TESTING THE WATERS

by

Candy Apple

Jim heard the key turn in the lock downstairs. Blair was later than usual, just arriving at almost two in the morning. Jim had found that odd on a weeknight, but not terribly distressing. Blair was often out late, whether it was to help a student, dig around in the library after hours or show some woman a good time.

Relaxing, since everything was finally in order with Blair back undercover, Jim shifted to lie on his side and started to let himself doze again. The sharp sound of retching from the downstairs bathroom brought him up short. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he pulled on his robe and hurried downstairs. When he made it as far as the kitchen, a pale, sweaty-faced Blair staggered out of the bathroom, wiping off his face with a washcloth.

"What's wrong, Chief?"

"Jim!" Blair seemed startled to see him up, and his heartbeat skyrocketed. "I'm *so* sorry about the time. I didn't mean to be out so late."

"Get into some bad seaweed or something at the juice bar?" Jim went to the refrigerator and took out a water and handed it to Blair. "Drink a little. You don't want to get dehydrated."

"I'm okay. Probably just some bad food. I'm gonna turn in."

"What happened to your shirt?" Jim moved toward Blair, his brows knit together as he noticed a tear in the upper arm of the dark blue shirt Blair wore.

"Uh, I guess I caught it on something. Look, man, I'm really wiped out. I'm sorry I woke you up." Blair moved toward his room, but there was something not right in his gait.

"Come here, Chief." Jim took a hold of the younger man's arm and was shocked when Blair flinched. "Off with it." Jim let go of Blair's arm.

"What?"

"I want to see your arm and I don't think that sleeve's gonna roll that far."

"No. Jim, I don't want to do this now. Just let me go to sleep."

"Blair, come on. You're not going to tell me what's wrong, so you're going to have to show me."

"I had a little misunderstanding with somebody, okay? I have a couple bruises. It's no big deal."

"Who and what was it about?" Jim demanded.

"It was just some...guy. And it was just a misunderstanding."

"You already said that. Who was the guy and what was the problem and how many other sore spots do you have you're not telling me about?"

"Jim...please don't," Blair protested weakly as Jim led him over to the table and sat him in a chair. Pulling up another chair facing Blair, Jim reached over and expanded the tear on Blair's sleeve. The area under it was angry shades of blue and purple.

"Who was he?" Jim asked, working diligently to maintain his control.

"I don't want to talk about this! Please just leave it be."

"Somebody smacked you around pretty good judging by the way you're moving. I want to know why. Most importantly, I WANT TO KNOW *WHO*." Jim pinned Blair with a gaze that was so filled with the lust for revenge that it made the smaller man shudder.

"I...I went out with a couple of the other grad students for a couple beers."

"And?"

"I...I met this guy."

"At the bar?"

"Yeah."

"What happened? Did he make some kind of remark or something?"

"We talked, and, uh, I think he got the wrong impression."

"About what?"

"It was just a misunder--"

"Blair, the bruising on your arm alone is enough for assault charges. Now what the hell happened and where can I find this son of a bitch?" Jim pressed.

"I agreed to go home with him and then I changed my mind." Blair averted his eyes to stare at the floor.

"Why were--" Jim took a deep breath and sat back.

"I swear, Jim, I never did anything like that before. I never let some guy pick me up in a bar. I never let a *guy* pick me up, period. I swear it won't ever happen again. I'm *so* sorry."

"Hold on a minute. You were going to go home with this guy but then you didn't want to?"

"We got out to the parking lot, and I told him I thought it was a mistake, that I wasn't really...that I...that I wasn't ready. He had been drinking, and he got pretty pissed off, so he tried to drag me back to his car, but I resisted, and that's probably when my arm got bruised."

"All he did was grab your arm?"

"Look, I'm okay. It was no big deal."

"Sandburg, I'm really losing my patience with this. Now what happened?"

"He took what he wanted and he went home, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?" Blair blurted out, trying to squelch the tears that welled up at that admission.

"Did he rape you?" Jim asked in a level voice that spoke of an anger building to a dangerous degree.

"Not...he didn't...sort of." Blair was working at regaining his control, swiping angrily at a couple of tears that escaped.

"How badly hurt are you, Chief?" Jim asked, his tone very gentle as a he took a hold of Blair's chin and raised the pained face so they were eye to eye.

"He slugged me where it didn't show a few times and...he didn't...I mean...I thought he was going to make me...all the way, but he didn't."

"But he did *something*."

"He shoved me in the backseat of his car...and he..." Blair bit his lip and tried to look away but Jim kept a gentle but still firm hold on his chin.

"It's okay, buddy. Just tell me what happened." Jim released the younger man's chin and rested a hand on his shoulder instead.

"I thought he was gonna kill me. He had...a knife--a switchblade. He kept it on me the whole time. He...pulled my pants down and...jerked me off. I thought he was gonna rape me for sure. And he was so damned...rough..." He shifted in the chair a little, then squeezed his eyes shut as a couple more tears slid down his cheeks. "It's all my own fault. I acted like I was gonna go home with him and then...I backed out."

"No is no, Chief. Whenever you say it. No matter who you are or who you're with. If you said NO, and he kept going, it was sexual assault. Plain and simple."

"I don't want to report this. Please, Jim. Those guys...they'll never let you live it down. And me...they'll label me a hippie faggot and I'll never be accepted as your partner."

"First things first. Aside from having the shit scared out of you and some nasty bruises, do you need to see a doctor?"

"No." Blair shook his head.

"This guy must have a name."

"I don't want to--"

"Report it. I know. But I want to know who he is."

"You're going after him." Blair looked up at Jim, not sure if he should be frightened of what would happen or if he should enjoy the feeling of warmth spreading through him at how truly angry Jim was and how ready he appeared to be to dismember Blair's attacker on sight.

"Just give me the bastard's name, and anything you can remember about him or his car."

"It stunk."

"Him or the car?" Jim asked seriously, and Blair actually chortled a little, despite his emotional state.

"The car."

"What did it smell like?"

"I don't know exactly. It was...just a bad smell." Blair ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I can't do this now. I'm sorry. Please. I think I'm gonna be sick again."

"Just take a deep breath, Chief. It's okay." Jim completely surprised Blair by sliding his chair closer to the younger man's and putting an arm around his shoulders. "Try to relax a little and breathe. The nausea'll pass in a minute. You haven't got much more in there to give."

"I thought he was gonna...rape me...and I didn't know...what he was gonna do with the knife," Blair choked out before a couple of sobs got past his controls. "I'm so sorry. I was such an idiot," he berated himself through his tears.

"You made a mistake, Chief. You picked out the wrong jerk to get together with. You didn't deserve to be assaulted because you changed your mind." Jim sat quietly with his crying friend for a moment, just rubbing the shoulder lightly where his hand rested. "You don't need to be checked for STDs? He didn't--"

"I don't know if he came or not, but nothing got on me and he didn't...he didn't rape me, so I guess I'm okay. I just feel like I wanna take a bath in alcohol--just get him *off* me."

"I know. That's pretty natural."

"You're so...calm about this," Blair managed, his breath hitching badly as he tried to get himself back under control.

"I'm not calm about it at all. But there's plenty of time to deal with that later."

"I meant about me...you know...picking up a guy."

"I was a little surprised at that. But just being a man who picked up a man in a bar doesn't make you less of a victim than a woman in the same predicament."

"You're not going to...make me report this?"

"I wish you would."

"I can't. I can't do it, man. You'll never live it down."

"Blair, this asshole held you at knifepoint and sexually assaulted you. What a few people say around the water cooler is pretty unimportant by comparison."

"I never was with a guy before. I changed my mind."

"So this creep was the first guy you ever..."

"Yeah. Great way to start out, huh?" Blair rolled his bloodshot eyes. "What a moron I am."

"Would a bath feel good?" Jim asked softly.

"I think so, yeah." Blair nodded, and started to get up.

"Sit tight. I'll get the water started for you."

"It's late. You have to get up early."

"This is more important, Chief. Don't worry about that." Jim headed into the bathroom without further discussion and started the water running in the tub. Blair could hear him adjusting it before plugging off the drain.

Blair hauled himself out of the chair and headed toward the bathroom. Jim had the tub partially filled, and had added some herbal bath oil to it.

"I'll bring you some stuff if you want to get in."

"Thanks," Blair said, his voice coming out as little more than a croak. Jim looked at him for a long moment, then crossed the small room and gathered his partner into a firm embrace. Blair's arms wound tightly around his friend.

"It's going to be okay, Chief. I'll take care of everything."

"You can't go after him." Blair shook his head against Jim's shoulder.

"Watch me."

"I don't want you to turn into some kind of vigilante and end up in jail."

"I don't plan on doing either. Trust me, huh?"

"I do," Blair managed, feeling his emotions taking over again.

"You're safe, Chief. I don't care what the son of a bitch threatened you with. I won't let anything happen to you."

"How'd you know...? He said if I turned him in, he'd...he'd cut my face. That he'd be the last trick I'd look good enough to pick up." Blair burrowed into the embrace as a tremor passed through his body.

"Bastard. Leave him to me." Jim gave Blair a little squeeze and moved away to turn off the water. "I'll grab your robe and some underwear."

"Thanks."

Blair peeled off his clothes, sickened by the traces of his own semen in his pants. There had been nothing pleasurable about the whole terrifying experience, but still he had to give the bastard the satisfaction of coming for him. He slid into the bath and welcomed the warmth and familiar herbal scent of the water. Grabbing the bath sponge, he started scouring his stomach and groin area furiously and harshly, ignoring the discomfort on his skin. He didn't even hear Jim tap on the door and come in again, so when his arm was stilled by a gentle grip on his wrist, he almost jumped with surprise.

"The skin has to stay on, Chief," Jim said, his light tone not effectively covering the anger Blair knew the older man was using control of epic proportions to set aside for the moment.

"I...came," Blair admitted, positive that Jim would truly be disgusted now that he knew the truth.

"I figured you probably had, pal. Pretty hard not to with someone giving you a hand job." Jim knelt beside the tub. "Blair, this wasn't your fault."

"I picked him up. He was right. I was acting like a hustler."

"What made you pick up a guy, huh?" Jim pried the sponge out of the iron grip Blair had it in and moved to wash the smaller man's back. Blair raised no objections. The little gesture warmed him immeasurably.

"I...had some feelings...you know...that I might...uh...well...I thought about...with a guy...uh, and I figured...maybe I should...find out...if I...you know...um, swung that way."

"No sale, huh?" Jim smiled a little as he squeezed out the sponge and then re-soaked it, relinquishing it to Blair so he could resume the bath himself.

"Not with him. I guess...it's one particular guy," Blair said almost inaudibly.

"Somebody at the U?" Jim asked, apparently totally oblivious to the bomb that was about to drop squarely on his head.

"Please, Jim...promise me you won't be mad. I won't ever do anything about it. I swear to God."

"Blair, if you're interested in a guy, I'm not going to turn into some gay-bashing homophobe and toss you off the balcony. Tell me."

"I'm real glad to hear that, man. It's you." Blair looked up to meet Jim's eyes, the sponge still motionless in his hand where Jim had placed it.

"Me?" Jim repeated, as if he were buying himself time to process what Blair had said by repeating it.

"You."

"You're sure about this? It's not just a drought between women where even Sergeant Randolph looks good?" Jim tried joking, referring to the substantial and considerably masculine Sergeant Toni Randolph in Vice, who had actually entered the local tough man contest the previous year.

"I'm sure," Blair almost-whispered, nodding slightly, looking back into the bath water, shivering a little. Suddenly, he felt more exposed than any level of nudity could have made him feel. Jim seeing him naked was nothing new and nothing upsetting in and of itself. But Jim seeing his soul laid out naked was another story.

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just don't...Jim, please don't hate me, okay?" Blair hated the lump that rose in his throat.

"That'll never happen, Chief." Jim ran a gentle hand lightly over the back of Blair's head. "The water's turning cold. I'll make you some tea while you get dried off, huh?"

"I tell you I'm in love with you and you want to make tea?" Blair demanded, finally looking up at Jim.

"Hang on. Back up. In love?"

"Oh, man." Blair rolled his eyes. "Open mouth, insert foot, Sandburg."

"Blair...we're talking two different things here--there's having a few sexual stirrings and then there's being in love."

"I can't do this now, Jim. Please. I can't talk anymore tonight. I'm so damned tired," Blair concluded, his voice breaking a little.

"Okay, pal. You're right. I'm pushing you." Jim stood up. "Get dried off and I'll make you some tea."

"What about work tomorrow?"

"I'll leave a message on Simon's voicemail that you're sick and I'm going to stay home with you. Don't worry about it, Chief." With that, Jim left the bathroom.

Blair dried off and pulled on his boxers and his robe and the socks Jim had brought in for him. He walked out into the kitchen a little sheepishly, wondering what Jim was thinking now that he knew. The other man, for his part, was quietly putting tea leaves in a cup, waiting for the whistle of the teapot. Moving about in his favorite old gray robe, making tea, Jim didn't look inordinately upset. But then Jim Ellison wasn't a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve.

"Why don't you sit down? You're probably tired," Jim said quietly, taking the pot off the burner as it whistled.

"Exhausted," Blair agreed, going to the couch and curling up in the corner of it, drawing the throw around himself. The pain from the blows he'd taken still assailed him, and the discomfort in his groin from the abusive handling of his privates served as a miserable reminder of his violation.

"Here, drink this." Jim handed him a steaming cup of tea, and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

"Thanks."

"Still hurting quite a bit, huh?" Jim asked sympathetically, patting Blair's foot where it lurked under the blanket on the middle cushion of the couch.

"Yeah. Throwing up didn't help matters much," Blair added, rolling his eyes. "It just...I feel like his hands are still...*on* me. I just wish it would stop hurting *there*." Blair let his head droop against the back of the couch. "How could I be so fucking *stupid*?"

"This wasn't your fault, Chief. No means no, period. You had a right to refuse him at any point along the way."

"Technically, I know that's true. But picking up some guy in a bar I never met before and agreeing to go home with him? Why didn't I just hang a sign around my neck that said 'please assault me'?"

"You made a dumb mistake. That doesn't mean you deserved this." Jim let his hand rest on the top of Blair's foot, absently stroking it a little through the coarse fabric of the throw. "Blair, I'll stand by you in this thing if you want to report it--take it through the channels. I don't care what anyone says. I want you to know you're not alone in this."

"Even after what I told you? Hell, I'm just grateful not to be lugging my suitcases down to the car tonight."

"You told me you loved me, Chief. That's not really grounds to shove you out in the street."

"But you don't have those feelings for me. And you're not gay."

"It doesn't sound like you are either, buddy."

"I don't know what I am anymore. I was thinking that maybe I could find that out with Sam tonight."

"Sam?" Jim wrinkled his brow.

"Not that Sam," Blair hastened to correct.

"Sam is the creep's name?"

"Yeah."

"Sam what?"

"Sam...*Sam*. I don't know, okay? Geez, I was gonna have sex with the guy and I didn't get his last name."

"Sam with the stinky car." Jim leaned back and sighed. "I've had less to go on."

"Jim, please, let it go."

"Like hell," Jim responded simply. "But that's not what we were talking about. You think because you changed your mind about this guy that you're not...that you don't want to get together with guys?"

"Not with *guys*." Blair looked down into his mug of tea. "With you." Blair looked up again, fearing what he would see in Jim's face. Instead, Jim was looking toward the fireplace, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry. I really am, Jim. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know you didn't, Chief." Jim took a deep breath and expelled it slowly.

"I really appreciate that you're not...you know...going ballistic on me about this. I want you to know I understand that you don't love me, that this is one-sided. I won't ever bring it up again."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions tonight. It's late, and you've had a rotten experience. But there's one thing I want to get straight here." He looked back at Blair, who was watching him intently. "I don't know where you get the idea that I don't love you, because I do. As far as this other situation...I just need some time to sort things out."

"You love me?" Blair's face brightened like a child who just got what he wanted most for Christmas.

"That's a big surprise?" Jim asked, frowning.

"Kind of," Blair responded, still grinning a little. Jim couldn't keep his face totally straight when confronted with such happiness.

"I just don't know if...if it can go *that way*."

"I totally understand that. I really do. It just...makes me feel really good to know that you...that you love me," Blair concluded in a hushed voice.

"Think you could get some sleep, buddy?"

"Uh...I think I'll sit up a while. I'll be quiet so you can sleep."

"How's the pain? Blair, if it's anything serious, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah, I would. He grabbed me really hard a couple times. Especially...after."

"When it would hurt most, huh?" Jim stood up and started pacing. "I want to know what kind of car it was. It was obviously big enough for two men to be in the back seat. I want a description."

"It was dark blue, the upholstery was dark, too. It was old...like something from the '70s--really big. The seats were that plushy kind of stuff, and there were buttons in the back of the seat. They were padded--like an old luxury car--with two padded seats in the back and not-so-padded space in between, you know?"

"Right. I know what you mean. Now I need the name of the bar."

"The Wineskin." Blair caught Jim's surprised expression. "No, it wasn't a sleazy bar on the wrong side of the tracks. I went somewhere nice. For all the good it did me."

"This guy was big, right?"

"Yeah. He was tall, had a good build...light brown hair, a short beard. And he had a tattoo of a scorpion on the back of his left hand."

"Good. That's a good description, Chief. How old would you say he was?"

"Early forties, maybe?"

"Shouldn't be too hard to track down."

"Jim, look, if you go after this guy--"

"*When* I go after this guy. There's no 'if' involved here."

"You can't just hunt somebody down and beat him up."

"Blair, leave this to me, okay? Don't tell me how to handle a bag of shit like this Sam character. I'm experienced."

"I don't want you to get in trouble--or to do something you're going to have trouble living with later."

"I'll think through my actions before I do anything. Nothing for you to worry about." Jim watched sympathetically as Blair shifted positions and winced again. "What hurts the worst?" Blair just looked at him as if to ask "what do you think?" "Okay, Chief, stupid question. But I need you to level with me how bad the pain is. If it's severe, we could be ignoring something major--something that needs immediate medical attention."

"It really hurts, man," Blair said quietly, shifting positions again. "My stomach is killing me too."

"We can do one of two things here. We can head over to the emergency room and have a doctor look you over--"

"No!" Blair protested immediately. "I don't want to report this. God, Jim, you don't know how...embarrassing this is. I can hear it in the bullpen now. 'Hey, Ellison, heard your partner got date-raped last night!' No way, man."

"No one we know would say a thing like that and you know it. Furthermore, if any asshole did say that, they'd spend the rest of the day in the E.R. and they know it." Jim sighed and shook his head. "It isn't your fault you got hurt, Chief."

"I just can't see it that way." Blair wrapped his arms around his stomach and slumped back into the cushions.

"Let me put it another way. The whole time I was dealing with Dan Freeman, you were all for me figuring out how to control my temper and my aggression--right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Dan Freeman pushed every one of my buttons--he was cruising for me to teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget. And yet, if I had pulled out my gun in a fit of anger and blown his head off, wouldn't you still consider me a murderer?"

"You wouldn't have done that."

"No, I know. But let's say that I did."

"Well, yeah." Blair nodded reluctantly.

"How is this any different? Freeman provoked me, taunted me, harassed me--generally drove me nuts and then almost got me killed. All the while you were encouraging me to control myself. Okay. I lost it a couple times, but overall, Freeman was delivered to the criminal justice system all in one piece. I made the conscious decision not to let him die when I could have, and not to kill him outright in cold blood, which was also an option."

"I think you mentioned something about wanting to pummel him into a coma, too," Blair added, smiling a little.

"Thanks for reminding me, pal." Jim laughed softly. "My point is, Freeman drove me nuts in every possible way and even tried to kill me, and you still didn't feel I would be justified to take matters into my own hands and kill him. So how was this jerk justified, despite the fact you may have pushed a few of his buttons, in sexually assaulting you and beating you up? I'll save you the trouble--he wasn't. He had a choice of walking away or of forcing the issue. He chose the criminal path. And that, my friend, is *not* your fault."

"Why do I feel so damned...*dirty* then? Like I did something wrong?" Blair was fighting the tremor in his voice with everything he had, but a couple of tears were sliding out anyway.

"Because that's the most natural reaction in the world, and it's just about universal with rape and sexual assault victims. It's normal, buddy." Jim rested his hand back on Blair's blanketed foot again and rubbed soothingly. "You're not to blame for this. And if you're willing to file a report and work with the system, I'll personally take on *anybody* who says the wrong thing to you about it."

"That means a lot to me," Blair managed, wiping at his eyes. There was a long silence before Jim spoke again.

"You mean a lot to me, Chief. This bastard is going to pay for what he did to you. You have my word on that."

"What was my other option?" Blair finally asked.

"Oh." Jim seemed to recall now how this conversation had started. "The other option is to let me take a look at the damage. I've had some medical training in the Army, and I know what to look for to see if there's any serious damage."

"After what I said earlier...does it make you feel weird--you know, to have to look at me that way or...or touch me there?"

"Believe me, Blair, I don't have my mind on anything but finding out if we need to get you into the hospital or just keep you off your feet for a day or so until you feel better."

"I didn't mean I thought that you would...that you'd be *looking* at me that way...I just wondered if you felt more uncomfortable with me because of...you know, what I said."

"No," Jim responded honestly, and was happy to see Blair relax at that. "Can you lie down on the couch for me, Chief? Let me check you out, huh?"

Blair obeyed, shifting into a prone position on his back. He watched Jim with nervous eyes as the other man pulled the blanket aside and opened the front of his robe.

"I don't need to press hard, but it might hurt a little anyway. Hang onto my hand and give it a good squeeze if you need to, okay?" Jim waited until Blair smiled a little and nodded, gripping Jim's left hand as the right one moved over the bruised stomach with almost impossible gentleness. Blair watched as Jim concentrated, knowing that enhanced sense of touch was dialed up to detect any irregularities.

"What do you think?" Blair asked, squeezing Jim's hand more from a spasm of pain than from the careful probing.

"You're badly bruised and swollen, but I don't feel any sign of hardness--nothing that would indicate internal bleeding. Some gut punches hurt worse than others. I think this is just one of those that hurts like hell." Jim probed a bit longer, his hand slipping slightly under the waistband of Blair's boxers. He felt the other man's body stiffen out as if in a panic. "Easy, buddy. How much pain are you in?" Jim looked up into Blair's eyes, concerned.

"I don't know how much is too much. I never got...hurt there before."

"Okay. Just try to relax. I need you to lift up a little for me so we can get these out of the way a second." Jim tugged on the elastic of the boxers as Blair managed to raise up a little. When they ended up all the way down to his knees, Blair looked at Jim, a bit panicked and puzzled. "I need you to be able to move your legs apart a little, and I need to be able to touch the inside of your thigh."

"Just...uh...keep telling me what you're doing, okay?"

"Okay." Jim offered Blair a reassuring little smile. "The main thing I'm checking for is a condition called 'testicle torsion'--ever heard of that one, Darwin?" Jim asked, still smiling a little as he gently probed Blair's groin with feather-light touches.

"I seem to remember reading something about it. It twists your balls up, doesn't it?" Blair asked, his cheeks colored slightly pink, his breathing more than a little rapid.

"That's a pretty good description, pal." Jim had to laugh a little. "Occasionally, an injury can cause it. The spermatic chord in the testicle gets twisted, and it causes a lot of pain. Now, I need you to part your legs for me, just a little."

"Why?" Blair asked, doing as he was told anyway.

"I know this is the last thing you need to go through tonight, Chief. I promise it won't take long. I need to check for something called a cremaster reflex."

"What?"

"When I stroke the inside of your thigh, or maybe the side of your scrotum, I can see it. If it's there, you're okay--at least you don't have the torsion thing." Jim carefully let his fingers dance over the soft skin of Blair's inner thigh, and let out a sigh of relief, then frowned.

"Am I okay?" Blair asked, his voice rising a little. "God, it hurts," he groaned.

"You just had one hell of a muscle spasm, but your reflex is fine. Let's get you covered up again." Jim pulled the boxers up as Blair lifted up so they could be put back in place. "I didn't feel anything that indicated internal bleeding. You're bruised up all right, Chief." Jim pinned Blair with an intent gaze. "He did more than squeeze, didn't he?"

"He kicked me."

"Why didn't you say so?" Jim asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"I didn't want to go to the hospital. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lie about it."

"You're gonna be sore for a few days, and don't be afraid if you pass a little blood. If it's more than a little, I want to know about it so we can get you to a doctor. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Blair responded.

"If the pain gets worse, or there's any change in the swelling or feel of things here, we'll get you into the emergency room." Jim looked up at Blair's face and saw that the younger man was not only relaxing a little, but his eyes were fighting valiantly to stay open. He closed up Blair's robe and drew the blanket back up. "I think you're ready for bed, Chief."

"I'm okay right here. You go ahead. Maybe I can just sleep here."

"Actually, it's going to be kind of a pain in the ass to run up and downstairs to check on you--"

"I'm sorry, man. I really am. You don't have to. I'll holler if I don't feel good."

"What I was going to say was that it would be easier if you just slept upstairs. There's plenty of room, and that way I'll be nearby if anything goes wrong. Sound like a plan?"

"After what I told you...it doesn't make you nervous?"

"I don't think you'll take advantage of me in my sleep," Jim said with a slight smile standing up and motioning to Blair. "Come on, pal. Time to call it a night." Jim picked up the throw, figuring that Blair would be cold and probably want another blanket on his side of the bed.

"I need the bathroom again."

"Okay. If you have any problems in there, you call me."

"Yeah. I'll be right back." Blair made his way slowly to the bathroom and was in there a few minutes. He shuffled his way back to where Jim stood, waiting for him, and glanced at the stairs with a pained look on his face.

"Ellison elevator service. Free lift to the second floor." Jim hoisted his partner into his arms, and then briefly wondered if he was going to make it all the way upstairs without a heart attack, his back giving out or missing a step and throwing Blair over the railing.

"I'm too heavy, man."

"I've bench-pressed more than you, so just shut up and relax, okay?"

Jim made his way slowly up the steps, realizing that a nice, stiff barbell was a lot easier to hoist that a warm, living, hurting human of the same weight. Nonetheless, he made it to the bed and deposited Blair there as lightly as he could.

"Where do you want me?" Blair asked, looking a little uneasy at his new sleeping quarters.

"I usually sleep here," Jim indicated the side closest to the stairs.

"Okay." Blair moved slowly over to the other side. "Uh, Jim, I need a t-shirt or something to sleep in. I'm gonna freeze like this." Blair held his robe around himself tightly, and Jim wondered if it was the temperature of the room or Blair's own natural unease with being stripped down to his underwear after everything he'd been through.

"I'll run down and get your stuff, okay?"

"Thanks, man." Jim started down the stairs and paused when he heard Blair's voice again. "Don't forget the thermal socks!"

"Got it covered, Chief," he responded, heading into Blair's room and gathering up the heavier socks, a t-shirt and sweatpants. He made a detour to the bathroom for some Tylenol and a glass of water. There wasn't much reason for Blair to suffer the full blast of pain without anything to take the edge off.

The icy November wind was picking up again, and Jim could hear it whistle through the cracks of the building. Somehow, despite the horror of the circumstances, there was something very cozy about having Blair tucked upstairs with him instead of down here by himself. Jim smiled at the thought momentarily as he hurried back upstairs to his room.

Blair dispensed with the robe and pulled on the other items of clothing, grateful to lie back and let Jim do the socks.

"I grabbed the throw just in case. You want it over you now?"

"Yeah--do you mind?"

"Nope." Jim spread the patterned blanket over the top of the covers before tossing his own robe aside and sliding into bed. He reached back to the night stand and picked up the pills, handing them to Blair. "Take these. It's just Tylenol, but it should ease the pain a little and relax you."

"Thanks." Blair took the two pills and then gulped a little water, handing it back to Jim when he was done.

"If the pain gets any worse, or you don't feel good, wake me up. Now, try to get some sleep. Don't worry about Simon. I left a message on his voicemail while you were in the bath earlier, and I also left a voice mail on Dr. Morton's line at the U to say you were sick and wouldn't be in tomorrow."

"You called in for me?"

"I hope that was okay. I didn't want you having to get up early. You should take it easy for a day or so, and you're not going to feel like moving around very much for a couple days anyway."

"It was more than okay. I really appreciate it--all of it. Not just about this...but for not being mad about...you know...what we talked about."

"We'll talk more tomorrow, when you're feeling better." Jim shifted into position to sleep, his back to Blair.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanted...I know you probably don't want to hear this...but I wanted you to be...the first man...to...uh, you know...t-touch me like that."

Jim's eyes opened and he stared at the opposite wall, letting what Blair had said sink in a moment. Whether or not he could ever totally return Blair's desires, the younger man's feelings were very real, and he'd not only been violated, but had been robbed of a gift that should have been his to give his first male lover--whether it was Jim or someone else.

//Someone else? Blair with another man?// Jim sighed. The thought made him jealous. Almost fiercely jealous. Almost jealous enough to believe that he could have the same feelings for Blair that Blair had for him. Almost... Maybe they were already there somewhere...

"I'm sorry, man. I should have kept that observation to myself," Blair said quietly, shifting around to find a comfortable position. The beating he'd taken was making that difficult.

"I didn't mean to ignore you. I was thinking."

"I bet."

"This is a lot to digest, Chief."

"I know."

"Comfortable?"

"No. I mean, the bed's great...and I'm warm enough now. It's just...it...hurts."

"You mean down south of the border?" Jim asked, and Blair actually laughed. "Sally had to come up with some euphemisms she could handle while she was helping raise two boys. That was one of them."

"Somewhere near Tijuana, I think." Blair was still grinning a little, despite his discomfort. "My side hurts too. Who'm I kidding?" Blair added. "Everything hurts."

"You've got some badly bruised ribs on your left side, but they're not cracked."

"You can tell just by feeling? You would have been *such* a phenomenal doctor," Blair commented, mulling over the possibilities of a sentinel with a medical degree. It would probably make most of the diagnostic testing irrelevant and unnecessary.

"My bedside manner's okay then?" Jim joked.

"It's pretty cool, yeah," Blair confirmed, then let out a little sigh as he shifted again.

"You think it would feel better or hurt more if you laid against me?" Jim asked, knowing it was probably personally awkward, but thought perhaps the support of being propped up on one side might ease a little of the pull on Blair's abused muscles.

"I could try it--if it wouldn't bother you."

"Let's try it." Jim rolled onto his back and guided Blair to shift over until he could rest his head on Jim's shoulder. Jim brought his arm carefully around Blair's back. "Flop your arm right there, Chief." Jim guided the arm Blair seemed hesitant to move over his own midsection. "Try to relax against me." Jim shifted so the side of his cheek was against Blair's hair, and he moved his hand in a very soothing motion over Blair's back. "Close your eyes. Everything's okay. You're safe now."

"I thought he was gonna kill me, Jim," Blair said quietly.

"I know. I've got you now. It's okay. I'm gonna nail that bastard, Chief. Don't you worry about him."

"You can't just go after him."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, but--"

"No buts. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then close your eyes and go to sleep and put it in my hands, okay? Everything's going to be okay."

"I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I know that, pal. It's not your fault."

"I mean falling in love with you."

"Oh." Jim let the silence hang a few moments, still rubbing Blair's back slowly. The muscles were still tensed up. "I know I can't give you the answer you want right now...I don't know if I can at all. You understand that even that doesn't change how important you are to me?" Jim was greeted with silence this time, so he continued. "I love you, Blair. I can't really picture not always having you with me. But I don't know if I can take the step you want to take. I need some time."

"You're the best friend I've ever had in my whole life," Blair whispered, his body starting to relax under the constant but gentle motions of Jim's hand on his back.

"Ditto, Chief." Jim finally expelled his own pent up breath and relaxed, letting himself drift a little, knowing Blair was safe, warm and finally falling asleep.

********

Jim was jolted awake by a fist landing against his stomach with considerable force. He jerked upright and saw Blair on his back next to him, arms flailing in unison with the shouts and whimpers of a nightmare. Barely missing the same fist as it whizzed past his jaw, Jim captured the wild arm, and then intercepted the other one when it came up in protest.

"Come on, Chief, wake up. It's Jim. You're safe, you're home," Jim tried reciting to the writhing form whose arms he now pinned down to the mattress to save himself from injury.

"Please...stop!!" Blair shouted, bringing his knee up hard into the larger man's groin. With a strangled grunt, Jim weathered the blow but let go of the arms, backing off to let Blair strike out. He moved to the side and managed to get his arms around the writhing body from behind, pinning Blair's arms to his body and spooning his own larger form around the younger man.

"Blair, listen to me. It's Jim. You're home, you're safe. It's over. You're having a bad dream." Despite the reassuring words, Blair's feet still kicked wildly, nailing Jim's shins more than once.

"Stop it!! Please...oh, God, it hurts so bad...please..." Blair sobbed in his sleep.

"Come on, Chief. Snap out of it!" Jim shouted, and that seemed to cut through the haze. Blair's fighting ceased, and he muttered a couple of strained, confused words. "Blair, it's Jim. I've got you. You're safe now. Quit fighting me, partner. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm going to let go now. Just stay still. You're okay." Jim slowly withdrew, giving Blair the freedom to move unhindered.

"Jim?" The voice came out confused and bewildered as Blair shifted around a little, and with a few groans and winces, turned over to face Jim. "I thought...I tried to get away from him..."

"It was a nightmare, Chief." Jim reached over and pushed a little hair back from where it was clinging to Blair's face in sweaty curls.

"I couldn't move my arms."

"That was probably my fault. You've got some deadly fists on you, tiger. It was a little self-preservation."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm okay. Try harder next time," Jim added, smiling a little. He watched the miserable expression on Blair's face for a moment, and then pulled him close, pressing Blair's head against his shoulder and massaging his scalp. His other arm firmly but gently pressed Blair's body in a warm embrace.

Blair didn't have the strength to hold back his emotions then, tucked safely in Jim's arms. The first of many heaving sobs tore through him and he cried openly against Jim's shoulder.

"That's it, let it all out, Chief. Shhhh. Everything's okay now. Let it come out now. That's it." Jim rubbed the shaking back gently, rocking them slightly.

"I shouldn't have...gone there...and...let him...pick...me up. I'm sorry."

"Hush. Right now. No more apologies, Chief. You don't owe any."

"I feel so guilty," Blair moaned.

"I know. But you aren't. Not guilty or dirty or to blame."

"I tried to say no. I tried to fight him, Jim. I really did."

"He had a knife. Fighting would have been suicide."

"Maybe that...would've been better."

"Damn it, Sandburg, don't you ever dare say something like that again, do you hear me?" Jim pressed his head against Blair's. "Don't you ever think that your life isn't worth whatever it takes to save it. Hear me?"

"It's just that I had to...let him...touch me... I just...lay there and..."

"Blair, you fought when you could and when it was a life or death situation, you chose life."

"I hated...every minute...he touched me."

"I know. God, I know you did, Chief."

"I shoulda...told you before...and this wouldn't have...happened."

"You can always tell me anything, Blair."

"I know that now." Blair sniffled loudly and tried to calm his ragged breathing.

"That's it. Relax and breathe. It's okay." Jim pulled back a little and used his thumb to wipe away a few tears from Blair's flushed face. "I could get a cool cloth for your face--"

"No. Thanks, but...I'd rather you...stayed here."

"Sure thing, Chief." Jim rolled back and snagged a couple of Kleenex off the nightstand, and when Blair finished with those, offered him the last couple swallows of water from the glass he'd used to take the Tylenol.

"I'm sorry about this," Blair said finally, handing Jim the glass.

"You went through something traumatic. You're bound to have a reaction to it."

"I didn't mean to lose it like that."

"You needed to lose it." Jim smiled slightly and smoothed Blair's hair back again. "Feeling a little sleepy now?"

"I feel like I've got no bones," Blair responded, grinning. "Well, except for the ribs. I know they're still there. I'm so tired. I guess an emotional catharsis does that to a person."

"How about a little post-catharsis nap?"

"Sounds good to me."

********

Blair made his way cautiously down the stairs from the bedroom. He was still sore, but felt much better than he had the night before. It was after eleven o'clock in the morning, and when he reached the foot of the stairs, he noticed that the loft was empty. There was a note on the kitchen table.

"Blair--

Ran downstairs for bagels and donuts. Back soon.

Jim"

Blair smiled at the note and headed to the bathroom. He had bathed just several hours earlier, but the overwhelming desire to take a shower was there anyway, and he wanted to wash his hair this time, which still held some traces of the scents of the bar.

By the time he emerged from the shower, Jim was in the kitchen, making coffee and munching down the first half of a fat, glazed donut.

"Have a good sleep?" he asked through a mouthful as Blair stood near his bedroom doors, toweling off his hair.

"Yeah, once I got back to sleep, I was out like a light."

"How're you feeling this morning?"

"Better." Blair smiled. "About everything."

"Good," Jim responded, smiling back at his partner. "Grab some clothes, huh? The coffee's almost ready."

"Okay." Blair turned to go in his room and then paused, turning to look at Jim, puttering away and fixing his version of breakfast. "Jim?"

"Yeah?" He looked up from his assault on the donut.

"Thanks."

"None necessary, Chief." Jim went back to his donut and Blair retreated into his room to get dressed.

Wearing a favorite suit of sweats, Blair joined Jim in the kitchen and sipped at his coffee, eating a bagel Jim had toasted for him. While they were seated at the table, finishing up their food, Blair broke the companionable silence.

"Are you still game to talk...about things?"

"I don't know how much I can say, Chief." Jim leaned back in his chair. "I wish I could just say that I felt the same and we could live happily ever after, but I don't know what to think right now."

"Have you ever...done anything with another man before?" Blair ventured.

"No. Never really thought about it," Jim responded, taking another drink of coffee.

"Not even anything in the army or military school or anything?"

"Guys never turned me on, Blair. Why would I change in the military?"

"I mean, I know some guys when they're isolated with just other guys for a long time...things happen..."

"Nothing happened for me."

"Does it gross you out?"

"You're asking all the questions here, Darwin."

"You already know that I haven't been with another guy--well, at least, not before last night." Blair looked down into his coffee cup.

"Last night doesn't count that way." Jim sighed. "You're not interested in guys at all--just me?"

"I love you. I guess I can't change that, even if you don't come in a package with a couple of nice hooters and big hair."

"Would you rather I had nice hooters and big hair?" Jim responded, laughing a little.

"That's the weird part. I want to be with *you*. Just as you are. I don't wish you were a woman. I only wish things weren't so hard for us...that you could maybe...see something in me like what I see in you."

"I don't know what I see...at least not that way. I love you--I know that. You know that. You're my best friend, my partner...but I don't have this overpowering desire to get you naked."

"Mine isn't exactly that way either."

"What exactly is it then?"

"I don't want to lose you. Every time you look at a woman, it rips my heart out, Jim. I can't help it. I don't want to feel this way, but I do. I don't want to share you. I don't know exactly what *I* want to do with you, but if someone's gonna do it, I want it to be me. If that makes any sense at all."

"I wasn't thrilled at the idea of you getting picked up by another guy," Jim admitted. "Aside from how it turned out. I mean, in general. I didn't like thinking about you with somebody else."

"What about with women?"

"I've never been nuts about that either," Jim admitted.

"Maybe we're not so far apart on this as we think we are."

"I just figured that it would, you know, change everything--our partnership, everything--if somebody else entered the picture."

"If we were still partners, would it bother you to see me marry someone else?" Blair watched as Jim leaned forward, his elbows on the table again.

"I'd hate it."

"So would I. I mean--if you found somebody else," Blair agreed.

"I'd like to think things would...always stay pretty much like they are."

"How realistic an expectation is that with us both living like monks?"

"The guys at St. Sebastian's manage it," Jim quipped, and Blair had to smile despite his desire to stay serious.

"What are we gonna do?"

"Nothing, for now," Jim responded, his tone decisive. "You need to heal up and I need to get my head together."

"But what do you want to do? If I wasn't...sore right now, and I could get into it, would you want to do something?"

"I don't know. I kind of thought about kissing you last night. You know, when we were in bed? Your face was so close..." Jim shrugged.

"He didn't kick me in the lips, Jim."

"I didn't know how you'd feel after...what happened."

"Kissing is about love--at least, reciprocal kissing. He was just...pawing at me. He didn't want to kiss me. He didn't care anything about me other than the fact that I pissed him off by saying 'no'."

"Do you want to try it?"

"What if it's...weird?" Blair asked, genuinely concerned. "If we don't like it--"

"Then we have our answer." Jim scooted his chair closer, and for a moment, they eyed each other with a certain amount of trepidation. Both leaned forward a little, and as they moved toward each other, tilted their heads--and ran straight into each other, nose to nose.

"That was sexy," Blair opined, unable to help letting out a little chortle. Jim just shook his head, laughing softly. "I'll go this way, you go that way, okay?" Blair directed, motioning to the two directions.

"Okay, Chief."

They leaned toward each other again, this time more coordinated, and finally, their lips met, very hesitantly. Blair opened his eyes and found himself greeted with two cool blue orbs looking back at him.

"You're looking," he said against Jim's mouth.

"So're you."

Pulling back, they both slumped back in their chairs, arms crossing over their chests.

"We're trying too hard," Jim concluded. "Look, let's go somewhere tonight. You know--on a date. See what develops."

"A date?" Blair asked, regarding Jim with skepticism. "Jim, I still can't walk faster than old Mrs. Flattery downstairs, and I'm too sore to do anything."

"I just meant out for dinner, maybe a movie or something. Like a first date."

"You want to date me?" Blair asked, deadpan.

"Somehow just sitting here and making this big elaborate plan to kiss you isn't exactly the way to get me all hot and bothered. This wouldn't turn me on with a woman either."

"A little mood, a little atmosphere..."

"Right. We'll go somewhere nice--"

"You mean a place where we get to go inside and sit at a table?"

"Smart ass," Jim shot back, smirking a little at the impish look on Blair's face. "WonderBurger just put in new booths."

"Man, you really know how to set up your dates so you get lucky." Blair shook his head.

"I was thinking about The Fireside Inn."

"I'd have to sell a kidney just to get a *reservation* there, let alone pay for dinner."

"My treat. I invited you, remember?"

"Yeah, but..."

"You pay for the next date," Jim added.

"You're sure there's gonna be a next date?"

"If I play my cards right tonight," he replied, smiling.

"You want a next date?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked for the first one. Look, Chief, this is sort of...surreal for me. But kissing you...well, sort of, anyway... didn't seem all that weird."

"For me either."

"We're just not good at it."

"You didn't close your eyes."

"You wouldn't have known that if you hadn't looked, would you?"

"I wanted to see if you looked...grossed out."

"I wasn't."

"Me either," Blair responded, knowing he was grinning like an idiot.

"I'll call for reservations." Jim stood up to head for the phone, giving Blair's cheek a little pat on his way.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?" He didn't look up from the yellow pages where he was locating the restaurant's number.

"What if it does work? How're you gonna handle...*us* at the PD, with your friends...?"

"Let's find out what we've got happening here first, Chief. Then we'll worry about taking on the world." Jim found the number and then looked back up at Blair. "Which is exactly what we'll do if there's an 'us'." He gave Blair a little grin, which the younger man returned while Jim dialed the phone number.

********

Jim pulled into a parking spot in the lot behind the prestigious Fireside Inn. The Ford pick up stood out among its dark, expensive, sedate neighbors.

"Classy joint, huh?" Blair joked, a little nervously. It was ridiculous to feel nervous going out for dinner with Jim. They had eaten dinner together most nights for the last few years. Still, this was a *date*, and it came with all the attendant nerves.

"Special occasion," Jim responded, smiling slightly. "Stay in the truck. I'll give you a hand."

"This isn't like taking out a woman, Jim," Blair admonished.

"That wasn't what I meant. I gave you a boost getting in, so I thought maybe you could use a little help getting out so you didn't pull anything."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay." Jim sat there quietly a moment, staring out the windshield. He finally looked over at Blair. "Are you nervous?" he asked, his expression saying that he most certainly was.

"Oh yeah," Blair replied, laughing a little.

"What are we nervous for?" Jim shook his head. "I feel like... like a nerd trying to make a good impression on prom night." Something in the remark made Blair burst out laughing, which made him groan and unconsciously move a hand down near his groin.

"Only hurts when I laugh," he explained, catching his breath. "Man, did you just sum up the whole thing. You have *no* idea how well." Blair smiled over at his partner. "I've *been* the nerd trying to make a good impression on prom night."

"So how'd it go?"

"It was a disaster. I was trying to be cool and drive without my glasses and I rear-ended the car ahead of us. Hard. She got whiplash and we spent the rest of the night standing around in the road in our good clothes, then at the hospital--I got lined out by her father, which was *not* fun. Then I got lined out by Naomi, which wasn't any walk in the park either. We never got to the prom and she never spoke to me again."

"What possessed you to drive without your glasses? At night?"

"Because I wanted to look like everybody else for a change. Geez, Jim, I'd been called 'four eyes' since kindergarten. I was tired of it. I managed to get a date for the prom--even though I had just turned sixteen and was a head shorter than everybody else. I didn't want to show up looking like the school dork." Blair snorted a little laugh. "I guess I should have just accepted it. Some of us are cool, some of us are dorks."

"You must've grown out of the dork category."

"Yeah, sure I did," Blair responded, still smiling. "We better get going or we're gonna be late for our reservations."

Jim got out of the truck and walked around to Blair's side, opening the door and helping him with the downward drop to take some of the strain off his injuries.

"You look really nice," Blair said, his hands still resting on the dark sleeves of Jim's topcoat from where he had held on for support.

"Blair, you've never looked like a dork to me." Jim laid his hand gently against Blair's cheek.

Before either man knew what was happening, both leaned forward, and tilting their heads at just the appropriate angles, brought their lips together in a soft, gentle kiss, which deepened and lingered until their arms wrapped around each other.

"I thought that was supposed to happen after dinner," Blair said a little breathlessly, smiling. Jim kissed the end of the younger man's nose.

"It'll probably happen then too. This was just an appetizer."

********

Blair ordered lobster while Jim ordered a filet mignon, the plan being to do some serious food swapping. A bottle of champagne was delivered to the table for two, which was situated in a shadowy corner near the fireplace.

"You've been here before?" Blair asked, dipping the first of six jumbo chilled shrimp into the cocktail sauce. The shrimp cocktails here were famous around Cascade, since the shrimp were the largest specimens anyone had seen outside of New England.

"Carolyn and I came here with another couple--and then we almost came here for her birthday."

"Almost?"

"Well," Jim began, munching on a monstrous shrimp, "I thought it was a really nice place--romantic and everything. I made the reservations, but it didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"A couple friends of hers wanted to take her out--I guess they were friends from high school who were up here visiting their parents. One of those rare opportunities. I knew she wanted to do that, so I told her to go ahead."

"Did she know you had plans?"

"Well, she knew I was going to take her out for dinner." Jim picked up his water glass and paused before taking a drink. "I've never been known for my fancy dinner plans, so I guess she didn't see it as all that great of an option." He took the drink and set it back down. "She asked me if I minded--she said she'd turn them down. I knew she wanted to go, so I told her to go ahead. It was her birthday, and I wanted her to enjoy it. We were already having a few problems by then."

"I'd rather be with you than anybody else," Blair said honestly, going back to eating his shrimp. He looked up to see Jim smiling at him. "Well, I *would*," Blair defended. Jim just smiled widely and tugged on Blair's pony tail.

"I know that. Me too."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I thought the fact that we were joined at the hip kind of conveyed that."

"I thought maybe you were too polite to tell me to get a life," Blair confessed, smiling.

"Too *polite*?" Jim looked at Blair from under raised eyebrows. "I was never accused of that before!"

"Hey, I didn't know they had music here," Blair commented as a young woman with upswept black hair wearing a red evening dress took a seat at the piano and began playing.

"Yeah, starts around eight," Jim said, checking his watch.

"So that's why you wanted 7:30 reservations?"

"I thought it would be nice atmosphere."

"Jim?"

"What?"

"It doesn't feel weird at all," Blair said quietly. "Going on a date with you. It feels...right."

"It does, doesn't it?" Jim agreed, smiling and taking a hold of Blair's hand right there on the table.

"Somebody might see," Blair protested quietly.

"Good for them. Let's give them something to look at then." Jim pulled the hand up and kissed the back of it, then continued holding it, as if defying the rest of the world to make an issue of it.

The song she had been playing reached its end, and the attractive young woman pulled the microphone down closer to her mouth to speak.

"I received a special request before I began playing tonight. One of our couples here tonight is on their first date, and this one is for them," she concluded, just before she began singing a slower song that Blair recognized as one he'd always liked when he heard it on the radio.

//I've been so many places

In my life and times,

I've sung a lot of songs,

I've made some bad rhymes,

I've acted out my love in stages,

With 10,000 people watching,

But we're alone now

And I'm singing this song for you.

Jim refilled their glasses, and then ran his arm along the back of Blair's chair, bringing their bodies just a bit closer together.

I know your image of me

Is what I hope to be,

I've treated you unkindly

But, darlin', can't you see,

There's no one more important to me,

Darling, can't you please see through me,

We're alone now and I'm singing this song for you.

Blair looked over at Jim, and the two men's eyes locked. Jim smiled softly, and after a sip of his wine, reached over and took a hold of Blair's hand again.

You taught me precious secrets

Of the truth withholding nothing,

You came out in front and I was hiding,

But now I'm so much better,

And if my words don't come together,

Listen to the melody,

'Cause my love is in there hiding...

I love you in a place

Where there's no space or time,

I love you for in my life

You are a friend of mine,

And when my life is over,

Remember when we were together,

We were alone and I was singing this song for you...//

(*)

When she finished with that song, she began playing another slow, instrumental piece on the piano.

"Was that...you?" Blair asked, pausing while the waiter delivered their meals. Once he'd taken his leave, Jim just squeezed and released Blair's hand to start carving his filet.

"Me, dedicate a song? Nah," Jim denied, smiling devilishly. He skewered a choice cube of meat and held it up for Blair to eat it from his fork. The younger man complied. "It would ruin my image."

"I hate to tell you, man, but your image as a hardass went down the john a long time ago."

"It did, huh?" Jim smiled at Blair's hopeful expression. "Then I'm guilty as charged. I wanted tonight to be...special."

"It was perfect," Blair said softly. "I'll never forget tonight as long as I live...tonight and that song."

"So if I asked you out again, you'd probably consider going?"

"Probably," Blair responded, grinning and carving his lobster tail. He dipped the first bite in the melted butter and held it out for Jim. The other man accepted it, chewing slowly. "The food here is amazing," Blair opined, trying some of the lobster himself.

"I second that," Jim agreed, trying his own filet.

Dinner was a leisurely experience, sitting close together, sharing the food and sipping champagne as the soft piano music and occasional vocal love song was played in the background. If they drew any odd looks from their fellow diners, neither man really noticed. Between the conversation, shared food and champagne, neither spared much time to pay attention to their surroundings.

"Dinner was incredible," Blair announced, still walking more slowly than usual next to Jim, who had slowed his own long-legged strides to favor Blair's discomfort.

"I don't remember enjoying it this much before," Jim said honestly, then smiled down at Blair. "Must be the company." He reached into the other man's topcoat pocket and found his hand, drawing it out and holding it as they walked toward the truck.

"This is nice," Blair said softly, lacing his fingers with Jim's.

"How're you feeling, Chief?" Jim asked as they approached the truck, and he unlocked Blair's door.

"Better. Still not moving real fast though."

"How about a lift up, huh?"

"Yeah, why not? Can't beat the service." Blair slid his arm around Jim's neck and took the hoist into the seat gratefully. He could have climbed in himself, but this put a lot less strain on his battered body. "Thanks."

"No problem, pal. You, uh...want to go see a movie or something?" Jim asked, sounding every bit like the hesitant nerd on prom night.

"Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Anything artsy going on you want to see?" Jim asked.

"Nah. How about that new Schwarzenegger movie? You said last week you wanted to see it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun."

"Sounds great." Jim made his way around the truck and hopped into the driver's seat.

Jim was only marginally attentive to the movie. Blair wasn't chattering away in hushed tones like he often did when they watched a movie together. He was sitting there quietly, staring a little fixedly at the screen. Whether this was boredom with the movie or some understandable after-effects of his experience the night before, Jim wasn't sure. He moved his arm along the back of Blair's seat, and the other man seemed to move almost imperceptibly closer.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked quietly, leaning over toward Blair.

"Yeah."

"But?" Jim picked up on the hesitant tone of the answer.

"I was just thinking."

"About?" Jim whispered back.

"Everything...last night, I guess."

"You want to go home? We can come back and see this anytime," Jim offered.

"No, that's okay. I like the movie."

"Let me know if you change your mind."

"I will." Blair smiled, and Jim focused his eyesight in the dark theater to see it. He brought his arm more deliberately around Blair's shoulders and went back to watching the movie.

********

"As first dates go, did we do all right?" Blair asked, following Jim into the loft.

"I think we did fine. The only difference is, I *enjoyed* this one."

"You usually don't enjoy your dates?"

"Think about first dates, Chief. How many did you enjoy?"

"Some of them, but I was usually pretty uptight."

"Same here." Jim went to the refrigerator and took out two waters while Blair took his topcoat into his room and dumped it on the bed. Jim had tossed his own over the back of the couch, figuring the next morning was time enough to retrieve it. Blair returned to the kitchen and accepted the bottle. "We should probably turn in. Tomorrow's my day off anyway, and I called Simon to make sure it was okay with him that I kept it that way, since I was out today. He said go ahead."

"Great. I don't teach on Thursdays anyway."

"I know. Why do you think I always take Thursdays off, Darwin?" Jim asked, smiling.

"To be with me?" Blair asked, a little startled.

"Think about it, Chief. We usually spend Thursdays together."

"Yeah, that's true." Blair took a drink of his water. "I like spending my day off with you, too."

"Speaking of spending time together...what do you, uh, want to do about the sleeping arrangements?"

"I can sleep in my own room." Blair's statement sounded more like an offer to get out of the way than a desire to be alone.

"I liked having you upstairs last night," Jim responded. Forcing himself to say the words was worth it for the glowing smile it won him from Blair. "I'd like having you upstairs as often as you want to be there."

"I like being up there. It was really nice to go to sleep all cozy--with somebody I love." Blair hesitated. "The thing is, Jim, I don't know if it's a good idea for us to get used to it. I mean, if you find that after we try this out a while, you can't handle the physical part of things, or you decide you don't want me that way after all...it's going to be awkward if we're used to sleeping together. I mean, that would be a pretty weird arrangement if you want to go back to just being friends."

"What about you, Chief? Are you positive about all of this?"

"Yes," Blair said simply, nodding. "But if you're not, I respect that, and I'm always gonna love you--even if we can't have it *that way*. I won't go away mad or something."

"God, Blair, I feel like I'm test driving you like a used car here. That's not fair to you."

"If it means there's a chance, it's worth it."

"It isn't...*right* for me to play with your feelings while I try to come to grips with the issue of sex."

"Well, that isn't an issue at the moment," Blair reminded.

"I know that, Chief. I just mean, overall, my treating you like my...my *significant other* for several weeks here and then finding I'm straight after all--"

"Is a chance I'm willing to take for those weeks," Blair blurted out, then blushed. "I mean...oh, shit, I said what I meant. Why go back and pretty it up? It's pathetic and stupid, but it's how I feel. If I can have a few weeks with you while we're...*experimenting*, even if you don't want me when it's over...I'll have something..."

"I won't make love to you as part of some sort of experiment. If we go that far, it'll be because we both know what we want."

"But if you don't try it, how do you know you'll like it?"

"I know I love you...I know that now. I don't even want to start to touch you that way, because you're not healed physically and even if you were, after what happened last night, this would be too soon...but I want you to know that if we make love, it'll be for real. It won't be some experiment, or some test you have to pass to convince me."

"I think that's worth taking a chance for, don't you?" Blair asked, looking intently into Jim's eyes.

"Yeah, I do," Jim agreed, smiling softly.

After showering, Blair headed upstairs with one of his myriad of scholarly periodicals and glasses in hand. Jim was never long in the shower, but there was something about taking the items up to the loft bedroom with him that made Blair feel as if he were truly staking at least a tiny claim on his spot there. He slid into his side of the bed, still feeling the painful after-effects of the previous night's events.

The big squishy pillows felt good against his bruised body as he leaned on them to read. The words were just so many forms on the white page as he thought back over the evening. They had kissed in the parking lot, eaten in the most expensive restaurant in town, held hands at the table, had a song dedicated to them, and walked out hand in hand.

By the time Jim climbed the stairs, Blair was wearing a very large grin as he sat there, ostensibly reading the journal open in his hands.

"Must be a good article," Jim quipped, sitting on the side of the bed and putting his watch on the night stand.

"I was thinking about tonight," Blair said honestly, putting the journal aside. "That was the best date I ever had in my life."

"And you have quite a pool to draw on for comparison, Chief. I'm flattered," Jim added, chortling a little.

"I'm serious," Blair retorted, a little note of sadness in his tone. "I've gone out with a lot of people--but a lot of them were just friends, or somebody I wanted to spend some time with--not many of them meant anything."

"I didn't mean for that to come out exactly the way it sounded. I'm glad you had a good time tonight. I did too." Jim got into bed. "You done with the light?" he asked.

"Yeah." Blair tossed the journal on the floor and took off his glasses, handing them to Jim for safekeeping on the nightstand. It occurred to Blair that he liked the looks of his glasses sitting next to Jim's watch.

"I hope you're not mad," Jim said, looking over at Blair.

"What?" Blair averted his eyes from the happy couple on the night stand. "No, I'm not mad. I just...I don't want you to think of me that way."

"You've got to admit that your track record is semi-legendary around the bullpen."

"Yeah, well, I won a few creative writing contests when I was a kid. Anybody can make up a legend." Blair sighed, staring at the high ceiling. "I've gone out a lot. That's all."

"Out of all those women, there had to be some special ones." Jim rolled onto his side, watching Blair's profile as the younger man lay on his back. There was a brief silence.

"Maybe Chris, if things hadn't happened with Lash the way they did."

"She couldn't get past you thinking she was the leak?"

"She got past it. It was just...I had a hard time getting over that whole situation, putting it behind me. We talked and I apologized and she accepted, but it was like she didn't have much understanding for what I was going through...man, that sounds really self-centered. But I wasn't very good company for a while, and I guess she had met somebody else while she was pissed off at me, so it just fizzled. Of course, then I met Maya." Blair rolled his eyes.

"I had a hand in that one, Chief."

"You didn't force me to fall in love with her like some stupid, starry-eyed teenager."

"Those things happen on assignments. I shouldn't have sent in an untrained civilian to do something like that. You almost got yourself killed thanks to that case."

"Yeah, well, if I hadn't been mooning over Maya, I'd have never gone back to her father's house, and I wouldn't have gotten hogtied in the greenhouse." Blair sighed, a sad, tired sound.

"Do you miss her?"

"No." Blair shook his head. "It's funny, you know? It hurt so bad when she left me--told me she hated me..." Blair was quiet a minute. "I didn't think I'd ever get past that. And then she showed up again, and it was like I felt something for her, there was a sort of...*longing* there, but she lied about everything--almost got us both killed...*again*...and those guys who were guarding her, they died for nothing." Blair looked at Jim, knowing the sentinel could see more in the darkness of the room than he himself could. "So did you ever fall in love and make an idiot out of yourself when you were undercover?"

"We all make those mistakes starting out, Chief. Cops have feelings too, and they can get into the same set of circumstances you did." Jim reached over and lifted a little strand of curly hair, letting it wind around his finger.

"How did your mistakes turn out?" Blair diverted his eyes from the ceiling to Jim, shifting over on his side so they were facing each other. "Damn those ribs," Blair grumbled, groaning at the pain the shift in positions was causing.

"Was your back more comfortable, Chief?"

"Yeah, but..."

"You slept well last night." Jim flopped on his back and gestured to Blair to move over into his arms. He had a strong suspicion it was just where Blair wanted to be. "Rest your weight against me like you did last night."

"Everything feels worse tonight than it did last night."

"That's pretty normal, unfortunately." Jim gathered his uncomfortable partner into his arms and stroked the soft hair that was pressed against his shoulder. "Did you take anything for the pain?" Jim asked.

"No."

"It might be the fact you had two Tylenol this time last night. Lucky for you, I figured you'd blow that off tonight, so I happen to have some handy." Jim groped around in the night stand and pulled out the Tylenol bottle. "I put them in here last night in case you didn't feel good through the night." Jim handed Blair two of the pills and then reached back for the half-full glass of water he had set by the bed.

"Thanks." Blair took the pills and then settled back down, grunting a little. "I don't like to take that stuff, but it really hurts tonight."

"I know it hurts, baby. Try to relax." Jim was slowly rubbing Blair's back, apparently oblivious to the endearment that had slipped out as he started feeling drowsy himself.

"Sometimes...I can't help thinking about it."

"Last night?" Jim asked gently.

"Yeah. He told me he'd kill me if I ever told anybody."

"You know I'll kill him if he ever comes near you again. You don't have to worry about it, Blair. You're safe."

"Then why am I so scared?" Blair asked in a strained voice before he gave in to tears.

"Shhh. It's okay, Chief. It's okay to be scared, but you don't have to be."

"I thought...what if...I died...and you...never knew...how I felt..." Blair managed, letting the rest of his words die unspoken.

"I'm so glad you're okay." Jim rested his head against Blair's, trying to hold his partner close without putting too much pressure on his ribs. "I'm glad we both had our chance to say the things we've said."

"It's just...I want you to know...I don't *do* things like that all the time."

"Like what?" Jim prodded.

"Picking up people in bars...going home with somebody I don't even...know." Blair was quiet a minute. "I'm...really...I don't..."

"Blair, you don't have to explain anything. You made a mistake and you got hurt. It happens. It doesn't make you a bad person."

"I'm not like that."

"I don't understand, Chief."

"I'm not...I don't have sex...with just...*anybody*."

"I never thought you did."

"I have to really care about the person."

"I know. So do I." Jim paused, just patting Blair's back lightly, then kissing his hair again. "Everything's going to be all right, Chief. Try to go to sleep. You need some rest."

"I love you," Blair said softly, winding his arm a bit more possessively around Jim's body. Jim rubbed Blair's back soothingly in response.

"I love you too, Chief."

********

Jim retrieved the candy bar he'd chosen from the vending machine, and as he was rising, made eye contact with the other man who had just entered the break room. Andy Kirsch, currently one of the top undercover cops in Narcotics, smiled pleasantly. An attractive man in his thirties with long blond hair and striking blue eyes, Kirsch had an arrest record anyone else in his department had yet to top. He was only slightly taller than Sandburg, and built much the same way. His deceptively non-threatening stature hid a black belt in karate.

"Tom upstairs said you wanted to talk to me?" Andy greeted, pulling up a chair to the table where Jim also sat.

"Yeah, thanks for looking me up. I was wondering if you'd be available for a little covert operation."

"How covert?" Andy retorted, smiling slightly. Jim could tell the idea was already appealing to the other man's somewhat devious mind.

"Some jerk slapped around and felt up a friend of mine outside a bar the other night. I'd like to give him something to think about."

"Male or female friend?"

"Male friend. Long hair, about your size..."

"Sandburg."

"I don't want this running through the department--because he doesn't want it. But I want to nail this son of a bitch."

"What did you have in mind?"

"How do you feel about a little decoy work? Let the asshole pick up the wrong date, if you get my drift."

"Might be fun." Andy smiled, nodding a little. "You know, we could run a few checks on the jerk to see if there are any outstanding warrants, or if he's got a rap sheet. Once we find out who he is, it might be more effective to nail his ass through the department. That kind don't get the message from one bad experience."

"No, you're probably right."

"You got a description of Mr. Wonderful?"

"Tall, good build, short light brown hair, beard, tattoo of a scorpion on his left hand. Sandburg said he drove a late '70's model car, a big one--dark color with plush luxury seats inside. He also said the car 'smelled bad', but he didn't elaborate."

"Think he'd be up to looking at some mugbooks? Off the record?"

"I don't want him to know about this."

"I see. He's in pretty bad shape about this?" Andy asked.

"He's strong. He's coping with it. He doesn't approve of vigilante tactics."

"Yeah, well, neither do I. But sometimes you've gotta take the route that works best. Where did it happen?"

"Outside The Wineskin. I've never been there--but I guess it's a nice place."

"Well, nice is a relative term. It's not a place we raid every night or anything, but it's been getting a rougher crowd lately. This jerk just approached him and grabbed him or what?"

"Not exactly." Jim exhaled loudly, then continued. "Sandburg agreed to go home with him, they left the bar together, and Sandburg changed his mind. That didn't exactly go over very well, and so the guy smacks him around, shoves him in the back of his car, pulls a knife on him and jerks him off." Jim ran what he hadn't realized was a shaky hand over his face. It came away a tad damp from his own perspiration. He didn't expect reliving Blair's ordeal to have such a profound effect on him. "Then when he's done, he throws Sandburg out of the car and kicks him in the balls and leaves him there."

"Ouch," Andy responded. Then he looked at Jim a bit thoughtfully. "I didn't picture you being so liberal--I mean, being okay living with a gay roommate."

"He's not gay."

"Oh?" Andy smiled a little and shook his head. "So he was just taking a walk on the wild side and got cold feet, huh?"

"There's more to it than that. But the point is, he said 'No', and ended up getting assaulted at knifepoint," Jim shot back.

"Hey, Jim, don't get defensive, man. I don't care if Sandburg wears a pink tutu and toe shoes. We're still talking about a guy who sexually assaulted someone at knifepoint."

"Blair doesn't cruise bars for guys."

"Okay, whatever. Don't get so testy. I didn't say I wouldn't help out with this. I was just surprised Sandburg swung that way. I didn't get that impression from him."

"What kind of impression would that be?" Jim asked, the irritation clear in his voice.

"I guess I hit a nerve. Look, Ellison, I've already told you that I don't care about Sandburg's orientation in this situation. I was just surprised. I don't know what you're getting all worked up about. Unless..." Andy studied Jim for a moment, until Jim looked away, disconcerted. "Ah. Now I get it."

"Exactly what do you think you 'get'?" Jim challenged.

"You and Sandburg. Now before you jump down my throat again, I'm not pointing fingers. I'm just making a statement."

"There's nothing going on between us."

"Okay, whatever," Andy responded, shrugging. "Just for the record, I really don't care about that either."

"Okay so there's *something* going on."

"You guys have lived together going on four years now. Hell, I can't even get along with the same *dog* for four years, let alone a roommate. I think most of the Cascade PD knows *something's* going on. That's not exactly late-breaking news around here."

"It's new."

"Since all this happened?"

"We're not gay. This is...a real challenge."

"I can see how it would be. I'm trying to picture buggering Ryan, and believe me, that's a challenge I don't want to meet," Andy quipped, referring to his own partner.

"You always were an asshole," Jim retorted, chuckling in spite of himself.

"Do you always sweet-talk people you need favors from this way?" Andy needled, laughing in response.

********

"I think our friend just showed up," Jim said into the mic, knowing Andy would hear him on the wire he wore. "Looks like a 1976 dark blue Oldsmobile, four door. The guy fits Sandburg's description--he's wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket," Jim added, flipping through the rap sheets they'd brought along on those who had records. "Sam Vernon, 42 years old. Get this--on parole for aggravated assault."

"Okay. I'll take it from here. I'm gonna ditch the wire."

"10-4. I'll follow you if you leave with him."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence in my technique," Andy quipped before removing the earpiece and breaking the connection.

Jim laughed a little as he scanned Vernon's rap sheet again. The two detectives had found a number of possible "Sams" in the DMV records based on Blair's car description. There were twelve who owned dark colored, large cars. Ten of those were older models in the range of years that would probably have interiors matching Blair's memory of the back seat. Of those, five were in the 35-45 age range, and three had criminal records.

It had been a week since Blair's assault--and already, Vernon was back for more. Having passed through what he probably felt was the danger zone of Sandburg reporting the attack, Vernon was out cruising again. An incident like this one would be just what they needed to send him back to the joint for a nice long stay.

Andy had spent the last two nights at the bar, with Jim backing him up, to no avail. Blair had accepted the story that Jim was helping out an old friend in Vice, off the record, which meant that Blair would not refer to the "stakeouts" Jim was helping with in front of Simon or anyone else at the PD. He also had seemed fairly content to back off and let Jim go on his own without questioning why he wasn't asked along. Apparently figuring Jim was working with some of his old buddies in Vice, who might not be all that thrilled to let Blair in on whatever top secret case they had, Blair had shrugged it off and put the time to good use with his nose in a number of the large books he was always toting home from the library.

Jim pulled into a parking space closer to the entrance of The Wineskin, then got out of the truck and lurked among the parked cars there, focusing his hearing on the events transpiring inside.

********

Blair answered the last of the backed up e-mail he'd let accumulate, and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, staring at the two books he had sitting on the table next to his computer. It was the third night in a row that Jim had been on his "stakeout" with his old Vice cohorts, and Blair smelled a rat. A very large, hairy, industrial size rodent. No, make that a large, sleek, muscular sentinel. Jim was up to something all right, and now it was just a matter of figuring out what it was.

//Wouldn't take an Einstein to put two and two together on this one,// Blair concluded, slumping back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. //He's out there looking for Sam and his stinky old car.//

Blair got up and started pacing, knowing that concentrating on the books in front of him was useless. He'd been trying to learn as much as he could from various texts on Criminology and Forensics, looking to enrich the somewhat abbreviated foray he'd made into the police academy. All it had really involved was weapons training and passing the written testing, which Blair had done. Thankfully, Simon had managed to create a permanent position for him that kept him on in a capacity far more similar to his old job--consulting.

Blair had a weapon, which he was required to carry, but so far, he hadn't been forced to draw it. This was another reason his assault was something he feared reporting. He hadn't carried his gun, which he was expected to carry at all times, when he went out that night. Jim had called him on his tendency to ignore that regulation in their off duty hours, but when he could see Blair wasn't about to fall into line with it, he'd given up on it, now only giving him a stern look when he went somewhere in their off duty time without it. Jim was right that it was only a matter of time before something came up that would call that practice into question, and Blair knew it. This incident was just such a "something". If he'd had his gun, he knew he'd have pulled it on "Sam" in a heartbeat. And maybe he wouldn't have been assaulted at all.

//Or maybe he'd have taken it away from me and shot me with it,// Blair countered his own thoughts. His aversion to weapons hadn't waned any with learning how to better use one. It was a necessary evil associated with the turn his life had taken. It was much to Jim's credit that he hadn't thrown the weapon issue in Blair's face related to his assault. If it had been one of the first things to spring to his mind, he hadn't said anything. If Jim had known that Blair had gone out cruising with even his badge and police ID back at home, he'd have probably been angrier. Still, Blair wondered if he would have fared worse with "Sam" if he'd learned Blair was a cop halfway through attacking him. Maybe he'd be dead now.

Glancing at the clock, noting it was approaching midnight, Blair went into the kitchen and found some left over stir fry. Jim would probably be home shortly, and he was usually hungry. No reason for them not to have a snack together. And maybe Blair could pump him then for the real reason behind his late night excursions.

//Yeah, right, I can stand around here heating up dinner like the little woman and wait for him to come home or I can follow my instincts and see for myself,// Blair concluded, stashing the food back in the refrigerator and going into the bedroom he no longer slept in to retrieve his gun and his badge. If Jim was staking out The Wineskin and planning a little counterattack on Sam, Blair figured it would be wise for him to have back up--or someone to save him from making a major mistake.

********

"So, come here often?" Sam said to Andy, a laugh in his voice. Andy joined him in the shared chuckle.

"What's your sign?" he countered, battling cliche with cliche. Jim shifted from one foot to the other, restless for the two men to cut to the chase. Tuning out the noise of the bar and the traffic on the road in front of it in order to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place indoors was giving him a headache. Three nights in a row of lurking around the parking lot was trying his patience.

"I'm never real sure what to say, you know, in a place like this." Sam paused. "You know, not being sure if the person you're talking to..."

"Is gay? Yeah, that can be a challenge," Andy added, a smile plain in his voice. "How do you tell?"

"Guess I just take a chance when I see somebody I'd like to get to know better."

"Andy," Andy introduced himself, and given the sounds of movement, may have shaken hands.

"Sam," the other man answered.

"So, Sam, what do you do?"

"I'm a shift supervisor at the iron plant," he responded. "You?"

//Hence the stinky car,// Jim surmised, figuring the fumes from the factory may have clung to the interior of the man's car.

"I'm in a band with some friends."

"Play any good gigs lately?"

"Not really," Andy replied, chuckling. "We're not doing too great getting gigs."

Jim checked his watch again, wondering how long this awkward little seduction was going to take.

"Hey, Jim." The soft, well-modulated voice from behind him still made him jump, his hearing opened up to take in the conversation inside.

"Sandburg, what the hell--?"

"So this is the Vice stakeout, huh?" Blair asked. "What are you doing, man?"

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?"

"Playing vigilante. I love you for wanting to go after this guy for me, but--"

"Shhh!" Jim motioned Blair to be quiet with an angry wave of his hand. Somehow, Andy had managed to make it to the point of the invitation from Sam, and Sam was paying Andy's bar tab.

"Jim, what--"

"Look, I'm not alone. I've got help." Jim dug out his keys. "Go wait in the truck."

"Like hell."

"Fine. But just be quiet and stay out of sight. *Way* out of sight." Jim drew his weapon and moved stealthily among the parked cars until he was in easy range of the door.

"You're not--"

"I'm not going to blow him away. I'm the back up here, Chief. Relax."

Andy and Sam headed out the door together, talking and laughing.

"That's him," Blair said, his voice a little weak.

"I know, Blair. The guy with him? Name's Andy Kirsch. He's an old friend of mine from Vice. If our friend pulls the same stunt with him he did with you, he's going to regret it. Andy has a black belt in karate."

"He knows?" Blair asked.

"Shh. I want to hear this." Jim homed in on the two men as they made it to Sam's car, and started talking a bit, standing outside the passenger door.

"I thought you said it was over with you and your old boyfriend," Sam said irritably.

"I'm just feeling like...maybe I'm jumping the gun here. I mean, we were together almost a year, and I keep thinking I might be really making a mistake--you know, like going out on the rebound."

"So you're just jerking me around?"

"No, man, I really like you. I just--"

"You're just gonna get in the fucking car and quit stalling." Sam opened the passenger door.

"Hey, man, come on, cool it. I thought we had something good going here."

"Yeah, you and me both. Now get in."

"I don't think so." Andy started to walk away and the other man grabbed his arm, yanking him back.

"I'm warning you, man, cut it out *right now*," Andy shot back, pulling his arm away angrily. He started walking away again, and this time, Jim feared Andy had been too assertive and all was lost. Then Sam opened the door to the backseat, and headed toward Andy at a good pace. As he pounced on the undercover cop, Jim felt Blair stiffen where they were crouched together, the younger man's hand clutching at Jim's coat sleeve.

"It's okay, Chief. Andy knows about the knife." Jim put his left arm around Blair, still keeping the gun aimed with his right. "I didn't want you watching this," Jim added, feeling the tremors passing through his partner's body at watching what was essentially a re-enactment of his own assault.

Andy was playing the part of the pleading victim like a pro, allowing Vernon to drag him back to the car, shove him into the backseat and most likely get a grope or two in so sexual assault could be part of the charges. Just as Jim was about to go in as back up and break up the little encounter, Sam flew back away from the car, slamming into another nearby parked car, clutching at his groin. Not smart enough to be dissuaded, he moved back toward Andy, who was on his feet now. Treated to a lightning-fast round of blows to his face and abdomen that ended with a drop kick to the stomach, Sam Vernon crumpled at the Vice cop's feet, groaning and winded.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Andy pulled out his badge and squatted next to his prey, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling the fallen man's head back long enough to show him the badge.

"Congratulations, asshole. You just won a one-way ticket back to the joint."

"Shit," was Vernon's eloquent comment, right before he passed out.

"Nice job," Jim commented as he and Blair walked toward Andy, who stood up, resting one foot on Vernon's back to claim his victory. "What's the story?"

"Well, good old Sam here has--or claimed to have--some vintage guitars back at his place. He invited me over to take a look at them. He wouldn't give me the keys to drive--since he'd had quite a few drinks--so when I refused to ride with him, he got rough, and attempted to abduct a police officer. Not smart. Oh, and I figure that little crotch grab he tried in the back seat is worth a sexual assault charge of some sort. Gotta go back to headquarters and figure out which one." Andy seemed to notice Blair for the first time. "I didn't know you were going to be here tonight," he added.

"Neither did I," Jim responded honestly, before Blair could answer.

"I was worried about what was going down. I figured you were after...Sam," Blair concluded, as if he wasn't exactly sure what to call his assailant, who looked anything but threatening now as he was down for the count on the cement.

"Yeah, well, we figured I was more his type than Ellison here," Andy spoke up. "I'm prettier and I've got a better ass."

"Humble, too," Jim retorted, smiling and shaking his head. "See, Chief? No bloodshed--well, almost none," Jim amended, noticing that Sam's nose was dribbling a bit, and there was a small cut on Andy's neck.

"Knife must've slipped when I kicked him in the balls," Andy observed nonchalantly, wiping at it and shrugging a little.

"You want to call this in or should I?" Jim asked, noticing that a few patrons were craning their necks in that direction, obviously figuring that something was going down over there, though they couldn't see Vernon's prone form between the parked cars.

"I'll do it. You weren't here, remember?"

"So you're not going to tell anybody about...?" Blair let the question trail off.

"Hey, I went in there for a beer, met up with this guy who supposedly had a great guitar collection. I play, so I wanted to see it. We were going to head back to his place, things took a nasty turn and he had something different in mind. He fucked with the wrong guy. No need for Ellison's name to come into it."

"Thanks, Andy. We owe you one." Jim held out his hand, and the other cop shook it, then shook Blair's hand.

"More than one, I'd say." Looking at Blair, he added, "Don't worry--I don't plan on saying anything about your involvement in all this. It doesn't go any further." Andy toed Vernon, who groaned and started moving a little. "Come on, Romeo. Time to pay the piper," Andy taunted, fastening handcuffs in place and waving Jim and Blair off to leave before the prisoner came around fully.

********

Jim watched Blair's profile off and on as he drove home, Blair's expression somewhat blank and unreadable. His heart was thumping a little more rapidly than normal, but aside from that, he showed no outward signs of distress.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim prodded.

"I was really having some horrible thoughts about what you'd be doing to that guy. I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have...well, I shouldn't have pictured you as ripping his lungs out."

"Why not? I pictured ripping his lungs out. The only drawback was that I could end up in prison and that would definitely make our next date more of a challenge."

"I'm serious here, man," Blair responded, his voice broken by a little chortle.

"I had a few options. I knew I couldn't trust myself to approach the bastard one on one without killing him. The best option seemed to be to nail him at his own game, and since I'm not really his type, I needed help."

"You think Andy's okay with what happened with Sam? I mean, Sam...you know..."

"If you mean is it going to bother Andy that Vernon groped him, I can promise you it won't. Andy is probably one of the toughest cops in Vice, though you'd never know it to look at him. He's been undercover--deep cover--several times, and trust me, Chief, a little grope in the backseat is nothing compared to what he's put up with in the line of duty."

"Man, I wish I could look at it that way."

"You weren't groped in the line of duty, Blair. You were unarmed, scared shitless, and the bastard assaulted you. There's a big difference between a little squeeze and someone half stripping you and then kicking you hard enough to keep you in pain for several days." Jim sighed. "Besides, we're not all black belts in karate, and we don't all have the same life experiences. That's why guys like Andy are so valuable in a department like Vice--he's a good, honorable cop who can write off a whole laundry list of depravities as being all in a day's work. The difference is, even if the grope isn't consensual--putting himself in those situations and setting himself up for it *is*. He knows what he's going into, and as long as he comes out without being seriously hurt, he moves on."

"I didn't have my gun with me. You never said anything about that."

"You know how I feel about that, Chief. But I'm not going to report you to Simon or follow you around checking up on you to see if you're carrying it. I know you didn't choose this path with the PD, and I figure you've gotta do it the way you can do it." Jim shrugged. "Having a gun might have cost you your life, Blair. If he'd gotten the upper hand, you trying to pull a gun might have escalated things. Besides, I get no satisfaction from saying 'I told you so'."

"Are you sure nobody can trace what happened tonight back to you?"

"Well, Andy ran the DMV checks on the old cars, but he's got another case going right now where the witness ID'd the car as a 1974 Cadillac, probably black or dark blue. So he had a perfect excuse to look for old, dark-colored cars--it was something he had to look up anyway. The rest of the narrowing down we did by hand so as not to leave a trail of the sorts in the computer. Those rap sheets'll make good kindling in the fireplace at home," Jim said, nodding toward the pile of paper between them on the seat.

"Thanks," Blair said quietly, closing his eyes and leaning back in the seat. "When he threatened me, man...he meant it."

"He's out on parole for aggravated assault. From the looks of his rap sheet, he's a three time loser who just violated his parole with another assault charge. He'll be cooling his heels in lock up for a long time." Jim reached over and took a hold of Blair's hand. "He's not coming after you, Blair. It's over."

"Does Andy know that...something's going on...kind of...with us?"

"He sort of dragged it out of me. But he won't say anything about that either, anymore than he'll implicate either one of us in this whole mess."

"Thanks."

"You already thanked me, Chief. It's not necessary."

"I mean, well, for not totally just flat out denying it about us with Andy. I know you guys must've been friends when you were in Vice, and that can't be easy to admit--that we've...you know, had something kind of going on."

"I don't think announcing it would do us any good right now. Andy's discreet. He's got no reason to want to make my life difficult."

"This is nice," Blair said, referring to their joined hands, wiggling his fingers until he could lace them with Jim's.

"What made you come looking for me tonight?"

"I was worried. I kind of thought you were up to something the last few nights, but I wasn't sure. And then I just got this feeling like something was gonna go down, and I wanted to be there to back you up in case you needed help... or maybe to stop you from doing something... you know, over the top." Blair squeezed Jim's hand a little. "I should have trusted you, but I was nervous that you'd get so angry and just..." Blair shrugged.

"If I had gone after the bastard one on one, you'd have had something to worry about. While Andy's not opposed to the occasional suspect accidentally tripping and falling on his fist a half dozen times in the course of arrest, even he has his limits." Jim chuckled. "There was this one time in Vice..." he paused, then squeezed Blair's hand. "I don't think you want to hear that one," he concluded, figuring his less pugilistic partner probably wouldn't get the same laugh out of his and Andy's hijinks on a couple of cases that the other guys in the bullpen had.

"Guess I'm not much of a partner as cops go," Blair said a little sadly, his tone not really indicating that he was fishing for any particular reassurance.

"You're the best partner I ever had, Chief." Jim paused a few moments. "The only one I want."

"You're the only one I want too," Blair said, looking over at Jim, who ventured to take his eyes off the road a moment to return the eye contact.

"We're not talking about work anymore, are we?" Jim looked back at the sparse traffic on Prospect as they neared the loft.

"I'm not."

"I'm not either," Jim admitted, still holding onto Blair's hand.

"I feel okay now. Everything's pretty much healed."

"No tenderness at all?"

"I wouldn't want to take another kick there just yet, but I feel okay." Blair paused, swallowing. "I know you'll be gentle. I'm not scared of you touching me."

"I don't want to make love to you if you're still hurting from what that asshole did to you."

"I think I'm going to be hurting from that until we *do* make love." Blair shook his head, looking out the window. I can't explain it, but it's like I need to do something...*positive*, something *sexual*, to really feel good about everything again. I know it's not fair for me to push you, and we were going to just date and see what happened, but I don't think I can stick to my end of the deal. I feel...I really..." Blair looked positively miserable, as if he felt he were saying too much but couldn't stop anyway.

"What is it, Chief?" Jim brought the back of Blair's hand up and kissed it, managing to steer them toward an empty parking place behind their building.

"I know what I want *now*, and you're it. I want us to make love together. I need to know if you want me that way. I need to know if I...God, this is hard." Blair turned away, running his free hand over his face. "I can't wait for an answer anymore, Jim. I know you love me, and I love sleeping with you and kissing you and living like lovers but I need to feel...I need you to *want* me. I need to feel wanted." Blair shook his head. "I'm sorry. I thought I could do this, and you know, sit back and be patient, and wait... But it's like every morning I wake up with this...*dread*... Is this going to be the morning Jim wakes up and realizes he can't handle having sex with a man? And every night I go to sleep in your arms and wonder if it'll be my last night there. I can't do it, Jim. I tried so hard to stick with this, but I can't. You were right. It's like being test-driven, and it hurts. You're so good to me and gentle and romantic but I--"

"Blair. Time out, okay?" Jim made the corresponding hand gesture, but regretted the light-hearted terminology when he saw the miserable look in Blair's eyes. "First off, Chief, you don't have anything to apologize for. I was wrong to go along with this 'let's just sleep together and see how we like it' approach. I--"

"Then you don't--"

"Let me get this all the way out, Chief." Jim took a deep breath, then continued. "I was going to say that I can't even picture how painful that has to be when you already know how you feel. To keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I just want you to know that it's not going to drop. Ever."

"I don't understand. The only time you touched me was to find out if my balls were going to turn blue and fall off because of what Vernon did to me. How do you know any better now how much you're going to like having sex with me?"

"Because I'm in love with you, and I want to make love with you. I don't know how to do it, Blair. I'll be honest about that. I mean, I've seen a few things--hell, a few I'd rather not even think about in connection with us--when I was in Vice. I know which parts go where, but I don't know how any of it's going to feel or how to make it good for you. I know what I like to feel, but I never did it to someone else before." Jim shrugged, hating baring his soul this way, and yet knowing that Blair deserved to know how he was feeling. Blair who loved him and knew he wanted him, Blair who had been sharing his bed and trying his best to give Jim a 30-day free home trial, waiting to find out if he would be turned back in for a refund.

"I never made love with a man either, Jim. But if you want, I'll go first--I mean, whatever you want to try...I'm not afraid of you. I know you'll take good care of me, and be careful with me."

"Maybe we should just go upstairs and see what happens, huh?" Jim watched as Blair nodded a little sadly. "Hey, hold up a minute." Jim took a hold of both Blair's shoulders and turned him in the seat until he cooperated, shifting around to face Jim. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" Jim brushed at a tear on Blair's cheek with his thumb. "I said I was in love with you, dummy. That I wanted to make love with you. The test-drive is over. This isn't an experiment anymore. It's our life together."

"You mean you're sure?" Blair asked, looking into Jim's eyes.

"I'm sure about us. I'm not too sure *how* we're going to do everything, but I'm sure that I want to do it. With you. Just you. I love you. If we could, I'd marry you. Now would you please stop looking like someone just ran over your puppy and *smile*?"

"You'd really want to marry me? Like a lifetime commitment kind of thing?"

"Yeah, just like that, baby," Jim responded softly, leaning forward and kissing Blair's lips gently. "We may be lousy at it until we get the knack of it, but you want to go upstairs and get naked and experiment?"

"I'm a scientist, Jim. We live to experiment," Blair replied, finally smiling genuinely for the first time that night.

The trip upstairs was more than a little rushed, and the moment the door closed between the inside of the loft and the outside world, Jim pulled his soon-to-be lover into his arms and claimed his mouth, gently but passionately. Pulling back, he smiled at Blair, then kissed him again, lightly.

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long for an answer, Chief."

"That doesn't matter anymore. What matters is the answer you came up with."

"Come on. Time we put that bed up there to better use than just sleeping in it." Jim took Blair's hand and they made their way to the stairs.

The moment they reached the bedroom, they were kissing again, awkwardly pulling at each other's jackets, then clothing, doing their best to continue kissing and undressing each other at the same time. Finally recognizing the impossibility of the task, they parted reluctantly and each dispensed with his own jeans, shoes and socks, leaving the whole mess in a tangled, mingled heap on the floor near the bed.

"I can't believe we're here...like this," Blair said softly, running his hands over Jim's chest, letting them come to rest on the larger man's biceps. "I've wanted you so long."

"I can't believe I never looked at you...I never...*recognized* what you were...what we could have...I just never thought of it being possible. I never thought I'd look at another man and want him the way I want you."

"We spend our whole lives being conditioned to look at the opposite sex. We're conditioned so well that I think we look right past the obvious if it doesn't come in the right shape."

"I think your shape's just right for me, sweetheart." Jim wrapped his arms around Blair, relieved to be able to hold him close without worrying about causing him pain. While he was sure there was a bit of residual soreness beneath the surface, Blair's bruises were almost entirely healed now, and all that remained was to touch Blair the right way. To show him how right he was to have fallen in love with another man--to show him how much that man could love him, make him feel good...to banish the last of the shadows of Sam Vernon's brief and awful association with him.

"I need a good name for you," Blair said, pulling back and looking at Jim.

"'Jim' works," Jim quipped, smiling.

"No, I mean a love name. You're so good with love names--you just come up with them." Blair thought for a long moment, then Jim kissed him again.

"Maybe I can inspire you," he suggested, whispering hotly in Blair's ear, then running his tongue around the shell. Still mindful not to stir up any pain, Jim passed on his urge to just yank Blair along with him and fall on the bed. Instead, he jerked the comforter back and held it up for his lover, and when Blair was beneath it, slid in himself, gathering Blair in his arms again and relaxing into long minutes of shared kisses and caresses.

Moving down, he trailed hot kisses over Blair's chin and down the line of his throat, licking and sucking at the pulse point there, leaving his mark before tasting the silky chest hair with his tongue, exploring until he found a small, hardening nipple and fastened his mouth to it, startled by Blair's little cry of pleasure. //Making love to a man can't be all that much different, can it? Except for the obvious...// Jim pondered as he memorized the taste and texture of the little nub, and luxuriated in Blair's moans of pleasure. Blair's hands were in his hair now, trying to guide him to the second nipple, and Jim happily obliged.

"God, Jim...so good..."

"I know your smell, the way you look, how you sound...now I want to know how you taste, and how you feel," Jim said, his mouth expelling little puffs of air against a wet, taut bud as he spoke, his mouth only inches from Blair's chest.

With those words, Jim set out on a sentinel's erotic journey over the body of his mate. He teased and tested Blair's flesh with his lips and tongue, ran gentle hands over all the secret places that were always just a bit out of view or out of reach. Blair's gender seemed to have little or no meaning now. All that mattered was that he was Jim's chosen life partner, his soulmate, and Jim wanted to map every inch of uncharted territory until he knew all Blair's secrets. And he wanted to drown in the sound of that rich voice as it moaned Blair's pleasure, and the feeling of Blair's hands returning his caresses, the hair-dusted legs parting and wrapping around him, and the sound of Blair's heartbeat as it seemed to beat in harmony with his own.

This first time was clumsy and awkward, hands uncertain of where to touch, hushed little instructions and encouragements whispered back and forth, accompanied by a few chuckles despite the passion, as the two lovers guided each other through their first time. Finally settling into a rhythm of sweet friction that brought their stiff cocks against one another, overheated bodies began to demand release. Tearing his mouth away from Blair's long enough to shout his lover's name, Jim came first, the slickness between them spurring Blair on to his own climax, Jim's name mingled with strangled little cries of pleasure.

"Wow," Blair said eloquently, chortling a little as Jim smiled down at him, the large man raising up on his elbows a bit to let Blair breathe more easily. "That was better than I thought."

"We saw, we conquered, we came," Jim summarized, earning a roll of the eyes and a laugh from Blair. "I can't believe I ever had doubts about this," Jim said sincerely, his smile fading. "I love you, Blair. I loved...*this*."

"Jim, I'm sorry that...about what happened with Sam. I wanted you to be the first--"

"Shh." Jim covered Blair's mouth lightly with his hand, then moved it and kissed him again. "I *was* the first--the first man you ever made love with. The first one you said 'yes' to."

"And the last one I'll ever make love with or say 'yes' to." Blair smiled then, caressing the side of Jim's face gently. "I love you so much. If you could ask me about the marriage thing?"

"Yeah?"

"I would say yes."

"Good. So if I asked you to spend the next 50 years or so with me, you'd probably take it under advisement?"

"Yeah, I'd go for that deal."

"Then it's settled. You're stuck with me permanently."

"Don't you forget it." Blair happily returned Jim's hug then, as they rolled on their sides and moved the comforter around to get comfortable, snuggled under the covers together. "I thought of one."

"One what?"

"A name for you."

"You did, huh? Do I want to hear this?" Jim teased, and Blair smiled, resting his cheek against Jim's chest, his arms wrapped contentedly around his life partner.

"Marido."

"Marido?" Jim asked. He loved the way the Spanish word rolled off Blair's tongue, the "R" rippling lightly and gracefully.

"It's Spanish for 'husband'. Think that would be okay?" Blair asked, pulling back to look up at Jim. Jim smiled in response, lifting a couple strands of hair out of Blair's face, kissing his cheek where they had rested.

"I'd love to be your 'marido' for the rest of our lives, sweetheart."

********

*Song lyrics are from "Song for You" by The Carpenters