Title: Winds of Change
Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple 
Rating: E-
Pairings: J/B

Status: NEW, complete
Date: 8-26-98
Series/Sequel: Story 11 in the New Beginnings Series

Disclaimers: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel.  No money being
made.  Just for fun.

Summary:   Decisions about Blair's dissertation loom on the horizon,
and the time to make a choice is at hand.

Warnings:   None, really.  Some angst.  Lots of love.  No sex.




WINDS OF CHANGE

by 

Candy Apple



     Blair made his way across campus, breathing deeply the fresh
air of the sunny summer day.  It was a bit cooler than usual, with
temperatures in the low seventies.  Summer school students milled
around the grounds, but the campus was bereft of the pandemonium
that usually accompanied the full swing of the fall semester.  All in all,
Blair decided this was a wonderful day to be alive.  And since his brush
with death, he'd come to view many days that way--days that would
have, before, been ordinary at best.

     He waved at a few familiar faces, mostly students he'd had in
class before, along with a couple of faculty members.  He wasn't
thinking specifically about his experiences at the fountain, or about
Alex, or about the bitter separation that had almost torn his relationship
with Jim in half.  His pace slowed a bit as he made his way across the
lawn and came closer and closer to the fountain.  He hadn't taken this
shortcut to Hargrove Hall since the last fateful time he'd gone there,
after his fight with Jim, lugging with him what felt like the weight of
the world, as well as the few remaining shards of a shattered heart.

     Now, he stopped in front of the ostensibly innocent lawn
ornament, hearing the bubbling and dancing of the water, watching the
sunshine highlight it like liquid crystal as it flowed and arched as
beautifully as ever.  Memories rushed back unwelcome and
uninvited...memories of the pain he'd felt as he sat desolately in his
office all night, vacillating between napping and reading and crying. 
Everything had fallen apart, he had lost control over the situation with
not one, but two sentinels, his life had been in tatters, and frankly,
when Alex had shown up to kill him, his only fear of death was
instinctual.  All that had been left for her was to extinguish his physical
life.  His soul was already wounded, and everything that mattered was
already gone.  

     He didn't realize that he was standing there now, arms wrapped
tightly around his book and his dissertation notebook as if they were
life preservers against the rushing water of the fountain.  What had
been a cool, pleasant breeze now seemed like a biting wind on his bare
arms as they extended under the gray t-shirt he wore with his jeans.  

     "Blair?"  

     Blair spun around at the sound of his name, stunned to see Jim
walking across the lawn toward him.  

     "I called your office a half dozen times.  I was worried."  Jim
joined him, keeping his eyes on Blair, skillfully averting them from the
fountain.  Just having his feet on the same ground where Blair had lain
dead was enough to chill his soul.

     "I...I didn't think I was out here that long..."  Blair took a deep,
somewhat shaky breath.  "I went over to the library.  They got in that
book through the interlibrary loan I was waiting for, and I took the
shortcut back here, and...I haven't been here since...since before it
happened."

     "Neither have I."  Jim shoved his hands in the pockets of his
jeans.  "I wish I could take a sledgehammer to that thing."

     "Tell me how it happened," Blair said quietly, staring at the
fountain.

     "Chief...I don't want to relive that."

     "I know...but...it was a major moment in my life, and I don't
remember any of it.  Not after Alex's boyfriend gassed me upstairs.  I
don't remember anything.  Please, Jim.  I want to know what happened
here."

     "When I realized Alex was going to go after you, I came here
right away, called for back-up while I was en route.  I had the worst
feeling I've ever had in my life.  I knew something was wrong...terribly
wrong."  Jim took a deep breath and shook his head.  "Some of it's
blurry for me too.  Intentionally so, probably.  I don't want to remember
it clearly."  He paused, then looked at Blair's intent expression as he
continued to watch the water dance in the very place where he died.  "I
was rushing up to go in the building, and something made me turn
around and look..."  Jim swallowed, and gave up on going on for a
moment.  Instead, he took in the sight of his lover, alive, healthy, dark
curls being tossed around in the summer breeze.

     "And I was in the fountain," Blair said calmly.

     "You were floating face down in the water," Jim said, with
almost no voice.  "Brown and I...I think it was Brown...I just jumped in
the water and ran for you and somebody helped me.  We pulled you out
and...we tried everything...CPR...I kept yelling at you to hang on, to
come back, to *breathe, dammit*," Jim concluded, his voice holding
almost the same intensity it had as he'd pleaded with his lifeless partner
to rally on that bleak day almost three months earlier.

     "But nothing was working at first, right?"  Blair asked, still not
looking at Jim.  It was as if he were letting a sort of movie play in his
mind's eye, bringing to life the images Jim was describing.

     "No.  Nothing.  They pulled me off you, and the paramedics
went to work, and when they gave up, and there was this God-awful...
silence settling over everything...I heard it.  It wasn't very clear
or very strong, but I *knew* there was a heartbeat.  I *heard* it."  Jim
wiped at his eyes quickly, glad that Blair didn't notice and the sparse
smattering of students that were moving about the campus weren't
anywhere near them.  "I threw Simon and Brown off me and *I* went
back to work.  Somebody told me to give it up, to let you go--I just
yelled at them to back off, to leave me alone, that I heard your heart. 
That seemed to stop Simon, but nobody else.  Everybody else kept
yammering on about how you were dead and it was over until Simon
must have said something because the goddamn chattering finally
stopped and I was able to hear you again.  And I didn't stop working on
you until you gagged and I rolled you on your side so the water could
come out.  But there wasn't much water, and you were still
unconscious.  The nerve gas had lowered your vital signs to nearly
nothing, so you hadn't taken in more than a marginal amount of water."

     "So I started breathing on my own again?"

     "Your respiration was ragged, your heartbeat was erratic.  They
loaded you in the ambulance and I rode with you.  I swear to God I
don't think that ambulance touched the ground all the way to the
hospital.  Simon and the rest of the cops were giving it about a four-car
police escort with lights and sirens.  Nothing got in the way, and we
made it to the hospital in record time.  Then they whisked you off
down the hall and that's the last I saw of you until you were back in
your room, where you finally woke up."

     "Thanks for telling me how it happened."  Blair shivered and
hugged his books tighter.  Jim came up behind him and wrapped him in
strong arms.  

     "I'm sorry you have to look at this damn thing every day, Chief."

     "I'll be okay.  I'll get over it.  It was just...hard seeing it the first
time since...  Knowing that I was...that I was *dead* in there."  Blair
felt the arms around him tighten.

     "Technically, you weren't *dead*.  It was more like a state of
suspended animation that paralleled death closely enough to get you
pronounced dead and keep you from drowning after all that time in the
water."

     "I try to look at it that this is where I got a second chance.  This
is where I *lived*, not where I *died*."

     "It is, baby.  Oh, God, I'm so glad you're here."  Jim rested his
head against Blair's.  "You're my life, you know that, right,
sweetheart?"

     "I know.  You're mine too, lover."  Blair leaned into Jim's
supporting embrace.  "I think the thing that hurts most to remember is
how close we came to losing everything...with or without the fountain."

     "That's not going to happen again."

     "Jim, I talked to my committee this morning."

     "They're going to give you the extensions you need on your
grants, right?"

     "Well, no.  The grants aren't all their decision.  I have two
grants from outside foundations.  They took one of them away from me
two weeks ago, and I just found out the other one was pulled this
morning."

     "But you were in the hospital!  For God's sake, Chief, you
weren't fucking *breathing*!  Doesn't that count for an excuse?"

     "Kind of, but even if they extended the deadlines, I don't have
anything worth shit to show them."  Blair leaned his head back against
Jim.  "Sometimes I wish I could put this damn thing through the
shredder and forget it.  Of course, I'd still have it on disk."  Blair let out
a long sigh.

     "It's the thought that counts," Jim said, smiling and kissing
Blair's temple.  "You know I won't let you go belly up with your
research, right?  I can--"

     "No way, man."

     "Because I'm your subject?"

     "Well, if you end up really *being* my subject, that would be
the reason.  The other one is that I want to complete this on my own.  
It's been the biggest goal of my life.  I want to know I can do it."

     "You can do anything you set your mind to."  Jim paused. 
"What do you mean if I end up *being* your subject?"

     "This dissertation almost ended our relationship, Jim."

     "But it didn't."

     "I've thought a lot about it in the last several weeks.  I got to
thinking about Lee Brackett again."

     "Why?"

     "Jim, he found one of my old undergrad papers and put two and
two together.  How long do you figure it'll be before some secret CIA
guys show up and drag you off in the middle of the night to some
testing lab somewhere if I publish this thing?"

     "I'm not named in the study."

     "Jim, I didn't even *know* you when I wrote that paper, and
Brackett still figured it out, and managed to force you to help him steal
an airplane.  I mean, you stopped him--"

     "*We* stopped him."

     "But if he could do that, so could some other entity we don't
want in our lives."

     "You sound like you've made up your mind."

     "Not yet.  But I'm worried about it, Jim."

     "You know I won't ever stand in the way of you getting your
Ph.D."

     "I know that now.  But being Dr. Sandburg won't mean much if
you're not with me.  Or if your life is made miserable as different less
than savory people figure this whole thing out."

     "Have you got the headache I think you have right now?"  Jim
asked, caressing Blair's forehead gently.  The younger man closed his
eyes and took in a shaky breath.

     "Yeah, and then some.  I don't know what to do, Jim."

     "What do you want to do?"

     "I want to finish my dissertation and release it in a perfect
world where you'd still be safe when it was finished.  But I don't want
to risk you for the sake of my credentials.  I want to just...I don't know
what I want."  Blair's voice was a bit shaky now.  "I'm so tired of
worrying about this.  I want it gone."

     "The dissertation?"

     "Right now, yeah.  In an hour, I'll change my mind again.  I'm
stuck here, man."

     "Do you have any other partially completed research projects
you could get a different dissertation out of?"

     "I don't know."

     "Do you need to be here anymore today?"

     "Not officially.  There's some stuff I should catch up on, but it's
nothing that won't wait."

     "Good.  How about I take you up to the cabin and we stay over
there tonight and forget this whole damn thing for a while?"

     "I can't forget it.  It's on my mind all the time," Blair confessed,
feeling his control slipping a little.  "I know what I should do, and I'm
afraid."

     "What do you think you should do?"

     "Destroy everything related to the sentinel project.  Shred it,
burn it, trash the disks...leave no traces of it."   Blair felt a tear slide
down his cheek.  "It's like having a child that you know is pure
evil...sort of like the father must have felt in 'The Omen'--remember
when the father knows he has to kill the little boy because he's the
Antichrist?"

     "I remember."

     "Well, that's how I feel about this diss.  It's dangerous and it's
evil and the right thing to do is to kill it. But I love it.  It's part of me,
and I don't know what to do."

     "I'm so sorry to have put you in this mess, sweetheart."

     "You didn't."  Blair sniffled a little and looked down at the
notebook clutched in his arms.  "I did it all by myself.  I was so excited
when I met you.  I didn't think 'how can I help this poor suffering guy'. 
I thought 'yippee!  A perfect specimen!'  Like you were a goddamn bug
on a slide in the lab.  So maybe now I have to pay the price for that."

     "Karma?"

     "Yeah.  Seeing you as my thesis on feet.  Using you to get my
Ph.D."

     "You haven't used me in a long time, Chief."

     "No, but my motives were all selfish until I fell in love with
you.  And when you act out of complete selfishness, you don't gain
much."  Blair sighed and stared at the fountain.  "If I wanted to publish
this, you wouldn't stand in my way?"

     "Never."

     "Not even knowing what it could mean?"

     "It's a big part of your life, baby.  I would never be angry with
you for going ahead with it."

     Blair turned around to face Jim.  He looked at the notebook and
then back up at his lover.
     
     "Let's go up to the cabin like you said.  Can you get the
afternoon off?"

     "Sure.  Well, with a little subterfuge."  Jim put a hand over his
stomach.  "I'm not feeling all that great.  Must be that flu that's going
around..."

********

     Jim was busily setting up the gas grill on the deck, planning to
start grilling their dinner.  It was a little after six, and there was enough
breeze off the water for Jim to be wearing a sweater.  Blair sighed as he
stood in the kitchen, staring at the head of lettuce he was supposed to
be turning into a salad. //How did everything get this confused?// he
asked himself. //Maybe it's like the old story of the monkey's paw--use
the cursed amulet and make a wish.  You get your wish but with some
horrible flipside.  I have everything I ever wanted with Jim...at the
price of what I've worked for all my life...well, since I was about
twelve, anyway.//

     "I thought you were getting the steaks out, Chief," Jim said,
opening the refrigerator and taking out the meat.  His voice wasn't
accusatory, and a look of concern spread over his features when he saw
that Blair was still standing at the counter, staring at the head of
lettuce.  "If we cook all this crap right now, are you going to eat
anything?"  he asked in a tone that was much gentler than the words.

     "Probably not," Blair responded honestly.

     "Let's stick this stuff in the refrigerator and I'll turn off the grill
and we can go take a walk, huh?"

     "Aren't you hungry?"

     "I had a big lunch.  I'm okay."  Jim went back outside and shut
down the grill while Blair put the perishable food away and grabbed his
jacket before joining Jim outside.

     Jim took a hold of Blair's hand as they walked down to their
beach and just started walking in silence.  

     "Do you ever worry about what'll happen if the dissertation is
published.  Honestly."  Blair looked up at Jim and waited for his
response.  The other man was silent a long time, then finally nodded
slightly.  "When did you start worrying about it?"

     "Before Brackett ever showed up.  When he did," Jim shrugged,
"I just thought, 'oh, shit, I was right about this'."

     "But you didn't try to stop me then."

     "What else did I have to offer you to keep you with me besides
being a great test subject?"  Jim snorted an ugly little laugh.  "My
sparkling wit?  If you weren't studying me..."  Jim shook his head a
little and let the sentence lie unfinished.

     "It would have been enough for me."

     "Back before Brackett?  Way back then?"  Jim shook his head
again.  "No, Chief, you would have been on to bigger and better things,
and then when the Borneo thing came up...  I'd probably be getting
postcards from various remote corners of the globe every couple of
months right now, because you'd feel guilty to dump me entirely."

     "You let me move in with you."

     "Yeah, into a glorified pantry with a curtain for a door."

     "With my stuff in the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator, with
my shaving supplies actually in the medicine cabinet or on the shelves
in the bathroom instead of in a travel bag.  And you're the one who
picked out the doors for me, remember?"

     "Yeah, I remember," Jim responded, smiling.  "But a set of
doors and some shelf space isn't exactly a rival for Borneo."

     "It was for me."  Blair pulled his hand out of Jim's and slid his
arm around the taller man's waist.  Jim's arm around Blair's shoulders
pulled him in close as they kept walking.  

     "So for all your research, you get what?  Me?  Congratulations,
Chief, you just won the booby prize.  No, you've got to publish that
dissertation and go for it.  We'll cope with the fall out."

     "Don't you ever dare say a thing like that ever again!"  Blair
stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Jim.  "Who taught you
that you were some sort of 'booby prize' for God's sake?"

     "Oh, come on, Blair!  Before I had the trust fund money to
offer, I was a pretty sorry catch and you know it."

     "Again with the fucking trust fund!  Dammit, Jim, for two cents
I'd used my access to it to clean it out and give the goddamn money
away to some worthwhile charity!  Shit!  If I hear another word about
that money from you or your father, I'm going to throw up.  Do you
think I fell in love with your money?  I didn't even *know* about it
before!"

     "No, I don't think that.  But I think you got attached to me, and
it was hard for you to leave.  I know you love me now, but that was the
worst thing that could have happened you.  Blair, you could have
been...you could have been something so great, so famous, so...so...
*renowned*.  And since you've been with me, I've done nothing but put
chains on you.  And if you give up this dissertation, and your doctorate,
then it'll be complete."

     "You really think that if all I came out of the last three years
with is you, that it wouldn't be worth it?"  Blair took a deep breath.  "I
can't undo all the damage that the assholes in your life have done to
your self-image overnight.  Maybe I never can.  It's ingrained in you to
feel like a second-rate product."

     "Nobody who mattered ever...liked what they saw."  Jim started
walking away, running a hand back over his hair.  "When I see what
you could be, what kind of life you could have...Blair, I can't compete
with that.  There's going to be another Borneo someday, or another job. 
Rainier shouldn't be the only pinnacle you're allowed in your career."

     "I could live with no job, no money, no professional
reputation...but I couldn't live without you.  You know that."

     "And if I loved you enough, I'd tell you to get lost."

     "Why?  So I could be some phenomenal academic success with
no heart and soul?"

     "This is what I'm supposed to be, Blair.  A cop.  It even fits with
the whole 'protect the tribe thing'.  It's programmed into me to do this
job.  I won't ever be anything more than that.  But you..."  Jim turned
from staring at the water to look into Blair's eyes.  "You could be
something phenomenal.  Not a consultant who gets pushed around and
overlooked by a bunch of clods around the bullpen, but a consultant
who gets paid six figures and given star treatment.  Maybe president of
a university someday.  Maybe the guy who supervises some expedition
that finds the...well, whatever the biggest 'find' would be.  I'm robbing
you of your life."

     "How am I gonna make you understand this?"  Blair sighed. 
"You're a cop because it fits with your instincts, that's true.  But that
doesn't mean you didn't have the talent and the ability to do any number
of other things.  You aren't some donut-devouring cretin who considers
the sports section great literature.  And stupid people don't make good
cops.  As for me, yeah, I could pursue my academic career to the
ultimate height it would take me, and then what would I have?  A lot of
money, a fancy office somewhere, and a Franklin Planner."

     "You need one of those now," Jim quipped, smiling a little. 
Blair laughed, relieved to see a little humor in Jim's face.

     "Probably.  But that would take all the challenge out of running
my life," he retorted.  "Seriously, Jim, you know me.  Do you picture
any of those things having meaning to me?"

     "The chance to do what you love means something to you."

     "I *love* being with you.  Aside from that, I just need to find a
career I like.  Dr. Benjamin--he's one of the senior faculty members in
the Anthro department--told me that they're going to expand the
department eventually.  I might be able to get a job right there."

     "Not if you trash your dissertation."

     "No, probably not."  It was Blair's turn now to stare out at the
water. 

     "Nobody but Brackett ever bothered me about this sentinel
thing because of your research.  I think you should go for it."

     "What if some government agency got a hold of this?"

     "What's the likelihood of them curling up at night with your
dissertation for a nice evening's read?  Besides, you didn't use my
name."

     "I've talked about some of our cases--not by names, obviously,
but to illustrate the use of your senses."

     "Maybe we need to do some editing."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Well, you narrowed it down to my being a cop and applying
my skills to police work.  Maybe if that part came out--"

     "If that part comes out, so does about the middle third of the
paper so far.  Jim, your whole instinct to protect the tribe is illustrated
by your career choices."

     "Well, then leave it as it is and turn it in."  Jim shook his head. 
"I don't know what else to say about this, Chief.  I don't want to be the
reason you don't get your doctorate."

     "If I got it, it would be because of you."

     "No.  It would be because of you.  I'm just the research subject."

     Blair evaluated Jim's face for a moment.  There had been no
trace of sarcasm or bitterness in his voice.  

     "Let's go back inside.  We should probably make dinner pretty
soon," Blair said.  With that, the two men joined hands and walked
back up to the cabin.

********

     Jim woke slowly, first noticing that Blair wasn't next to him,
and then registering a very odd odor.  It smelled like there was a fire in
the fireplace, but more than wood was burning.  Both worried and
curious, Jim got out of bed and pulled on his robe, padding out to the
living room.  He paused to take in the sight in front of him, not sure
just what to make of it.  

     Blair sat huddled in the corner of the couch, his knees drawn up
to his chest and his feet on the cushions, robe wrapped tightly around
himself, staring into a crackling fire.  There were no sounds of crying,
but the firelight occasionally reflected off the wet tracks on his cheeks.

     "Blair?"  Jim said softly, hoping not to startle his lover.  Blair
jerked a little anyway, but then turned back to stare into the fire. 

     "I thought you were asleep," he said quietly.

     "I was...but I smelled smoke, and something else...  What's
going on, Chief?  What's wrong?"

     "Nothing's wrong.  I just...it's hard, that's all."

     "What is?"  Jim, still confused, moved toward the couch and sat
next to Blair.  It was then that he noticed Blair's back pack on the floor,
along with the empty notebook that had held the draft of his
dissertation.  "Oh, God...Chief, you didn't...not in the fire?"

     "About ten minutes ago," Blair responded, swallowing and
wiping at the moisture on his face.

     "You still have it on your computer at home though, right?" 
Jim asked, smiling a little.  This had to be just a symbolic gesture.

     "No.  Before we came here, I moved the files onto a couple of
disks and brought them with me."

     "You didn't burn those too."

     "What good is burning the printed out draft without getting rid
of the files off the computer?"  Blair snorted a little laugh.  "I would
have had to run that marked up draft through the shredder eventually
anyway."  Blair was silent a moment.  "It's over.  It's gone.  I made my
decision."

     "Oh, man, I never wanted you to lose everything this way.  Is
there a way--of course there is.  There's got to be some way to retrieve
that off your hard drive."

     "I don't plan on retrieving it, Jim.  It's finished.  Over.  And it
wasn't because of anything you said...well, not entirely.  I knew this day
was coming, but I was putting it off.  That dissertation couldn't see the
light of day.  It was too dangerous."

     "It was worth the risk, sweetheart.  I never...  I can't believe you
did this."  Jim paused.  "Do you think they'll take away your fellowship
over this?"  The thought of Blair not being able to teach and participate
in his academic life tore at Jim's heart.

     "I don't know what they'll do about me.  My committee, the
department...hell, Rainier in general."  Blair drooped his head against
the back of the couch.  "Right now I don't care.  I feel like I just ripped
part of my guts out, but at the same time, I feel free.  Like *we're* free. 
The damn dissertation isn't between us."

     "You've worked for this your whole life, sweetheart.  How can
you--"

     "Naomi wasn't big on handing down a lot of parental wisdom,
but one thing she did tell me was to follow my heart.  If it feels right in
here," he covered his heart with his hand, "do it.  Everything I was
doing with this sentinel project for the last few months felt *wrong* in
here, and right up here," Blair tapped his temple.  "I can handle my
brain being pissed off a lot better than my heart being twisted in a
knot."

     "I just cost you your whole career."

     "And I might have cost you yours when you decided to dance
with me at Rafe's birthday party in front of half the Cascade PD--but
you didn't let that stop you.  You chose me, and you didn't make a big
thing out of it.  You've put me above your career and your father.  And
I'm not afraid anymore that I'm going to lose out to something or
somebody else.  I know where I stand with you."

     "Right in the center of my universe, Chief."

     "Exactly," Blair responded, smiling.  "Besides, you didn't burn
the draft or the disks or ask me to do it.  It was my decision, my choice. 
And if my dissertation on sentinels was the price I paid for falling in
love with you," Blair shrugged, "I got a bargain."  He smiled and poked
Jim's thigh with his stocking foot.

     "Blair, I--"

     "Jim, please don't feel guilty about this.  That dissertation
belonged to me, and it was mine to keep or destroy.  I chose to destroy
it.  It was a free choice, and I don't regret it.  Just like I don't regret for a
minute falling in love with you.  Hell, from an academic perspective,
that really was a tainted piece of crap anyway.  I've loved you for
probably three-fourths of the time I've studied you.   That's...*so*
unethical, so...well, it's just *wrong*.  You don't study someone you
love.  You have no objectivity.  I tried hard to keep mine, but I know I
didn't.  I know there were things I didn't say, and things I did say that
were guided by how I felt.  I know I skewed the results by living with
you, becoming part of your life."  

     "If this is what it feels like to get my results skewed, I'm all for
it."  Jim watched as Blair laughed a little, wiping at his eyes again. 
"You think maybe I could hold more than your foot?"  he asked,
referring to the foot he'd been holding and caressing since it had poked
his thigh.

     "I think I'd like that."  Blair shifted positions until he could rest
his head on Jim's shoulder, curled up against his lover's side.  He
wound an arm around Jim's middle as the larger man wrapped him in a
tight embrace.   He drew in and expelled a shaky breath.

     "Still hurts, doesn't it, sweetheart?"  Jim said gently, stroking
Blair's hair.  There was a little nod before Blair began to cry quietly
against Jim's shoulder.  "I love you so much, baby.  I can't believe you
did this for me."

     "For us," Blair responded.  "It's kind of scary...not knowing
what I'm doing.  This project...it's defined my life for so long..."  Blair
struggled with the words, pushing them past the tightness in his throat.

     "If you change your mind, and you want to--"

     "No.  It's over, Jim.  There's no going back now."  Blair
swallowed hard and tried to get his control back.  "I'm going to tell my
committee that I became personally involved with my subject, and that
I don't feel it would be ethical for me to publish my results, because
they weren't obtained under the appropriate circumstances."

     "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

     "Well, I would tell them that I fell in love with and married my
subject, but I don't think they'd share my joy right now," Blair added,
smiling in spite of the turmoil he felt at turning his whole life up on its
ear.

     "You think they'll take away the fellowship?"

     "Oh yeah."  Blair was quiet a minute.  "It's possible they won't,
but not too likely.  How much red tape they drag me through with it
depends on how pissed off my committee chair is.  If he isn't out to get
me for wasting their time, they might just let me slink out of there
quietly.  I could resign, but then I shoot my chances down if they would
have kept me on."

     "I don't want you to have to be humiliated by this, Chief.  If you
think it's best, resign.  Don't tell them anything."

     "If I do that, I won't have much luck getting into another grad
school, and certainly not any chance of pursuing any graduate work
there."

     "You want to do that?  Pursue graduate work?"

     "Yeah.  I have to see this as just a setback.  If I see it as the end,
I couldn't handle it.  I want to teach, Jim.  I want to do research and
teach and haunt libraries.  I *need* that in my life.  It's part of who I
am.  I just have to figure out how to make it happen."

     "How about your psych minor?"

     "What?"

     "Do you have enough credits to get into an M.A. program, or an
M.S.W. program?  The thing you love most about Anthropology is
people, right?"

     "Well, yeah..."

     "So why not veer off course a little and get another degree? 
Your background in all those other cultures has got to be invaluable in
understanding people and their motivations.  You like people, they like
you, you're a fabulous listener--what do you need to do to be a
counselor or social worker or...well, something where you work with
people?"

     "I have a lot of psych courses, a few sociology and social work
courses...I'd have to talk to an advisor in the psych department..."

     "What about academic counseling?"

     "Myself I cannot save," Blair quipped, snorting a little laugh.

     "Victim's advocate."

     "What?"  Blair shot up in his seat and stared at Jim with puffy
but lively eyes.  He was interested.

     "The Cascade PD has no victims' advocacy unit.  Don't you
think it might be high time to change that?"  Jim challenged, knowing
how the mere suggestion of social injustice or the lack of needed
human services would get Blair set in instant motion.

     "I don't have any training for that."

     "You know a hell of a lot more about working with people than
most of the cops there.  You're multilingual, you understand different
cultures--think about crime victims who don't speak the language, can't
deal with the system because they don't trust it, don't understand it--or
it goes against their culture...  I'm not saying you wouldn't need help--like 
maybe a licensed social worker or maybe a psychiatrist...  I don't
know what goes into making up a victims' advocacy unit exactly either,
but I bet you could find out."  Jim watched Blair's rapt expression.  He
wanted to jump up and down at having sparked something in the
miserable figure that had been huddled in the corner of the couch a
short time ago.  "We have a couple of policewomen who have some
experience working with rape victims, and we have a list of phone
numbers for community resources we're all supposed to have handy.  A
phone number isn't too comforting to a victim of a violent crime or a
witness to something traumatic."

     "But if there were a special team that dealt with that, and one of
us was always on call, and we could personally assist those people in
making connections for those services, and then the ones who were
hesitant or didn't know how, or didn't trust the system, I might know
how to reach them...and I know a couple of grad students in psych who
are A.B.D., and you could probably even get some volunteer help from
grad students who need community service hours--" Blair finally
paused for a breath and looked at his smiling lover.  "Have I mentioned
lately how much I love you?"

     "No, but you don't have to.  I *know*."  Jim pulled his lover
into his arms and stifled the over-active mouth with gentle kisses.

********

The End...well, until the next chapter... ;-)