jim
challenged through the door, sounding very much as if he were verging
on tears as well.

     "I know that's not easy, love."  Blair paused, hoping his words
would somewhat console Jim.  "I know how you feel."

     "Is that what this is about?  You want to get a little back?  Pay
me back for what I did?  Dammit, Blair, I'm sorry!  I wasn't in my right
mind!"

     Jim's words stung, and the harshness of the accusation sliced
into an already splintered heart.  

     "Don't..." Blair pleaded, tears coming harder.  

     "Don't do what?  Don't love you?  Don't ask you not to walk out
on me?  God, Blair, I know I fucked up!  You don't need to teach me a
lesson by showing me how it feels from your side of things!"

     "I need to work things out!"  he shouted back, angrily swiping at
the tears on his face.  

     "By running away?  How in the hell is that gonna solve
anything?"

     "Please leave me alone, Jim," Blair begged tiredly, trying to
catch his breath.  The plea was met with silence, and then movement
outside the door.  After several minutes, Blair heard the outer door of
the hotel room slam decisively.   Pulling a robe around himself, he
opened the door and looked out into the room.  There was a note
scribbled on the hotel stationery on the small desk.  

     "Blair--I'll room with Simon until we go home.  Jim."

     Blair sat on the desk chair and held the note against his chest
and let the tears come.  All the pain of the rift with Jim, the terror he'd
felt when he thought his life was over, the betrayal he'd felt from Jim's
desire for the woman who tried to end that life...it all poured out as he
finally put his head down on the desk and sobbed until he began to feel
drained and exhausted.  When he felt the tears waning a bit, he sat back
in the chair and set the note aside.  Taking in some sharp breaths, he
felt that unpleasant tightness in his chest again.

     He got up and trudged into the bathroom where he pulled his
hair back and took another shower.  After getting dressed again, he
called down to the desk to get help in making flight arrangements.  He
didn't want to be in this place another night, and the sooner he got back
to Cascade and retrieved his things, the better.  He wasn't sure exactly
where he'd go with all his worldly possessions in tow, but one thing he
new for sure--he needed time to rest, and time to heal.  Only then
would he be in any condition to start rebuilding his relationship with
Jim.  

********

     Jim entered the loft with his luggage and deposited it on the
floor.  All his attempts to reach Blair from Sierra Verde had met with
failure, and from the spartan appearance of the loft, Blair hadn't moved
back in again.  As much as he'd hoped that would be the case, Jim
hadn't really expected he would be there.  All that greeted him were the
basic furnishings and a few items he'd moved back into the loft before
leaving on the trip to hunt for Alex.

     He'd cursed himself more than once for taking Blair so literally
when he asked to be left alone.  Blair was crying and overwrought at
the time he said it, and thinking back over everything Blair had
endured in the last couple of weeks, he'd had every right to feel the way
he did.  Jim didn't know what had stung him more that night--Blair's
desire to be left alone, or his utter lack of desire while they were
making love...or rather, while Jim was using Blair to get off.  That's
what he'd accused himself of, and looking back, he couldn't find
anything to exonerate himself.  Blair had clung to him, responded to
his kisses...but when it came to the actual sex itself, any idiot could
have picked upon the fact he wasn't enjoying it.  

     Jim hurled his keys violently enough at the basket that the
whole thing ended up on the floor.  Using all his self control not to go
on a rampage and trash everything in the sparsely appointed room, he
instead hung up his jacket and carried his luggage upstairs.  It was there
that he found an envelope on the pillow, his name written on it in
Blair's handwriting.  He discarded his luggage and sat on the bed,
opening the letter.

"Dear Jim,
     I don't want you to worry about me.  I'm going to stay at my
dad's place for a while, just to rest up and get my head together.  
     You know I love you, and if you don't know that, I want you to. 
This has nothing to do with not loving you, with wanting to punish you
or with hating you or anything else you might be thinking right now. 
It's also not about me running away from anything.
     Something inside me is frozen, and I can't thaw it out.  There's
this ache inside that won't go away, and I know now that we can't solve
it with making love.  I thought that would be the cure for everything,
but it was a disaster.  I don't want to end up with us fighting and hating
each other, and if I'd stayed, I think things would have gone from bad
to worse.  
     I don't blame you for the other night--I'm as much to blame,
maybe more so, than you are.  I wanted you to hold me, and I wanted it
to make everything okay again.  I thought maybe if we were together
that way, it would push all the other *stuff* out of the way.  But it
didn't, and that frozen part of me just wouldn't respond.  I love you
more than my life, Jim.  That hasn't changed.  But something else
inside me has, and until I figure it out, I need some time away from
you.  
     I don't have the strength to be right there in Cascade and not
end up back home, with you, whether it's healthy or right or workable
or not.  Even now I miss you so much it's tearing me apart.  But I think
I'm missing what we had before all this happened.  I want that back, but
I know we don't have it right now.
     Please don't worry about me.  I'm just going to take some time
away and think things through.  I know you're probably thinking that I'll
take off on some bizarre expedition to Bongo Bongo or something
without telling you, but I won't, I promise.  All I ask is that you give me
the time I need.  That doesn't mean that if you're sick, or anything's
really wrong, that I don't want to know.  I want you to call me for
anything like that.  And be careful out on the street--take good care of
yourself and don't let this mess up your senses.  
     I love you.  Be careful.  I'll call you when I get straightened out
a little.  I promise.
                         Love,
                         Blair"

     Jim re-read the letter, then let out a long breath as he tucked it
back in the envelope.  Part of him railed against the thought of Blair
choosing a visit to Starsky as his refuge.  He had little hope that Starsky
would be an impartial listener, and he wondered how much more
damage would be done by having a somewhat overprotective father's
spin on everything that had transpired.  

     "Give Blair some credit," Jim chided himself, placing the letter
in the night stand drawer.  "Dammit, Chief, how did things get so
fucked up?" he asked the empty loft, tipping back on the bed, closing
his eyes, and picturing what this moment would normally be like. 
Coming in from a few days out of town, tossing his luggage on the
floor, flaking out on the bed...and Blair climbing up there next to him,
either content to just cuddle a while, or reminding Jim that he wasn't as
tired as he thought he was.  

     Or maybe he'd smell something good wafting upstairs from the
kitchen, where Blair would be fixing something for him to eat--something 
special as a welcome home dinner.  They'd only been
separated once since becoming lovers, for Jim to attend a two-day
seminar in Chicago while Blair was too busy at the U to join him. 
Blair had prepared an elaborate meal, which had been left on low heat
while they'd sated their primary appetite--repeatedly--on the couch in
the living room.  When they finally did eat, it was in their robes, sitting
on the same side of the table, feeding each other.  

     "God, Ellison, you stupid bastard..." he cursed himself, feeling
the threat of tears.  His most horrible moment had been when he'd
thought Blair was dead--when he'd dreaded coming home to this
empty, barren loft apartment, to the shell of a life he'd have without
Blair.  And now, even after being granted the miracle of Blair's
survival, here he was, all by himself in the shell anyway.  If this is what
being a Sentinel cost him, it was a curse he could do without.  

     Lying here now, he couldn't even remember feeling drawn to
Alex Barnes.  Couldn't remember the feelings that had prompted him to
seek her out, to kiss her and caress her on the beach...  Oh, God, to do
that in front of Blair, to kiss her again while he was tied up on his
knees in that temple.  The urge had been primitive and compelling and
a hell of a lot more animal that he wanted to admit.  Intellectually, he
knew Blair understood the difference between a rampant mating urge
between two like creatures and the kind of love the two of them shared. 
Apparently, Blair's heart, soul, and body wasn't following his rational
mind.  Maybe expecting that was expecting too much, even of Blair.  

     Jim fought down the temptation to get on the first plane to
California and retrieve his lover, even if he had to drag him back home
physically, in handcuffs.  As much as he'd needed to vent his urges with
Alex, he felt the need now to renew his connection to Blair.  To really
make love with him now that their very souls were bonded...now that
their spirits had merged.  

     "...All I ask is that you give the time I need..."  Blair's words
echoed in his head. 

     //God knows, you haven't asked much, sweetheart.  I guess you
deserve that much.// Heart heavy with despair, Jim began unpacking,
pierced anew each time he opened a drawer and refilled his half of it,
seeing Blair's half stand empty.  

********

     "I think we're gonna run outta this stuff before we're done,"
Starsky complained, setting one of the last of a very few remaining
pieces of cement landscaping edging into its appointed spot. 
Retirement from the department had earned them a few stretches of
free time between task force assignments or Hutch's writing and
seminar commitments, and this particular span of time was being
devoted to updating their landscaping.  It was late spring, and both men
felt it was the ideal time to tackle the project.  

     "They had more, didn't they?"  Hutch called back from his spot
on the deck, where he was wrestling a small potted tree into the right
position.

     "Yeah.  I probably better grab a shirt and run over there." 
Starsky abandoned his spot along the border of the house, where they
had planted new shrubs and added new landscaping rock.  Hutch
followed his partner's progress across the yard, and when Starsky
finished pulling the old t-shirt over his head, he noticed the scrutiny.

     "Don't do anything on my account, babe," Hutch said, grinning
lecherously.

     "And *you* call *me* a dirty old man," Starsky shot back,
swatting Hutch on the butt as he walked past him into the house.  "We
need anything else?"

     "Another bag of peat moss and some new gloves, remember? 
The rubber-fingered kind for planting the rosebushes?"

     "The ones where you only get poked on the tops of your hands? 
Yeah, I remember," Starsky responded, chortling.  He'd planted a
couple rosebushes wearing those gloves before, and while his fingers
emerged unscathed, the fabric that covered the backs of his hands had
offered little in the way of protection.

     "Yeah, those.  And a 12-pack of Coors while you're at it."

     "And a pizza."

     "Starsk."

     "We gotta eat," Starsky retorted from the kitchen where he was
washing his hands.  

     "I've got chicken in the refrigerator.  We'll barbecue tonight,
huh?"

     "Sure we will.  After your back stiffens up, you'll be laid out on
the couch moaning and I'll call out for pizza anyway, but have it your
way.  I'll be back in about an hour."  

     "You want to pick up some bean sprouts while you're out?" 
Hutch yelled after him.

     "Not especially, unless you're plantin' 'em."

     "I meant for our salad tonight.  You're going to be in the grocery
store anyway."

     "I was gonna stop at the liquor store on--"

     "You can haul your lazy ass into the grocery store.  It's cheaper
there anyway, and you can get the bean sprouts at the same time."

     "Anybody ever tell you you're a regular shaft'a sunlight?" 
Starsky asked, poking his head out the patio door.

     "Yes.  You.  Frequently."  That earned him a trademark Starsky
grin, before the head popped back in the door and Starsky headed for
the garage.  

     Figuring Hutch's car was the likely candidate to haul a trunk full
of peat moss, Starsky backed the old blue Crown Victoria out of the
garage and stopped dead when a beleaguered, rusty, brown pick-up
truck pulled into the driveway behind him.  Turning off the Ford's
engine, Starsky got out of the car as the pick-up's driver did the same. 
He was stunned to see Blair standing there, his hair tied back in a
somewhat disheveled pony tail, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans.  
     "Hi, Dad," he greeted, his voice sounding unusually sad and
tired.  He looked thinner than before, and his color definitely wasn't all
that great either.

     "Blair--hey, this is a surprise!"  Starsky moved forward quickly
and hugged his son enthusiastically.  There was a moment of tight
clinging from Blair before he stepped back.  "What's the matter, kiddo? 
You don't look so hot," Starsky said, taking in the pale, drawn look of
his son's face.  "Where's Jim?"

     "He's in Cascade," Blair said quietly.

     "What's with the pick-up?"  Starsky moved around to look in the
back of it, which was filled with cartons and other odds and ends. 
"Blair, what's happened?"

     "Uh, Jim and I are having some problems, and uh, a couple
weeks ago, he..."  Blair paused, taking in a shaky breath.  "He told me
to get out of the loft.  So I had my stuff in storage a while, because we
had to finish a case, and then I was in the hospital, then we were out of
the country a while..."

     "Back up.  You were in the hospital?  Why is this the first time
I'm hearing about it?"  Starsky demanded. 

     "I didn't want you to worry, and then I had to go to Sierra
Verde, so I wouldn't have been there anyway," Blair paused to let out a
couple of resounding coughs.  "I need a place to stay for a while, till I
figure out what I'm gonna do."

     "Blair?"  Hutch's voice made them both turn around as Starsky's
partner headed down the driveway from the house.  "Great to see you,"
he greeted, hugging Starsky's son and then stepping back, frowning. 
"I've been out in the sun and you feel warm even to me."  He laid a
hand on Blair's forehead.  "You've got one hell of a fever going there,
kid," he said worriedly.  

     "I...I've got all my stuff in the back.  I thought maybe I could
just put it in the basement for a while, you know, till I figure out where
to go."

     "Jim threw him out of the apartment," Starsky recapped, the
anger clear in his voice.  "Do you believe that?"  he added, his voice
rising an octave.

     "Come inside and relax, Blair.  We'll unload your stuff for you. 
You need a shower and some ice water, to start bringing your
temperature down a little."  Hutch led Blair toward the house.  Resting
a hand on the younger man's back as they walked, he added, "Consider
this home as long as you want it to be.  We've got plenty of room and
we'd love to have you stay as long as you like."

     Starsky watched Hutch lead Blair into the house.  He looked at
the truck and its contents, wondering if he could possibly cool off
enough to go inside and talk to Blair without first flying to Cascade and
beating the shit out of Ellison.  The thought was seductive at that
moment.  Blair had obviously been ill, and still was, and was
wandering around with his belongings in the back of a ratty old pick-up
with no air conditioning.  With a fever.  

     "I'm gonna kill that motherfucking bastard," Starsky muttered as
he pulled the first of many cartons off the truck and set it on the
driveway.  

     Hutch wandered outside and retrieved Blair's luggage, pausing
to notice that Starsky was unloading the truck at a superhuman speed,
his face beet red with anger.  

     "Starsk, you having a heart attack in the back of his pick-up isn't
going to make Blair feel better.  Calm down a little.  I'll help you with
that stuff in a minute.  He's taking a shower and I want to put his stuff
in his room for him."

     "How in the hell could Ellison pull shit like this?  Huh?  Look at
that kid!  He's skinny, he's white as a sheet and this goddamned truck is
lucky to have made it ten miles, let alone from *Washington*!  He was
in the hospital!  Did you know that?  What, we don't have a
*telephone*?"

     "Maybe we ought to let Blair settle in and get some rest, and
then he can tell us what's going on.  I mean it.  You're breathing like a
tractor.  Leave the rest of that shit where it is and we'll bring it in the
house together in a minute."

     "We never had a fight in our lives that was bad enough for one
of us to let the other one go out of the house in the shape he's in!" 
Starsky retorted angrily, hopping down off the bed of the pick up.  

     "Starsky, people have fights.  Couples split up.  It happens.  I
never pictured that with Jim and Blair, but it's not impossible.  Plus,
given Blair's parentage, I doubt he waited for Ellison's permission to
leave Cascade," Hutch added, leading the way into the house.  

     "I'll take his stuff to him."

     "Don't upset him, Starsk.  Let him be.  He needs rest, not you
jumping down his throat and calling Ellison every name in the book."

     "I know."  Starsky ran a hand over his face and let out a long
breath.  "You're right."  Starsky took the travel bag and the suitcase
from his partner and headed back toward the guest room.  "But I'm
gonna have my moment with Ellison over this, you can count on that."
With that, he went into the guest room, leaving Hutch to contemplate
just what the impending explosion would involve when it happened.  

     Blair came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around
his hips and his freshly washed and dried hair looking a little wild from
what must have been an uncharacteristic lack of attention to it.  Starsky
was unpacking the suitcase for him, putting his things neatly in the
dresser drawers.  

     "Thanks," Blair said quietly, tossing the towel aside as his
father continued unpacking for him.   He put on the underwear and
robe that had been left out on the bed.  "I don't feel so good."  With
that, he stretched out on the side of the bed that wasn't occupied by the
suitcase.  

     "I got a thermometer here.  We're going to find out just how
sick you are, junior."  Starsky put the thermometer in Blair's mouth and
knelt by the bed, stroking his son's hair soothingly.  "Everything's
gonna be okay, now, kiddo.  You're home, and we'll take good care of
you here."  Starsky had meant the words to calm his son, but was sorry
to see that they evoked tears, which leaked silently out of Blair's eyes
while he kept the thermometer in place.  "You've had a pretty bad time
of it, huh?"  he asked rhetorically.  "Try to clear your mind for a little
while and rest.  Everything'll work out, I promise."  Starsky grabbed a
tissue off the night stand and blotted up the tears.  "Shh.  You're gonna
be just fine, son."  Starsky took the thermometer out and gulped when
he saw it was 103.  "Can you tell me why you were in the hospital,
kiddo?  I think I oughtta know that."

     "How bad is it?"  Blair asked, frowning.

     "103.  In case we need to call a doctor for you, you should tell
me what happened."

     "I...I...drowned."  Blair was quiet as his father's face became a
mask of mixed shock and horror.  "I was...clinically dead for a while,
and then, Jim revived me, and I was in the hospital a couple days, you
know, with some fluid in my lungs," he paused to let out a chesty
cough, though Starsky doubted the timing was intentional.  "But Jim
was going down to Sierra Verde, and I had to be there."

     "How long've you had that cough?"  Starsky asked gently.

     "A couple of days."  Blair let his eyes drift shut.  "I was so hot
in the truck.  There's no air conditioning, and it was so hot when I got
into southern California."

     "We're havin' a bit of a hot spell around here."  Starsky patted
Blair's shoulder.  "I'm gonna bring you in some ice water, okay?"

     "Okay," Blair agreed tiredly.  

     "It's okay, son.  Hutch and I are gonna take care of everything. 
Just rest and don't worry about it."

     "I knew you guys'd be there for me," Blair said, smiling a little
faintly.  "I'm sorry about all the stuff in the truck.  When I feel better, I
can unload it if you'll just stick a tarp over it or something."

     "Don't worry about the stuff.  We'll handle it.  We're tough,
remember?"  Starsky joked.

     "Sorry, I forgot," Blair responded, grinning a little and then
letting out another resounding cough.  "I'm kinda scared about that
cough."

     "I know, kiddo.  So'm I.  We'll get you feeling a little better and
then get you in to see a doctor.  Later, I want you to tell us what
happened, okay?"
     
     "Okay.  But not now.  I'm too tired."

     "Not now," Starsky agreed, patting Blair's cheek before
straightening up and walking out to the kitchen to get the water.  

     "How is he?"

     "Fever's 103."  Starsky leaned heavily on the counter with both
hands.  Hutch came up behind him, sliding an arm around his waist.  

     "What is it, Starsk?"

     "He drowned," Starsky said the words as if they were physically
painful.  "He was in the hospital because he drowned.  I don't know
where or how...he said...he said he was clinically dead...that Jim
revived him."  

     "He's alive now, babe.  Even if he's still sick, we'll make sure he
gets well.  It'll be okay," Hutch said calmly.  Starsky turned and pulled
his partner into a tight hug.  

     "He was *dead*, Hutch."

     "I know, babe.  I know.  But so were you, and you're the most
fully alive person I know.  Blair will be okay--he comes from tough
stock, remember?"

     "He said he had some fluid in his lungs in the hospital, and he's
got that cough."  Starsky moved away, spotting the pitcher of ice water
Hutch had prepared for Blair.  

     "Sammi doesn't live too far from here.  Maybe she'd make a run
over and look at him."

     "Could you call her?  I kinda hate to make him go back out
again if he doesn't have to.  I think we can bring that fever down a lot
just cooling him down and lettin' him rest a little."
     
     "I'll see if I can get a hold of her.  Better get a couple of cool
cloths and start sponging him off."

     "Right."  Starsky picked up the pitcher of ice water and the
glass and headed back into the bedroom.  Blair had tossed the robe
aside and lay there in his tank shirt and boxers, his hair already clinging
to the sweat on his pallid face.  

     "I don't know if I'm hot or cold," he said miserably.  

     "C'mon, son, we're gonna get you into the bed instead of on the
spread.  Starsky helped Blair stand and then hastily turned back the
bed, steering him back into it.  He left the covers down at the foot. 
While the central air was on in the house, it wasn't overly chilly in the
room.  "Drink this, as much as you can," he directed gently, helping
hold the glass while Blair drank as much of the water as he could. 
"Good boy.  Now just rest while we get you cooled down a little."

     "Sammi's on her way over," Hutch said, poking his head in the
door.

     "I didn't mean to show up like this," Blair said.  "I'm really sorry
about--"

     "No apologies, Blair.  That's what family's for," Hutch said
firmly.  "Dr. Mason is an old friend--she's on the staff at Memorial
Hospital.  She doesn't live too far from here, and we thought it'd be
easier for you just to rest here and have someone come to you instead
of going out again."
     
     Blair opened his mouth to speak, but instead gave in to another
violent bout of coughing, which produced a small trace of blood on the
tissue Starsky had handed him to cover his mouth.  

     "Are you having trouble breathing, besides the coughing?" 
Hutch asked, seeing the panic on Blair's face and his partner's.  

     "I'm out of breath.  When I loaded the pick up...I thought I was
having a heart attack.  My chest hurt and I couldn't breathe very well."

     Before Hutch could say anything else, the doorbell rang.  

     "That's probably Sammi."  Hutch left the room, and a few
moments later, returned with an attractive black woman of about fifty,
with long hair that was gathered into a smooth rounded style at the
back of her head.  She wore a pair of pale blue slacks and a white
short-sleeved blouse accented with a fine silver chain.  Small silver
earrings dangled from her ears.  

     "Blair, I'm Sammi," she said, smiling and waiting for Starsky to
move out of the way so she could sit on the edge of the bed.  "Hutch
said you had a nasty cough," she began, opening her bag and taking out
a stethoscope.  "You think you could let me hear it?"

     "I just coughed up blood," he said worriedly. 
     
     "Was that the first you've noticed?"  she asked, checking his
pulse.

     "Yeah.  I've been coughing since yesterday, and I'm short of
breath, and sometimes my chest really hurts."  He paused.  "I...I
drowned about ten days ago."

     "How long have you been out of the hospital?"  she asked,
frowning.

     "About a week."

     "What kind of water were you in, Blair?  A lake, a pool--"

     "A fountain.  It was cold water...not the world's cleanest, but not
all that bad, either."

     "Your doctor gave you a clean bill of health to leave the
hospital?"

     "I checked myself out."  Blair paused to cough, and Sammi took
the opportunity to listen to it instead of making Blair force it artificially
again.  "I had to go to Sierra Verde on a case."

     "His fever was 103 when I checked it about a half hour ago,"
Starsky said.

     "What's your doctor's name back home?"

     "Dr. Chandler," Blair said, then covered his mouth to cough
again.  "He's in Cascade, Washington, at Cascade General."

     "I need to check your temperature and your blood pressure,
Blair.  I think off hand you've got yourself a nasty little bout with
pneumonia, probably bacterial."

     "You can give him something for that, right?"  Hutch asked.

     "I want to talk to his doctor, but I'll get him started on an
antibiotic right away.  Blair, you're going to have to be sure you take all
of the medication, and I want you in bed.  I'm hoping we can take care
of this without admitting you to the hospital again, but a lot of that
depends on what your doctor has to say."  She fastened the cuff around
Blair's arm and pumped it up, then read his blood pressure.  "Your BP's
up a bit.  She placed a thermometer in his mouth and put away her
stethoscope and blood pressure cuff.  "Make sure you get plenty of
fluids down him, get him into a lukewarm bath periodically to reduce
the fever, and get a humidifier in this room.  It should be up high
enough that his pillow is almost damp."  She checked the temperature. 
"Looks like 102.8," she said.

     "Anything else we should do for him?"  Starsky asked.

     "Give him a couple of Tylenol to work on that fever.  He can
have that in moderation if the chest pain is giving him a lot of
discomfort.  The important thing is, Blair, keep your father and Hutch
informed about how you're feeling.  If you take a turn for the worse, I
want you in the hospital.  Understood?"

     "Understood.  Thanks, Sammi," Blair managed.

     "Any son of Starsky's is a friend of mine," she said, smiling. 
When she stood up, she drew the sheet up to Blair's shoulder, leaving
the heavier covers off him.  "I'll call in a prescription for him, and then
I'll get in touch with his doctor and find out what I can about his
hospital stay.  Off hand I'd say he left the hospital too soon, overdid it,
and his lungs were still inflamed and weakened from the drowning.  I
can't be positive it's not viral--that he didn't pick something up with his
resistance so low--but I think it's probably bacterial, something from
the water that caused the infection in his lungs, and then not getting
sufficient medical treatment probably aggravated it to this stage."  She
picked up her bag.  "If he doesn't show marked improvement after 24
hours on the meds, we'll do a chest x-ray and get him admitted."

     "Thanks for coming over, Sammi," Starsky said before she left
the room with Hutch.  She just smiled and nodded in response.  

     "The big 'P'," Blair said quietly as Starsky poured him another
glass of water. 

     "You're gonna be just fine, kiddo.  You just need plenty of rest
and to follow doc's orders."  He waited as Blair took in a few more
swallows of the water.  "I'll get a couple cool cloths and see if we can
work on that fever."

     "Dad...I...it feels really good to be here."

     "I'm glad you came.  Listen, we'll get you settled in to rest a
little while, and then I'll bring some'a your stuff in here, and it'll feel a
little more like home with some familiar stuff around.  Sound good?"

     "You don't have to--"

     "I want to."  Starsky sat on the edge of the bed.  "I don't know
what went down between you and Ellison, and we can talk about that
when you feel better, or whenever you want, but one thing I want you
to be clear on is that this is always your home.  This isn't the guest
room.  It's *your* room, as long as you want it."

     "Thanks, Dad," Blair responded, his voice cracking a little.

     "Hey, I didn't mean to make you feel bad.  I think you're just
sick and everything makes you feel kinda bad right now."  Starsky
patted Blair's back lightly.  

     "Everything's all messed up, Dad.  I think it's over with Jim, and
I don't think I can get by without him," Blair blurted out, more tears
coming.  

     "Shhh.  Everything's gonna be okay.  Lotsa couples have big
fights, and sometimes they hurt each other real bad, but a lot'a times it
can be fixed."

     "What...if...it c-can't?"

     "Then we're gonna be right here with you, takin' care of you till
you get better, and when you get better, you'll stay right here with us
until you feel like doin' somethin' else.  And I'm gonna go to Cascade
and punch Ellison right in the nose," Starsky said, in a playful enough
tone that it made Blair smile a little.  Then, more seriously, "You're my
boy, Blair.  I love ya and you're all done gettin' hurt--by Ellison or
anybody else.  They all gotta get through me first."

     "I love Jim," Blair muttered, still sniffling.  "Things are just so...
fucked up right now.  I just don't know if I can...get past everything."

     "I figured you might be needing this," Hutch said, walking into
the room with a cool washcloth in his hand, figuring Starsky hadn't had
the opportunity to go get it himself.  "Sammi's going to call in a
prescription, so as soon as it's filled, I'll run out to the pharmacy and get
it."

     "Thanks, Hutch," Blair said, letting his eyes drift shut as Starsky
started bathing off his face.  

     "You just get some rest.  Everything's under control."  Hutch
laid a gentle hand on top of Blair's head.  "Let go of whatever's
stressing you out, Blair.  Get some sleep.  We're in charge of worrying
now, okay?"  Blair nodded a little.  "You want me to call Jim and let
him know you're here, and that you're sick?"

     "No.  I mean...I left him a note that I was gonna come stay with
you guys for a while.  I didn't want him to worry.  I don't want him to
worry about my being sick, either.  If I get real bad or something, then
you can call him."

     "Okay."  Hutch stroked Blair's hair a couple times.  "Remember,
no worries.  Just rest."  He leaned down and kissed Starsky on the
cheek as the other man moved the cloth over his son's fevered face. 
"I'll be back in a little while, babe."

********

     With Blair finally asleep, Starsky returned to the half-unpacked
pick up truck and finished hauling the cartons into the house.  Thankful
for the hand truck when he encountered about four cartons of books, he
settled for leaving some of the items in the garage instead of hauling
them all down the basement.  Blair probably would like his books
around him anyway, so if he ended up staying very long, they'd have to
rig up some sort of shelf situation in his room.  

     //Don't adopt him like that, Starsky.  He's a grown man.  He isn't
going to want to live with Daddy even if he doesn't go back to Ellison,
which he probably will.//

     Feeling a bit deflated by his own self-chastisement, Starsky was
glad to see Hutch's car pull in the driveway.  Hopefully he had the
prescription and the rest of the supplies with him.  

     "How's Blair?"  Hutch asked as he approached the open garage. 
"I thought you were going to wait on unloading that stuff."

     "Yeah, well, Blair's sleeping so I figured I had time to do it.  His
fever isn't going up, but it hasn't come down much.  Cough's getting
worse.  He keeps groping around and asking for Ellison in his sleep,
but he doesn't seem to want him here when he's awake."

     "It looks like he's more hurt than angry, and I think he just
needs time to heal up--physically and emotionally--before he figures
out what to do next."  Hutch handed his partner the grocery bag he was
holding.  "You set up the vaporizer in there yet?"

     "A little while after you left.  Any luck with the prescription?"

     "It's in there, along with some extra orange juice, and some
grape juice.  Fruit juices will be good for him too, along with the water. 
I also stopped and got us *our* medicine.  The beer's still in the car."

     "Good deal," Starsky said, laughing a little as he headed into the
house with the bag.  Before long, Hutch joined him in the kitchen and
began loading the beer into the refrigerator.  "Man, this looks like you
brought home the whole *pharmacy*," Starsky observed, removing
bottle after bottle of vitamins.  

     "I also stopped by the health food store and picked up a few of
the recommended herbs for treating pneumonia.  Blair likes herbal
teas, so it shouldn't be too hard to get those down him."

     "Thanks for takin' such good care'a my kid, babe."  Starsky
waited until his lover looked up at him from his task of refrigerating
groceries.  "I love you."

     "I love you too, Starsk.  How could I not love your kid, too?"  

     Blair made himself heard with a resounding bout of coughing
that seemed to go on forever.  Starsky darted back for the bedroom, and
when he got there, found Blair hanging partway over the bed, coughing
violently until he nearly gagged, his whole body rattling with the effort. 
Grabbing a handful of tissues to hold under his son's mouth, Starsky
guided him back fully onto the bed, but helped him sit up and rubbed
his back until he'd come to the end of the violent seizure.

     "It hurts, Dad," Blair muttered in a whisper as Starsky wiped his
mouth carefully, relieved that there was very little blood in the
discharge.  Blair tried to take in a deep breath, which set him on
another fit of coughing.  Despite the exhaustion and pain it was
causing, the looseness of the congestion in his chest was encouraging. 
Between the moisture, the rest, and soon the antibiotics, hopefully
Blair would come through this with flying colors.  

     "I know, kiddo," Starsky responded gently, pulling Blair into a
hug when the coughing had subsided.  "But you've gotta get all that
lousy crud outta your lungs, and there's no other way to do that."
Starsky felt Blair's cheek, not surprised it was flushed and warm after
the effort of the coughing.  "Hutch brought home a whole bag of
goodies from the store.  Fruit juice and vitamins and a bag'a weeds
from the health place."  He smiled as he felt Blair smile a little against
his palm.  

     "I...miss Jim," Blair whispered.  He paid for the words with a fit
of coughing anyway.

     "You want us to call him?"  Starsky waited as Blair shook his
head.  "Still hurts bein' away from somebody you love, even when it
has to be that way a while, doesn't it?  Yeah, I know.  You want to lie
back again?"  Blair nodded, and shifted on his side as he reclined on
the bed.  The change in positions brought on another, slightly less
violent, round of coughing.  

     "Okay, time for your first dose of medicine, Blair."  Hutch
showed up with the pills, and Starsky poured another glass of water. 
Blair swallowed the two capsules and flopped back on the pillow
without further comment.  "Better check his fever again," Hutch
suggested, popping the thermometer back in Blair's mouth.  

     "I think the vaporizer's gettin' him loosened up a little," Starsky
commented as he sat there, his hand rubbing Blair's back in soothing
circles.  For his part, Blair seemed to have given in to being sick, just
lying there with his eyes closed, the dark lashes a contrast against skin
that was pale except for the flush of fever in his cheeks.  

     "That and the meds should start helping that chest congestion,"
Hutch said, taking the washcloth that was hanging over the handle on
the night stand drawer to the bathroom and cooling it off again.  He
returned to the bedroom and handed it to Starsky, who started in again
on trying to cool down Blair's face.  Hutch read the thermometer.  

     "Back to 103.  Must be the water he drank got it down those
two points earlier."  Hutch set the thermometer aside.  "If you guys are
okay in here for a while, I'm going to pick things up out back."

     "Yeah, we'll be fine.  You could go ahead and finish the edging
around the house if you want," Starsky suggested hopefully.

     "Nice try, Gordo.  It'll wait."  Hutch left the room and headed
outside.  Blair opened his eyes briefly, then let them drift shut again.

     "Sleep, son.  You need the rest."

     "I'm scared, Dad," Blair whispered, unsuccessfully trying to
avoid coughing.  When the bout was over, he added, "I'm really sick,
huh?"

     "Your fever's high, and you've got some slimy old bilge in your
lungs, but we just started the antibiotics, and you haven't been takin'
care of yourself.  With some bed rest and Dr. Sammi keepin' an eye on
you, you'll be fine."  Starsky took a hold of Blair's hand while he used
the other to continue bathing his face.  "Don't be afraid, son. 
Remember what Hutch told ya?  We do the worrying around here, not
you."  

     Blair let his eyes drift shut then, but kept a tight hold on his
father's hand.  

********

     "Any word from Sandburg?"  Simon asked, stopping by Jim's
desk on his way to his office.  Since Jim and Blair had become lovers,
it was strange to find Jim at his desk long before his appointed shift
began, but this morning, he was there at least and hour ahead of
schedule.  

     "He left me a note.  He's visiting his dad for a while."

     "A while?"  Simon prodded.

     "He wasn't more specific than that, sir," Jim said coolly,
keeping his attention on his computer monitor rather than Simon. 
Work was his only refuge from the emptiness that seemed to assail him
from all sides at home, and even the bullpen was bleak without Blair
invading his space, messing up his desk and hogging the computer.  

     "You might be interested to know that Alex Barnes is still
completely catatonic.  I spoke to the chief of staff at the psych ward in
Sierra Verde, and there's been no change.  They're talking about
transferring her to a sanitarium.  I'll let you know if and when they
actually move her."

     "Great.  Probably some place with less security than the
hospital."  Jim leaned back in his chair.  

     "She's basically a vegetable, Jim.  They aren't going to let her
take up space there forever.  They feel it's time to move her somewhere
more suitable for long-term cases."  Simon paused.  "Have you talked
to Blair since he left?"  He sat against the edge of Jim's desk.

     "No.  He wanted some time away."  Jim still stared at the
monitor, not really looking at the criminal profile there.  "I can't blame
him for that."

     "Maybe you should just go talk to him."

     "I tried pushing the issue once, and it was a disaster.  He needs
the time."

     "This thing with you and Alex...it was some sort of *Sentinel*
thing?"

     "You could say that."

     "Blair surely understands that?"

     "Intellectually, yes.  Instinctively, emotionally...I'm not so sure."

     "He'll come around."  Simon stood up and tapped Jim on the
arm with the newspaper he was carrying.  "He won't be gone long." 
With that, Simon retreated into his office.  

     "It's been too long already," Jim said to himself, his voice not
audible to anyone else around him.  

     After a morning of mind-numbing paperwork, Jim took his
lunch break, turning down an invitation from Megan and driving
through the take-out window at WonderBurger.  He sat in the parking
lot there and stared down the MegaBurger in all its sloppy splendor
before re-wrapping it and tossing it in the bag.  He could always swing
by the loft and stick it in the fridge on the way home.  It would be there
for dinner, provided his appetite made an appearance. 

     Eating donuts for breakfast and WonderBurger for lunch should
have been enough to shake him out of his funk.  No Blair there
haranguing him about his arteries clogging or turning up his nose at the
smell of the donuts.  No Blair there to give a shit if all his arteries
snapped shut from a lard overload.  No Blair to babble on incessantly
or to read him the mail as they drove in to work.  No Blair to take an
extended lunch hour with in that remote parking area behind the shrubs
in Cascade City Park.  No Blair to fight with about the radio stations,
no Blair to snuggle that warm body against his in bed, no Blair to make
him laugh, no Blair to needle him about his driving, no Blair to light up
like Christmas just because he walked into the room.  No eager arms
going around him when he walked in the door.  No books on the coffee
table and no papers piled on the TV.  

     Jim slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand,
angry to be sitting in a burger joint's parking lot, crying like a lovesick
teenager.  This is what it would have been like if Blair had died that
day in the fountain.  He'd been given that gift of Blair's life, his love,
one more time, and he'd fucked it up so badly now that Blair was so
shattered inside he couldn't even respond to him when they made love. 
He'd finally found the way to kill off Blair's love for him, or at least the
part of it that kept them together.  

     Not relishing going back to work looking like he was suffering
an instant bout of horrific allergies, or that he'd been moping around
for his lost boyfriend, he called Rhonda and left Simon a half-assed
message about not feeling well and going home.  Having no intention
of going back to that mausoleum of a loft, he started out, driving
aimlessly around the streets of Cascade.  He was in no condition to
work and going home was unbearable.  A little confused as to where he
*would* go, he turned on one of Blair's favorite radio stations and
devoted the afternoon to a full-fledged sulk.

********

     Hutch stirred and looked at the clock.  It was almost four in the
morning, and still no sign of Starsky.  The last time he'd come to was
near two, when Blair had been going through a bout of coughing that
had brought Hutch down the hall just to be sure a trip to the hospital
wasn't going to be necessary.  Once the siege of coughing waned, and
Blair had taken another dose of his antibiotics and some more water,
Starsky had refused to let Hutch relieve him, and had insisted on
staying with Blair himself.  

     Not terribly puzzled over where his lover would be found,
Hutch put on his robe and wandered down the hall and through the
partially open door into Blair's room.  Starsky was stretched out on top
of the blankets on the unoccupied half of Blair's bed, dead to the world. 
Blair was asleep at the moment also, though his breathing had a nasty
rattle to it.  Smiling at the sight of his partner finally sleeping
peacefully, Hutch refrained from going further into the room and
disturbing either of the sleepers.  He pulled the door around and headed
back to the master bedroom.

     He'd no sooner started dozing again than the sounds of a shout
and then choking and then a sort of wheezing, coughing, choking
coupled with Starsky's voice dragged him back out of bed to rush down
the hall.  

     Blair was sitting up now, alternating between resounding
coughs and choking, and Starsky was on the job, sitting up on the bed
with one arm around his son, the other holding the tissues while he
tried to soothe the obvious panic Blair felt at being unable to get any
air into his lungs past the the congestion.  

     "What do you think, Starsk?"  Hutch asked quietly. 

     "He had a nightmare he was drowning," Starsky explained as
Blair continued struggling with the coughing fit.  "Thought he couldn't
breathe."  Starsky turned his attentions back to Blair.  "You're doing
great, kiddo.  That's it.  Get those old pipes cleaned out, " he
encouraged, rubbing Blair's back as he coughed.  He quieted a minute,
and then went through another bout before quieting again.  

     "Feels a little better," Blair croaked, then coughed a bit more.

     "You can get some air in there now?"  Starsky asked carefully. 
Blair nodded.  "Let's prop you up.  Putting you prone is just making it
worse."  

     "I'll grab some extra pillows."  Hutch went to the linen closet,
and between the two of them, soon had Blair comfortably propped up
where he could still doze off, but not be lying too flat.  

     "I was under the water, and I kept trying to reach up through to
the top, and there were people out there, but it was like they were just
watching me, and nobody reached back," Blair said hoarsely, visibly
shaken by the dream.  

     "It was just a nightmare, Blair.  You're going to be just fine,"
Hutch said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and bathing Blair's
face with a cool cloth again.  "Let's check your temp before you get
back to sleep, huh?"  He picked up the thermometer.  "You think we
can hold down the fort here while your dad gets some sleep?"

     "I'm fine, babe," Starsky said, not at all happy to be dismissed
from his nursing duties.  

     "I've got to be at UCLA most of the day tomorrow for that
Crime Prevention Conference, Starsk.  Go to bed for a few hours while
I'm here to cover for you."

     "Oh, man...you'll be like a zombie at that conference," Blair
said before he started coughing again.  

     "I'm speaking there, so don't worry about it.  I only get comatose
at conferences where I have to listen to other people talk," Hutch joked. 
Blair actually smiled a little.  "Looks like you can relate to that, huh?"

     "A little," Blair admitted.  "Go to bed, Dad.  I'll be okay," he
croaked hoarsely.  

     "Okay.  But you just call me if you need me."  He kissed the top
of Blair's head, then zeroed in on Hutch's mouth.  Straightening up, he
added, "Either one'a you."

     After Starsky left the room, Hutch checked Blair's temperature,
and reported that it was 102.6.

     "That's not too great," Blair grumbled, then coughed again.

     "It's moving in the right direction, kid.  And you look a little
better.  More coherent."  Hutch used the cloth to cool off Blair's arms,
then refolded it and went back to work on his face.  "Your dad had a
few bad dreams after the shooting.  It's pretty natural after a trauma like
that, I think."  

     "It was a horrible dream," Blair confided.  "I couldn't make
anybody look down to see that I was there and I couldn't breathe," he
paused to cough.  "And nobody cared."

     "Maybe you feel like Jim didn't care," Hutch suggested, and
Blair looked at him, a bit stricken, then flexed his eyebrows a little.

     "Yeah, maybe."

     "Sometimes you do things that hurt the person you love.  Things
that are so despicable that you can't even look at yourself in the
mirror," Hutch said, seeming to get lost in his own thoughts for a
moment, and they obviously weren't pleasant ones.  Jerking back to
reality, he smiled slightly.  "People are imperfect animals at best, and
loving one of them with all your heart and soul is risky, because when
they make one of those mistakes they're known for, they can cut you
right in half."

     "It just hurts so much that I can't get past it.  I want to, but I
can't," Blair said, his eyes filling with tears.  

     "Don't push it, Blair.  If it's meant to heal up, and the
relationship is meant to be, you'll reach that point when it's right.  Jim
loves you.  He'll be there waiting."  The quiet confidence in Hutch's
voice somewhat soothed Blair's frazzled emotions.  "You know,
Starsky and I have had some rough times.  Mostly way back when we
were best friends and not lovers yet.  But a couple of ugly things went
down between us, and getting past it wasn't always easy.  Love doesn't
conquer all, but it sure helps make the road to forgiveness a little
smoother."

     "I forgive Jim, I do, I just--"

     "Just relax and wait until your heart forgives him.  It will in
time.  But the condition you're in now, you're in no shape to be stressed
out or upset.  Let it lie.  He knows you love him, he loves you, and he'll
still be there when you get yourself back on track."

     "What if I can't?"

     "Then you'll cross that bridge when you come to it."  Hutch
went to work on Blair's arms again.  "Your dad and I are here for you
no matter which way things go.  Try not to worry too much about it
right now, okay?"

     "I'll try."

     "When you're ready to talk, you know we're here to listen."

     "I know.  You guys have both been so good to me.  I don't know
what I would've done if I couldn't have come here."

     "Well, you could, so there's no need to worry about it."  Hutch
smiled, relieved to see Blair return it.  "You want to try a little tea?  I
picked up some stuff at the health food store."

     "Dad called it a 'bag'a weeds'," Blair said, stifling a chortle to
save himself another coughing jag.  

     "He would," Hutch groused, chuckling.  "I'll fix us some.  It'll
help you relax and get back to sleep."

     "You don't have to do that."

     "I know.  Just take it easy and I'll be back."  Hutch paused at the
door.  "I've been anxious to experiment with this stuff anyway."  

     Blair found himself a little nervous at being the subject of
another mad scientist's herb experiments, but figured it was probably
cosmic payback for all the times he'd subjected Jim to the same feeling. 
//Jim...what I wouldn't give to see you right now...// Blair closed his
eyes and tried to push the thought aside. //You'd see him and then you'd
push the relationship back together in its mangled condition whether it
was right or not and spend the next several years growing apart.//  

     //What if I hadn't shown up on the beach when I did?  How far
would he have gone with her?  Would he have made love to her?  How
could he want to, after...// Blair tried to ignore the pain in his chest that
had nothing to do with the pneumonia.  Crying was only going to
irritate his lungs and get him coughing again, and he was too tired to go
through another wracking seizure like that.  His face felt flushed and
warm and his body sticky and uncomfortable no matter how many
times either his father or Hutch dutifully sponged him off with a
washcloth.  

     Hutch was so right...his heart needed to forgive Jim.  His head
had forgiven him for each thing as it happened.  Once he'd realized
what was up with Jim, why he was reacting the way he was, the reason
behind all of it, he could care for his Sentinel and put his needs first
and understand the bizarre behavior from almost a detached scientific
perspective.  Intellectually, he understood everything Jim had gone
through--including his attraction to Alex Barnes.  The part of him that
was Jim's Guide understood and did his job.  The part of him that was
Jim's lover was so deeply heartbroken that he wondered how much of
his current illness was the fault of the drowning alone and how much
was aggravated by the misery that seemed to lie heavily in his chest, a
separate entity from the pneumonia.

********

     There was a persistent knocking on the door, and when Jim
determined ignoring it would not make it go away, he rolled out of bed
and pulled on his robe, heading down the stairs.  He wasn't sleeping,
but his body was beginning to feel the fatigue of facing the daily grind
with little sleep and very few breaks.  He pulled open the door to see
his father standing on the other side.  

     "Sorry, Jimmy, I didn't think you'd be in bed," he said, noticing
his son's rumpled appearance.  Jim worked at flattening his hair a bit as
he stepped back for his father to enter. 

     "I'm on a late stake-out tonight."

     "I can leave if this is a bad time.  I just wanted to bring this over
for Blair."  He handed Jim a small wrapped package, about the size of a
book.  "I didn't make it to the hospital before he'd checked himself out,
and I've had it in my car since then, and thought I'd drop it off for him."

     "I'm sure he'll appreciate it, Dad.  He's not here, though."  Jim
headed into the kitchen.  "You want coffee?"

     "No, thanks.  Where is he?  At the university?"

     "No, I mean he's not in Cascade," Jim said, turning away from
the refrigerator with a bottle of water in his hand.  "Water?"

     "No, nothing, thanks.  I thought maybe I could take you two out
for dinner.  That's part of why I came.  You want to get something to
eat before you go to work?"

     Food didn't appeal to Jim much, but the prospect of some
company while he subjected his food to the usual intense fork-play did
sound good.  

     "Sure, thanks.  I'll go get dressed."

     "Where *is* Blair, anyway?"  Bill asked as Jim headed upstairs.

     "Visiting his father," Jim responded cryptically, continuing his
ascent.

     "Did you...get rid of a lot of things in here?"  Bill was walking
around the living room now, really noticing its overall barrenness.  

     "I did some spring cleaning," Jim retorted from upstairs. //Got
rid of some nick-knacks, books, clutter, and my reason for living.  Any
other questions?//

     As soon as Jim had finished dressing, the two men started out,
agreeing on a nearby seafood restaurant for dinner.  After Jim sent his
salad back with only two bites consumed, and was beginning a similar
pattern with his entree, his father abandoned the small talk Jim had
seemed to prefer to any more piercing questions about Blair, or the
case.

     "You look like hell, Jimmy, the loft looks like it's been robbed,
and you're not eating.  It wouldn't take a mastermind to deduce that
Blair's not just visiting Starsky and Hutchinson for the fun of it."

     "He left, all right?  Is that what you want to hear?  Actually it
probably is."  Jim felt guilty as soon as he'd said it for sniping at his
father, but like the proverbial mountain, Bill was there, so he took the
hostility that was lurking beneath Jim's carefully maintained facade.

     "No, that's not what I want to hear.  You know better than that," 
Bill said a bit sternly, taking a drink of the white wine he'd ordered
with dinner.  "What I want to hear is the truth."

     "I don't know what the truth is, Dad."  Jim leaned back in his
chair.  "The woman who put Blair in that fountain...was another
Sentinel," he said, casting an eye around to be sure they weren't going
to be overheard.  

     "I suppose it was a little unrealistic for us to all believe you
were the only one," Bill responded, shaking his head.  "Two of you
ending up here in Cascade is pretty unlikely though, since it doesn't
seem that this Sentinel thing is exactly *common*."

     "I don't know if it was meant to be, or just coincidence--what
she was looking for was here.  She was here to steal a deadly nerve gas
stored in the Rainier University Hazmat Lab.  Of course, that involved
a break-in at Oberon Security, to get the plans so she and her criminal
cronies could override the system and get in."  Jim exhaled tiredly. 
"She served three years in a women's prison in Corona--part of it was in
solitary confinement, which is what Blair thinks brought her Sentinel
abilities to the surface.  Blair didn't know she was a criminal when he
started working with her to help her with her senses.  He met her in the
bullpen when she was there being questioned after a somewhat bizarre
car accident.  She ran her car off the road because someone's brights
blinded her, and then she was standing at the scene, taking her clothes
off because her 'skin hurt'.  Blair overheard that, and made contact with
her and started working with her on the Sentinel thing."

     "You were probably fairly shocked to find out he'd located
another one."

     "I didn't know.  Not until I put it together that the crimes we
were investigating were being committed by someone like me--someone
 with extraordinary abilities, but also someone with overly-sensitive 
senses who could be disabled by the wrong stimuli."

     "Why wouldn't he tell you about her?"

     "He said he wanted to bring us together in a controlled setting,"
Jim said, shrugging.  "I suppose there was some sort of...of...
*academic* reason to keep it from me.  I just thought we were past
that, you know?  You share a bed with someone and you don't expect
him to keep something like that to himself.  Not to mention the fact it
would have been nice to know why I haven't felt in my right mind for a
long time now.  It had to be ever since Alex Barnes--Alicia Bannister,
whatever her name is--blew into town.  I was on edge, tense...and I
really haven't had a lot of interest...  Well, that's probably not
something you want to hear about, but let's just say it was a cold Spring
for Blair and me."

     "I'm surprised Blair would keep that from you.  Seems like your
relationship should take precedence over his studies."

     "Yeah, that's how I felt too.  Nothing like being reduced from
lover to 'primary subject'."  Jim was silent a moment.  "You should
have seen her, Dad.  She was gorgeous.  Blonde, all the right
curves...just the kind of girl Blair would have chased until he dropped
before we got together."

     "So maybe he was chasing her for more than just her Sentinel
abilities?"

     "I know Blair was faithful to me.  I trust him.  I just have to
wonder if finding a Sentinel in a sexy female package isn't what his
ultimate dream would be, instead of a Sentinel in this package," Jim
gestured toward himself, taking a nervous gulp of his water.  

     "What did he say when you confronted him about it?"

     "I never accused him of wanting her that way.   When I
confronted him about not telling me about her, he brought up the
'controlled situation' thing.  Apparently he didn't know how we'd react
to each other, and he wanted to be careful how he threw us together.  I
know there's a certain logic to that.  It's just that what I understood
...and what I felt...they're not necessarily the same."

     "You feel differently now?"

     "Let's just say that Blair wasn't by himself in getting us to this
point."

     "What was your part in all of it?"  Bill prodded, taking another
bite of his grilled salmon.  "Starving to death isn't going to bring him
home sooner, Jimmy.  You might as well eat."

     "I just don't have a lot of interest in food."  Jim pushed the plate
forward a few inches to illustrate the point.  "As soon as Blair was
revived, and we knew he'd be okay, we got a lead on Alex Barnes'
accomplice, a guy named Carl Hettinger.  He had contacts with a
number of South American drug lords, including a guy named Arguillo. 
Now I'd been having some weird dreams..."  Jim looked at his father
and decided to side-step the dream discussion, just the way he'd
carefully side-stepped the spirit merge that had brought Blair back
from the dead.  There were a few things he wasn't ready to explain just
yet.  "Anyway, all things pointed to them heading for Sierra Verde.  So
Simon and I took off to go after them."

     "Blair was out of danger though?"

     "The doctors said he'd be fine in a few days, as long as he took
it easy.  Of course, when he found out where I was and who I went
after, he checked himself out of the hospital and flew to Sierra Verde
with Megan Connor in tow."  Jim smiled and shook his head.  "He
never has been too good at following directions."  He sighed, then
continued.  "We met up with Captain Ortega, our police contact down
there, and we found out that Hettinger had been murdered.  As it turns
out, she had snapped his neck."

     "Nice lady.  Drowning and neck-breaking and selling nerve gas
to drug lords."

     "Ortega set us up.  He told us to meet him at a cafe, and we did,
and while we're sitting there, a *tank* comes down the street--"

     "A tank," Bill repeated flatly, staring at Jim in disbelief.

     "An honest-to-God *tank*, and these guys open fire on us with
automatics.  We barely got out of there alive.  After that, we ended up
hiding out in a church.  There was no way we could chance going back
to the hotel."

     "Blair was holding up all right with all that running around so
soon after what happened?"

     "He seemed to be."  Jim paused.  "I gotta be honest, Dad, my
focus was just, so *intense* on finding Alex Barnes that I don't really
know how he was doing.  I know he was there, and he was keeping up,
and he wasn't complaining.  Not that that should have been enough to
prove he was really okay.  Blair's pretty persistent and determined."

     "How did you locate her?"

     "You probably won't believe this."  Jim paused as the waitress
came and took the discarded plates.  She looked at his nearly
untouched food.

     "Would you like a box, sir?"  the young woman asked.

     "No, thank you."

     "Was everything all right?"  she persisted.

     "Everything was fine.  I'm finished with it," he snapped, his
voice a bit elevated, his tone angry.  Without further comment, she
retreated to the kitchen.  "We were hiding out in the church, and I had
this dream of meeting up with her on a beach, and I just *knew* where
I had to be, and how to get there.  I got up and started out.  I didn't
realize until later that Blair was following me--which looking back
really makes me realize how far gone I was.  I've spotted expert tails
before, but there was Sandburg running along behind me and I didn't
even know it."  Jim waited while the check was delivered by the
waitress.  

     "Will there be anything else?"  she asked, still maintaining her
pleasant demeanor.

     "The food and the service were fine," Jim said, handing her a
ten dollar bill.  "It's me, not the food."

     "Thank you, sir," she said, smiling brightly and tucking the bill
in her apron pocket.  "I hope you're feeling better soon."

     "That makes two of us," he said, more to himself than her as his
father confiscated the check and sent it back with his credit card.

     "You found her based on a dream?"  Bill summarized.

     "Yes--I know that's hard to believe...  I was so...*drawn* to her,
and when I got to the beach, there she was.  There was no rhyme or
reason to it.  It was like this...undeniable *urge* to make a connection
of some sort with her...with another one just like me..."  Jim hesitated. 
"Before I knew it, we were kissing, really getting into it, and then all of
a sudden Blair was there, shouting at me."  

     "He saw you with her?"

     "Oh, yeah, he got a good look all right.  As soon as she saw
him, she took my gun and aimed it at him--I guess she wanted to finish
what she started in Cascade.  I stopped her from shooting him, but I
couldn't...even when I had the gun back, and there she was, I couldn't
shoot her."

     "What happened?"

     "She ran away, and I didn't stop her.  Blair was mystified at
what was going on, but looking back, I'll give him credit, he didn't
chew on me for hours about kissing her, and he didn't seem to get all
bent out of shape because I had.  He was angry, visibly, but he just
pushed that aside and right away tried to help me figure out what the
*Hell* made me act that way.  What it amounted to is that he needed to
do more research to figure it out."

     "That's all he said about seeing you kissing the woman
responsible for nearly killing him?"

     "Blair didn't say a lot the whole time this was going on.  He
didn't say much in Cascade, and he just sort of took the hits one after
the other and didn't say anything.  Oh, sure, he tried to get me to talk,
but I gave him the cold shoulder in bed, the silent treatment, and I
didn't really level with him either.  When he didn't say much about the
kissing incident, I figured he understood it had nothing to do with how
I felt about him, that things were screwed up because of the Sentinel
thing.  I guess everything built up and he exploded later."

     "You said you weren't in your right mind, which I can believe if
you were seriously pursuing that woman for anything more than
arresting her.  Aside from anything personal, she's a criminal, Jim."

     "Thanks for pointing that out, Dad.  I noticed."

     "Apparently not at the time, you didn't notice."

     "I knew it, but it didn't matter.  Not right then.  Nothing
mattered but sating this...*craving*."

     "Maybe that's what was wrong with your mother when she
jumped the last gardener," Bill said bitterly.

     "Let's not drag Mom into this, all right?"  Jim retorted.

     "She used to trot out that tired old excuse that she was being
ignored and she had *needs*.  A need for the yardman, a need for the
pool boy, a need for the riding instructor..."  Bill shook his head, falling
silent as he signed the charge slip for the meal and the waitress left for
the final time.  "Sorry, Jimmy, but 'urges' don't carry a lot of weight as
excuses with me."

     "I know the divorce between you and Mom was ugly, but one
thing really doesn't have anything to do with the other, and there's
rarely just one side to any story."

     "No, I suppose not, but it does sound awfully familiar."

     "This was more than a hormone rush, Dad--and I sure as hell
don't feel neglected or unhappy with Blair.  It was the most compelling
urge I've ever felt in my life.  It obliterated everything else.  Even all
the things I felt about Blair's near-death, and her role in it.  I don't
expect this to make sense to anyone else.  Ironically, the only one who
took it seriously is Blair, and he couldn't cope with it either.  So I guess
you were right, Dad.  I *am* a freak."

     "I never said you were a freak, Jim."

     "Not recently, anyway," Jim retorted.

     "Not ever.  Jim, you know that's not fair.  I never called you a
freak.  Anything I said to you was out of worry that if someone found
out what you were, your life would be a nightmare.  A living hell of
dodging the press and God knows who else.  People might have labeled
you a freak, and that would have made a kid's life pretty unpleasant." 
Bill took in a deep breath.  "Regarding my understanding some kind of
primitive urge, all I know is that we all have them, and developing a
little self-control is generally necessary."

     "This was more than a lapse of self-control, for God's sake.  I
don't want anyone besides Blair.  I haven't even *looked* crooked at a
woman since we got together.  I didn't want Alex Barnes, not then and
not now.  All I can figure is that there was some need in me to connect
with her, and that was the logical way to do it."

     "I didn't mean to sound as if I were judging you.  You're trying
to level with me, and I'm not making it easy."

     "That's nothing new," Jim snapped back.  "Look, I have to go to
work."

     "You didn't tell me what happened that spurred Blair to leave
for California.  He apparently handled everything that happened in
Sierra Verde."

     "He coped with it at the time.  We eventually managed to track
Alex down...there are a lot of things that went down that I couldn't
possibly explain in any sort of logical terms.  Things about...about...
Sentinels and the spirit world and ancient legends...visions...God,
sometimes it all seems too surreal to *me*, and I lived it."

     "It was one of these 'surreal visions' that ended things?"

     "They're not ended," Jim shot back defensively.

     "That caused him to leave then."

     "No, not really.  I think it was a build up of emotional...*stuff*
from everything that went down.  Once the pressure was off of coping
with the problem at hand, it was more than he could deal with."

     "What became of the woman?  You arrested her?  There sure
wasn't much on it in the papers, just that she was taken into custody
and was undergoing psychiatric evaluation."

     "I can't explain it any better than to say that her senses...*short-circuited*.  
It was as if the onslaught of stimuli just suddenly *fried*
her receptors, and she ended up in a catatonic state.  She's in a psych
ward in Sierra Verde now, but they want to get rid of her since she's not
their responsibility.  She'll probably end up back here in a sanitarium."

     "What about prison or a mental institution?"

     "We can't put her in prison because we can't try someone who's
catatonic.  I think she'll most likely wind up in a state hospital."

     "If she's ever around you again, even in the same area, are you
going to be going through this all over again?"

     "Dear God, I hope not."  Jim grimaced.  "I hope I won't make
the same mistake twice.  Right up until the end, I couldn't kill her.  I
couldn't really do her any serious harm."  He paused.  "Things came to
a head with Blair after the case was resolved.  He started reacting
emotionally to everything--I think he'd kept himself from doing that,
trying to stay present to work the case.  It was as if it all just hit him
broadside once the threat was removed, and he couldn't handle it
without putting some time and distance between us.  Ironically, all
those weeks I didn't want to touch him or get close to him, as soon as I
did, he freaked out and wanted to leave."

     "Did he say how long he was staying?"

     "No, not really.  Just that he needed time."

     "Maybe this is no more significant than that.  He probably needs
to cool off and think things through.  Starving yourself and wringing
your hands over it isn't going to solve anything."

     "Sorry to wring my hands over my relationship breaking up." 
Jim slid his chair back and stood.

     "Well," Bill rose also, "you aren't eating and you look like hell. 
You're pining away here like some sort of lovesick schoolgirl.  If you
want to settle this thing with Blair then go talk to him and get it
resolved.  If not, let him have his time to think and quit moping around. 
If you keep this up, you're going to get yourself killed on duty, and then
whether or not Blair comes back will be a moot point from your
perspective."  He started for the door, with Jim behind him.

     //God, you must be in the bag, Ellison, if you're letting him bawl
you out like a ten-year-old.  Guess the old guy hasn't changed much--
still the Chairman of the Board looking at the bottom line.// Jim walked
in silence to the parking lot, getting into the driver's seat of the truck as
his father got in the passenger side.

     "Look, Jimmy, I know you're upset about this thing with Blair,
but getting yourself killed won't change it."

     "I haven't gotten killed yet, Dad.  I don't have any plans to do it
now."

     "You don't eat, probably don't sleep, and you're spending all
your time dwelling on what Blair's doing or thinking or where he is.  If
you saw one of your colleagues doing that, how long would it be before
you told him to take his sorry ass off the streets until he got his shit
together?"  Bill questioned angrily, surprising Jim by the forcefulness
and vernacular of the question.  Maybe mostly stunned by how dead-on
right his father was.  Jim knew that a tired, run-down cop with personal
problems didn't belong on the street.  

     "I'll think about calling Blair tomorrow.  I have a stakeout
tonight, but I'll think on it in the morning."

     "Think about taking some time off until you're in better shape
than you are."

     "The job keeps me sane, Dad," Jim admitted, as he drove
toward the loft.  

     "There's always desk duty."

     "Trading one form of insanity for another," Jim countered, and
Bill chuckled at that.  

     "After over forty years of desk duty, I can vouch for that," Bill
concluded.

     After his father returned to his car in the parking lot near the
apartment building, Jim went back upstairs to grab a couple items he
wanted to take along on the stakeout--a paperback he wouldn't actually
read while it was his turn to do the listening rather than the watching,
and a few snacks he wouldn't eat.  Trail mix, raw veggies--Blair's rabbit
food.  He had gotten so used to grazing out of Blair's stash of goodies
when they were stuck on a stakeout that even now, it was habit to seek
out those foods instead of chips.  Now, without Blair there, without
snitching them out of the bags Blair always packed with enough for
two but teased Jim about stealing his food anyway, he couldn't care less
if he ate any of it.  Or if he ate at all.

     He plodded upstairs and took Blair's letter out of the night stand
drawer, reading it carefully again, for probably the hundredth time.  All
Blair asked of him was time.  Some time to himself to work things out. 
It seemed like a simple request, and tracking him with phone calls
suddenly seemed...very wrong.  Putting the letter back in the drawer,
Jim headed downstairs and out to his stakeout.

********

     The next few days saw a break in Blair's fever and a gradual
easing of the chest congestion.  The antibiotics were doing their job
well, and while he wasn't cleared to run any marathons, Blair was
healthy enough to occupy himself with settling into his room and
sifting through boxes that his father and Hutch hauled in for him. 
Starsky's contribution to Blair's stay was to buy him a set of
bookshelves with four shelves and a two-door storage cabinet at the
bottom.  Claiming it was a good addition to the guest room anyway,
Starsky exonerated himself from making Blair's stay seem too
permanent.  

     A week after he'd arrived in the driveway a bedraggled mess,
Blair was still nursing an unpleasant sounding cough, but his fever had
all but disappeared.  He'd lost a significant amount of weight since the
incident at the fountain, and it was his father's sincere hope to renew
his son's interest in food again.  

     "Looks like you're doin' some spring cleaning while you're at it,"
Starsky said, smiling as he looked over a carton of what appeared to be
broken or discarded items.

     "Some of it didn't travel too well," Blair said bleakly.  "The
books, you know, they're not fragile.  Some of my stuff was."  He put a
couple more books on the shelves.  

     "Maybe we can fix this stuff," Starsky crouched by the box and
started sorting through the remnants.  "If you still like these frames, I'll
take 'em over to the frame shop and get some new glass put in," Starsky
held up a couple of picture frames.

     "That's pretty expensive."

     "Not that expensive."  Starsky set those items aside.  "You have
this guy's head somewhere?"  He held up a small statue of a Buddha.

     "It was broken pretty badly.  I threw it in the bottom of the box,
but it's in a few pieces."  Blair looked at the statue a little sadly.  "My
mom sent me that when she was in China about five years ago."

     "How about I take this box with me and when I'm sittin' around
lookin' for something to do, I'll see what I can put back together?"

     "If you want.  You don't have to.  Most of it's pretty messed up
if I tossed it."

     "Guess you were in a hurry when you packed, huh?"  Starsky
commented, sitting on the foot of the bed.

     "I didn't pack it.  Jim did." 

     "He threw all your stuff in boxes like this?"

     "He probably did it with his own stuff too.  You didn't see him. 
He was so screwed up, Dad.  A lot of it was the Sentinel thing...hell,
probably all of it."

     "So this 'Sentinel thing' gives him an excuse to break up your
stuff and throw you out in the street?"

     "No, it doesn't it.  Which is why I'm here, I guess.  I know why
he did the things he did.  Sometimes it's just hard to deal with it, and...I
don't know if I can cope with it as his lover, even if I can as his Guide."

     "You want to tell me what went down?"

     "I guess I owe you that much since I landed here at death's door
and moved in with you."

     "You don't *owe* me anything, Blair.  I'm your father, I love
you, and this is your home anytime you wanna be here.  You don't have
to explain why you're here.  But I'd like to know what really happened."

     "You know I told you about my field of study being Sentinels,
and how Jim was the only one I had ever found?"  Blair began, sitting
on the foot of the bed next to Starsky.

     "I remember."

     "Well, I found another one."  Blair sighed, then coughed a little,
then a bit more.  Regaining his voice, he continued.  "A woman by the
name of Alex Barnes.  She was brought into the police station one
night, and I heard her complaining of her clothing bothering her, the
bright lights blinding her--all the things that cued me to the fact she
*might* have some heightened senses.  She also could have been a
nutcase, but I didn't pick up on that.  I thought it was worth talking to
her.  Anyway, the long and short of it is that I started working with her
to control her senses--pretty much the way I started working with Jim."

     "So how did Jim react to this whole thing?"

     "I didn't tell him.  I was going to, but he was in a really bad
mood about things in general--he was cranky, at home, getting over a
gunshot wound in his arm.  Actually, before he was ever wounded,
things were just kind of...*odd* between us.  Not strained exactly, but
not all that...*close* either, like usual.   We had been having problems
about my dissertation.  He read a draft of it, and was upset with what
he saw, and we got into this whole relationship vs. dissertation
*thing*...  Finally he seemed to come to grips with it, but nothing got
better *really*."  Blair exhaled tiredly.  "When I started to bring up
meeting Alex, and he brushed me off about it, I got to thinking  more
about it and I realized that I owed Alex the same confidentiality I was
giving Jim.  Just because I wasn't in love with her didn't mean she
wasn't entitled to the same privacy.  So I didn't tell him.  I figured after
a while, when her senses were a little more controlled, and Jim had
snapped out of the *funk* he was in, I could tell them about each other
and bring them together in a controlled setting."

     "I take it that didn't happen."

     "What I didn't know about Alex is that she was using her senses
to commit crimes.  Big crimes.  Major heists, theft of security plans for
the Hazmat lab at Rainier, and for the big finish, stealing dangerous
nerve gas and selling it to major players in the South American drug
wars."

     "Quite a resume."

     "Yeah, exactly.  Anyhow, what I wasn't realizing was that Jim's
'funk' was his reaction to another Sentinel in his territory. 
Unfortunately, I caught the clue bus a little too late, and by then, Jim
already knew about Alex--only he knew of her as a criminal, and I had
to tell him about the Sentinel thing after the fact, after he'd already
found out anyway."

     "So he was down on you for keeping it from him?"

     "Yeah.  Maybe I would have been down on me too, I don't
know.  Jim's not a researcher, so maybe he had trouble with it on a gut
level like I've had trouble with a lot of things he's done on a gut level
that I can accept up here," Blair said, tapping his forehead.  "'Course by
then, he'd already thrown me out of the apartment, so we weren't
communicating much."

     "What made him throw you out?"

     "He was 'clearing the field' for battle.  Or at least, that's my
theory.  He kept saying he couldn't have any distractions, that he
needed space.  I was so hurt by what happened that I admit I didn't
follow it up the way I should.  I didn't pursue it as diligently as I should
have."  Blair sighed.  "I was stunned, devastated...I mean, I left home in
the morning and came home to my stuff in boxes and my relationship
with Jim feeling a whole lot like it was *over*--and he wouldn't tell me
why.  I didn't know if he was having second thoughts about being with
a guy, if I did something..."

     "Where'd you go then?  Before you came here?"

     "I slept in a motel the first night, but the prices are pretty steep--even
 for a fleabag with a lousy mattress--so I decided to sleep in my
office until I figured something out.  I stuck my stuff in storage."

     "Did you borrow that fine-looking truck out there to haul
everything here?"

     "I bought it.  There's this guy at the U who kept saying 'if you
ever sell that Volvo, call me'.  So I did.  He paid a good price for it, and
I bought the truck and figured that would also give me some seed
money if I needed to...get another place, and, uh, you know, set up
housekeeping."

     "What clued you in to the connection between Jim and the other
Sentinel?"

     "Actually, it was stewing over it in my office.  It's weird, you
know, maybe under other circumstances, I would have caught on.  I
was really busy with finals coming up, and I was trying to fit in helping
Alex, working with the PD...and then...you know, things weren't good
with Jim.  We slept in the same bed but he stayed over on his side of it
like I had leprosy, and he barely spoke to me.  I was really confused,
and hurt, and I got thinking maybe there was someone else.  I mean, for
Jim to just ignore me like that in bed for like, *days*, is pretty weird. 
If I came onto him, he'd say something about his arm hurting or the
pain meds keeping him from wanting to do much, and before it was the
arm, he just...pushed me away.  I mean, he'd say something like 'I'm
tired' or 'is that all you think about'?  What was weird was he didn't
even want to hold me.  I mean, we've both been under the weather at
different times since we started sleeping together, but that never
stopped us from wanting to be close.  It just really hurt to be pushed
away like that.  Like he didn't even want to touch me at all."

     "How did you end up in that fountain?"  Starsky asked, the
concern plain on his face and in his voice.

     "Jim and I had a really unpleasant argument..."  Blair paused,
swallowing the lump in his throat.  "This is harder than I thought," he
said, blinking back the tears that tried to come.  

     "You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, Blair."

     "I want to."  Blair paused a moment, gathering his composure,
then continued.  "Jim was really pissed off about the whole Alex mess,
and he blamed me for it getting to the point it was.  Trust is a big issue
for Jim, and he felt like I betrayed him."  Blair paused.  "I never meant
to do that.  I'd die before I'd betray Jim."  He swallowed hard.  "He told
me he didn't know if he could get past this, and then...then he said, 'I
gotta have a partner I can trust'."  Blair choked on the words, but
managed to keep control of himself.  He was grateful for the arm that
came around his shoulders.  "When he said that, it just...it hurt so
much...  Then I told him I'd do whatever it took to get past this mess,
but he just shut down on me.  I told him he knew where to find me, and
I left.  I went back to my office and just...*sat* there."

     "So just like that, he dismissed you?"

     "He felt betrayed.  I know trust is a big issue with Jim.  He's got
a lot of insecurity when it comes to relationships, and I guess I can
understand it.  He's gotten a lot of raw deals."  Blair paused, fighting
back his emotions with decreasing success as a couple of tears escaped. 
"I just never thought he'd stop trusting *me*.  I don't know what else to
do to prove to him that I love him.  That I'm on his side.  That I'm not
going to betray him."  Blair paused for a coughing jag, then continued. 
"I guess he saw everything with Alex as a betrayal already."

     "You started living at your office then?"

     "I didn't spend very long there."  Blair swallowed and wiped at
his eyes.  "Near dawn, Alex showed up at my office.  I was all alone in
the building, and there's *nobody* around that place at that point in the
day.  She had a gun, and she told me that she couldn't leave me alive."

     "You weren't shot, though."

     "Nothing that cut-and-dried for Alex.  She thought she could
use me to get to Jim, as some sort of bargaining tool.  Oh, she was
gonna kill me all right enough, but not right then.  She had to get me
out of the building and off campus, so we started walking.  Outwitting
a Sentinel is next to impossible in terms of planning an escape attempt,
but I saw what I thought was a chance to make a break for it when we
got outside.  I remember starting to run, and something hitting me in
the back of the head...  The next thing I remember is lying on the grass
by the fountain, spitting up water."

     "You think she hit you from behind?"

     "Maybe, or maybe Hettinger was there.  She had a guy who
worked with her until she murdered him in Sierra Verde.  All I can
figure is that they opted to leave me there for dead and abandon the
plan to use me to get to Jim.  Plus, maybe someone was starting to
move around on campus by then.  I don't really know."  Blair was quiet
a minute.  "Dad, when you were shot...and you were...you know..."

     "Dead?"

     "Yeah," Blair said, smiling a little, relieved at the candor.  "Did
you see anything?"

     "I saw the room, and the doctors workin' on me...I had that
whole sensation like being *over* the action, ya know?"  Blair nodded. 
"I heard 'em callin' all the code blues and saw the paddles come out and
all that stuff.  All I remember was lookin' for Hutch.  He wasn't there,
and I was thinking that I didn't wanna leave him, but I really wasn't
gonna go without sayin' goodbye."  Starsky smiled.  "And he came
slamming through the doors somewhere down the hall.  I didn't see him
but I just knew it was him.  So I wanted to be there when he got there...
that's the last thing I remember, until I woke up, and he was sittin' there
by the bed, looking all baggy-eyed and wasted."  Starsky paused.  "I
take it you saw somethin' yourself."

     "Yeah, I did," Blair said.  "I saw what was going on on the
ground, but not for long.  I was running through the woods or the
jungle or something--there was a lot of foliage, and I was running, but I
was a *wolf*.  Then I saw this big black panther following me, and it
was like he was trying to stop me from going any farther.  Calling me
back."  Blair paused to cough, and also to gather his thoughts.  "This is
really hard to explain, but Jim has had a couple of visions, related to
this whole Sentinel thing--that's the spiritual component I was talking
about when we first told you guys?"  It was Starsky's turn to nod now. 
"In these visions, he sees a big black panther.  Sometimes it leads him
somewhere...anyhow, when I saw the panther, I knew it was a symbol
of Jim.  I just *knew* it.  And that he was calling me back.  So I turned
and ran back toward the panther, and then I could see the whole thing
as if I were watching it--there was this big burst of light, and the
panther and the wolf were *merging* in the middle of it.  The next
thing I knew, I was coughing up water."

     "The wolf was you?"

     "I guess.  It was like in a dream where you're part of the action,
but you can see it, too.  You know what I mean?"

     "Yeah," Starsky agreed, nodding.  "You're basically saying that
Jim called you back."

     "That's how it felt.  Then we talked a little at the hospital and I
found out he'd had the same vision."
     
     "Talked a little?  That's it?"

     "There was a lot of...*stuff* between us.  Stuff we needed to
really sit down and talk about.  I was still on oxygen, still worn out. 
Then Simon and he went to Sierra Verde the next day.  I felt a little
better the day after, so I called Megan to drive me to the airport, and
after she got done lecturing me about leaving the hospital, she decided
to come with me."

     "You were dead, and that was it?"

     "Things had been really bad between us, Dad.  He tried to joke
a little, you know, and we talked about the vision.  Things were
awkward.  I knew that somehow he'd saved my life, brought me back,
or called on whatever power Sentinels have--"

     "So now they can raise the dead?"

     "I don't think it's a matter of Sentinels raising the dead as it is
their channeling of something spiritual, or their ability to travel to the
necessary plane to do it.  I'm not entirely sure yet.  That was another
area I needed more research on...still do."  Blair shook his head.  "I
thought maybe we could work things out then, but then he was gone,
and so I followed him."

     "The day after you drowned?"  Starsky's eyes widened.  "You
poor kid, no wonder you were half dead when you got here."

     "I felt okay at first.  I was a little tired, but I wanted to help.  I
felt responsible for helping Alex use her senses, and I was worried
about Jim.  The whole time we were there, there was this *distance*
between us.  It was like talking to a stranger.  I figured Alex was close
by, because of Jim's behavior.  At least then I *knew* what was up
with that."

     "Things were still not back together then."

     "I stayed in Jim's room when I got there, but we weren't in the
room very much until the very end."  Blair let out a long breath, then
rolled his eyes and he started off on another bout of coughing.

     "Sounds a lot better than it did a few days ago," Starsky
commented, as Blair caught his breath again.  

     "Doesn't hurt anymore, either.  It's just...ticklish, and I know
there's some gunk in the pipes yet, but man, I feel like I'm gonna live
now."  Blair paused.  "The night we stayed in the old church--we had
been tracking Alex, and we were hiding out from these guerilla-type
guys who had come after us with a *tank*--shot up a whole cafe trying
to get at us.  Come to find out, Ortega, the police contact down there,
set us up.  That's why we stayed in the church instead of the hotel--Megan 
and Simon were with us.  Near dawn, Jim just got up and took
off.  I was worried about him, so I followed him.  I don't know now if
I'm glad or not.  Guess it depends on whether or not Alex would have
hurt him otherwise.  I kind of don't think she would have."

     "He went to meet this Alex character?"

     "Well, aside from the behavioral changes and the negative
reaction to another Sentinel in his space, apparently there's some sort of
Sentinel *mating urge*...something that draws them together.  So he
met her on the beach."

     "Whoa, wait a minute.  You're not seriously trying to tell me
that he got together to kick up a little sand with her?"

     "When I showed up, they..."  Blair closed his eyes and worked
hard to control himself.  "They were kissing, and...and his
hands...were...all over...and he was touching her and responding to her
the way he does with me when we're really into it..."  Blair couldn't
stop the tears coming then.  "I yelled at them, and she...she got a hold
of his gun and aimed it at me...and there was this *sluggishness* with
Jim, like...like he was drugged."  Blair wiped at his eyes, but cried
harder.  "He pushed her hand down, and took the gun...and...and let her
leave..."

     Starsky pulled Blair into a hug, patting his back and letting him
cry it out.  

     "Everything's gonna be okay, kiddo.  I promise.  Things'll get
better." //As soon as I fly to Cascade and hang Ellison by his nuts from
the courthouse bell tower.//

     "I know...in my head...why he...why he did it...why he
couldn't...help wanting her...but in my heart...there's this place...that
hurts so bad...I can't...get that picture...out of my head...and then when
we were in this temple...he...I was tied up...and he...kissed her again...
and I felt like...he just didn't know...I was even there...anymore.  He
never...he didn't..."  The sharp breaths from the tears brought on a
violent bout of coughing until Blair nearly choked.  

     "Shhh.  Try to calm down, son.  Take it easy on the lungs, huh?" 
he chided affectionately, rubbing his hand up and down Blair's back,
hoping to calm him a little.  

     "He didn't even want...to touch me...not even...a kiss or
anything...it was like he just wanted...*her*.  And it didn't matter...
what she did to me."  Blair struggled to catch his breath.  "I know it
wasn't... his fault...but it still *hurts* and I...can't...I can't...be with him
now.  We tried at the...hotel...and it hurt and...I...I hated it."

     "What hurt?  You're not saying he forced himself on you at the
hotel?"  

     "Jim would never...do that to me...but I guess I just wanted him
so much...I didn't say no...and I didn't try to stop him...even though I
knew it wasn't...right.  He wasn't rough or anything.  I was trying
to...make myself want it, and it was like my mind couldn't dictate to my
heart and my body what to feel.  I kept thinking...about Alex and seeing
him with her...and knowing he wanted her...was drawn to her...that his
instinct to go to her meant more than what she did to me..."

     "Did he hurt you physically?"

     "Not beyond just being uncomfortable while it happened.  It
wasn't like that.  It would have felt great...before.  It wasn't him, it was
me."

     "You weren't the one screwin' around.  It wasn't you and it
wasn't your fault.  Don't say that again."

     "It wasn't really Jim's fault either," Blair countered.

     "Oh give me a break."  Starsky stood up and started pacing
angrily.  "He's just as responsible for where he puts his dick as the next
guy out there!"  

     "He didn't have sex with Alex!"  Blair retorted.

     "And that was because he has such fucking high moral
principles or because you showed up when you did, and having your
partner watching is a real mood-killer?!"  Starsky demanded. 

     "I don't know," Blair admitted brokenly.  "I don't know how far
he would've gone with her.  In a way, I wish I did know, in another
way, I don't wanna know."

     "Look, whether or not you forgive Ellison for being in heat, or
whatever this thing is supposed to be, is up t'you.  But all you're doin'
now is makin' excuses for him!  At this rate, any guy who gets bored
with who he's with should just go out and get a little when he feels the
urge."

     "It's not like that.  There's more to being a Sentinel than just
smelling what's for dinner from a block away.  This is part of the
package.  I guess I have to figure out if I can live with knowing that
instinct is in Jim somewhere, that there's a drive inside of him more
powerful...more powerful than what he could ever feel for me.  That
his instinct as my *mate*, for lack of a better word, is overridden by
his instinct to mate with another Sentinel."

     "Aw, man, has he got you snowed under a king-sized pile of
shit," Starsky said, walking to the window and staring out at the view
of the ocean beyond.  "What you're talkin' about is something off a re-run 
of some Discovery Channel animal documentary.  Mating urges. 
Instincts."  Starsky let out a long breath.  "Blair, everybody walkin'
around has urges, and we all have instincts.  If you think for one fuckin'
minute that turning our backs on the entire female gender to be faithful
to each other was easy for Hutch and me, you're nuts.  Every now and
then one of us still gets caught lookin' a little too long at the wrong part
of a well-stacked woman.  Sometimes I see one walkin' down the street
and I think...'in the old days, I woulda wanted to get together with her'. 
Falling in love doesn't neuter you.  But every one of us when we get
those urges, has to make a decision.  Indulge the urge or be faithful to
the person you're committed to."

     "It's different for a Sentinel--"

     "Okay, maybe it's different.  Maybe it's more intense.  I don't
know.  I'm havin' a little bit of trouble buyin' the idea that they're some
sort'a special *species* and not just people with overactive senses.  But
okay, so they're special and the urge is stronger.  You're the expert, so
I'll take your word for it.  What I think you have to look real hard at is
what you're forgiving Ellison for.  Forgive him because you want to get
back together with him, or because you think he's sorry, or because you
believe him when he says it won't happen again--and maybe it never
will.  Don't let him off the hook because you sat around feeling lousy
and found ways to rationalize what happened until it sounds like he
didn't do anything wrong."

     "I'm just saying that being drawn to Alex was an innate part of
his nature as a Sentinel."

     "As a previously straight man, being drawn to women is an
innate part of Hutch's nature.  How would you feel if I told you he was
steppin' out with some woman--not to mention one who tried to kill
me?"

     "I knew you'd be so angry about this that you'd just want to take
Jim apart."  Blair sighed carefully, trying to avoid the coughing reflex.  

     "Listen to me, son."  Starsky knelt in front of Blair where he sat
on the foot of the bed and took a hold of his shoulders.  "If goin' back
to Ellison is what makes you happy, then I'm not gonna give you a hard
time about it.  If you decide to get past what's happened here, that's up
to you too.  I just don't like to see you makin' unrealistic excuses for the
guy, or tellin' yourself that what happened was okay because of some
sort of primal urge."

     "This isn't the same thing as just cheating...it's more
complicated.  I know that.  If I didn't know that, the decision would be
more clear cut--either I could get over the infidelity issue or I couldn't."

     "Let me put it to you another way."  Starsky stood up and pulled
out the straight chair that matched the small desk--another addition
he'd brought up from the basement and cleaned up for Blair's stay. 
Straddling the chair, he leaned his folded arms on the back of it, facing
Blair.  "Over twenty years ago now, some goons nabbed Hutch and shot
him up full of heroin--strung him out, got him addicted, just to get
some information outta him."

     "Oh, man, that's horrible."

     "Yeah, it was real horrible.  We had to ride out all the pain and
misery of withdrawal, and when it was over, Hutch was clean, and he's
stayed that way ever since.  But it left him with a decision that is there
every single day of his life--even now.  He knows what that rush is, he
knows how it feels, and there's this part of him that craved that--it was
a physical craving.  An *addiction*--even though it was forced on him. 
My point is, he said 'no' to it.  He resisted it.  So you're never gonna sell
me, after what I saw him go through, that it's not possible to conquer a
compelling urge or instinct or desire.  I'm not sayin' one way or the
other that you should or shouldn't get back together with Ellison. 
That's gotta be your choice.  All I'm sayin' is don't try to pretend he
didn't screw up at all, because that's not fair to you.  And like it or not,
what's fair to you, what's good for you--that's what matters to me."

     "I know that."  Blair was quiet a moment.  "I just feel so
damned confused about all this."

     "That's why you're here, kiddo.  To have some time to think." 
Starsky stood up and pushed the chair up to the desk.  "I promise I'll try
not to badmouth Ellison and I'll resist *my* innate instinct to go to
Cascade and string him up by his nuts."

     "Dad?"

     "Hm?"  Starsky was partway out the door with the carton of
broken items.

     "Thanks for listening...and for caring so much about me."

     "That part comes real easy, kiddo.  I'll see what I can do with
this stuff."

     Left on his own to contemplate what his father had said, Blair
stretched out on the bed and let himself drift a little.  He was still weak,
and still had a very slightly elevated temperature, and it didn't take
much to tire him.  He picked up a framed photo that had survived the
packing, if you could call it that.  It wasn't a particularly wonderful
picture, but it was meaningful in its own way.  He was sitting on a
rock, with Jim sitting behind him, one of Jim's long legs on the outside
of each one of Blair's, Jim's chin hooked over his shoulder.  Both of
them were laughing, and Simon had snapped the photo.  It was the first
time they had gone camping with Simon since admitting to their
relationship, and it was the first photo Blair could recall anyone taking
of them that looked like a photo of two lovers.  He set the photo up on
the bed, a few feet from where he lay, and stared at it until he fell
asleep.

********

     "Looks like Blair's getting settled in," Hutch commented, not
looking up from the book he was reading as Starsky got into his side of
the bed.  "He loaned me this book on tribal punishments--I think it
might work into that lecture I'm giving at USC next month."

     "If you don't ditch that book and pay some attention to me, I'll
give ya a tribal punishment," Starsky teased, turning out the light on his
night stand.  Hutch just lowered his reading glasses a moment and
looked over the top of them at his partner.  

     "Is that so?"  he challenged.

     "That's so," Starsky countered, removing the glasses and setting
them on *his* night stand.  "You can't read without those, you blind old
fart, so hand over the book."

     "Which 'blind old fart' was it who forgot his glasses at that
restaurant last night and had the menu held out so far away that it was
in a different zip code?"

     "They say you do it too much, you go blind.  You think that's
our problem?"  Starsky confiscated the book next, and climbed on top
of his lover, straddling him.  

     "That's for masturbation, mushbrain."

     "You're usin' the same equipment, babe.  I never figured out
why jerkin' off made you go blind and having sex didn't."

     "Well, most little boys only have affairs with their hands, so if
you're gonna scare a kid, you might as well scare him with a suitable
warning.  By the time they're teenagers, they're either too smart to buy
that line, or too horny to care."  Hutch chuckled at that, but he hooked
his fingers over the waistband of Starsky's briefs.  "You wanted some
action, babe.  Better ditch these."

     "Soon as you lose that t-shirt and those baggy boxer shorts." 
Starsky dismounted momentarily, happily shedding his briefs.  As soon
as Hutch had done his part and discarded his underwear, Starsky
resumed his position.  Then he leaned down close to Hutch's ear.  "Are
you gettin' nice and hard, blondie?"

     "Mmhm," Hutch responded eloquently, humping up against
Starsky's butt.  

     "Hard enough to skip all the preliminaries and go for it?" 
Starsky suggested, his nose only inches from Hutch's as he waggled his
eyebrows.  

     "Sounds like somebody's wantin' it pretty badly," Hutch
responded, taking a hold of Starsky's cock and pumping it to full
hardness.  "You got the slippery stuff?"  Hutch had no sooner asked
than the tube was produced from the night stand drawer with rapid
efficiency.  Starsky squeezed out a blob on Hutch's fingers, then leaned
forward, raising himself up enough for those long, greased fingers to
find his center.  

     Two slippery fingers claimed the passage in a quick, forceful
penetration that made Starsky gasp and grab the sheets, his cock
twitching in appreciation as he bore down on the invaders.  A few
moments later, they were removed, and Hutch lubed his cock quickly.  

     "Hands and knees, babe," he directed, smiling as Starsky
shivered at the slight command in his tone, and complied eagerly.  This
was about the extent of their foray into B&D, but sometimes a firm
tone of voice did almost as much as a couple of probing fingers. 
Besides, Hutch gave his best drillings with his partner in this position,
and if he'd caught Starsky in a rare moment of shameless bottoming, he
was going to seize that moment.  Carpe Starsky...that was his motto.

     Moving up behind Starsky, he guided his cock to the slick
entrance and pushed steadily into the tight channel until he was fully
sheathed.  

     "Tell me how you want it," Hutch growled against Starsky's
neck.

     "Fast and hard, babe.  Fuck me hard," he begged, pushing back
against Hutch's inert cock.  
     Without further delay, Hutch started pumping in and out of his
lover's body, claiming him with wild thrusts that rocked the bed and
dragged groans of pleasure out of both men.  Starsky was holding onto
the headboard, pushing back against each of Hutch's forward thrusts. 
As their pace became more frenzied, Hutch's cock now rubbing over
Starsky's prostate, Starsky let out a shout of pleasure as he reached his
completion.  His flexing internal muscles massaged and gripped Hutch
until he came, and came hard, both of them slumping down on the
mattress, spent.  

     After a shared rest, Hutch eased out of his lover and moved
aside, still panting.  The bed let out a serious creak.

     "Shit.  I think we just acquired a new creak," Hutch groaned.

     "I think the folks at the furniture place oughtta give us some
kinda little punch card--y'know?"  Starsky gasped, still trying to catch
his breath, and to figure out where the truck was that had just run over
him.  "Buy ten sets'a box springs, get one free?"

     "I'm not going back to Denby's.  That's final," Hutch said,
flopping on his back, waiting for Starsky to make the inevitable move
over to snuggle against him.  He didn't have to wait long for the dark
curls to be nestled under his chin.  "We just got this set of springs six
months ago."

     "It was on sale.  I told you, Hutch.  You get what you pay for."

     "God, we're old," Hutch groaned.

     "What?  Why?"

     "We just had mind-blowing sex, and we're talking about where
to buy our next set of springs."

     "If we were so old, babe, we wouldn't need new springs this
often.  By the way, I love ya, and that was one of the best ever, darlin'. 
Now shut up and let me go to sleep."

     "Sweet talker," Hutch teased, kissing Starsky's hair.  "I love you
too, babe."  Settling in to sleep, Hutch had to smile to himself.  Either
they didn't make springs like they used to, or some things really did get
better with age.

******** 

     Jim wandered into the bullpen and stared at his desk with
contempt.  He hadn't taken his father's advice and taken time off, nor
had he subjected himself to desk duty.  What he had done was spend a
large part of his days driving around in circles while telling Simon he
was following up leads.  He'd managed to question a handful of people
on a couple of murder investigations in the last week, so he had
something to report for his time out of the office.  

     Now, the formerly pristine desk was littered with files,
accumulated notes and other *junk* he'd let pile up because Blair
wasn't there to tidy up his paperwork.  Jim knew perfectly well how to
push papers.  You don't become an officer in the Army and not know
how to shuffle papers.  You also don't last long in a PD without that
same ability.  Since Blair had been there to handle it, though, Jim
realized he'd become fairly lazy, letting Blair serve as a sort of
secretary.  Blair gathered hen-scratched notes and turned them into
reports, he returned files to Records, he responded to inquiries from
other PD's that involved faxing or e-mailing them information.  When
Jim had let hair grow on the messages, he returned the phone calls Jim
didn't want to make--to people who were long-winded, to people he
was avoiding...  He hadn't really asked Blair to do that, but Blair just
blew in and took over--and Jim happily let him.  

     His desk looked like a disorganized landfill without Sandburg
there to do all the things Jim seldom even realized he was doing. 
Resigning himself to at least two days of sitting there and getting his
paperwork in order, Jim plunked down at the desk and grudgingly
started sorting the disarray.  He'd no sooner collected his phone
messages in a neat pile and started sorting out the files he needed to
return to records when Simon stepped out of his office.

     "Jim, I need to see you in my office," he said, a bit urgently. 
Happy to leave the sorting project behind, Jim made his way to Simon's
office and closed the door behind himself.  "You may want to sit down
for this," Simon warned, sitting behind his desk.  Jim dropped into a
chair, wondering for a horrible moment if this was about Blair, if
something had happened to him, or if he had chosen Simon as the
messenger of some final cut-off message.  "Alex Barnes escaped from
custody."

     "I don't understand.  She was catatonic.  How could she
escape?"

     "Apparently, that's what the hospital staff thought, as well. 
They were transporting her from one room to another--I guess they
were doing some sort of maintenance in the building and had to move a
few patients--and the orderly left her on a gurney in the hall for a
moment while he went into the room to be sure it was ready.  When he
came back out, she was gone."

     "They left a woman who was accused of murder unattended in a
hallway?!"  Jim demanded, irate.

     "As you said yourself, Jim, she was catatonic.  And according to
the orderly, she was in restraints when he went into the other room.  No
one saw anything, and a floor by floor search of the hospital turned up
*nothing*.  It's as if she vanished.  The restraints were unfastened, by
the way, not cut.  She either had one arm free--"

     "Or she had help," Jim supplied, standing up and pacing again. 
"Someone there at the hospital she sweet-talked in between Sleeping
Beauty acts--someone who knew she wasn't out of it...maybe someone
from the outside Hettinger had told what she could do..."

     "You think she might have been abducted?"

     "I think it's a possibility.  She could still be catatonic, but if
Hettinger wasn't too discrete who among his slimy friends knew she
had exceptional abilities, maybe one of them decided to nab her."  

     "Interesting theory," Simon stated.  "I almost wish that were the
case for sure, because having that lady out walking around again gives
me the creeps."

     "You and me both."  

     "Jim."

     "Yeah?"  Jim turned away from the window, where he had been
staring out at the city.

     "Level with me.  Should we put someone else on this case?"

     "I brought her in before, didn't I?"

     "In a manner of speaking, but it wasn't a smooth process.  All I
ask is that you don't let your pride get in the way here if you don't think
you can handle facing off with her again, if it comes down to that."

     "I can handle it, sir," Jim said, with a conviction that wasn't
entirely soul-deep.  Facing the reality that he might need competent
back up, especially since his first trip would be to California to check
on Blair's safety, he added, "Maybe it would be a good idea to put
Connor on it too.  I have to go see Blair, talk this over with
him...hopefully get him where I can keep an eye on him."

     "If he's aware of what's up, Jim, he's probably better off there. 
Plus, he's living with two ex-cops."  Simon chuckled.  "If Alex crosses
Starsky trying to mess with his kid, I almost feel sorry for *her*. 
Blair's in good hands, Jim.  If I put you on this, I need you on it, not
working out your problems with Sandburg.  If that's not going to work,
then I'll assign it accordingly."

     "You're probably right," Jim admitted, sighing.  "I'll get a hold
of Blair and let him know what's going on so they're all aware of it
there.  He's probably safer separated from me right now anyway."

     "That's my thinking."  Simon handed Jim a folder.  "Those are
the faxed reports from Sierra Verde on the escape.  I'll have Rhonda
make some flight arrangements for you and Connor."

     "Very good, sir," Jim responded, taking the folder and heading
for the door.

     "Oh, one more thing."

     "What?"

     "Tell Blair I said 'hello'."

     "I'll do that, Simon," Jim responded, smiling slightly.

********
     
     Blair was sitting in a chaise lounge on the deck in shorts and a
t-shirt, hair pulled back, glasses in place, his nose buried in his book on
Sentinels.  

     "Here's today's slug of unnameable weed extract," Starsky
announced, handing Blair a large mug of herbal tea.  Between the
antibiotics, the rest, and what was now a joint effort between Blair and
Hutch in finding a variety of natural remedies, the pneumonia was
largely cleared up and Blair was getting some of his usual energy back. 
His fever was gone, and his cough had been reduced to a hack with
only a minor trace of "chestiness" about it.  

     "Hey, this stuff works *great*.  I think it helps keep the cough
settled down.  Thanks."  Blair accepted the cup, setting the book aside
carefully on the table next to the lounger.

     "So that's the owner's manual for a Sentinel, huh?"  Starsky
said, gesturing at the book.  Despite his usually grim mood about all
things Sentinel, and his melancholy over being without Jim, Blair had
to laugh.  

     "I guess it's as close as I'm gonna get.  Like most of those
things, it never gives you the directions you really need."

     "You mind?"  Starsky asked, gesturing toward the book.

     "No, not at all.  You're welcome to read it if you like.  Hutch
too.  You guys know the score with Jim.  Just be careful of it.  It's really
rare."

     "Quite a book," Starsky said, reverently turning the pages,
obviously appreciating it for the rare antique it was.  The phone rang
inside the house, and Hutch's voice could be heard through the
screened patio door as he answered it.  In a moment, he was on the
deck with the cordless phone.

     "Blair, it's Jim.  He said it's important he talk to you."  Hutch
paused, and when Blair didn't answer, he added, "I have him on 'mute',
he can't hear you."

     "Did he say what it was about?"

     "He said it had to do with the case, that it was urgent."

     "Okay."  Blair reached out for the phone and Hutch handed it
over.

     "We'll be inside," Hutch said, looking pointedly at Starsky, who
somewhat hesitantly laid the book aside and followed him into the
house.

     "Jim?"  Blair said into the phone.  

     "How're you doin', Chief?"  Jim asked, his voice sounding a
little strained.  

     "Better now.  Are you okay?"  Blair asked.

     "Better?  Than what?  Was something wrong?"

     "I was kind of under the weather when I got here.  But I'm doing
fine now.  Are you okay?"  he repeated, fighting the emotion he felt at
finally hearing Jim's voice again, and fighting the desire to tell him he'd
be home the next day.  They still had some work to do on the
relationship, but now that he was feeling a bit healthier and stronger,
he had to admit that soon, that work would have to be done together,
not in separate states.

     "I'm all right.  I miss you, sweetheart," he blurted, as if he
couldn't help himself.
     
     "I miss you too, Jim.  You found my letter?"

     "Yeah, I did.  I've tried not to call...you know, to give you your
time...  What was wrong with you when you got there?"

     "Don't freak out or anything, but I had pneumonia."

     "What?!  And you didn't call me?"

     "Jim, I was sick and miserable and running a fever and I just
needed to get well.  I've been on antibiotics, getting lots of rest, and my
chest congestion is, like, *gone*.  Nothing to worry about there
anymore.  Besides, I told my dad and Hutch to call if I got really
dangerously bad or anything."

     "I should have been there with you."

     "I think we needed some time apart," Blair said, his voice a
little tight.  He swallowed hard and took a swallow of the tea.  "Tell me
what's up."

     "Alex escaped from the hospital in Sierra Verde."

     "Oh man."  Blair leaned his head back on the lounger.  "Damn
it."

     "They thought she was catatonic, so no big deal to leave her
unguarded, and when they came back, she was gone.  We don't know
yet if she had an accomplice, if she walked out on her own, or if
someone kidnaped her out of there--or rescued her, for that matter, if
she had friends on the outside."  Jim paused.  "I'm hoping someone else
took her out of there, because if so, she's not a threat."

     "If she goes back to Cascade, can you handle it?"

     "I could handle it a lot better if you were here, Chief."

     "That's blackmail, and you know it, man."  Blair paused.  "I was
there the last time," he added, his voice soft and a little strained at the
pain of the memory.

     "I'm sorry."  Jim was quiet a minute.  "I can handle most things
better with you here.  Pretty much everything."  The quiet admission
from Jim pulled at Blair's heart.  

     "I'm not trying to torture you, Jim.  I'm really not.  I just know
that there's some stuff I have to get past, and I'm worried that if I'm
there, we'll just sort of slide over it and it won't get resolved."

     "You're probably safer with Starsky and Hutch anyway.  Out of
the line of fire."

     "Jim, look, I...if you're having trouble with your senses...if you
need me there..."  Blair struggled with how to put it a way that Jim
would really be honest if he felt he needed Blair with him to do his job. 
"I love you, Jim.  I...couldn't handle it if anything happened to you.  If
you need me, I'm there."

     "I need you for the rest of my life, sweetheart.  As for this case,
I think you're safer where you are.  Maybe it's better if I concentrate on
Alex and nailing her when I know you're in good hands there."

     "Can you deal with her, if you face off with her again?"

     "After what she's cost me, Blair, there's no mating urge on the
planet strong enough..."  He let the words trail off.  "What she made me
do to you, what she cost *us*..."

     "I know you couldn't help it.  I know that."

     "I hope you do."

     "I do."  Blair closed his eyes at the irony of the words.  If only
they'd been in response to a different question.  "A lot of what's wrong
with me is in my own head, from what happened, from the trouble we
were having before Alex showed up...I'm just scared if we're together
I'm just going to let it all slide and never work anything out.  At least
now, it's forcing me to work through this stuff, because I have a goal."

     "Which is?"

     "You," Blair said simply.  There was a long pause on the other
end of the phone, as if Jim were gathering his composure.  After a
couple of shaky breaths, he responded.

     "I should probably talk to your dad or Hutch for a few minutes,
fill them in on things.  I love you, baby.  Remember that.  I know I hurt
you, but I never stopped loving you."

     "I know," Blair said, swallowing hard.  "I love you too.  Hang
on a minute."  He went inside and handed the phone over to Hutch, not
fully trusting his father to take the call calmly.  With a couple words of
explanation, he relinquished what had been his first little link with Jim
in two weeks.  Suddenly, his heart felt just a bit lighter.

********