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Mistaken Identity 
by Lianne Burwell
February 1998
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Jim Ellison stepped off the plane, and took a deep breath. Jet fuel, sea 
salt, flowers and the scent of many people combined into an intoxicating 
aroma that said "vacation!" Suddenly, the energy that had faded during 
the long flight returned in a rush. Unfortunately, it was too late to 
check out the local surfing. That would have to wait until the next day. 
He turned to his companion.

"C'mon, Sandburg. Let's get the luggage and head for the hotel. I suddenly 
have some excess energy to work off."

Blair Sandburg looked at him with a knowing grin.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" And they were off.

* * * * *

Blair had kept up a running monologue during the ride to the hotel, much 
to the cab-driver's amusement. The history of the islands, details about 
the local customs - both current and ancient - and descriptions of the 
sites they were going to see, flowed without stop. Jim shook his head, 
slightly, always amazed at the amount of trivia that his lover had stored 
away.

"This is just too cool. Hawaii is one of those places that I never went 
to with Naomi. I think we visited just about every other part of the 
world *except* Hawaii."

"Well, you're here now. Actually, I kindof like the fact that there is 
someplace you'll get to see for the first time with me. There aren't many 
places I'll ever be able to say *that* about."

Blair flashed his best mega-watt grin at him, as the cab pulled up in 
front of the hotel.

It wasn't the best hotel in Hawaii - Jim wouldn't be able to afford that 
- but it was a very pleasant one. Joel Taggert, captain of the Cascade 
PD's Bomb Squad, had recommended it highly after he and his wife had 
spent their second honeymoon there.

The hotel wasn't right on the beach, but you could see the water from 
their room's window. But Jim wasn't really interested in the view, at the 
moment. At least, not *that* view. He waited, patiently, as Blair tipped 
the porter and closed the door. Then, as he turned around, Jim pounced.

"I take it we're not going to check out the local night scene, are we?"

"Nope," Jim said as he tossed Blair onto the large bed.

"Not going to go get dinner?"

"Nope." Blair's clothes were landing on the floor in an untidy heap - 
proof that Jim Ellison's hormones were on the rampage.

"Romantic walk on a beach?"

"Nope," came the growl, as Jim's clothes also hit the floor, then he 
landed on top of his laughing partner.

They rolled around for a few minutes, deliberately messing up the neatly 
made bed, neither able to stop laughing. Then, after one brush of cock 
against cock too many, they got down to business.

After nearly three years as roommates, and two as lovers, there was very 
little that they didn't know about each other's bodies. Each knew exactly 
what touches, what actions, would bring pleasure to the other, and they 
were on a constant search for new ways to drive each other out of their 
minds. But they still hadn't moved past the surprised "I've got you," or 
the awed "I can have you," stage yet. Jim hoped they never did. That sort 
of boredom could destroy a relationship. After one failed marriage, Jim 
understood this all too well. He did *not* intend to let it happen to 
*this* relationship.

However, despite the sudden burst of energy, both were too tired from the 
flight for anything too strenuous. They ended up settling for a little 
friction, a little hand-work and a little mouth-work. As they finally 
curled up to sleep, in the untidy, sticky mess they had made of the bed, 
Jim wrapped himself around Blair, and sighed in contentment.

"I still want that romantic walk on a beach. With moonlight," came the 
sleepy whisper.

"Anything for you, Chief. Anything at all."

* * * * *

Jim watched fondly as his lover bounced through the open-air market. That 
morning, Blair had woke him at the crack of dawn, ready and raring to go. 
So, after using the shower the way it was *supposed* to be used (for wild 
sex, in other words), they had headed off into the morning sun.

"Hey Jim! What do you think of this for Simon?"

Jim eyed the item dubiously. It was a wood carving done is a pseudo-
native style. It depicted a scowling man chomping on a cigar. The 
resemblance to Captain Simon Banks, Cascade PD, Major Crime, was... 
uncanny - not to mention nearly libelous.

"He'll blow a gasket, Chief. ...it's perfect!" The grinned at each other 
for a moment, then Blair turned to haggle with the stall-keeper.

Jim was glad he had suggested Hawaii as their vacation this time around. 
Most of the time they tried to go camping or fishing, but their luck was 
usually bad. Simon running into trouble. MIBs kidnapping Jim and trying 
to kill Blair. Poachers taking on the wrong bear. They always seemed to 
end up in trouble when they went camping, so this time Jim had offered an 
alternative. After all, what could happen to them in a crowded tourist 
trap like Waikiki?

* * * * *

Later, after buying the carving and a few other souvenirs for friends and 
family, Jim and Blair left the market to find some lunch. As they did, 
Jim noticed a nearby heartbeat start to race and breathing accelerate. 
He turned towards the sound and saw a man staring at them.

The man was tall - maybe even taller than Jim - but very thin. His hair 
was a dirty blond, long and tied back in a ponytail, and his eyes were a 
cold grey. He was watching them with a hungry expression. Jim's eyes 
narrowed.

Casually, he draped his arm around the shoulders of the still chattering 
Blair, and gave the watcher his best "he's taken so back off" glare. He 
figured that the man's physical reaction was in response to Blair, 
something that happened quite regularly, and Jim was not about to let 
some masher spoil the first full day of their vacation.

The other man frowned, then disappeared into the crowd. Jim turned his 
attention back to Blair's chatter about the trip they were taking the 
next day to see a live volcano, legends about Pele, Hawaiian goddess of 
fire, and plans for testing Jim's senses while they were there. Jim 
quickly forgot about their watcher.

* * * * *

"Oh, *man*! That was fantastic! The local music scene is *great*."

"It wasn't bad." Blair frowned at him, exasperated. He sometimes said 
that Jim really needed to join the nineties when it came to music. Jim 
didn't see why. But Blair *was* right. The music had been great. Of 
course, the company had been better.

It was later that night - or more accurately early the next morning -  
and Jim and Blair were returning to their hotel. They had gone to a 
restaurant for a quiet, romantic dinner. They had indulged in some of the 
local seafood, a good wine and something absolutely sinful for dessert 
while watching the sunset from the restaurant's deck overlooking the surf.

Then Blair had insisted on going to one of the local night-spots. Jim had 
protested that he would be out of place, but hadn't fought too hard. He 
might not dance very well himself, but there were few things he liked 
better than to watch his partner on a dance floor. Blair was an excellent 
dancer.

"But I still want that romantic walk on the beach."

Jim smiled, indulgently. "Don't worry. We've got plenty of time for that."

They were heading down a quiet lane to the hotel, slightly drunk and very 
relaxed. So relaxed that Jim was not paying much attention to their 
surroundings. As a result he did not hear the other two men approaching 
until it was too late. When he did, he spun around to see the watcher 
from the afternoon and another man. Then, something impacted with the 
side of his head and everything went black.

* * * * *

When Jim came around the sun was already up and Blair was gone. He 
struggled to his feet, wincing. He had a fair-sized lump on his head, but 
didn't think that he had a concussion. A quick check of the area led him 
to a spot on a side street where he found Blair's bracelet, clasp broken, 
on the ground next to a spot where he could tell a car had been parked. 
He couldn't smell Blair's blood anywhere, so the young man had been taken 
relatively unhurt, but he still had no idea why.

He realized that there was nothing he could do, except get to a police 
station and report the abduction. He sighed. It looked like their bad 
luck with vacations was continuing. He slipped the bracelet into his 
pocket and set out to find some help.

* * * * *

Jim Ellison was about to go ballistic. In the three hours since he had 
stumbled into the police station he had been passed from person to 
person, humored, and treated like an invalid or prankster. A doctor had 
checked him out, and confirmed that he didn't have a concussion, but he 
was getting nowhere in his attempts to get them looking for his abducted 
partner.

Finally, Jim had blown up at his latest "keeper". He had ranted on for a 
while about treatment of tourists and courtesy towards out-of-town 
policemen. Then he had threatened to got to the governor and the press, 
not necessarily in that order. The officer had given him a look of "Yeah, 
right" then said "Come with me, then." Jim still felt he was being 
humored, but decided to go along.

Now they were moving through a bullpen, heading for the Captain's office, 
when the officer stopped in shock next to a desk.

"Lieu.. Lieutenant Wolfe?"

When the man at the desk looked up, Jim finally started to understand the 
problem. The man staring at him could have been his twin brother. Oh, 
there were differences. The other man looked to be a year or two older 
than himself. The wrinkles around the eyes were a little more pronounced 
and he had a much darker tan. Jim was also relieved to note that the 
other man's scent was totally different.

His twin stood up, turning out to be almost an inch shorter. "Lieutenant 
Mack Wolfe, Honolulu PD, Homicide."

Jim shook his hand. "Detective James Ellison, Cascade, Washington PD, 
Major Crime." Neither noticed the other officer beating a hasty retreat, 
confusion written all over her face.

"So, Detective Ellison, What brings you to our neck of the woods?"

This time, as he explained - once more - about the early morning attack, 
Jim finally felt like someone was actually *listening*.

* * * * *

"So... the man you saw earlier in the day - the one involved in the 
attack. You said he was about 6'4", grey eyes, long, dark blond hair?"

"Yep. You know him?" Jim was certain Wolfe did. His heartrate was up, and 
he was sweating lightly. All the signs of stress were there.

"I think so. Here, take a look at this."

Mack took a photo from out of a file folder sitting on his desk and 
handed it to Jim. It was definitely the same man. He read the attached 
rap sheet.

"Jason Redmen. Convicted of armed robbery, assault and murder. Sentenced 
to life. Arresting officer... Mack Wolfe." He looked up and raised an 
eyebrow in question.

"A real nasty piece of work. He escaped from prison about a week ago, and 
promptly disappeared. Most people assumed that he skipped the islands, 
but I thought he might stick around. He made some threats against me 
during the trial."

Jim frowned. "So when he saw me and Sandburg..."

"He must have assumed that you were me, and grabbed your partner as part 
of some revenge scheme."

Jim slapped himself, mentally. Based on this, his actions at the market 
were the worst possible thing he could have done. Now this lunatic had 
his lover, and wanted to use him against a man he knew nothing about!

The phone rang, making them both jump. Mack hit the speaker button.

"Lieutenant Wolfe. What is it?"

An almost obscene chuckle came from the phone. "Hello, Lieutenant. You 
sound a little tense. Remember me?"

"Redmen." Mack signaled someone to start a trace.

"Very good! I just wanted to let you know that I still have your little 
friend here. He's not hurt... yet."

"What do you want, Redmen."

"From you? Nothing. I just wanted to let you know that your pal here is 
going to die a slow and painful death for *your* sins. You'll have to 
deal with that for a long time, Lieutenant. Enjoy." The line went dead.

Mack looked over at the officer dealing with the trace, but the man just 
shook his head. Not enough time. He turned back to Jim, who was sitting 
with his jaw clenched, trying very hard not to let his anger explode.

"Ellison, I need you to go through the mug books. Right now, our only 
chance is to identify the man that was with Redmen. Okay?"

Jim just nodded, once.

* * * * *

It took Jim almost an hour to find the face he remembered. He used every 
technique that Blair had worked on with him in pattern recognition, 
scanning pages as fast as he could turn them. Meanwhile, Mack was on the 
phone, putting out APBs on Redmen, Blair and the description of the 
unknown third man. Both of them ignored the frequent shocked looks from 
people passing by.

"Here. This is him."

Mack turned the book to look at the picture Jim was pointing to. "Patrick 
O'Dell. Let's see what the computer has to say."

The report was short. Patrick O'Dell, twenty-four years old. Brown hair, 
brown eyes. Jailed for small-time extortion. Released, having completed 
his sentence, just three weeks prior. Released from the same facility 
that Redmen had escaped from.

"All right," Mack said. "Let's see if there is a current address on this 
puppy."

* * * * *

There were several possible addresses that Patrick O'Dell could have gone 
to. Officers were sent to check all of them, with Mack and Jim taking 
what they considered the most likely address. They were working their way 
through the bushes, heading towards a holiday cottage owned by O'Dell's 
parents, well outside of town.

"You realize this is probably a trap," Mack whispered. "Redmen is not 
likely to want to leave me alive. Besides, why would he call me, rather 
than just killing your partner and dumping his body? He's probably 
counting on me... you... to identify O'Dell and be led here."

"I know, but there aren't any other options." Jim turned his head, 
slightly, and focused his hearing on the cottage, being careful not to 
slip into a zoneout.

He could hear Blair's heartbeat. It was fast, but steady. It sounded like 
he was tense, but unhurt still. Jim couldn't smell any blood, either.

"Now, if we could just figure out if this is the place."

"It is." Jim didn't bother looking at Mack.

"How can you tell?"

"Trust me."

Mack frowned at him, and Jim tried to convince him with a look. He 
couldn't explain, but he didn't want to risk going in there alone. That 
might get Blair killed. Mack stared back with an unreadable expression.

"OK. So... any suggestions?"

"We head around the house, try figure out where Redmen and O'Dell are. 
Then we move in and take them both out at the same time." Jim was 
relieved that Mack hadn't pressed for details. Maybe, with any luck, he 
wouldn't at all.

Mack shrugged. "Sounds like a nice, simple plan."

"They usually *are* the best."

"Too true."

They crept up on the cottage, Jim leading the way using his hearing to 
guide them (although he didn't tell Mack that). Blair's heartbeat was 
coming from a room with only one small window, set high in the wall. 
Getting him out first was a plan that Jim quickly discarded.

Both Redmen and O'Dell were in the same room. The sounds of argument were 
clearly audible from outside.

"C'mon, Jase! You said you were gonna kill the guy. Do it! Then let's get 
the hell out of here! Wolfe saw me, and his gonna find this place, sooner 
or later, if he's as smart as you say."

"Don't be an idiot, Patrick. I'm counting on it! I want Wolfe dead. He'll 
show up for his little buddy here, and then I'll *get* him. I'm a little 
surprised, though. Who'd a thought that the great Lieutenant Wolfe was a 
fag?"

Mack looked at Jim, surprised. Jim just shrugged, and indicated that Mack 
should go for the door to the back porch, while he went for the side door.

Jim slid the side door open, careful not to let it squeak. Moving 
silently, he headed for the living room, where the two men were still 
arguing.

In a way, it was almost funny. Jim came crashing through the door, 
holding Mack's spare gun and yelling, "Freeze! Police!" When Redmen 
turned, gun in hand and smirk on face, Mack came in through the glass 
doors to the porch, yelling the same thing.

Faced with two "Mack Wolfe"s, O'Dell crumpled. A quick knock to the back 
of the head with the butt of Mack's gun, made sure he stayed that way. 
Even Redmen wasn't too hard to take out in the confusion, although it 
took a bullet in the leg to finally convince him to give up.

As Mack slapped the handcuffs on Redmen, reading him his rights, Jim went 
for Blair. He could hear Mack using the phone to call in backup. He found 
Blair in a small bedroom, tied hand and foot, blindfolded and gagged. 
When he started to undo the ropes, Blair flinched.

"Shhhh, Chief. It's me. It's all over. You're safe." He kept crooning 
reassurances as he undid all the restraints. As the last ones fell away, 
he found himself with an armful of trembling anthropologist. He didn't 
mind. He was trembling a little, himself. A quick check, using his 
senses, showed that Blair was bruised, and had a slight concussion, but 
was basically unharmed.

"What the *hell* is going on, Jim?"

"It's a long story, Chief. C'mon, I'll tell you all about it once we're 
out of here." Jim could hear the sirens approaching, in the distance.

"Hey, Ellison," Mack called out as they entered the other room. "Your 
partner okay?"

Blair took one look at Mack Wolfe... and fainted.

* * * * *

"So you were in the military, then left to become a cop? Oh man, that is 
*too* weird. You and Jim have just *too* much in common."

Jim and Blair were having dinner, that night, with Mack and a friend of 
his, Doctor Dawn Holliday. "Call me Holli," she had told them. Once she 
had picked her jaw up off the floor, that is.

"Hey, Jim. I wonder just *how* much alike you two are," Blair said in an 
undertone. Jim leaned close.

"Forget it, Chief. I bet I know what your dirty little mind is thinking, 
and you can just forget it. I don't share" Blair just grinned back at him.

Holli asked Blair about his experiences as a police observer, and they 
were off and running, comparing wild stories, while Jim and Mack attacked 
their food.


"You could have knocked me over with a feather! Jim's supporting me, 
'cause my legs were a little numb from being tied up, and then, what do I 
see in front of me? Jim! Only it isn't Jim. It was the weirdest thing."

"Tell me about it. One Mack Wolfe is more than anyone should *ever* have 
to deal with. I'm surprised that *I* didn't faint."


"So... a group of undercover Australian cops came to town as a troupe of 
*strippers*? And Mack danced on stage with them? Hey Jim! Maybe they'll 
come to Cascade and *you* can get on stage too."

"Not in this lifetime, Chief. Not in this lifetime."


"The two of you parachuted into the jungles of Peru, to go after your 
Captain and his son, who everyone said must be dead? And ended up taking 
out a drug lab full of native slave labor?"

Jim frowned slightly. "I owe Simon a lot. Until I saw bodies, I wasn't 
going to give up."

"And it's a good thing he didn't, or they *would* be dead. But I still 
could have done without getting the lizard down my pants."

* * * * *

"Hey, Chief. Come with me for a minute." Blair looked up, surprised.

"Sure Jim."

"Great. We'll back a bit, Holli."

"No problem."

Jim lead Blair out onto the restaurant's deck, then down the steps to the 
beach. Jim looked at him in confusion.

"Jim, where are we going?"

"Well, Chief. I seem to recall promising you a romantic walk on a beach. 
By moonlight." Jim gestured up at the nearly full moon that drifted over 
the water.

"Yeah, you did," Blair said, with smile. They headed down towards the 
water, not quite touching, but still close enough to feel each other's 
body warmth.

* * * * *

"Hey, Holli. Where are Sandburg and Ellison?"

"They went outside. Jim said they'd be back in a few minutes."

"Sounds like a good idea to me. It's a gorgeous night out there."

The two of them picked up their drinks, and headed out to the deck, also. 
The temperature had cooled, once the sun had gone down, and the moonlight 
over the water was a pleasant sight. They stood against the railing, not 
saying anything, just enjoying the view.

Mack turned towards Holli, then stopped. "Hey, there they are."

Holli turned to look down the beach. Jim and Blair were standing next to 
the water. As they watched, Blair reached up and pulled Jim's face down 
into a passionate kiss. Mack and Holli turned to each other, surprise 
written on their faces. Then they shrugged, and headed back inside.

"Holli," Mack said, grinning. "I have this craving for something *really* 
obscene for dessert."

THE END