Sequel to: "Nine Months" and "Twelve Months" -- last in the trilogy.

Previously published by AngelWings Press.

Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel 
and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely 
for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. 
No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Summary: Embarking upon a second pregnancy and a new career, Blair
finds himself the target of extreme prejudice. 

Notes: This story begins in the year 2000, at the end of Laurene's
first birthday party and continues into 2001. At Jeremy's birth,
Laurene is 17 months old.

Warnings: This story contains the kidnapping and torture of a major 
character. No permanent damage is done, and happy endings are 
guaranteed, but be aware before you read that some of the scenes 
are extremely intense and graphic.

JINGLE DANCER by Cynthia Leitich Smith and illustrated by Cornelius
Van Wright and Ying-Hwa Hu, is the story of Jenna, a contemporary
Muscogee (Creek)-Ojibwe (Chippewa) girl who, in bringing together her
regalia, draws strength from the women of her family and her
intertribal Native American Indian community in small town Oklahoma.
ISBN 0-688-16241-X 

Acknowledgments: I wish to give a special thanks to Terri, whose plot
bunny help makes my stories richer and more interesting. Also, major
kudos go to my intrepid betas: Kimberly, Mary and the gals at AWP.
Thank you!



ANOTHER NINE MONTHS
  by Natalie L
  nat1228@comcast.net

  May, 2002 (AWP)
  May, 2003

Laurene sat on the floor, surrounded by her first birthday bounty of
toys. Picking up two of the wooden alphabet blocks, she began banging
them together and babbling happily.

Megan had stayed after the rest of the guests left to help Jim clean
up and do the dishes. Now, even she had finally left, leaving the
little family in peace.

Jim walked over to where Blair was pushing himself up off the floor.
The younger man swayed slightly before gaining his balance. His pallor
was immediately evident to the sentinel.

"Steady there." Jim gripped one arm to hold Blair up, then wrapped his
other arm around his pregnant partner's shoulders, guiding him over to
the couch. "You feeling okay?" he asked solicitously.

Blair waved him off, slumping over to lay his head against the throw
pillow at the end of the couch. "I'm fine, Jim. Just a little tired."

"You look more than just a little tired," Jim argued, perching on the
edge of the cushion and placing a hand against Blair's clammy
forehead. "Maybe you should check in with Doc Casey tomorrow morning."

"No, Jim. Really. It's just first trimester queasiness." Blair pulled
his legs up on the couch, and curled up as much as Jim's presence
would allow. "Could you clean up Laur and get her to bed?"

"Sure. I can do that," Jim assured him, still watching with concerned
eyes. "You'll be all right here?"

"I told you . . . I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Uh huh." Jim deadpanned. He was unconvinced, but decided to take
Blair at his word. After one last quick check of Blair's vitals, he
stood and approached their daughter.

Scooping Laurene up, he tossed her above his head, eliciting a stream
of giggles. "Time for bed, my little Munchkin." He brought her down,
still tickling her ribs, and headed for the nursery.

When he had finished diapering and dressing the baby for bed, he
turned on the small white noise generator and slipped out of the room,
heading back to the couch.

Blair's breath was coming in short, shallow pants, and a fine film of
perspiration gleamed on his skin. His eyes were closed and his mouth
was drawn tight with discomfort.

Jim knelt beside the couch, stroking a hand across Blair's forehead
and down the thick mat of curls. "You've got me worried here,
Sweetheart. Please tell me what's going on? I didn't know you weren't
feeling well today."

Blue eyes opened and turned to look up at Jim. "Felt fine until just a
little bit ago," Blair admitted. "I - I think I'm going to. . . ."

Too late, Jim scented the bile rising in Blair's throat. He wasn't
able to move quickly enough to escape the foul-smelling combination of
dinner, chocolate cake and stomach acids. Unable to do anything else,
he held on gently to Blair's shaking shoulders until the spasm had
passed.

"I'm sorry," Blair whimpered, hardly able to speak. "Sorry, sorry,
sorry. . . ."

The stench nearly overwhelmed the unprepared sentinel. Hastily, he
dialed back his sense of smell to almost zero before standing up and
rolling Blair onto his back. "Stay put. I'll be right back to clean
you up."

Blair nodded weakly, watching as the older man made his way to the
bathroom. When he returned a few minutes later, he was sans pants,
dressed only in his shirt and boxer shorts, carrying towels,
washcloths and a bowl of warm water.

Throwing some towels down on the floor, he mopped up the mess, giving
himself a place to kneel. He set the bowl on the floor and wet a
washcloth, wringing it out before gently mopping the mess from Blair's
face and hair.

The young man moaned under the caressing warmth of the damp cotton
cloth, but the sounds he made were not those of discomfort.

"Thanks," Blair whispered. "That feels good."

"Better?"

"Yeah, I think so." Blair sat up carefully and waited for the room to
stop spinning. "I don't know what happened. I was feeling fine, then .
. . *wham*!"

Jim wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and pulled him close. Blair
allowed his head to rest against Jim's shoulder, needing his partner's
strength and support for a moment.

"I think it's probably what you said," Jim comforted. "Just first
trimester queasiness. Want an anti-nausea pill?"

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Blair smiled up
weakly. "I do need to pee, though." He pushed away from Jim's embrace
and stood. Taking a few wobbly steps, he started for the bathroom, Jim
close behind.

Leaning heavily against the sink, Blair looked at his reflection in
the mirror, noting Jim standing in the doorway. "I look like shit
right now, don't I?"

"Frankly, yes," Jim answered with a smile. "Need any help there?"

"I think I'm still capable of taking a leak by myself." Blair leaned
down to lift the toilet seat, one hand still clutching the sink for
support. Letting go, he unzipped his fly while shuffling to stand in
front of the bowl. "I've got it under control," Blair said, turning to
smile at Jim over his shoulder. "You don't have to stand guard."

"It's a little late in the game to be getting shy on me, isn't it?"
Jim returned with a chuckle.

"Whatever, man." Blair turned back to his task. Before he could do
more than get his dick out of his pants, he swayed as dizziness washed
over him and leaned heavily against the sink.

Jim was immediately behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist. "I
think it's time you accepted that you need help," he scolded. Standing
his mate upright, he took hold of the exposed organ. "Pee,
Twinkletoes."

"Twinkletoes?" The response was slurred, but still managed to convey
Blair's indignation over the new nickname.

"Yeah. You're swaying around here like some drunken ballet star. Pee,
already." Jim put a little extra pressure on Blair's bladder, and he
soon relieved himself. Tucking him back into his pants, Jim turned
Blair to face him.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's really going on here?"

Blair blinked exaggeratedly a couple times, trying to bring Jim into
focus. "I don't know what you mean," he managed before his eyes rolled
up and he pitched forward in a dead faint.

Jim caught him before he could fall, and carried him up to their room,
laying him on the bed. He pulled the covers up and sat on the edge of
the mattress, gently stroking Blair's forehead until he woke up a few
minutes later.

"What happened?"

"You fainted," Jim informed him.

"Fainted? I've never fainted before." Blair's eyes were wide and he
looked confused.

"I think we'd better call Dr. Casey," Jim said, reaching for the
bedside phone. For once, Blair just closed his eyes and didn't
protest.

~oO0Oo~

"Your blood test shows that you're anemic, which could be the cause of
your dizziness and fainting," Dr. Lynne Casey explained to her
patient. "Have you been taking the prenatal vitamins I gave you?"
Blair nodded. "In that case, I'd like to admit you. We'll run some
more tests to make sure there's no internal bleeding. You can get
dressed now, and I'll meet you out in my office."

"Thanks for coming in so late," Jim apologized. "Blair really gave me
a scare."

"The clinic is open twenty-four hours a day," Dr. Casey said with a
smile. "Our male pregnancy patients don't usually keep to regular
hours when it comes to having problems."

After the doctor had left, Jim helped Blair off the exam table and
handed him his clothes. He stepped into his boxers and jeans, then sat
in a chair to finish pulling on his shirts. Jim knelt in front of him,
helping him with his socks and shoes.

"Thanks, Jim." 

As Jim stood, he came up under Blair's hand, helping to lift him out
of the chair with his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around Blair's waist
and walked him back out into the office. Dr. Casey had a wheelchair
waiting.

"I don't want Blair walking or moving around unnecessarily, until
after I've had a chance to examine him more thoroughly," she
explained. "I'll call ahead to the hospital and have the admittance
papers ready for you to sign." Lynne smiled at the nervous detective.
"Lights and sirens *are not* necessary," she emphasized. "Just get him
there safely."

~oO0Oo~

Blair fidgeted as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed, dressed only
in the flimsy gown a nurse had handed him. "I don't know what all the
fuss is about," he complained. "So, I fainted. That shouldn't be
serious enough for me to wind up here."

"Normally, I would agree with you," Dr. Casey said. "But with male
pregnancies, every symptom out of the ordinary needs to be checked.
We'll start with an ultrasound. If that reveals no problems with the
pregnancy itself, we'll have to look elsewhere for the cause of your
anemia."

"Elsewhere?" Blair looked suspicious.

"Well, we may have to check your bowels for perforations, for one
thing," she said. "We'll get into that later, if necessary."

"So you're going to have to keep him overnight?" Jim asked.

"I'm afraid so, yes. We'll keep him under observation tonight and do
the ultrasound first thing in the morning." Lynne turned to her
patient. "If the ultrasound is clear, I'll want to do an upper GI
series and maybe a barium enema."

Blair cringed. "Doesn't sound like something I'm going to enjoy."

"Not likely," the doctor admitted. "I'm not fond of using X-rays on my
pregnant patients, but internal bleeding could be a sign of something
more serious, and we really need to check it out. As of now, you're
fasting. If the ultrasound shows us the problem, I may be able to put
you on a restricted diet, depending on the results. If we have to do
the GI series, you're out of luck."

"I don't have much of an appetite, anyway," Blair admitted.

The doctor lifted the blanket and gestured for Blair to climb into the
bed. "I want you to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a
busy day."

Jim perched himself on the edge of the bed, petting the long hair that
spilled onto the crisp, white pillowcase. "I'm going to stay and keep
an eye on him."

Dr. Casey smiled warmly at the couple. "Who is taking care of
Laurene?"

"We called on our neighbor, Mrs. McGinty. She's a wonderful
babysitter, and was more than happy to help out," Jim answered.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

Blair shook his head. "I'm all right, Jim. You go home and take care
of Laur. You can always come back in the morning for the tests."

"You sure, Sweetheart? The Munchkin loves Flo. I'm sure she isn't
missing us at all." He grinned.

"No. That's all right, really. It's not like I'm dying or anything. I
just wanna sleep." Blair yawned for emphasis. "I can't believe how
tired I am."

"He spent the morning carving pumpkins and decorating for Laurene's
birthday party," Jim explained. "He baked and decorated the cake
himself. Then he hosted the largest birthday party for a one-year-old
that Cascade has seen in decades . . . and he wonders why he's tired."

"That could have easily contributed to the fainting episode, too,"
Lynne commented. "What did I tell you about taking it easy, Blair?"
she chided.

"Our daughter was only going to get *one* first birthday party," Blair
argued. "I wanted it to be memorable."

"Oh, it's memorable, all right," Lynne said. "Her daddy ended up in
the hospital." She walked back over to the side of the bed. "You rest.
Close your eyes and get a good night's sleep."

Blair's eyes had already shut, but he acknowledged his doctor with a
nod.

"I'll make sure he behaves," Jim said, from his position on the bed.
He tucked the blanket up under his husband's chin and patted his
shoulder. After Lynne had left, he asked softly, "Anything I can get
for you?"

"Maybe an extra blanket?"

//Some things never change,// Jim thought with a smile. Blair had
always been sensitive to cold, and hospitals seemed to like keeping
the room temperatures low. He gathered a couple of blankets from the
cupboards in the room and brought them over to the bed. He spread the
blankets over the recumbent form, tucking them around the edges.

Brushing an errant strand of hair off the high forehead, Jim leaned
down for his kiss. "You've certainly had a busy day," he commented.
"Sleep well, Chief. I'll be back first thing in the morning."

"'Night, Jim," Blair mumbled.

Reluctantly, Jim exited the room. He was torn between caring for his
daughter and caring for his partner. Still, Blair was right. He wasn't
dying, and there was nothing Jim could do until morning, anyway. He
made his way down to the parking garage and headed back toward the
loft.

~oO0Oo~

"Flo, you are an absolute angel," Jim told their elderly neighbor the
next morning as he dropped Laurene off once more.

"How is your young man?" Mrs. McGinty asked. "It seems he spends an
awful lot of time in the hospital."

"Yeah," Jim chuckled, finding some humor in the statement. "We've
considered taking out time shares." He sobered. "Blair is doing all
right. He's anemic, and the doctor needs to find out why. They're
doing an ultrasound, and possibly upper and lower GIs today. If that's
all clear, he'll be coming home."

"What if it's not?" his neighbor asked.

Jim grimaced. "Well, then I suppose he'll need surgery."

"Oh, my - my," Flo clucked. "I'll put in some kind words for him with
the Man upstairs," she said. "You'd better get going. You don't want
to keep Blair waiting."

"Thanks again, Flo," Jim said with all sincerity. "I'll see you
later." He turned to the baby in her arms. "Bye, Munchkin!" He blew a
raspberry in the child's face before kissing her on the nose. Sounds
of infant giggles followed him down the hallway to the elevator.

~oO0Oo~

"Well, I have good news and bad news," Dr. Casey announced, as she
viewed the screen showing Blair's ultrasound. "The good news is, there
doesn't seem to be any problem with the pregnancy itself. The fetus
appears quite normal for this stage of development and I see no signs
of other problems. An MRI would give us a clearer scan, but I don't
think that's going to be necessary at this point."

"The bad news?" Jim asked.

Lynne sighed, then addressed her patient. "The bad news is, we'll have
to do the GI series." Blair grimaced at the pronouncement. "Under
normal circumstances, these tests are out-patient procedures. But, as
you've come to know, nothing is normal when considering a male
pregnancy. I'll set up the tests and come back for you. With luck, you
may be able to go home by this evening."

"How serious is it?" Blair looked up from his position on the exam
table.

"It's not life threatening," Lynne assured him. "But if you're
bleeding, it *could* signal something more serious that needs to be
taken care of. I just want to be able to rule out the more obvious
causes." She patted Blair's hand, then wiped the slick conducting
jelly off his abdomen and pulled the gown back down. "I'll let Jim
take you back to your room and get you settled." She rolled the
wheelchair over near the exam table, then smiled and took her leave of
the couple.

Jim got a hand under his partner's elbow, helping Blair to sit. The
younger man balanced on the edge of the table for a few moments,
waiting to regain his equilibrium.

"Okay?" Jim looked at him questioningly.

"Okay," Blair confirmed. 

The ride back to his room was quiet. Jim helped him back up onto the
bed and Blair crawled under the covers.

"It's going to be all right," Jim whispered. "I'll be with you the
whole time."

"I know," Blair replied, squeezing Jim's hand.

Doctor Casey appeared in the doorway of the room. "I've got you
scheduled for ten o'clock for the upper GI series," she told her
patient. "Try to get some rest in the meantime, okay?"

"Thanks, Lynne." Blair managed a smile, even though it didn't quite
make it all the way to his eyes.

~oO0Oo~

Blair sat in the uncomfortable chair in Radiology while Lynne handed
him the barium shake.

"I know this isn't pleasant," she told him, "but you have to try and
drink the whole thing. It's going to taste chalky and will be hard to
swallow, but it's necessary if we're going to get the readings we
need."

Blair sipped cautiously at the thick, white liquid. "Oh, man," he
groaned. "This stuff is terrible!"

"It's best if you just chug-a-lug it," Lynne said with sympathy. "Get
it over with more quickly." She adjusted the fluoroscope as Blair
tipped the glass and drank as quickly as he could. He sputtered, and
Lynne handed him a tissue to wipe his face. "Sorry, Sweetheart. You're
doing great."

"Yeah," Blair muttered unhappily.

Lynne began the x-rays, taking pictures of his esophagus, stomach and
small intestine as the barium passed through his system. From time to
time, she adjusted his position, to get as many angles as possible.
The test took nearly forty minutes to complete, and Blair was
exhausted by the end of it.

Jim stepped out from the protective barrier the doctor had kept him
behind during the tests and helped Blair into his wheelchair. "Well?"
he asked the doctor expectantly.

"I'll have to have a radiology technician go over these with me,"
Lynne explained, "but a cursory first look doesn't show any
abnormalities."

Blair looked up from where he was seated. "What now?" His words were
laced with weariness and dread.

"Well, first of all, I want you to go back to your room," the doctor
told him. "I'll have you drink a bottle of magnesium citrate, and once
you pass your bowels, we'll clean you out with a warm water enema."
Blair grimaced. He was beginning to fear his face would freeze into a
permanent scowl. "Then we'll bring you back down here to Radiology for
a barium enema."

"Is that really necessary?" Blair groaned. His stomach already felt
crampy from the barium shake.

"'Fraid so, Honey," Lynne said sympathetically. "We have to rule out
intestinal bleeding."

"And if we do? Then what?" Blair asked.

"I'll send you home with some iron supplements and monitor your levels
closely for a while, until we can get you stabilized."

Jim turned to the doctor. "Should we be worried?"

Lynne grinned reassuringly. "No. Not at all. While anemia can indicate
internal bleeding, which is what we are checking, it's a very
treatable condition. I'm guessing that supplements and plenty of rest
is all that will be needed," she added. "It's just that male
pregnancies hold all sorts of potential for problems, and we have to
rule out anything serious before we can continue on with the
treatment. Call me overly cautious, but I want to make sure that Blair
stays healthy."

"Will I get to go home today?" Blair asked.

"It's going to depend a little on you," Lynne responded. "The sooner
your bowels move, the sooner you'll be out of here. Could be this
afternoon, or it could be tomorrow morning." She handed him a bottle.
"More noxious-tasting stuff for you to drink. This is a powerful
laxative, so I'm guessing that if you take a short nap, you'll wake up
with the urge." She patted his shoulder, smiling. "You know, you're my
first male pregnancy patient to come back for a second go around.
You're made of pretty tough stuff. Don't let this little setback slow
you down."

~oO0Oo~

That afternoon found Blair back in the radiology department, stretched
out on an x-ray table. His face reflected pure misery.

"Can't I please stay with him this time?" Jim asked. Blair gripped his
hand tighter, unwilling to let go. "I can keep him calm, relaxed."

"I really don't like exposing you to the x-rays," Dr. Casey protested.
Her gaze drifted to the white-knuckled grip her patient had on his
partner's hand. With a sigh, she capitulated. "You'll have to wear one
of the lead aprons," she said, carrying the heavy object over to the
waiting man. Jim put it on, holding it in place while Lynne fastened
the Velcro closures at the neck and waist.

"Okay, Sweetheart," Lynne addressed her patient. "I need you to roll
over onto your side and pull up your knees." Blair did as he was
instructed, baring his ass to the cool air of the room. "This is going
to be uncomfortable, but I'm sure you're already aware of that. I'm
going to tell you what I'm doing every step of the way. If it gets
unbearable, you tell me. Okay?" Blair nodded, his eyes fixed on Jim
for support.

Lynne coated the enema tube liberally with lubricant, then placed it
at Blair's anus. "I'm inserting the tube now," she explained. "Just
relax." Despite the instruction, Blair tensed at the foreign invader.

Jim had pulled up a chair, so that he could be level with Blair. He
stroked his partner's cheek and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his
forehead. "You've got to relax, Chief," he said, his voice low and
compelling. He stroked his way down Blair's arm, squeezing his hand.
"I'm going to help you through this. You believe me, don't you?" Blair
nodded.

Lynne's gentle voice interrupted. "I'm starting the barium flow now.
You're going to feel a fullness and a need to defecate. I want you to
do your best to fight the feeling. Try to relax. There will probably
be some moderate to severe abdominal cramping. I'm very sorry, Blair,
but we have to get this done."

A low moan escaped Blair's lips as the barium began to flow into him.
Lynne operated the fluoroscope, taking x-rays of his colon and lower
intestine. Once the barium solution was fully inserted, Lynne inflated
a small balloon on the end of the enema tube to keep the liquid
inside.

"I need for you to shift a bit," she said, coming over to the bed. She
tilted the head end up slightly. "Try rolling onto your back as much
as you can. I know it's uncomfortable."

Blair shifted onto his back with a groan. Jim gently massaged circles
on his cramping abdomen, and Blair sighed. "Thanks. That feels
better."

"You'll have to remove your hand," Lynne apologized. "This will just
take a minute." She took another series of pictures, then allowed Jim
to resume the soothing massage. "Just one more set," she told the
couple, helping shift Blair into the final position.

After the x-rays were finished, Lynne removed the enema tube and
assisted Jim in helping Blair sit up. "Jim, can you help Blair into
the restroom?" She indicated the small facility just a few yards away.
"Blair, I want you to try and void as much of the barium as you can.
Take your time. When you're done, we have a few more pictures to take.
Then, if you feel up to it, you can go home."

That final pronouncement caused a smile to cross the tight lips of her
patient. Blair hobbled in to the toilet, allowing Jim to help lower
him onto the seat. For a few minutes, nothing happened. Jim resumed
massaging Blair's stomach, one arm wrapped around the shaking
shoulders. Blair leaned sideways, resting his head against Jim's
chest, a single tear escaping from his tightly closed eyes.

"It's almost over, Sweetheart," Jim whispered. He felt the slight
cramp, followed by a relaxation of the abdominal muscles, as Blair's
body finally let go of the foreign substance. "There you go. You're
doing great."

"Then why don't I feel so hot?" Blair groused.

"Because you've just been put through an invasive procedure and it's
not quite over," Jim explained. "Just try keeping good thoughts. We'll
be going home soon. You can sleep in your own bed, cuddle with Laurene
. . . cuddle with me." He grinned.

"Cuddling sounds nice," Blair sighed. "I think I'm gonna need to be
held all night."

"I can arrange that," Jim said, placing a kiss on Blair's cheek.
"Think you're all done here?" 

Blair nodded. Jim helped pull him off the toilet and wiped him clean.
Then he led him back into the x-ray room.

Blair was about to sink into the chair Jim had been using when Dr.
Casey showed up again. "Back up on the table," she instructed. "We're
going to do an air-contrast exam next. That will give us a more
detailed picture. Once that's done, you're out of here." Blair climbed
back onto the table with some reluctance.

"I'm going to insert the enema tube again," Lynne said, matching
action to words. "I'm then going to inflate your bowel with a bit of
air. You'll feel full, but it's not going to be as uncomfortable as
the barium. Ready?" Blair nodded.

When the test was finally complete, Jim helped the shaky younger man
back to the bathroom to empty his bowels once more. Dr. Casey stood in
the open doorway. "When you're done here, I'd like Jim to take you
back up to your room. You can rest while we get an accurate reading of
your x-rays. I'll come up to give you the results, and if everything
turns out all right, I'll release you to go home."

"Any special instructions?" Jim asked.

"I'll explain everything you'll need to know once Blair is back in his
room," the doctor said.

~oO0Oo~

Jim helped his partner back into bed, pulling the covers over his
shivering body. Blair closed his eyes and tried to relax. "Is it
over?"

"All done," Jim confirmed. "Dr. Casey asked for you to rest until she
could get up here with the results of the x-rays."

"Not a problem." Blair sighed heavily, exhausted from the day's
ordeal.

"Do you mind if I slip out and get a cup of coffee?" Jim asked.

"No. That's okay," Blair answered softly. "I just want to sleep."

"Be right back, then," Jim said, patting Blair's shoulder.

He was still sipping his coffee and listening to the even breathing of
his sleeping partner, when Lynne walked into the room. She smiled.
"He's finally sleeping?"

"Yeah. It's a shame to wake him up. Can you give me the test results?"

"I really should speak to both you and Blair, but considering. . . ."
She looked at the exhausted young man. "There are no perforations in
either his upper or lower GI tracks," Lynne confirmed. "I think we can
chalk this up to pregnancy-induced anemia. It's a common enough
phenomena with women carrying multiple fetuses, or with male
pregnancies. We just had to rule out the worst-case scenario first."

"So what now?"

"I send him home with iron supplements for him to take twice a day,
with food. I'd like to see him back in a week. Then I'll monitor him
every two weeks for a couple months. After that, if he's doing well,
we can go back to the once a month screenings until his third
trimester." Lynne looked at the sentinel standing guard and nodded her
approval. "If Blair has any lightheadedness or dizziness, give me a
call. If he passes out again, take him straight to the emergency room,
no matter how much he protests."

Jim chuckled. "You know him pretty well."

"I know him well enough to know you've got your hands full," Lynne
agreed. "When does he start back to school?"

"He was hoping to start back by mid-November," Jim informed her. "I
think he was mainly planning office hours and working on his class
syllabus. I know he's got some articles started for publication, too.
He won't begin actual teaching until the start of the winter term in
January."

"So long as the next week or two test out all right, and he takes it
*easy*," Lynne emphasized, "I don't see any problem with that
schedule." She handed him some papers. "Get Blair to sign the release,
dress him and take him home."

~oO0Oo~

Blair stumbled into the loft, held up by the strong arms of his lover.
"It's great to be home!"

"And you're going straight to bed," Jim said, emphasizing his words by
steering his reluctant charge toward the stairs.

"Aw, c'mon, Jim," Blair weaseled. "I could just settle on the couch
for the evening."

"You're going up to bed. I'll bring up the portable TV and a dinner
tray. After we eat, I'll go pick up Laurene and you can spend a little
time with her, if you have any energy left. Then it's lights out."

"You're a regular Nazi," Blair complained as he was led forcefully up
the stairs to their bedroom.

"Don't even joke," Jim replied, sitting next to Blair on the bed and
gently undressing him. "I may wish to do unspeakable things to you,
but not like that."

"I wish I felt up to those 'unspeakable things'," Blair sighed, "but
I'll be lucky to keep my eyes open until you come to bed."

"Just as well." Jim stood up and pulled the blankets back. Blair
crawled under their warmth, allowing himself to be tucked in. "You
really need your rest. I'll go fix us something to eat. How does
chicken soup sound?"

"About right," Blair agreed, closing his eyes. When he opened them
again, the portable TV was showing a PBS special on ancient Egypt, and
a tray with two bowls of chicken soup, crackers and milk were balanced
on the nightstand.

"No fair nodding off before dinner," Jim chided. He helped Blair sit
up, then lifted the tray and set it across his lap. He put his glass
of milk on the nightstand and plucked the extra bowl of soup from the
tray. "Eat up!"

Blair cautiously sipped at the hot liquid, grinning as the taste of
homemade soup exploded across his tongue. "I didn't think anything was
ever going to taste good again after all that crap Lynne had me
drinking today." He spooned more of the noodles and chicken into his
mouth, realizing suddenly just how hungry he'd become.

"You haven't had anything to eat since you threw up Laurene's birthday
cake yesterday. It's no wonder a little soup tastes good." Jim swiped
a napkin across Blair's chin and kissed his temple. "Finish up, take
your pill, and I'll go get Laurene."

"Flo must be having fits," Blair chuckled. "Maybe you'd better go now
and give the poor woman a break. I promise, I'll eat." He lifted the
spoon in mock salute, then emptied the contents into his mouth.

"You're probably right," Jim agreed. "Okay. I'll be back in a few." He
got up and made his way down the stairs and out the door.

~oO0Oo~

Jim smiled at the pair cuddled together in the center of the big bed.
Laurene had been ecstatic seeing her daddy again, and had babbled up a
storm. She and Blair had played and "talked" until both father and
daughter fell asleep from exhaustion.

Carefully, Jim scooped the child into his arms and carried her
downstairs to her crib. He set the white noise generator to a low hiss
and quietly closed the French doors behind him as he left.

He climbed the stairs slowly, pulling off his shirt as he went. It had
been a long and eventful day, and even the sentinel/protector of the
Sandburg-Ellison clan was beginning to feel the weariness creep into
his bones. He stripped to his shorts, tossing his clothes carelessly
across the chair situated in the corner of the room and climbed into
bed beside Blair.

Drawn to the warmth of Jim's body, Blair snuggled close, not waking.
Jim wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders and pressed his lover
even closer. The smaller man still smelled faintly of the hospital and
Jim sent up a prayer of thanks that despite what they had gone through
that day, nothing was seriously wrong. He closed his eyes and allowed
sleep to claim him.


Two weeks later:

Blair's eyes sparkled as he donned his suit and tie, and picked up his
briefcase. Jim grinned at the new professor. The young man's hair was
pulled back into a ponytail and glasses were perched on the tip of his
nose. He peeked over the top of the lenses to eye his admirer.

"Looking smart there, Darwin," Jim commented. "Got everything with
you?"

Blair reached into an inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a
pillbox filled with his prenatal vitamins, iron supplements and
anti-nausea medication. "All set." He inched closer to the tall
detective. "I'm going to be just fine. Stop worrying."

"Does your administrative assistant know about your pregnancy?"

"By now I suspect the entire school knows," Blair said with a sigh.
"Good thing I'm not showing yet. Maybe they'll forget about it for a
while."

"You take it easy, okay?" Jim fussed over his partner, brushing
imaginary lint from the wool suit. "I want you coming home in one
piece."

"You are such a worry-wart," Blair complained with a smile. "I've got
to settle into the new office. I'll probably spend most of the day
unpacking boxes."

"Don't lift anything heavy. Get someone else to do that for you."

"Yes, Mother." Blair stretched up on his toes to plant a kiss on his
lover's forehead.

"Don't think you're getting out of here that easily," Jim responded,
pulling the shorter man close. He bent to meet the upturned face,
devouring the lips that waited for him.

Blair melted against the strong body, molding himself to fit perfectly
within the circle of Jim's arms. The briefcase dropped from eager
hands as Blair wrapped his arms around his partner's waist and pressed
his groin against Jim's hips.

Jim pulled back from the kiss at the feel of a scalding rod of flesh
against his thigh. Blair's temperature had shot up a couple degrees as
his desire flared. Even through the three layers of cloth separating
them, the sentinel could feel the burn. Reluctantly, he pushed away
from his lover, taking a step back.

"Uh-uh, Professor," he scolded. "You know better. None of that for you
for at least another five weeks." He waggled a finger in front of
Blair's flushed face.

The reprimanded scholar grabbed the waving digit and put it in his
mouth, sucking lightly while sporting a totally unrepentant grin.

"I thought you had to get to your new office," Jim argued, pulling his
finger from the warm cavern of Blair's mouth. "Not that I don't find
the new Doctor Sandburg incredibly appealing, you understand, but we
both have work to do."

"I suppose," Blair reluctantly agreed. He stooped to pick up the
fallen briefcase. "Wanna meet somewhere for lunch?"

"How about Bailey's Pub? They've got great sandwiches."

"And you can't hear yourself think," Blair reminded him. "How about
'Mona's Soup and Subs'?"

"That new place over on Third and Pioneer?"

"Yeah. The rumor mill has nothing but good things to say about the
place. And it's healthy, too," Blair added.

"Like that's a bonus," Jim muttered with a grin. "Mona's it is. Noon?"

"How about 11:30? That way we can beat the lunch crowd."

"Sounds good to me," Jim agreed. He leaned over to give Blair a final
peck on the cheek before ushering him out the door. "Love you."

"Love you, too." Blair's voice echoed down the hallway as he jogged
toward the elevator that a neighbor was holding for him.

"Take it easy!" Jim reminded him, as the elevator door slid closed.

~oO0Oo~

"Good morning, Vickie," Blair greeted his administrative assistant.

"Good morning, Dr. Sandburg," Vickie Farrell replied, smiling up from
the pile of paperwork on her desk.

"Call me Blair."

The AA blushed. "Blair," she repeated.

"Anything I need to know?"

"There were a couple of phone messages for you, from Dr. Stoddard and
the Chancellor, welcoming you to the staff." She held out the slips of
paper. "Everything's in your office, waiting for you to decide what to
do with it."

"Thanks." Blair took the phone messages and turned toward the office
door.

The new office was spacious and light. It was not as large as those of
the tenured professors, but it was more room than Blair was used to
having. Large windows looked out on the Commons and the fountain where
Blair had once died. But that was a lifetime ago, and the
anthropologist had put all that behind him.

He surveyed the large maple desk. A computer monitor and keyboard sat
on one corner, with the tower and printer on an auxiliary table
positioned at a ninety-degree angle to the desk, forming an "L". The
desk's other corner was decorated with a stacked pair of "In/Out"
boxes. The center portion was taken up by a large blotter with a
calendar.

Two of the walls were converted into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and
boxes were stacked chest-high nearby. Blair wandered over to the
boxes, noting the writing on the sides, indicating the contents. He
rummaged around until he found the box he was looking for. 

He opened the folded flaps and reverently lifted out the
hundred-year-old volume by Sir Richard Burton: _The Sentinels of
Paraguay_. Hugging the tome to his chest, he looked around the room,
eventually spotting an antique book display stand. The stand had
probably been used for a large dictionary in the past, but now it
would hold Blair's most treasured possession. He placed the book on
the stand and moved it over nearer to his desk.

He pulled some framed photos from his briefcase and arranged them near
the "In" box. One was a picture of himself and Jim on a camping trip.
They had been horsing around and had fallen out of the boat, into the
lake. Their swim to shore had resulted in chattering teeth for the
young anthropologist. Jim had wrapped him in one of his own flannel
shirts, which was at least a size too large. The sleeves were so long,
all that showed were Blair's fingertips. His flannel-covered hands
rested on Jim's shoulders, his eyes sparkling with mischief and love.
Jim had leaned into that embrace to kiss the willing lips that waited
for him. Simon had chosen that moment to snap a picture, and it had
remained one of Blair's favorites ever since.

Another photo was one of Megan's contributions. Blair lay propped up
in his hospital bed, just hours after giving birth to Laurene. The
baby was cradled in his arms, as he looked at the child with wonder.
Jim stood over them both, grinning like a fool--the very picture of a
proud father. The final picture was a family portrait, taken at a
studio, just before Laurene's first birthday.

Satisfied with the arrangement, Blair lifted another frame from his
briefcase and glanced at the walls. Finding what appeared to be the
perfect place next to a window, he hung his Ph.D. certificate proudly.
With that last bit of decorating done, he turned back to the piles of
boxes, determined to get some of the books on the shelves so he could
rid himself of the cardboard clutter.

~oO0Oo~

A knock on the door startled Blair out of his reverie. He had unpacked
several shelves' worth of books and artifacts, and was quite pleased
with his progress. He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was
11:20. Where had the time gone? "Come in," he called to his visitor.

Jim stuck his head through a crack in the opened door. "Is it safe?"
he quipped.

Blair mimed throwing a heavy textbook at his head, then placed it on
the shelf instead. "I must have gotten a bit carried away," he said
with a grin. "I didn't realize it was getting so late."

"I thought it might be nice if I picked you up, instead of us taking
separate cars," Jim explained. "I come right past Rainier on my way to
Mona's."

"Fine by me," Blair agreed. He was suddenly feeling tired and a bit
wobbly. He knew all he needed was some nourishment in his system and a
short break. Lunch couldn't have come at a better time. He grabbed his
suit coat and headed toward the door.

Mona's Soup and Subs was already busy, even at 11:30. Jim carried a
tray bearing their lunch over to the booth where Blair sat. He slid in
opposite his partner, handing him a sandwich.

"You're looking a little tired," Jim commented. "And how can you eat
wearing that thing?" He reached across the booth to tug at the knot in
Blair's tie.

Blair loosened the necktie and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt,
smiling in relief. "It's not easy, but I figure that because I'm the
new kid on the block, I'd better play dress-up for a while. Gotta make
a good impression."

"You'd make a good impression in a cotton nightgown and bunny
slippers," Jim said with a smile.

"In your dreams, Ellison!" Blair's face was screwed up in mock
disgust. A moment later, he relaxed and let loose a sigh before taking
a bite of his sandwich and chewing carefully. "I am a little tired,"
he admitted. "I've been unpacking all morning."

"What did I tell you about not overdoing it?" Jim scolded. "I hope you
haven't been lifting anything heavy."

"No. No lifting," Blair confirmed. "The boxes weren't stacked all that
high, so I just empty the one on top, then move on to the next. The
janitorial staff will recycle the boxes for me."

"You should take it easy this afternoon."

"Jim, I'm fine. I know you think it's your duty to watch over and
protect me, but I'm all grown up. I even have that Ph.D. on my wall. I
think I can decide when I can work and when I need to rest."

"You didn't look like you were aware of the time when I walked in,"
Jim pointed out. "You could easily work yourself into exhaustion
without realizing it. Your stamina drops considerably when you're
pregnant, and the anemia isn't helping."

"The anemia is under control. Lynne says I'm doing great," Blair
reminded him. "But maybe I'll try writing on one of my journal
articles this afternoon. Would that make you happy?"

"I'd feel better, knowing you weren't overdoing the unpacking."

Blair reached across the table to pat Jim's hand. "Okay, then. I'll
take it easy and sit at the computer this afternoon."

"The lure of the books won't draw you back?"

"Well. . . ." Blair looked thoughtful. "Maybe I could ask Vickie to
come in and help."

"That your new AA?" At Blair's nod, Jim added, "She's cute."

"I didn't notice," Blair said, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"Blair 'I'd-hump-a-table-leg' Sandburg didn't notice his AA was an
A-number-one looker? Tsk, tsk." Jim shook his head, grinning.

"Jim!" Blair said with exasperation coloring his voice. "I'm a married
man! And I'm pregnant. I'm not *supposed* to notice!"

"I never thought it would happen," Jim mused.

"What?"

"I've managed to domesticate the wildly flirtatious All-American
Anthropologist."

"Oh, go shove it up your ass," Blair whispered for sentinel ears, a
big grin lighting up his face.

"We can make arrangements," Jim replied, his voice low and husky.
"*You're* the one who can't risk orgasms right now. I'm not exempt.
We'll figure something out."

"You're incorrigible, Mr. Ellison."

"You're way too easy, Dr. Sandburg." Jim chuckled, then dodged as
Blair reached out to swat him.

~oO0Oo~

The lunch and light banter had been exactly what Blair had needed. Jim
dropped him off in front of Hargrove Hall, and with a bounce in his
step, he headed up to his second floor office. He exchanged greetings
with Vickie, then stepped through his office door.

On the floor was a parchment envelope. Blair stooped to pick it up,
looking at the blank surface. He began to wander over toward his desk
as he turned the envelope over to open it. He pulled out the expensive
cream-colored parchment stationery and unfolded it.

He stumbled into his desk, knocking down his "In/Out" boxes, as the
paper fluttered to the floor from nerveless fingers. Vickie burst
through the door at the sound.

"Dr. Sandburg! Blair? Are you all right?" She walked over to where the
anthropologist was leaning heavily against the antique desk.

"I'm fine," Blair answered quickly, scooping the piece of paper up
from the floor and folding it. He held up the envelope. "Do you have
any idea where this came from? It was on the floor when I came back,
like someone had slipped it under the door."

"I don't know, sir," Vickie replied. "I was out to lunch for half an
hour. Someone could have come by while I was gone. Would you like me
to check for you?" She reached for the envelope in Blair's hand.

He quickly snatched it back. "That won't be necessary. Thanks,
Vickie." He eyed his secretary, who was still watching him closely.
"I'm fine."

"You sure? I mean . . . in your condition. . . ?"

"My condition has nothing to do with it," Blair snapped, beginning to
feel a little testy. Vickie's face fell. "Geez, I'm sorry," he
apologized. "Jim will attest: I get cranky sometimes during pregnancy.
But I'm fine. Really. You don't have to worry about me."

"Okay," Vickie reluctantly agreed. "Call me if you need anything, all
right? That's why I'm here."

"I will. Thanks again." He watched as Vickie exited the room, slowly
closing the door behind her. He sank into his chair and leaned his
elbows on the desk. Carefully, he unfolded the note once more.

//Jew Whore.// Two small words that made Blair blanch in horror. He
knew that coming back to Rainier during his pregnancy was risky. While
the staff and most of his students supported him, there would always
be those who thought his lifestyle and choices were perverse and ugly.
He just hadn't expected it to hit home so soon.

He tucked the note back into its envelope, wrote the date in one
corner and initialed it. He then opened his file drawer and pulled out
a folder. In careful letters, he wrote "Evidence" on the tab and filed
the note under "E". He decided against mentioning it to Jim for now.
It wasn't a threat, and he was confident he could handle the situation
himself.

~oO0Oo~

"What's the matter?" Jim asked as soon as Blair stepped through the
door.

"What do you mean?" Blair squatted down to pick up the toddler who had
come running at hearing her daddy come home.

"Da-de," Laurene chirped.

"Yep. Daddy's home." Blair grinned and nuzzled his daughter's face,
kissing a chubby cheek.

"You look like shit," Jim answered, ignoring the presence of the baby.

"Jim! Language!" Blair reminded him softly, pointing at the child in
his arms. Jim simply frowned and gave his partner the Look. "Okay.
Okay. I'm just tired. I'd forgotten what putting a whole day in at
work felt like."

"Did you take it easy this afternoon?"

"Yes, oh Blessed Protector. The only things that got any exercise
after lunch were my fingers."

"Maybe you should sleep in tomorrow and show up late. It's not like
you're teaching classes yet, or anything," Jim suggested.

"I'll try going to bed earlier," Blair answered. "I've got tons of
stuff that needs to be done. Besides all the unpacking, I've
volunteered to help mentor and advise Anthropology students. Until I
start teaching classes again in January, I can take a load off the
other professors by offering extended office hours."

"That's very noble. Just don't kill yourself."

"It's brain exercise, Jim, not the physical stuff. You don't have to
worry about me."

"Then why did you come home looking like shit?"

Blair ignored the redundant question, walking over to the couch and
sinking into the soft cushions with his squirming burden. "Is dinner
almost ready? I'm starved."

Jim turned back to the baked chicken he had just removed from the
oven. "How does ten minutes sound?"

"Good." Blair lowered Laurene to the floor, handing her a stuffed dog
that was her favorite toy. "I'll set the table." He tried to push up,
but sank back into the cushions. Before he could try again, Jim's
voice stopped him.

"You sit. I'll take care of the table."

Ten minutes later, Jim came over to give Blair an assist off the
couch. Each man took hold of a small hand, and Laurene toddled across
the floor to the kitchen with them. Jim lifted her into her highchair,
while Blair opened the jars of toddler finger foods, pouring them out
onto the divided plate.

Laurene was immediately into the food, getting as much on herself, as
in. Blair pulled up a chair next to the toddler, while Jim sat
opposite his partner. 

"Mmmm, good," Blair declared, savoring the saucy chicken.

"Don't forget your pill," Jim reminded him.

"Got it right here," Blair answered, holding up the iron supplement.
"And just how often have I forgotten to take it?"

"None, but that's because I remind you twice a day," Jim snorted in
response.

"Goes to show what you remember," Blair jabbed. "You forgot yesterday,
and I took 'em anyway."

"Did not."

"Did so."

The argument was stopped when both men were splattered with fistfuls
of toddler creamy carrots. Blair began to laugh--his first genuine
amusement since getting the disturbing note that afternoon.

~oO0Oo~

The next note didn't come until Friday. The week had been wearing on
the young professor, and he had decided to brown bag it that day,
staying inside. Vickie was on her lunch break, and everything was
quiet.

The soft swish of paper against the hardwood floor caught Blair's
attention from the journal he was reading as he ate. Looking up, he
saw the same rich parchment as before lying in the center of the room.
He got up as quickly as he could and opened the door. By the time he
got there, however, nobody was to be seen. The hallway echoed with
distant footsteps, but Blair was too tired to follow.

He closed the door, heading back for his desk. Pushing the sandwich
and apple aside, he opened the envelope and carefully pulled out the
folded parchment paper. This note was longer and vaguely more
threatening. Still, there was nothing alarming enough to do more than
file it away for the future. He took one last glance before dating and
initialing it, and dropping it in the evidence file.

//Homosexuality is a sin. Your soul will burn in hell.//

~oO0Oo~

The following Tuesday, Blair had his first student advisee. The
nervous freshman coed sat across the wide desk from the professor,
wringing her hands while covertly watching the handsome man from
beneath long, black lashes.

"Most students don't choose to declare their majors during the first
term of their freshman year," Blair noted. "What made you decide
Anthropology was that important to you?"

"Well, um," the girl started, glancing up and blushing. "The intro
course is so interesting. I want to learn more. And, well, I heard
that you'll be teaching winter term and all the upper classmen who
have had your classes say what a great teacher you are."

"That's very flattering." Blair smiled at the child, causing the color
in her cheeks to deepen. "But it's hardly reason enough to make the
field your major study. That's an important decision and there are
still a lot of classes out there for you to sample and choose."

"Oh, I know that," the girl added hastily. "But I've done a little
research at the library, looked up some of your journal articles, and.
. . ." Her voice caught in her throat. "And I think it's a field I
want to make my life's work."

"How old are you?" Blair asked out of curiosity.

"Eighteen."

"I see."

"I'm not too young, Professor Sandburg! I'm perfectly capable of
making this decision."

"I'm not questioning that," Blair clarified. "I chose Anthropology
when I was seventeen--but I was also a sophomore. I just think you
ought to take the time to sample the other possibilities before you
commit yourself. That doesn't mean you can't take other Anthro courses
in the meantime. I'd love to have you in one of my classes."

The girl's delighted response was interrupted by the ringing of the
telephone. "Dr. Sandburg," Blair answered. An electronically filtered
voice accosted his ear.

//"You let another man stick his cock up your ass and fuck you, then
you use technology to get yourself pregnant. If you want to be a woman
so bad, why don't you just cut it off and get it over with?"//

Blair slammed down the receiver, all color drained from his face.

"Are you all right, Professor?"

With shaking hands, Blair passed the folder back to the student. "I'm
fine." His voice came out a whispered choke. He cleared his throat,
finding more strength to speak. "Look over the course catalog and
choose a variety of subjects. You should take at least three required
courses and one or two electives, depending on your study habits. The
more subjects you can expose yourself to, the more informed your
decision will be. If you still decide Anthropology is your dream, I'd
be more than happy to continue on as your advisor in the field."

The girl gathered up her books and the folder she had brought along.
"Thank you, Professor Sandburg." She stood and walked to the door.
"I'll be looking forward to your class next term." With a wave, she
was gone.

Blair picked up the phone. "Vickie?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I just received a call. Is there any way to find out if it was made
from campus?"

"I don't know, sir, but I'd be happy to check for you."

"Please do, and let me know what you find out." He hung up and pulled
a notepad across the desk. He scribbled the gist of the message, dated
and initialed the note and put it in the file as well. Three
mysterious messages, and they were getting more personal, more
threatening, each time. 

A few minutes later, Vickie stuck her head through the door, a frown
marring her delicate features. "Dr. Sandburg?" When Blair looked up,
she continued. "Security couldn't trace the call. They don't think it
was made from a campus phone, though. Maybe a cell?"

"Thanks, Vickie. At least we tried."

"Sorry, sir." She bowed her head and ducked out of the door.

Blair was officially beginning to worry.


November 22 --
Thanksgiving:

Jim rolled over in bed, putting an arm around his lover and petting
the long hair that fell in ringlets over the smooth skin of his
shoulder. Blair murmured softly in his sleep, pressing into the touch.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Love." Jim leaned in to place a quick peck on the
slightly parted lips. His mouth roamed lower, pausing to suck briefly
at the prominent Adam's apple, before continuing across a shoulder and
down to the fullness of one small breast. His lips latched onto the
nipple and pulled, eliciting a groan from its owner. Jim settled in to
suckle, and was rewarded by a fine spray of milk into his mouth.

"Oh, God, Jim," Blair moaned, coming fully awake and arching into the
sensation.

Jim let his hand roam lower, ghosting over the gentle rise of Blair's
belly and settling over their unborn child. He released the damp
nipple to the cool air of the bedroom, watching as it pinched into a
hard, tight nub and resumed his plundering of Blair's sweet lips. He
let his hand slide lower, allowing himself the rare treat of wrapping
strong fingers around Blair's morning erection. His partner's reaction
to his touch startled him.

Blair froze momentarily, then tried to pull away. "Don't, Jim." He
reached a hand down to free his penis from his lover's grasp, then
climbed out of bed, taking the sheet with him. He wrapped himself in
the make-shift toga and backed away.

"Blair? What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

"Don't call me that," Blair snapped.

"'Sweetheart'? Why not?" Jim was genuinely confused and somewhat
frightened by this odd turn of events.

"It's too feminine."

"Blair, you *know* I don't think of you like that!"

"I know." The soft voice carried a world of hurt and fear.

"Tell me about it?" Jim coaxed, hoping to get his lover to tell him
what was wrong.

Blair shook his head. "I'm okay. Everything's fine. I just don't feel
like starting something we can't finish yet, you know?"

Jim nodded, not fully convinced. Blair was nearly twelve weeks along
now. It would soon be safe to resume sexual relations, and he couldn't
quite fathom why his mate was so averse to simple touching. "Did
something happen at work?" he asked.

Blair's eyes grew wide. "No!" he denied sharply. "Why would you think
that?"

"Rainier's a pretty liberal campus, but there are always going to be
some who aren't going to approve our lifestyle choices," Jim answered.
"I just thought maybe someone had said something that upset you."

"Everything's fine," Blair continued to lie.

"Well, if that's the case," Jim said, dropping the subject, "then we'd
better get dressed. Flo will be over soon to start the turkey, and
Simon and Megan are coming later."

"Isn't Daryl going to be here this year?" Blair asked, edging toward
his clothes, which lay draped over a chair in the corner of the room.

"Joan invited him for the weekend. He's visiting her."

"That's nice." Blair knew how much the divorce of his parents had hurt
the young man. He pulled on his clothes and moved aside so that Jim
could get to the closet.

A knock on the door unexpectedly surprised both men. Jim finished
dressing as Blair jogged down the stairs to answer the summons. He
opened the door wide, taking the baking dish with the twenty-five
pound turkey from Flo's straining arms. Immediately, the pan was
plucked away by Jim, who carried it into the kitchen, fussing all the
way. "Didn't I tell you not to be lifting heavy things? Good grief,
Blair, are you *trying* to have a miscarriage?"

The anthropologist and his neighbor exchanged looks. "What's going on
here?" Flo asked, looking at the two distressed men.

"It hasn't been a really good morning, Flo," Blair explained.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Flo clucked. "Well, just remember that today
is the day you count your blessings, and the last time I looked, you
two were richly blessed." She smiled. "Where's that darling baby?"

"In the nursery," Jim answered, sliding the big bird into the oven to
begin baking. "She just woke up."

"Well, then, I'll go take a peek," the elderly woman said, heading for
the French doors.

Jim wiped his hands and walked over to Blair, resting his palms on the
shorter man's shoulders. "I'm sorry if I got us started off on the
wrong foot this morning," he apologized. "I realize things aren't easy
for you now, what with starting back to work and all. Forgive me?" He
pulled Blair into his arms and felt his lover snuggle into the
embrace.

"It's my fault," Blair muttered into a flannel-clad shoulder.
"Hormones all over the place. Some days I don't know what I want."

Jim stroked the long curls with strong, reassuring hands. "Let's let
it drop, okay? Flo's right. Today is a day for counting our
blessings."

"You can call me 'Sweetheart'." Blair spoke softly, pulling out of the
warm embrace to look up at Jim with tear-dampened eyes.

"Okay." Jim wiped at the moisture with his thumb, then kissed the
still slightly quivering lips.

"Okay," Blair whispered back.

Flo came out of the bedroom toting the laughing toddler. Laurene
squirmed to be put down, then ran over and wrapped pudgy arms around
Blair's legs. "Good morning, Muffin," her daddy greeted.

"Da-de, pffft!" Laurene blew a perfect raspberry.

"You are such a little pill!" Blair leaned down to ruffle the soft
reddish curls on the small head.

"Da-de, no!" Laurene said, shaking her head.

"No, is it?" Blair scooped her up, holding her above his head and
tickling with his fingertips. Jim looked on with a measure of worry.
He knew he couldn't keep Blair from picking up their daughter, but the
sight still made him nervous. Gales of laughter erupted from the
little girl, and even Jim had to smile.

Soon tiring of carrying the heavy toddler, Blair handed her off to
Jim. "What time are you expecting Simon and Megan?"

"Not until later." Jim put Laurene in her highchair and placed a bowl
of dry Cheerios and a sipping cup of whole milk on the tray. "The
turkey won't be ready for hours, and they want to make sure that you
have plenty of time to rest."

"All right," Flo fussed. "All men of the male persuasion out of the
kitchen! I've got work to do."

"Where does that leave me, exactly?" Blair asked, one eyebrow raised
in question.

"Out!" Flo waved a wooden spoon at the young man. 

Blair backed out with his hands raised. "Just checking."

~oO0Oo~

"Hello, Love!" Megan greeted Blair as she walked through the open
door. She carried a tray of traditional, individually-sized,
Australian meat pies. "Thought I'd add a little Aussie flavor to the
celebration."

Jim took the tray from her and carried it to the kitchen. "They smell
good enough to eat!" he commented, sliding them into the warming
drawer of the oven.

Megan wrapped her arms around Blair, hugging him tight. "It's been
ages since we've seen you down at the station. When are you coming by
for a visit?"

When she let go, Blair took her coat and hung it on the hooks by the
door. "I miss all the guys, too," he admitted. "But with the
pregnancy, then starting back to work at Rainier, there just hasn't
been any time. Maybe I can come by some time next week."

"You'd better! Joel doesn't believe Jim's stories anymore. He thinks
you were abducted by aliens," Megan said with a snort of laughter.

"Sometimes it feels that way," Blair admitted. He was startled out of
his reverie by another knock on the door. Simon entered, balancing two
mincemeat pies. "Hey, Simon!" Blair greeted the captain, taking his
burden to the kitchen so the captain could hang up his coat.

"How're you doing today, Blair?" he asked, turning back to the
part-time police observer.

"I've had better days," the young man admitted, "but all-in-all, I'm
doing pretty well."

"Dinner won't be ready for another hour," Flo announced from the
kitchen. "Just relax and enjoy yourselves."

Megan wandered over. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You're a guest here, Deary," Flo told her. "Go join your friends and
have a nice chit-chat."

"Oh, you know men," Megan teased. "I work around these guys all day. I
appreciate being invited over, of course. I haven't seen Blair in
*ages*, but just between you and me, I wouldn't mind helping you out."

"Extra hands make light work," Flo replied. "You can put the potatoes
on to boil. Watch them carefully, so that they don't disintegrate."

Megan smiled and got out the cooking pot. "Yes, Mum." She cleaned and
peeled the potatoes while waiting for the water to come to a boil.
Looking up over her work, she watched the three men seated in the
living room. Simon was on the loveseat, while Jim and Blair sat
nestled on the large couch. Jim had his arm around the smaller man,
and Blair was leaning into him, soaking up contentment. They were busy
catching up, she mused.

~oO0Oo~

After dinner, Blair walked Laurene into the nursery to get her ready
for bed. The youngster walked between her daddy's legs, arms high
above her head, held tight in Blair's secure grip. "Up you go,
Muffin," he said, lifting the child onto the changing table.

"Stimky," Laurene announced, wrinkling her nose.

"Stinky is right," her daddy agreed, peeling off the dirty diaper.
Laurene only knew a small handful of words beyond "Da-de" and "no,"
and most of those related in some way to her senses. The little girl
detested the smell of her own waste, and was quick to point it out.

Blair was taking care of the mess when there was a soft knock on the
door. "Come in." Megan walked in, pulling the door shut behind her.

"Is everything okay, Sandy?"

"Why do you ask?" Blair replied softly. He finished wrapping his
daughter in a fresh diaper, then pulled the soft flannel nightgown
over her head.

Megan walked up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Flo and I
were talking," she said. "She told me things didn't seem quite right
when she came over this morning. There was some tension. Is Jim
treating you all right?"

"Megan!" Blair exploded with surprise. "Of *course* Jim's treating me
all right. *Better* than all right!"

"Then what's going on? Is it something at the university?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Blair told her, putting Laurene in her crib.
"'Night, Muffin. Sleep well; sweet dreams." He leaned down to kiss the
smiling cherub. He walked over to the French doors, but Megan blocked
his retreat, speaking softly.

"You can tell me."

"It's nothing, Megan. Just someone with a whacked out sense of
morality. It's been a little unsettling, but nothing has come of it."

"Don't you think you ought to talk to Jim?"

Blair shook his head. "Jim was leery of letting me go back to work so
soon. He's over-protective during my first trimester. If I make him
think anything's amiss, he'll pull my ass out of there so fast, my
head will be spinning."

"Would he be justified?"

"No! No, Megan. It's nothing. Please don't say anything." Blair put a
hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly. "I promise, it's okay." Megan
shrugged and preceded the anthropologist out of the nursery.

"Everything okay?" Simon asked as the pair emerged.

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" Blair muttered softly.
"Everything's just dandy," he said a little louder. "Laur should be
asleep soon. The way I'm feeling, I probably will be, too." He smiled.

"Maybe we should leave, then," Simon said, standing.

"No, no, please," Blair insisted, gesturing for the captain to sit
back down. "Enjoy the evening. If I get too tired, I'll just head up
to bed. No big deal."

The four settled onto the two couches, Blair cuddling into Jim's
embrace once more and sighing quietly.

"How're things going at Rainier?" Simon asked.

"I finally got everything unpacked and filed away," Blair said with
some pride. "The place is looking like a real office, now. I also
started counseling this week."

Simon looked confused. "You're seeing a shrink? Why?"

"Not *me*, Simon. I'm advising students who think they want to major
in Anthropology. I'm also helping out the other professors by taking
over some of their office hours. I help the kids with their research
assignments--you know, clarify things, tell them where to find their
research material. . . ."

"When do you start teaching?" Megan asked.

"Beginning of the winter term, in January. I'll start with _Intro to
Anthropology_ and _Mayan Civilization_."

"Sounds fascinating. How long will you be able to teach?"

"My projected due date is June 8," Blair told her. "I should be able
to teach both winter and spring terms. School will be out for the
summer before I have to go in for the C-section."

"Isn't it going to be a little hard keeping order in your classrooms
when your waistline starts expanding exponentially?" Simon asked.

"The staff know about the pregnancy, and support me with it. I'll have
time off for doctor's appointments and anything else I need related to
the baby. Once I start showing, I'll have to make sure the students
know, although I suspect the news is all over the campus grapevine
already."

"He's got a lot of support," Jim added. "The Gay and Lesbian Coalition
on campus is behind him big time."

"As are the women's rights groups, Black Pride and the Right to Life
people," Blair added. "I don't think it's going to be a problem.
There's always going to be someone out there who will find the whole
concept of male pregnancy perverse and unnatural, but on the whole,
I've got the support I need to get through this school year."

"You ever going to show up at the station?" Simon wondered.

"I've talked to Chancellor Devereaux about that, and he said I could
take off one afternoon a week on a regular basis, more if you truly
need my services."

"That's great news!" Simon grinned. "Maybe Jim will be less cranky if
you're there a little more often."

Jim threw a decorative pillow toward his captain, who caught the downy
missile with one hand and lobbed it back.

"Hey, hey, guys! No pillow fights!" Blair scolded. "Geez, now you've
got me sounding like my mother."

"God help us," Simon said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling.
Blair's pillow pitch caught him dead-on in the chest.

~oO0Oo~

The sound of quiet sobbing echoed down the long hallway at Rainier.
Just back from his brief Thanksgiving weekend break, Blair hurried his
steps toward his office. "Vickie! What's the matter?" He set his
briefcase down in front of the AA's desk and gently pried her hands
away from her face.

Grabbing a tissue, Vickie wiped at her eyes and nose, then sniffled
and pointed toward Blair's office door. Fresh paint still drizzled
slowly down from the recent graffiti: a yellow star of David crossed
through with a black swastika. "Shit!"

"I'm so sorry, Blair," Vickie said, tears still making her voice
hoarse. "I got to work, and there it was. I didn't see anyone. Maybe
if I'd gotten here sooner. . . ."

"It's not your fault," Blair assured her. "You're always here at least
a half an hour before you need to be. Whoever did this knows that."

"I've already called campus security and the janitorial staff. They
should have it investigated and cleaned up before noon."

"Thanks, Vickie. If security wants to talk to me, just send them on
in. My schedule is clear this morning. I'm going to be working on my
articles for the Anthro rags." Blair approached the door, finding it
harder than he thought to cross the threshold of hate. Once inside, he
looked around. Finding nothing out of place, he settled down to work.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in."

"Dr. Sandburg?" the man greeted him, holding up identification. "Kurt
Mayfield, Campus Security."

"Have a seat, Mr. Mayfield. How may I help you?"

"I just have a few questions about the graffiti on your door."

"Shoot."

"You Jewish?"

"Yes, I am. I'm also gay, married and pregnant. Does that make a
difference?"

"Just wondering if you had any idea who might have done this?"

"Not a clue. However," Blair bent down to fetch his evidence file, "I
have had some other incidents over the past couple of weeks." He
handed the folder to the security officer. "I was wondering if I could
get an answering machine with a mini-cassette for my office phone? If
I get any more of these calls, I'd like to be able to record them."

"I think that can be arranged," the officer agreed. "May I take these
with me?" he asked, indicating the notes.

"I'd rather you didn't. I'll have Vickie make photocopies for you.
Would that be sufficient?"

"Great!" Mayfield nodded.

Blair picked up the phone. "Vickie, could you come in here a minute,
please?" Moments later, the AA appeared in the doorway.

"What can I do for you?"

Blair stood, crossing the room to hand the folder to his secretary.
"Would you please get me copies of the contents of this file? It's
evidence for Mr. Mayfield."

"Right away, sir." Vickie disappeared with the folder, and Blair went
back to his desk.

"Everyone on campus that I've had contact with is supportive of my
pregnancy, and of my choice to come back and teach the winter and
spring terms. With the exception of these notes and the phone call . .
. and today's graffiti, I've received no negative feedback at all. I'm
not naive enough to think there won't be *some* dissension, but I
never expected hate mail."

"There are always some kooks out there," Mayfield said, shaking his
head. "I wouldn't worry about it, but do let us know if you receive
anything else. I'll see what I can do to look into this for you."

"Will security be taking Polaroid's of the graffiti before it's
cleaned up?" At Mayfield's nod, Blair continued. "Would you be so kind
as to take two? I'd like one for my file."

"Why *are* you keeping such a detailed file? I mean, it's a good thing
you did, but in your shoes, I would have burned those notes."

"I'm married to a cop." Blair grinned. "And I spent over four years
riding along with him on his cases. I know how to keep a paper trail."

"Smart," the officer agreed. "I'll have that recorder up here ASAP. If
you get more calls, we'd like to hear 'em, too."

"Thanks."

Vickie knocked once, then entered the office. Her face was drained of
color as she handed the copies to the security officer, and the folder
back to Blair. "How could anyone have that much hate?" Her voice
trembled. "Are you okay, Blair?"

The professor quickly filed the repulsive folder and looked up at the
AA. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks." She nodded and quickly left the room.

"Well, I guess that's it for now," Mayfield said, rising and offering
his hand to Blair.

Blair stood and shook the officer's hand. "Thanks for taking care of
this for me. You'll get me that Polaroid?"

"Somebody should be up in a few minutes."

"Okay, good." Blair watched as the security officer exited the room,
then sat down with a heavy sigh. It was going to be difficult getting
back to work after enduring yet another shock. He turned to his
computer and stared at the monitor, hoping his muse hadn't packed up
and left on a permanent vacation.


Mid-December:

"Good morning, Vickie," Blair greeted the young woman.

"'Morning, Blair. I've got something for you." She handed him a manila
envelope addressed to "Dr. Sandburg, Rm. 216, Hargrove Hall, Rainier
University."

Blair turned the envelope over in his hands, toying with the clasp
before tucking it under his arm and turning back to his secretary.
"Could you print up my schedule for next term?" he asked. "I need to
know what days and hours I may have free to devote to the Cascade PD."

"I'll get right on that," Vickie answered, bringing up the schedule on
her computer screen. "I'll bring it in as soon as it's printed."

"Okay. Thanks." Blair turned and entered his office, settling into the
comfortable desk chair. He looked at the envelope he had dropped on
the desk. Something about it made him hesitant to open it. Slowly, his
fingers undid the clasp and peeled back the flap. Reaching inside, he
pulled out a picture--a picture of himself. It was a candid shot,
taken on campus, and it had been manipulated by an expert. In it,
Blair wore lipstick and heavy eye makeup, and a very pregnant, very
naked female body had replaced the conservative suit and tie which
still effectively hid Blair's expanding waistline. The ringing of the
phone startled him. He picked up the receiver and quickly hit the
record button on his machine as the distorted voice began to speak.

//"Did you get the package?"//

"What business is it of yours?" Blair retorted.

//"Are you looking at it now?"//

Blair nodded, then swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah."

//"That's what Ellison sees when he fucks you. That's what your cop
husband wants--tits and ass. Does he suckle your breasts when you make
love? Are you the one who always takes *his* cock up *your* ass? Think
about it, Little Woman. You're nothing more than Ellison's whore."//

Blair slammed the phone back onto its cradle and stuffed the offending
picture back into the envelope. With shaking hands, he wrote the date
and initialed the corner, then dropped it into his file, along with
the cassette tape of the conversation. He rubbed his hands on his
slacks. He felt dirty just handling the vile objects.

Vickie poked her head through the door. "All clear? I saw that you
were on the phone, so I didn't want to disturb you." She stepped into
the room. "Blair? Dr. Sandburg? Are you all right?" She placed a
gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning down to get a good look at her
boss.

"No. I'm not feeling so hot," Blair admitted. "Cancel the rest of my
morning appointments, and call Dr. Lynne Casey for me, would you? Tell
her I'm on my way down to see her."

"Yes, sir. Right away." She turned to hurry out to her desk.

Blair stood up slowly, stretching. He reached into a pocket for his
car keys and headed out of his office, determined to put some distance
between himself and his expanding nightmare.

~oO0Oo~

"Your secretary sounded upset when she called. I cleared my calendar
for you," Lynne said by way of greeting her patient. "What's the
matter?"

"It's not the pregnancy," Blair admitted, "although it's indirectly
related to it."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Blair hesitated. "I've been getting strange notes and disturbing phone
calls at work, and someone even sprayed graffiti on my door."

"What kind of notes? What does the caller say?" Lynne looked
perturbed. None of her patients had ever been the target of a stalker
before.

"Both the notes and the phone calls refer to me as a whore," Blair
whispered, choking on the word. "The caller says if I want to be a
woman so badly, I should just, just . . ." He couldn't bring himself
to say it.

Lynne leaned forward, placing a hand on his knee. "Blair, Sweetheart.
Have you told Jim?"

"Are you kidding? Jim'd go ballistic! I haven't been threatened or
anything, just harassed. There isn't anything Jim could do. I've
already called campus security about it. They said they'd look into
it, but nothing has come of the investigation."

"Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. This morning I got a picture." Blair hesitated briefly, then
plowed onward. "It was taken candidly since I came back to campus."

"Do you feel threatened by it? Someone is watching you."

"Heck, yeah, I feel threatened! Whoever sent it manipulated my head
onto a pregnant female body! Then the caller said that's what Jim sees
when he makes love to me."

"Do you believe what he says?"

"Yes . . . no!" Blair shook his head. "God, I don't know. Jim says my
masculine qualities are enhanced when I'm pregnant. He *says* he
doesn't see me as feminine, yet the changes my body goes through turns
him on. Why, Lynne? I've got breasts, and my stomach gets bigger every
day. Won't be long until I won't be able to see my penis anymore. You
know how that feels?" Lynne shook her head. "No, of course you don't.
Well, it feels like shit. I might as well not have a dick considering
how useful the damn thing is when I'm pregnant."

"Jim has told me you have self-esteem issues with the pregnancies. If
it was this hard for you before, why did you put yourself through it a
second time?"

"Because we want this child," Blair stated flatly. "And Jim just
couldn't do the whole pregnancy thing. He couldn't."

"Did he in any way influence you against your wishes?"

"No! No, Lynne. It was my decision. I was the one who brought up the
idea in the first place. Jim was totally against it. I had to convince
him."

"That's what I thought, originally," Lynne admitted, "but now I
wonder."

"I was happy, really happy," Blair said with a sigh. "This pregnancy
has been going well, since we got the anemia under control. I finally
got my doctorate and started my new job at Rainier. Everything was
perfect. Then this shit started." He rubbed at his eyes, which had
grown suspiciously wet as he spoke. "I don't know how much more of
this I can take."

"You need to tell Jim," Lynne insisted. "Even if there's nothing he
can do about the stalker, and I don't believe that's true, he can
still be your strength and your support. That's what partners are for.
That's why you're married, and not out on your own. Lean on him. Let
him give you his strength."

"I don't know," Blair hesitated. "He's going to be so angry when he
finds out."

"Are you afraid he'll hurt you?" Lynne studied the man seated across
from her with concern.

"Never! Jim would never hurt me. But he's going to be angry. Really
angry. I don't think I'm ready to say anything to him yet."

"Well, you know you can always call on me. I'm a doctor, not a
counselor, but I do understand the stresses you're going through." She
stood up. "Do you have to be back at work right away?"

Blair shook his head. "I told my secretary to clear my morning
calendar."

"I'm going to call her and tell her to clear your afternoon calendar,
as well." She rummaged briefly through the cupboards on the back wall
and came back with a sample packet of pills. "These have been okayed
for use with pregnant patients. I want you to go home, take these and
get some rest."

"I can't go home. Jim would find out." Blair's eyes began to take on
the glassy look of panic.

"Then you can stay here," Lynne decided. "I've got a cot in the back
room you can use." She led the anthropologist into a small room off
the back hall and handed him the pills and a cup of water. "Bottom's
up." She watched as Blair reluctantly took the medication. "Now, make
yourself comfortable. I'll wake you up when it's time to go home."

"Thanks, Lynne." Blair removed his suit coat and tie, slipped off his
shoes, and pulled the lightweight blanket over himself. Within
minutes, the pills had performed their function, and the young man was
soundly asleep.


December 22 --
The First night of Chanukah:

Jim was worried. He had noticed a growing apathy in his lover that
seemed to have no apparent cause. Glancing up at the calendar, he
decided to make a move. "Chanukah started this evening. You haven't
gotten out your menorah. And those latkes last year were to die for.
Are you going to be making those again?"

Blair looked up from the floor, where he was stacking blocks into
towers which their daughter was cheerfully destroying. "I don't feel
much like celebrating this year. It's too much work."

"Are you going to services, at least?"

"Nah. I'd rather stay home with you and Laurene."

Jim hunkered down on the floor next to his partner and placed a palm
against his forehead. "Are you feeling all right? You seem more tired
lately. Maybe you should go see Lynne."

"Cut that out!" Blair dodged the hand checking his temperature. "This
isn't anything Lynne can help. And, yes, I'm taking my supplements.
Can't I just want to relax with my family?"

"Yeah," Jim answered slowly. "Nothing wrong with that. You just seem a
bit preoccupied."

"There was a lot going on at school before the break," Blair
explained. "And now I'm gearing up to teach classes again. It's been a
while. Guess I'm a little nervous."

"You don't have anything to be nervous about," Jim assured him. "You
love to teach. You come alive when you get in front of a classroom
full of kids. I've watched you."

"Yeah," Blair agreed, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I guess I need
to find a way to unwind, huh?"

"I can help with that," Jim said with a smile. "Isn't it about time
the Munchkin here goes to bed?"

"It's a little early. . . ." Blair started to say. Jim's tongue darted
out to trace a path around one ear. A quick breath of air over the
dampness caused Blair's entire body to tingle. "Oh, uh . . . sure.
Time for bed, Little One." He picked up the protesting toddler and
carted her off to the nursery.

Up in the bedroom, Jim made sure all the supplies were handy. Blair
had only recently been cleared for intercourse, and Jim wanted to make
sure that his first time would be pleasant. He heard the hiss as his
partner turned on the white noise generator for their daughter. He
hated the way the machine lowered his own level of hearing to just
above normal limits, but when his lover was close enough, he could
still hear the comfort of his heart.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs caught his attention. Jim turned
to see Blair take the final step and enter their bedroom. Wide blue
eyes, dark with need, took in the fact that Jim was already undressed.
He patted the mattress. "Come here."

Blair walked over and sat down, reaching out a tentative hand to
caress Jim's pectorals. The gentle touch caused the sentinel to shiver
with anticipation. He began the ritual of undressing his partner,
peeling back the layers to reveal the exotic form of Blair's
transforming body.

He pressed against Blair's shoulders, urging him to lie down, then
stretched out beside him, worshipping the new curves with his sense of
touch. Hands roamed over the slightly swelling breasts, down to the
gentle rise of the growing belly. "God, you're beautiful," he
breathed, leaning down to latch onto a peaking nipple with his teeth.
He teased and pulled at the erect nub, until Blair began to thrash
beneath him.

Blair's moans increased in intensity when Jim's fingers curled around
the erection that bobbed against his swollen abdomen. Jim began
stroking the shaft, at first with care, then stronger and tighter,
until Blair was screaming at him to finish. "Not yet, Chief," Jim
whispered, letting go of the twitching organ just before Blair got his
blessed relief.

"Oh, God, Jim! Don't stop now!" his lover panted. He pressed his body
against his mate's, but Jim wasn't ready to end it quite yet. Blair
felt a cool, lubed finger slip past the tight muscle of his anus and
he tensed against the invasion. Soft words of encouragement were
whispered into his ear and he made a conscious effort to relax.

"That's good, Sweetheart. That's the way. It's been a while," Jim
prattled on, slipping a second finger inside. "I want this to be good
for you. You deserve nothing but the very best--believe that."

Blair nodded, swallowing hard and trying his best to control the
raging reactions of his body. Jim's lips engulfed the other nipple,
suckling the small mound. The younger man pressed back against the
invading digits, impaling himself to the knuckles. "Ahhhh-uuunghhh,"
the moan was drawn out from his constricted throat. 

"Almost there," Jim murmured, covering the panting mouth with his own.
When he released the kiss-bruised lips, he slid his fingers out as
well. "This is going to be so good," he promised. "Roll onto your side
for me?"

"I want to see you," Blair begged. "I *need* to see you."

"Aw, Chief, it's too hard on you when you're pregnant. The baby gets
in the way."

"Jim, *please*, it's important." There was a note verging on hysteria
in the pleading voice.

Jim stroked Blair's forehead, brushing away the sweat-soaked locks of
hair. "Calm down, Sweetheart. This is your show. Whatever you want."
He grabbed an extra pillow from the bed. "Can you lift your hips for
me?" Blair did as he was asked, and Jim slid the pillow under his
lower back and buttocks for support. "Comfortable?" Blair nodded.

Kneeling between Blair's legs, he rested his hands on the bent knees
as he carefully positioned himself at the puckered opening. With great
care, he applied enough pressure to allow himself entrance. In one
long, smooth stroke, he buried himself to the balls in the velvet
heat. He paused, allowing his partner to adjust to the fullness. Again
stroking Blair's forehead and cheek, he looked into the glassy blue
eyes. "You let me do all the work here, understand? We'll save the
gymnastics for after the birth."

"Just get on with it," Blair grunted, grabbing his own rigid cock and
stroking it, trying to find release.

"Mine," Jim commanded, uncurling Blair's fingers and taking over
massaging the rock-hard organ. Blair began to thrash beneath him, and
Jim had to calm him with hands on his hips. "My turn," he said softly,
beginning with slow, deep thrusts, gradually building up in intensity
and speed.

A keening wail escaped Blair's throat as his orgasm swept through his
body, spraying semen over his belly and chest, and onto Jim's pumping
hand. He collapsed into a sweaty heap, nearly unaware that Jim came
moments later. The larger man rolled off his pregnant partner, pulling
the pillow from beneath his hips and gathering the shivering body into
his arms. He pulled the covers over them, without bothering to clean
up, as the tremors turned to outright shaking.

"Blair? Blair, Sweetheart, are you all right? What's wrong?"

The young man didn't answer, but molded himself against his lover,
trying to become one with the other man. He buried his face in the
juncture of Jim's neck and shoulder, and cried himself into
exhaustion.

Jim lay for a long while after, stroking the damp hair and
contemplating what would make Blair cry. His partner had been wound
tighter than a top recently, but had remained uncharacteristically
silent about the reasons behind it. He finally drifted into an uneasy
sleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the steady beating of his
lover's heart.

~oO0Oo~

"What was that all about last night?" Jim asked over their breakfast
of eggs and toast.

Blair looked up, his large eyes totally clueless. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Last night, in bed. You were so tense, I could
have used you as a tuning fork. Then you cried yourself to sleep."

"I did?" Blair shook his head. "I dunno, man. Everything's fine."

"Blair Sandburg, remember the trouble you get into when you lie to
me?" Jim's voice was as stern as any parent's. Blair dropped his eyes,
staring at his plate. "Well?"

"There were some things going on at school before the break," he
admitted.

"What kind of things?"

"Just things. Somebody's not thrilled having a gay professor on staff,
I guess. It's nothing I can't handle."

"What happened?"

"Phone calls, disparaging notes. Nothing big. Don't sweat it."

"You seem to be," Jim challenged.

"Well, you know it's not just that," Blair explained. "There were all
sorts of pressures. I had a deadline on a paper I was writing for
publication, I had kids coming in at all hours asking for help. It was
a madhouse at Rainier. I'm just tired."

Jim's face softened. "You need to take it easy. You're on vacation
now. Try not to think about school."

"Easier said than done," Blair sighed. "It's a whole new ball game
now. I'm not a grad student anymore. I'm a full professor. I'm
expected to teach, advise and publish. Eventually, I'll be expected to
leave my family and go out on expeditions. Anthropologists aren't
allowed to sit on their butts in cozy offices for long. It's the
nature of the profession."

"And you have to worry about all that now?" Jim asked, pulling the
younger man into a tight hug.

"Guess not, when you put it that way," Blair murmured into the comfort
of Jim's shoulder.


Christmas Eve:

The tree was up and decorated, and Laurene found it irresistibly
fascinating. She toddled up to the fir, reaching for one of the bright
mini-lights. "No!" she said, jerking her hand back as the heat of the
tiny bulb pricked her finger.

"'No' is right, Muffin," Blair exclaimed, taking her hand and pulling
her out of reach of the evergreen. "Don't touch. The tree is just for
looking."

"She's attracted by the colors," Jim said, wandering in. "To sentinel
vision, they're almost psychedelic. I have to keep vision dialed down
when the lights are turned on."

"Really?" Blair said, the scientist coming to the fore. "Anything else
I should know?"

"The tinsel doesn't help matters. It scatters the light, magnifying
the effect--especially that holographic stuff you seem to favor. The
fragrance is attractive, too," he added. "We might be better off using
an artificial tree until Laurene is old enough to learn the dials."

"Why didn't you say something when we were out selecting the tree? Or
while we were decorating?" Blair asked.

Jim chuckled. "You should see yourself at Christmas. You're like a
little kid in the proverbial candy store. Your eyes light up, you get
all obsessed about the 'perfect' tree, you're dragging the lights and
ornaments out of storage before the Thanksgiving turkey gets cold. I
didn't have the heart to tell you."

"That bad, huh?" Blair sighed. "Am I pathetic, or what?"

"No. You're enthusiastic. Who wouldn't love that? You just want
Laurene to enjoy what you didn't have as a child. Nothing wrong with
that."

"Thanks, man."

"For what?" Jim asked, smiling.

"For not saying that I'm nuts. I feel like one sometimes, you know."

"A nut?"

"Yeah. These damn hormones have my emotions all over the map. It's
amazing that you haven't thrown me out on my arse before this."

"'Arse'?" Jim's amusement bubbled up into a full-blown belly laugh.
"Where did you come up with *that* one?"

"My mom used to use it," Blair replied, blushing slightly. "Hippie or
not, she was too much of a lady to say 'ass'."

"I see." Jim's laughter dropped to a chuckle. "Well, I happen to favor
that cute little arse of yours. I wouldn't want to see it get
bruised."

"Very funny, Ellison," Blair growled.

Jim wrapped his wild child in his arms and kissed him soundly. "You're
not a nut, and you *do* have an attractive arse. One that I hope to
get a piece of later tonight. Meanwhile, shouldn't we be cleaning up
for the party?"

"And why are we hosting the Christmas Eve party here again?" Blair
asked.

"Because, Darwin, it's easier on you if we do."

"How do you figure?" Blair wondered, looking around the cluttered
living room.

"Because, if you get worn out, you can cash in early. Laurene is more
comfortable in her own home, so we don't have to work as hard keeping
her out of trouble. Your meds are here, in case you start feeling
queasy. . . ."

"But there's so much to get done to get this place presentable!" Blair
managed to free one arm from the embrace, and swept it over the messy
room.

"I'll clean. You cook," Jim suggested.

"Oh, like that's any easier. You ever try standing, just standing,
with twenty extra pounds hanging around your waist? Gets tiring pretty
darn fast!"

Jim placed both hands on Blair's shoulders and steered him toward the
couch. Sweeping a pile of newspapers onto the floor, he pushed his
partner into the cushions. "You just rest. I'll clean and I'll give
Leibowitz' Deli a call. They can do last-minute catering, can't they?"
Blair nodded, slightly dumbstruck by his partner's decision.

Jim busied himself with picking up and straightening the accumulated
clutter. Laurene toddled behind, "helping." Out of a sense of
self-preservation, Jim finally corralled the youngster in her playpen. 

The phone rang, and Blair, who was closest, picked it up. "Hello?"

"Who is . . . ?" Jim started to ask, thinking it was one of their
friends calling about the party. He stopped in mid-question when he
saw his lover blanch. He dialed up his hearing, so he could listen to
the voice on the other end of the line.

//"Merry Christmas, Jew. Have you given any more thought to what we
discussed? Because if you can't do it, I'd be happy to do it for
you."//

"Leave me alone!" Blair hissed into the receiver. "How did you get
this number, anyway?"

//"I know all about you: where you live, what kind of car you drive,
what you like to eat for lunch. I'll be waiting. Give Ellison what he
really wants for Christmas--a wife."//

Blair hung up on the caller, his hands shaking.

Jim came over to perch on the edge of the couch, massaging comforting
circles in the small of Blair's aching back. "Who was that? And what
the hell was he talking about?"

"You heard?" Blair's voice was small and tight.

Jim nodded. "I don't make it a habit to listen in on your private
calls, but when I turned to look, you'd gone white. I was concerned.
What was he talking about?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," Blair said, trying to wave Jim off.

"You've heard from this jerk before, haven't you?" he paused.
"*Haven't you?*"

"Yes," Blair squeaked. "He's called the office a few times, left some
notes under the door. This is the first time he's called here."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought I could handle it," Blair admitted. "At first, it
was just harassing. No real threats. When someone scrawled graffiti on
my door, Vickie called in campus security. I told them what was going
on and they promised to look into it."

"Graffiti on your office door? What did they paint?"

"A star of David with a swastika crossing it out." Blair shivered at
the memory. "It had Vickie so upset, she was crying."

"How about you?" Jim's voice was soft.

"I started to take them a little more seriously after that," Blair
admitted. "But security was on the job, so I figured everything was
okay."

"But you didn't want to tell me about it." Jim's voice sounded hurt.

"I was afraid you'd be angry. Angry at the guy for stalking me and
angry with me for withholding the information for so long."

"I should turn you over my knee and spank you," Jim said, only half
teasing. "But you'd probably enjoy it too much." That got a smile from
the rattled anthropologist.

"I saved everything," Blair offered. "You want to see it?"

"Damn straight, I do!" Jim said, jumping up. "Where is it?"

"In my office at the university. They're all locked down for the
winter break. We'll have to wait until January."

"Don't you have a key?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head. "Yeah, I do, but security has been doubled since
this started. I don't want to set off any alarms."

"January second, and we're there," Jim stated. "I want everything
you've got." He looked at the pale young man. "I'm canceling the
party, kid. You're not up to this."

"Don't do that!" Blair protested, trying to sit up. Jim pressed him
back into the couch.

"The stress isn't healthy for you," he told Blair. "You've been strung
out for weeks now. Is that how long this has been going on?" Blair
nodded. "God, kid, *why* didn't you say something?" The question was
largely rhetorical, having already been answered. "There's too much to
do getting ready for a big party, plus having all those people here.
No. You need your rest. Your health is far more important than any
celebration. The gang will understand."

"You're not going to tell them, are you?" Blair's panic was barely
contained.

"You bet I am. Between us, we'll find this pervert and get him behind
bars."

"Jim. . . . He threatened to castrate me. That's getting a little
personal. I don't want that getting around the bullpen."

"They'll only know what they need to know. I promise," Jim assured
him. "Now, why don't you close your eyes and rest a bit while I see
what I can scrape together for dinner?"


January 2:

Blair carried the toddler braced on one hip, Jim following closely
behind. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" he asked.

"Poor Flo wasn't going to be able to keep up with Laur much longer,"
Blair told him. "She's elderly, and Muffin here is faster than a
speeding bullet. Eli tells me the daycare here is top-notch. The
advantage is, I can visit her between classes, or when I don't have
student appointments. I can even bring her up to the office when my
calendar is clear. This is the best of both worlds. Laur gets high
quality care and I get to spend more time with her, even though I'm
working full time."

"I suppose," Jim reluctantly agreed. "Let's see what Laurene thinks."

They walked through the doors of the daycare center and were
confronted with bright colors, a large assortment of toys and a
plentiful staff. "Well, this must be little Laurene!" The woman walked
up to the couple and tickled Laurene's chin. The child scrunched her
face and pulled back.

"She's a little shy of strangers," Blair explained.

"Oh, they all are at this age. May I hold her?" With only a slight
hesitation, Blair handed over his precious charge. Laurene began to
wail. "My name's Judith. I'm in charge of the infants and toddlers. If
you'll follow me?"

Jim was ready to snatch their crying child out of the arms of her
abductor, but Blair held him back. "She has to get used to the people
here," he whispered. They followed Judith into another room filled
with child-safe toys, cribs for napping and other essentials for
toddler maintenance, such as playpens, high chairs and a diaper table
with abundant resources. "See, Jim? It's great!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jim replied, unconvinced.

"This is my favorite area," Judith said, walking over to a corner with
a comfortable overstuffed chair and a bookshelf filled with colorful
picture books. "This is Anna. She's a grad student working in early
childhood development. Her specialty is learning disorders, but her
job here is to read to the children." She turned to the mousy brunette
seated in the chair. "Anna, this is our newest--Laurene. These are her
daddies: Jim and Blair. Blair works here at the university as a
professor in Anthropology."

"Hello." Anna's musical voice was in stark contrast to her rather
pedestrian looks. Jim took an immediate liking to the young woman. "I
know you," she said, turning to Blair. "I've seen you on campus.
Weren't you the one with the controversial thesis on sentinels?"

"I successfully defended that paper last May," Blair told her.

"Congratulations! The grapevine on campus said Chancellor Edwards had
it in for you. That's the only reason you didn't get your Ph.D.
sooner." Leaning forward in the chair, her voice dropped to a
conspiratorial whisper. "We were all glad to see her go. She was as
corrupt as they come--just between you and me." Blair nodded, but
didn't comment.

"Aren't you the pregnant one, too?" Anna asked. "I seem to remember
you being thin as a reed. You've filled out." She grinned.

"You're certainly perceptive," Blair responded, bemused by the gossip. 

"When are you due?"

"June 8th, after school's out for the summer."

Anna took Laurene from the arms of her supervisor. The child settled
immediately, bouncing delightedly in the grad student's lap.

"She likes you," Jim commented. He turned to Blair and smiled. "I'm
okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jim. *You're* the one that needed convincing." Blair
grinned.

"She's all yours," Jim told the women.

"I'll be down to check on her after my class this morning," Blair
added, stooping to kiss Laurene on the forehead. "You be a good girl,
Muffin. Daddy will be back to see you in a few hours. Bye-bye."

"Bye-bye," the tot repeated, waving her chubby arms at her departing
parents.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Blair asked, once they were out
of the daycare center.

"I guess not," Jim agreed. "Time will tell."

"Got a minute to come up to my office? I'd like to show you that
evidence I've collected on the guy who's been harassing me."

"Sure. That's why I came with you. Lead the way."


Hargrove Hall, Room 216:

"It was right here! I swear!" Blair dug in his file drawer, looking
for the evidence folder.

"Maybe you misfiled it? Or gave it to your AA?" Jim suggested.

"No. I kept it right here, filed under 'E' for evidence. Vickie made
photocopies of the contents for the security officer, but I kept the
originals." Blair sat up, his face drained of color. "What do you
think this means?"

"It could mean nothing," Jim said, trying to calm Blair down. "You've
been off two weeks. You might have set it down somewhere and just
forgot."

"I didn't, Jim," Blair said, getting a little testy over not being
believed. "It was right here, in the file drawer."

"In that case, I'd like to talk to Simon about putting a guard on you.
Someone didn't want me seeing this evidence, so it must be pretty
condemning."

"Aw, Jim, do we have to? I've got classes to teach and young kids
coming in here. I don't want to scare them off with some big goon
standing guard every minute."

"That 'big goon' could possibly save your life," Jim retorted. "I'm
not going to risk your life, or that of the baby, by ignoring this.
I'll do my best to make sure your protection is understated. You'll
hardly know he's there."

"So, what do we do next? Where do we start? We don't have anything to
go on," Blair pointed out.

Jim looked thoughtful. "Well, actually, we do," he said. "Whoever took
the folder has access to your office. Who would have a key, besides
yourself?"

"Vickie has a spare, in case I forget or misplace mine," Blair said.
"But she would never do this! You should have seen the look on her
face when she saw the contents of the folder. She was *sobbing*, for
crying out loud, when my door was painted with graffiti."

"It wouldn't be the first time a young woman used that type of deceit
to cover a crime," Jim reminded him. "Who else?"

"The janitorial staff. I think Eli has a key, too," Blair mused.

"What about security?"

"I don't know. Possibly. Although with the plethora of keys around
here, it wouldn't be hard for them to find someone to let them in."

"Well, it's a start." Jim pushed his chair back and stood. "I'll
interview your AA first, as she's the most likely suspect at this
point."

"I've got an Anthro 101 class to teach in fifteen minutes," Blair told
him. "I'd kind of like to be here when you talk to her. She's really a
sweet kid and a great secretary." He paused, looking into the steely
blue eyes of the detective. "You can be a little intimidating at
times, you know. I don't want you scaring her."

"I don't intend scaring her, unless she needs it," Jim growled.

Blair shook his head and grinned. "Why don't you come with me to
class? We'll talk to her together after."

~oO0Oo~

Blair hurried down the corridor toward the Anthropology classrooms,
followed closely by his personal bodyguard in the form of one James
Ellison, Detective, Cascade PD. Opening the door to the lecture hall,
he found it packed with students. As he stepped inside, a smattering
of applause rose to a thunderous din. Jim backed out into the hall,
until he could bring his hearing down several notches.

Blair stood at the front of the hall, waiting patiently for the noise
to die down. Peripheral vision caught Jim slinking through the door
and up several rows to find himself one of the few vacant seats left
in the room.

"Well," he began, "that was quite a welcome. Best ovation I've had at
the start of a term. I hope you'll all still have that enthusiasm by
the end of the class." Laughter skittered around the room. "Now, would
someone please like to explain?" Several hands shot up, and he pointed
to one of the male students.

"We think it's great you finally got your Ph.D. Congratulations."

Before Blair could comment, a female voice piped up. "Rumor has it
that you're pregnant." Nervous chuckles were heard scattered
throughout the hall. "Is it true?"

The room grew very quiet. Blair drew a deep breath. "Thank you,
everyone. No one is happier than I am to be a permanent part of this
staff. It's a relief to finally get *paid* to do this." More laughter
was heard in the room. "As for the pregnancy--yeah. It's true. I've
made no effort to hide the fact."

"How far along are you? When are you due?" Several voices overlapped.

"I'm four months now, and have a date with my doctor for June 8th."

"Do you know the sex?"

"It's a boy," Blair answered patiently.

"You're not showing," one girl pouted.

"That's not entirely true," Blair answered. "I've had several suits
tailored for my maternity. They cut down on how much I show." He took
off his jacket, turned sideways and smoothed down the fullness of his
slacks. Exclamations of surprise rippled around the room. "It's not
much yet, but you'll get to watch the entire show," he told them.
"This class is a full semester. By the time you get out of here, I'll
be full-term." Applause erupted again, and Blair had to motion for
quiet.

"Enough of that," he said, getting down to business. "This is
Introduction to Anthropology 101. If that's not what you signed up
for, it's time to gather your books and leave." Only a very few
students reluctantly stood up to go. Blair slipped his jacket back on
and turned to the remaining class. "Anthropology is a wide field,
encompassing many aspects of the human condition. There is Cultural
Anthropology, which studies societies, both modern and ancient, and
Physical Anthropology, which parallels archaeology and works closely
with that field. There is also Forensic Anthropology, a fairly new
addition, which studies the reasons behind individual deaths. . . ."
Blair talked on, outlining the course and what would be covered. He
ended the class with, "I want you to read the first four chapters in
your text books by Thursday, plus turn in a three-page synopsis on
Anthropology's contribution to the Twentieth Century. That's all,
folks. See you in two days."

Most of the students filed out of the lecture hall, but a small crowd
gathered around the new professor. Most were female, Jim noted,
dialing up his hearing to listen in on the conversations. The young
women were fascinated by Blair's pregnancy and wanted to know more.
Jim found himself tensing slightly as the girls reached out to touch
the growing mound of Blair's belly. His partner seemed to be taking
the attention in stride, but Jim noted the slightly elevated heart
rate. He stood, making his way down to the podium and elbowing his way
through the crowd of admirers.

"Time to go, Professor," he said, taking Blair's elbow. The crowd
reluctantly parted as their teacher was led from the room.

"Four chapters and the essay by Thursday," Blair reminded them.

~oO0Oo~

Vickie sat in Blair's office, her hands resting in her lap, her head
bowed.

"Did you hear or see *anything* unusual this morning?" Jim was asking.

"No, sir." She looked up, turning pleading eyes on Blair. "I really
don't understand how anybody could say such hurtful things. If there
was anything I could tell you that would help, I would."

"I know, Vickie. We're not accusing you," Blair assured her. "We just
have to talk to everyone who might have had access to the office."

"Could someone have gotten the key to the office from your desk?" Jim
asked.

Vickie shook her head. "When I'm away, I lock the drawers."

"All right." Jim nodded at the AA. "You can go. Thanks for your help."

"If there's anything else I can do. . . ."

"We'll contact you if we need more information," Jim told her. He
watched as the AA closed the door softly behind herself as she left.
"Well, Chief?"

"She didn't do this, Jim," Blair said. "So where do we look next?"

"I'll check with the security people, see what they might know. Then
we can set up interviews with anyone else with access: the janitors,
your fellow professors. I'm afraid everyone is suspect until we can
narrow down the field a little."

"Anything I can do?"

"Yeah. If you get any more notes or phone calls, bring the evidence
home. We'll need *something* solid when we get a suspect, and I don't
want to risk anything else going missing," Jim told him.

"Gotcha." Blair stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I'm hungry. How
about we go grab some lunch? My treat."


Mid-January:

Simon walked over and placed a folder on Jim's desk. "I need you to
drop everything and concentrate on this case," he said.

Jim looked up from his pile of paperwork. "Can't. I have Blair's case
to work on."

His boss looked sympathetic, but stood firm. "Megan can take over. I
need you on this."

"I beg to differ, sir. I intend to find out who is stalking my
partner."

"Have you made any headway on the case?" Simon asked.

"We've interviewed everybody with possible access to Blair's office.
So far, all their alibis check out," Jim admitted, flipping open the
folder Simon had given him and glancing at the contents.

"Has Blair gotten any more threats?"

"Not since the file folder disappeared." Jim sighed. "Blair's starting
to relax. I'm afraid he's going to let his guard down at an
inopportune moment, and *wham*!"

"Isn't there a chance that whoever was harassing him has moved on?
Maybe it was a student who has since transferred out?" Simon
suggested.

"I don't know, and I don't like taking chances. Blair's too important
to me."

"I can't stop you from investigating on your free time, Detective,"
Simon said, "but I can dictate what you do while you're on the
payroll. For now, Blair's case is a dead-end. I want you to
concentrate on this one."

"Yes, sir," Jim grumbled as Simon walked off.

~oO0Oo~

"I'm just pissed, is all," Jim said over dinner that night. He placed
some of the Yakisoba noodles from his stir-fry onto Laurene's tray. "I
don't mind being given new assignments, but Simon is brushing off your
case like it wasn't important."

"Jim, chill," Blair told him, picking up one of the slippery noodles
to hand to the toddler. "The threats have stopped. . . ."

"You don't know that for a fact," Jim interrupted.

"Well, I haven't gotten any in over two weeks," Blair amended. "And
all of our possible suspects have turned up clean. Admit it, man, you
don't have anything to go on. For all we know, I pissed off some
undergrad and the kid has moved on."

"That's what Simon suggested."

"Well, maybe he's right. Until or unless I get more notes or phone
calls, there isn't much you can do but spin your wheels." Laurene spit
the noodle out and began banging on her tray. "Hey, Muffin! Didn't
like that so much? Try this." He mashed a pea with his fingers and
handed it to the toddler.

"What makes you think she's going to like peas, if she won't eat the
noodles?" Jim asked. He was rewarded when their daughter pitched the
food back at her daddy.

"Don't say it," Blair warned. "It's those damned sentinel taste buds
of hers."

"Oh, sure. Blame everything on her sentinel senses."

"Jim, think about it," Blair said, switching almost automatically into
lecture mode. "Her sense of taste is off the map. You remember what
that was like." The sentinel had the grace to nod. "She's just
learning to eat new foods. All the flavors are strange and unusually
strong. Until she's old enough to learn the dials, it's going to be a
tough call getting her to try anything that doesn't come prepackaged
in neat little jars."

"Or even that," Jim reminded him. Laurene had become particularly
fussy the past few weeks.

"I suppose it could have something to do with what's going on at
school, too," Blair mused.

"How do you figure?"

"Well, things have been pretty tense around here for both of us. Even
if she doesn't understand the reasons, Laurene reacts to our
emotions."

"Which brings me back to the point I was trying to make," Jim said.
"Simon has put me on this big kidnap/murder case, working with the
Feds, no less, and has told me I have to pass your case off to Megan."

"Considering that there isn't much of a case to work on right now,"
Blair reasoned, "I wouldn't be so upset. If I start getting threats
again, I'm sure Simon will let you help."

"He'd better, or I'll be turning in my shield and weapon."


February 14:

"Good morning, Sweetheart." Jim crawled across the bed to where his
lover still lay, curled in the warmth of the blankets. Blair mumbled
something and pulled the blankets up over his head. "Yes, you are
getting up," he insisted, pulling the blankets down and placing a kiss
in the sleep-rumpled hair.

"Do I have to?" Blair groaned as Jim pulled him into a sitting
position. "I don't have classes today. I've got the day off."

"Well, I don't," Jim reminded him. "Up and at 'em. We'll shower, have
breakfast, then you can enjoy the day with Laurene." Blair allowed
himself to be pulled out of the comfort of the bed and led downstairs.

The shower was running and steam billowed out as Jim opened the
bathroom door. He shed his robe and quickly divested Blair of the
shirt and boxers he wore in lieu of pajamas. Guiding the pregnant man
under the hot spray, Jim wrapped his arms around the expanded
waistline. "Now, isn't this nice?" Blair nodded, leaning his head back
onto Jim's shoulder.

Jim soaped his hands and began running them over the rounding contours
of his lover's body. He caressed the twin mounds of Blair's breasts,
delighted when his touch caused the nipples to harden and a moan of
contentment to slip from Blair's lips. His hands slipped lower,
lovingly worshipping the growing rise of Blair's belly. "Our son," he
murmured, still awed by the fact.

"Mm-hmm," Blair agreed, pressing his body against Jim's.

As one hand continued to stroke Blair's abdomen, the other roamed
lower, seeking out the slowly growing erection below.

"Is my penis still there?" Blair asked, his voice still languid with
sleep and contentment.

"Missing it already?" Jim chuckled.

Blair nodded, his head still resting back on the pillow of Jim's
shoulder. "You know it. The biggest disadvantage for a man being
pregnant, is not seeing his dick for months."

Jim's smile grew. "Told you so."

"Better be careful, Hot Shot, or *you* won't be seeing it for months,
either." Blair groaned and ground his buttocks into Jim's groin as his
lover wrapped strong fingers around his cock and squeezed, beginning a
slow fisting of the engorged organ.

"We'll just see about that," Jim replied smugly, proud of the
reactions he knew he could draw from Blair with just a touch.
Pregnancy seemed to raise the sensitivity of the young man's erogenous
zones to nearly sentinel proportions. He bent his head to suckle and
nip at the exposed throat.

Blair cried out, thrusting his hips hard in an attempt to release the
pressure which grew relentlessly in his groin. Jim picked up his pace,
pounding his fist up and down the length of Blair's cock, feeling when
his balls began to retract in preparation for his orgasm. Blair arched
his back and stiffened, crying loud enough to wake the neighbors as
his climax overtook him, spraying semen onto his belly.

Jim wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling him tight against his
own body and thrust hard against Blair's ass until his own release
left him limp and complete. Blair turned in the now-loose embrace and
tipped his head back, offering himself up for a long, slow devouring
of his mouth.

"I love you." Jim smiled down at the satisfied man languishing in his
arms.

"You sure know how to get a guy's attention." Blair smiled back,
wrapping his arms around Jim's neck. "But don't you think maybe we'd
better wash up now?"

Jim noticed a distinct drop in the water's temperature and quickly
resumed the gentle hand-soaping of his lover's body. He was able to
complete the hair wash as well, before the water turned cold. Stepping
out of the shower, he wrapped Blair in a large terrycloth towel,
before pulling him close for one last kiss.

~oO0Oo~

By the time Blair had come back downstairs from getting dressed, Jim
had breakfast well under way. Laurene sat in her highchair, throwing
cereal and her drinking cup onto the floor. He bent over, not an easy
task considering the expansion of his waistline, and picked up the
dropped cup. "Hey, Muffin. That's for drinking, not for throwing."
Laurene promptly picked up the cup and tossed it back onto the floor.
Blair bent down, breathing heavily, to pick it up once more.

"Leave it, Chief," Jim said, walking over to give Blair a hand up. "If
she's going to be stubborn, she can just go without for a little bit.
Sit down." He guided Blair to his place at the table.

It was then that Blair noticed the red rose placed across his plate.
He picked it up and sniffed the delicate scent, then looked up into
the grinning face and sparkling blue eyes of his lover. "Happy
Valentine's Day."

"Wow. Aren't we being the romantic one today?"

"It's a celebration of sorts. You're doing great at Rainier, I finally
wrapped up that kidnap case of Simon's and we haven't heard from your
stalker in over five weeks." He bent down to kiss Blair on the temple.
"I thought maybe we'd get Megan to babysit tonight, and we could go
out to dinner and a show."

"Sounds nice," Blair agreed. "Now, how about some of those eggs?" He
moved the rose aside, making sure to place it where it wouldn't get
crushed.

~oO0Oo~

"Hey, Muffin, what's up?" Blair lumbered across the room to where
Laurene was standing on tiptoes, trying to reach a rack of CDs which
sat next to the stereo system. "That's a no-no, Laur." He pulled the
toddler gently away, trying to distract her with a stuffed toy.

Laurene twisted out of his grasp and ran giggling across the living
room. Blair gave chase, his pregnant body not nearly so nimble as that
of the 15-month-old. "Stimky!" Laurene shouted.

"Yeah, you're a stinker, all right," Blair agreed, puffing in the
effort to keep up. He stopped in his tracks as he watched his daughter
loosen the Velcro closures on her soiled diaper, dropping it to the
floor. "Laurene Victoria Sandburg-Ellison!" Blair cried, taking off
after the bare-bottomed child once more.

The toddler rounded the loveseat and stopped, allowing herself to be
captured. Blair picked her up under her armpits and carried the smelly
child to the nursery to change her. "Stimky!" she repeated, as he laid
her on the changing table, grabbing at a moist wipe to clean her dirty
butt.

"Yeah, I guess you are," Blair agreed. "I can't say I blame you for
wanting to get rid of that thing. With your senses, it must have
smelled worse than the landfill." He shook his head, wondering if he
would survive long enough to teach his daughter the finer skills of
her sensory dials.

Once he had her cleaned and changed, he went to pick up the discarded
diaper and dispose of it properly. With two sentinels in the house,
Blair had to be particularly vigilant about disagreeable odors.

That finished, he crossed the hall to the bathroom. Another downside
of being pregnant was the frequent need to urinate. The sounds issuing
from the bathroom intrigued the curious toddler, so she wandered in to
watch. "Pee-pee!" She pointed a curious finger, nudging at Blair's
penis.

"Yup. Daddy had to go pee-pee," Blair confirmed, tucking himself back
into his pants.

Laurene pulled at the front of her diaper, looking in. "Pee-pee."

Blair sighed and stuck in a finger down the diaper to check. "Did you
just go pee-pee too, Muffin?"

"Pee-pee!" Laurene said again, poking an insistent finger into Blair's
groin.

"Ah. . . ." Blair sighed as insight finally dawned. He squatted down
so that he was at eye level with his daughter. "That's daddy's penis.
I use it to go pee-pee. Boys have penises. Little girls don't." He
pulled Laurene's diaper out from her tummy and pointed. "See? No
penis. Daddy is a boy, you are a girl." Laurene frowned, obviously
disappointed.

"How about we read a story?" Blair suggested, eager to distract the
youngster. Laurene's eyes lit up at the idea of one of her picture
books. Blair scooped her up, bouncing her on one hip, as he went to
peruse the bookshelf in the nursery. "How about this one?" he asked
the toddler, pulling _Jingle Dancer_ off the shelf.

They settled onto the couch, Laurene snuggled on Blair's lap. He
opened the over-sized book and Laurene excitedly pointed at the
colorful watercolor illustrations of the Native American girl in the
story. Blair attempted to read, but Laurene kept trying to turn the
pages before he was finished. Finally, he gave up, closing the book.

"Maybe we should try something else. How about lunch?" Blair stood,
taking the toddler over to her playpen and depositing her there with a
number of toys.

He opened the refrigerator and dug around, finally producing half of a
squash. Cleaning the seeds, he sprinkled the vegetable with some brown
sugar and put it in the oven to bake. He pulled a box of macaroni and
cheese off the shelf and began to prepare one of Laurene's favorite
meals.

They settled down together--Laurene in her high chair, Blair sitting
next to her. "Macanoni!" Laurene declared, delighted with her lunch.
The spoon Blair provided for her and helped her with, didn't get much
food into her mouth, so she resorted to eating with her fingers.

Blair mashed a small bit of his squash and offered it to her on the
tip of his fork. Laurene took one sniff and shook her head. "No, no!"

"Aw, come on, Muffin. Give it a try. It's really good!" Blair took a
bite, rolling the food around on his tongue, savoring the sweet
flavors.

Laurene laughed and tried to grab at Blair's lips, thinking her daddy
was making funny faces. When he tried again to present the squash, she
pushed him away. "Macanoni!" She went back to eating her lunch. Blair
sighed with resignation, finishing the squash himself and wondering
how he had managed to raise such a finicky daughter.

When Jim came home that evening, he found Blair and Laurene curled up
on the couch, sound asleep. He approached the pair with caution, not
surprised when Laurene woke up, tracking him with her sensitive
hearing.

"Shhh, Sweetie," Jim admonished, picking her up. "Daddy needs his
rest." He took Laurene into the nursery and checked her diaper, then
laid her in her crib and turned on the white noise generator so that
she could sleep.

He walked back out into the living room and sat down on the edge of
the couch, watching his lover slumber. Blair stirred, and soon blinked
sleepy blue eyes at his partner. "What you doin' home so soon?" he
slurred.

"It's after five," Jim informed him. "Megan is coming at six to
babysit so that we can go out to dinner, remember?"

"Do we have to?" Blair asked, sitting up stiffly.

Jim began to massage Blair's back with the heel of one hand. "What's
the matter, aren't you feeling well?"

"I'm fine," Blair assured him. "It's just that I forgot how much
energy it took to entertain a toddler all day. Going back to work
tomorrow sounds like a vacation!"

"Would you just like to stay in, then? Laurene is napping. I could
call out for a pizza, and we could watch the boxing match on ESPN."

"Sounds like a winner to me," Blair agreed. There was a lull in the
conversation as he relaxed into the soothing rubdown, sighing in
contentment. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Professor?"

"Love you."

"Love you, too."


Mid-March:

Lynne put away her instruments and smiled at her patient. "Everything
looks fine, Blair. You're doing great. How are things going at home?"

"Fine. It's getting harder keeping up with Laurene, but Jim helps out
a lot."

"How about work?"

"Good. It's actually a relief to go in on Mondays. I feel like I'm
getting time off for good behavior." He chuckled.

"Raising a toddler wasn't meant to be easy, especially at the
beginning of your third trimester. The exercise will do you good, but
don't overdo. Make sure Jim does his share of the work," Lynne warned.
"When does spring break start?"

"Not for another week and a half. Jim said he'd take some time off and
we'd take some short day trips to the mountains and the coast. Let
Laurene see a bit of the world. She's been cooped up most of the
winter, and the weather looks promising."

"Sounds like a plan," the doctor agreed. "Just remember to get plenty
of rest. Have Jim massage your lower back every night. Tell him it's
doctor's orders."

Blair grinned. "Thanks, Lynne. I'll do that." He finished dressing,
then stepped out into the reception area where Jim waited.

"Well?"

"Clean bill of health," Blair announced. "We're cleared for our third
trimester." He led the way to the door of the clinic, unaware that he
was being watched.


Friday, March 30:

"Tell me again why you have to go in today? Aren't you still on spring
break?" Jim walked into the bathroom where Blair was finishing up his
morning shave.

"Got a few things I have to get in order before spring term starts on
Monday," Blair clarified, "and I didn't want to spoil our weekend."

"I was hoping you'd spend time down at the PD with me," Jim pouted.

"I've *been* spending time with you down at the PD," Blair reminded
him. "Every day of my so-called vacation."

"But it's been so nice having you back."

"Get used to it, Ellison. It's back to work for me on Monday." He
wiped the excess shaving cream from his face and turned to the moping
detective. "I won't be long. No more than an hour or two. I can be
down to the station no later than noon, possibly sooner."

"Okay." Jim sighed. "Just try to make it sooner."

Blair edged his seven-month bulk past the sentinel blocking the
bathroom door and headed for the stairs to their bedroom to get
dressed. "Hey, Jim," he called down moments later. "Can I get some
help with my shoelaces?"

~oO0Oo~

Dressed comfortably in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Blair made his way
down the deserted hallways of Hargrove Hall toward his office. As he
put his key in the lock, the door swung open, having already been
slightly ajar. Cautiously, he pushed the door open wider. The sight
that met his eyes horrified him.

His office was in shambles. Books and artifacts had been pulled from
shelves and lay strewn on the floor. The trash can, which apparently
hadn't been emptied, was tipped, spilling its contents onto the floor
as well. But the most disturbing thing to Blair's mind was the
destruction of his precious pictures--the ones he had so lovingly
arranged on his desk his first day at work. The glass was smashed, the
frames were bent, and the pictures torn and defaced. He took a step
into the office, then everything went black.

He awoke with his head throbbing mercilessly. He was lying on a small
cot in what appeared to be a storage room. A single, bare bulb lit the
darkness. Metal shelves lining the walls were filled with
miscellaneous cast-off items. A small sink in one corner and a folding
metal chair were the only other furnishings in the cramped room.

A harsh voice assaulted his ears. "It's about time you woke up. I must
have hit you harder than I thought."

Blair blinked at the harshness of the bulb lighting the room, trying
to focus his eyes despite the throbbing in his right temple. "Where am
I?"

"Oh, that's a good one!" the voice laughed. "A real classic."

Blair's vision finally cleared enough to bring the speaker into focus.
"Mayfield? Kurt Mayfield? *Why*?"

"You figure it out," Mayfield hissed. "What did I tell you I was going
to do?" He pulled a gun and pointed it at the young professor. "Stand
up." When Blair didn't respond immediately, he waved the weapon to
emphasize his words. "I said, *stand up*!"

Blair swung his legs off the cot and balanced on the edge, trying to
regain some equilibrium. Grabbing hold of the metal shelving next to
the bed, he pulled himself to his feet, holding tight in order to stay
upright.

"Now strip," Mayfield told him. Blair shook his head in disbelief,
tightening his grip on the shelves. "I'm getting mighty tired of
having to tell you everything twice," his kidnapper growled. "Take off
your clothes--all of them!" He poked the barrel of his gun into
Blair's abdomen and the young man let go of the shelves.

Slowly, Blair pulled the t-shirt off over his head. He toed off his
shoes, then shoved the sweat pants down from his swollen waistline. He
stepped out of the sweats and stood before his captor wearing only an
undershirt, boxers and his socks.

"I said *all* of it. Now!" 

The gun prodded at his waistline once more and Blair shivered. He
pulled the undershirt over his head, letting it drop on the floor. His
chest was now bared to the leering eyes of his tormentor. "I need help
with the socks," he said softly. "I can't bend over anymore."

"Give me your foot," Mayfield commanded. Blair lifted first one foot,
then the other, as Mayfield stripped off his socks. "Now the boxers.
Come on!"

Blair hesitated for a moment before slipping off the last of his
clothing. He stood naked before his captor in the cold, stark light of
the small room. Mayfield nodded his approval, his smile feral. He
reached to a nearby shelf, picking up a can of shaving cream and a
disposable razor. "Shave." When Blair looked at him blankly, Mayfield
shoved the items into his hands and pointed. "There's a sink and a
mirror over there. Shave your chest, and make it good."

Blair walked over to the small sink, vividly aware of the gun tracking
his progress. He opened the can and squirted his palm full of the
foam. He spread it over his chest and carefully began the denuding
process. He was especially careful around the small mounds of his
breasts. The hormones he took to sustain the pregnancy had lessened
the amount of hair on his chest, but it was still a job that would
take a while. Twenty minutes later, he drew the blade down his belly,
shaving the arrow of hair that went to his navel. Taking a towel, he
wiped the excess foam away and turned to face Mayfield.

"Very good." Mayfield approved of the smooth, bare flesh. He tossed a
balled up piece of fabric at his captive. "Here, put this on."

Blair caught the pale yellow mass and shook it out. He was faced with
a thin cotton dress, cut full enough to accommodate his pregnant
belly. He pulled it over his head, grateful for anything to cover his
nakedness.

"Good, good. Now come back over here." Mayfield indicated the cot.
Blair crossed the room and sat on the edge of the mattress. "Lie down.
On your back."

"I shouldn't be on my back," Blair argued. "My pregnancy is too
advanced. It's uncomfortable and could be dangerous."

"Like I give a flying shit about your comfort! On your back!" Mayfield
hit Blair's stomach hard with the butt of his gun. His captive cried
out and fell backwards onto the bed. Liking the reaction he got, he
hit him again. Low moans of agony issued from Blair's throat.

Mayfield reached into his back pocket and produced a pair of
handcuffs. He locked one bracelet around Blair's right wrist, then
wove the connecting chain through the sturdy metal bars of the
headboard before snapping the other bracelet onto his left wrist. He
then took a length of rope and grabbed Blair's ankle, preparing to tie
him down further.

The pain of the initial attacks was beginning to fade and Blair began
to struggle. He managed to free his foot, kicking his captor in the
groin. Mayfield buckled with a surprised cry. He hadn't expected the
young man to fight back. Blair squirmed on the bed, trying his best to
slip his hands out of the tight confines of the handcuffs.

Mayfield stumbled to his feet, still doubled over. "*Bitch*!" he
shouted, as he came at Blair with the gun once more. Another quick tap
to his temple put Blair out cold. Mayfield took the ropes and tied
Blair's feet to the bed with his legs spread wide. Once his prisoner
was tightly bound, Mayfield brought over a damp cloth, bathing Blair's
bloodied face.

The coolness brought him back to consciousness, but once there, Blair
prayed for blessed oblivion again. Mayfield was sitting on the edge of
the cot, with an array of makeup spread out on Blair's chest. He
picked up the mascara and opened the tube.

"Now hold real still," Mayfield instructed. "I wouldn't want to put
out one of those pretty eyes." He stroked the mascara onto Blair's
lashes, taking time to build up a heavy coat. Unsatisfied with the
final results, he picked up a small box with a pair of false
eyelashes. As he started to apply the adhesive to Blair's lids, the
young man began to fight as much as his restraints allowed. "Now, now.
I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mayfield cautioned, picking up the
gun that lay on the cot beside him and pressing it into Blair's side.
"You just lie real still and let me work."

Blair ceased his struggles, forcing himself to lie still while the
maniac who held him prisoner applied the lashes. Eyeliner and garish
blue shadow were next, followed by blush and bright red lipstick. By
the time he was finished, Blair looked like a common street whore.

"Very nice," Mayfield approved, patting one cheek. Blair flinched at
the intimate touch. "I hate to do this, but I really have to go now.
Gotta keep up appearances, you know." He stood and produced a ball gag
from the shelf next to the bed. Slipping the elastic cord around
Blair's head to secure the gag, he stuffed the ball between the young
man's teeth, causing him to choke. "Don't worry about that,"
Mayfield's voice was oddly calming. "You'll get used to it."

Kurt Mayfield stood and took one last look at his captive. Grabbing a
spare set of handcuffs, he stuffed them into his pocket. Blair resumed
his struggles, vainly trying to cry out as Mayfield opened the door of
his prison. Flipping the switch as he exited, Mayfield left his
prisoner in darkness.

~oO0Oo~

Jim looked down at his watch, then up at the clock on the wall: 12:30,
and still no Blair.

Megan walked by his desk. "Shouldn't you be out to lunch, Love?"

"I'm waiting on Blair. He said he'd be here by noon at the latest."
Jim glanced at the clock again: 12:31.

"You know Sandy," Megan said, grinning. "If he's at work at Rainier,
he probably forgot all about the time. Maybe you should go surprise
him."

"Yeah, I think I will," Jim said, rising to grab his coat. "Want to
join us?"

"Thanks. I think I will." Megan grinned, following the detective from
the bullpen. She settled herself in the passenger seat of the truck,
fastening her seatbelt as Jim pulled out of the parking garage. "If
school doesn't start until Monday and both of you are at work, where's
Laurene today?" she asked, turning to look at her companion.

"Mrs. McGinty kindly offered to watch her during spring break. Laur is
getting to be quite a handful, though. I think Flo will be glad when
Blair can take her back to daycare."

"How's that working out?"

"Great! Laur loves the staff and has the chance to interact with
others her own age. Blair eats his lunch down there and frequently
takes her out to spend time with her on campus. It's been a real boon
for us both."

"Sounds like the perfect solution," Megan agreed.

They rode in silence the next few blocks. Jim pulled into the
nearly-deserted parking lot, angling in to a spot next to Blair's
Volvo. "Well, at least he's still here," Jim commented, cutting off
the engine and stepping out of the truck. Megan followed, and they
walked across the Commons to Hargrove Hall.

Megan hesitated at the fountain. "Do you ever think about that day?"

Jim glanced over his shoulder and shuddered, but kept walking. "Not
any more often than I have to," he admitted.

"I wonder what Sandy thinks, having to pass that every day?"

"That was a rough time in our relationship," Jim admitted. "It took
some time before I could apologize and he could forgive. But we've
moved past that. I don't *ever* want to think about losing him again."

They entered the old building and took the stairs to the second floor.
As they entered the hallway that led to Blair's office, Jim paused,
then took off at a jog.

"Jim! What's the matter?" Megan asked, running to catch up.

"I can't hear him." Jim picked up his pace.

"What do you mean, you can't hear. . . ." Megan plowed into the back
of the tall detective as he stood in the open doorway to Blair's
office. "Oh, my God!"

"He's gone," Jim said, unnecessarily.

They walked into the trashed room. Megan turned a full circle, taking
in the destruction. "Someone really had it in for poor Sandy," she
commented, walking over to where the smashed pictures lay on the
floor. She picked up the one Simon had taken of the couple stealing an
illicit kiss. Blair's face had been scratched out so maliciously that
the photo had a hole through it.

"Look at this." Jim squatted in the middle the floor, near the door.
When Megan walked over, he pointed to the splatters of blood on the
hardwood.

"Don't touch anything," Megan reminded him. "I'm calling this in."

Ignoring his colleague, Jim touched the tip of his finger in one
droplet of blood and brought it to his mouth. The coppery taste
exploded across his tongue, bringing with it minute traces of iron and
hormones: components no human being should be able to taste. Jim was
certain an analysis would show this was Blair's blood. He looked up,
scanning the immediate area with his senses wide open, zeroing in on
any trace of his beloved.

~oO0Oo~

Mayfield returned hours later, bringing with him a sack of Wonder
Burgers. The scent was enough to make Blair queasy. His stomach
churned and he choked on the bile that rose in his throat. Mayfield
watched with dispassion, eating his lunch while Blair vomited, trying
hard not to aspirate the liquid when the ball gag got in the way.
Finally, not wanting his prisoner to choke to death, Mayfield stood
and pulled the gag out, allowing Blair to empty his stomach.

He replaced the gag, then calmly finished his meal and balled up the
sack, tossing it in the trash. He sat for a few minutes, enjoying the
sight of Blair's filthy face and clothing. Finally, he rose and went
to the sink to moisten a cloth. He wiped up the mess from Blair's
face, then looked at the soiled dress. "Too bad," he clucked, grabbing
at the neckline and ripping the fabric, exposing Blair's chest.

He sat back once more, lighting up a cigarette and watching Blair, who
lay quietly, watching him with equal hatred. He reached out and
stroked the curved mound of a breast. "You make a pretty woman, Little
Lady," he sneered. Blair flinched under the intimate touch. "Wonder
what it would be like to fuck that pretty mouth of yours?" He unzipped
his pants, stroking his erection as Blair looked on in horror.

Mayfield stood and looked at the alabaster whiteness of the newly
exposed skin on his captive's chest. He took one last puff on his
cigarette and ground out the stub on a puckered nipple. Blair's
screams were muffled by the gag, as Mayfield dropped his pants,
grinning wickedly.

He crawled onto the bed, leaning over to let his bobbing cock wave in
Blair's face. He pulled the ball gag out and replaced it quickly with
his engorged penis. He rammed the organ deep into Blair's throat,
choking him. When he pulled partially out, Blair bit down, hard. 

Mayfield howled, falling back onto Blair's bruised abdomen. "You
fucking bitch!" he shouted. "You're going to pay for that!" He shoved
the ball gag back into place and crawled off his captive to nurse his
injury. 

When he finally returned, he had a pack of cigarettes with him. He lit
them, one by one, methodically burning his way across Blair's exposed
breasts. Despite the gag, Blair screamed, until his voice was too
hoarse to continue. Mayfield rent the thin fabric of the dress,
exposing Blair's belly and genitals. He used the rest of the pack on
the pregnant swell of Blair's abdomen, then fetched a fresh pack.

"An eye for an eye, whore," Mayfield growled, lighting up a cigarette
from the fresh pack. "Or perhaps that should be 'a dick for a dick'."
Blair's eyes widened in fear. Unable to see past the rise of his
belly, he felt when his captor lifted his penis, applying the burning
end of the cigarette to the glans. He began to thrash, doing his best
to free himself from the nightmare. He tried to scream past the gag,
but his throat was raw and nothing more than a strangled sob escaped.
Mayfield took a tighter hold on his genitals, carefully making sure to
cover both penis and scrotum with circular spots of agony. Blessedly,
Blair passed out before he was finished.


Saturday, March 31:

"I never should have let him continue at Rainier," Jim said, berating
himself. "When he started getting those threats, I should have pulled
his ass out of there and put him under twenty-four hour guard."

"Jim, you couldn't have known. Sandy went for nearly three months
without any signs of harassment. It was natural to think that the
person had moved on and Sandy was safe," Megan reasoned.

"But he wasn't safe, was he? Now he's gone. We don't know if he's dead
or alive, and everyone is still on spring break. It's going to be
difficult tracking everyone down to re-interview them."

"Simon has all of Major Crime on this one. We'll find Sandy, don't
worry."

Simon walked up to his two detectives and looked down on the
distraught Ellison. "You're no good to us like this, Jim," he said
gently. "Go home, take care of your daughter and let us look for
Blair."

"I can't do that, Simon," Jim replied. "Blair's counting on me to find
him, wherever he is, and get him out safely. There's no way I can just
sit at home and wait for him to be delivered to me."

"I realize that," Simon said, shaking his head. "But we have to track
down all the people we've interviewed and interview them again. We'll
go on from there. I want you to go home and get some rest. Spend some
time with Laurene. Assure her that her daddy will come home again."

"I don't want to lie to her, Simon," Jim said, fear coloring his
voice.

Simon softened and patted Jim's shoulder. "You won't have to," he
assured. "Just go home and tell her that her daddy's coming home."

"I don't know, Simon. I can't. I have to be a part of this
investigation," Jim repeated.

"I promise," his boss vowed. "Just as soon as we've rounded everyone
up, someone will call. You can come back down to the station and
participate in the interview process." He turned to Megan. "Connor,
see to it that he gets home, will you?" Megan nodded at the captain.
"And stay with him, if you have to, to see that he rests and stays out
of trouble."

"Yes, sir," she answered. Taking Jim by the elbow, she pulled him up
off the bench in the hall. "Come on, Jimbo. Let's get you home."

~oO0Oo~

There wasn't a single spot on his body that didn't hurt. As his
sinuses filled from his crying, Blair was finding it increasingly
difficult to breathe past the ball gag. Misty eyes tracked his
tormentor around the room. Mayfield seemed content, for the moment, to
observe the results of his handiwork. Blair's choking finally brought
him over to the cot.

"Having trouble breathing, Little Lady?" Blair nodded weakly, hope
warring with fear in his eyes. Mayfield bent over and pulled the gag
from between his teeth.

At first, Blair couldn't even close his mouth, his jaw frozen in place
from wearing the gag for nearly twenty-four hours. He drew ragged
breaths down his inflamed throat, gasping in oxygen to starved lungs. 

When he had finally settled into a more natural breathing pattern,
Mayfield pulled up his chair beside the bed and brought out another
pack of cigarettes. "Maybe we should try this again," he said. "You
passed out on me last time. That spoiled the fun." He reached out to
caress the mounds of Blair's breasts with an almost gentle touch. The
burns from the day before were still raw, some already beginning to
fester with infection. Blair tried to cry out from the touch, but his
voice was completely gone. Mayfield grinned. "I see the gag won't be
necessary anymore. All the better." He lit a cigarette.

~oO0Oo~

The day dragged by for Jim. He watched Laurene and Megan play on the
floor, chattering away with their "girl talk," as Megan called it. He
glanced at the phone for the hundredth time, willing it to ring, but
it remained obstinately silent.

"Maybe I should check in with Simon," he suggested, reaching for the
phone.

"Ah, ah, ah. . . ." Megan scolded, shaking a finger at the detective.
"The more you call, the more you slow down the investigation. Simon
put his best men on this. They'll call as soon as they have
something."

"*I'm* Simon's best man," Jim argued. "I should be working the case."
The phone rang. Megan glanced up sharply as Jim answered. "Yeah, okay,
Simon, thanks. I'll be there."

"Did they find Sandy?"

"No, but they rounded up the suspects. I'm going down to the station
to help with the interviews. Can you stay here with Laurene?"

"Happy to, Love." Megan picked up the child and walked with Jim to the
door. "Try not to worry. Something's going to come up soon. You'll
find him, Jim."

"I just hope we're not too late." Jim grabbed his jacket and headed
out into the chill of the early spring evening.


Sunday, April 1:

The interview process had proceeded throughout the night. Dawn was
dusting the eastern sky with pale pink wisps as Jim sat back in his
chair, defeated.

"That's the last of them," he sighed. "All their stories check out.
What does that leave us?"

"Have you spoken to the campus security guy lately?" Simon asked.

"He's off along with everyone else," Jim answered. "There was nobody
connected with the campus who could have been there Friday morning."

"Are you sure?" Simon prodded. "We just assumed nobody was there.
Could it be that there's a security man on staff even during vacation
breaks?"

"Possibly," Jim mused. "It would make sense on a campus that size."
His curiosity stirred, Jim stood up. "Let's go check it out." He
grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

~oO0Oo~

Mayfield stood by the side of the cot, a small contraption of leather
held in one hand. "Bet you wonder what this is, don't you, Little
Lady?" he sneered. Blair took one look and squeezed his eyes shut,
knowing that he didn't want to know.

Mayfield fondled Blair's genitals, stroking gently over the burned
flesh. Blair was exhausted to the point that he could no longer fight
his tormentor. Mayfield was free to do as he pleased to Blair's
ravaged body, and all the young man could do was try to escape into
the blessed realm of fantasy. A fantasy where Jim burst through the
door and rescued him, took him home and soothed all the pain and
terror away.

Blair grimaced as his body betrayed him. The gentle massage of his
penis eventually caused the organ to swell, magnifying the pain of the
cigarette burns a hundred-fold. "Nice. Very nice," Mayfield murmured.
When his organ was fully engorged, he felt the warm softness of a
leather cockring being slid into place. Then his scrotum was pulled
and another strip of leather, called a "balls stretcher," was fastened
around the sac to prevent Blair's testicles from contracting in
orgasm. Between the two small pieces of leather, Blair knew that he
was in for an uncomfortable time. He and Jim had occasionally used
cockrings in sexual play, to enhance and prolong the experience. But
in this case, all the device served to prolong was the agony.

Mayfield grinned, enjoying the slow torture of his captive. "Now, what
we've all been waiting for." He pulled a pocket knife from his jeans
and opened the largest blade. It had been recently sharpened and
glinted brightly in the light of the single bulb. He traced the blade
lightly along the underside of Blair's penis, drawing blood. Blair
began to shake uncontrollably, as he realized what was finally going
to happen.

"Excited, are we?" Mayfield hissed. "You've waited a long time for
this moment, haven't you, Little Lady? Now's the time for your
transformation. Without your dick and balls, you can truly become the
woman you've tried so desperately to be." The knife trailed down to
Blair's testicles, nicking the sac.

Blair's heart rate soared, until he feared the organ would burst from
his chest, or he'd die of a heart attack. Either alternative was
preferable to what was about to happen.

The knife traced around the base of his penis, cutting a bit deeper
with each pass. Blair opened his mouth to scream, even though his
ravaged throat was no longer able to make a sound.

~oO0Oo~

Jim raced back to the campus, pulling up his truck near the security
offices. The building was dark as he approached the door. Simon was on
his heels and backup was only minutes away.

Circling the building, Jim checked all the entrances. They were locked
down tight. At Simon's nod, Jim kicked in the front door, barreling
into the main office. He stopped just inside, to scan the room with
his senses. Gun held close to his chest, he inched into the dark room,
dialing up his sight to better see obstacles in his way. Simon covered
his back, following his detective.

They walked through the lobby, following a hallway down past a row of
smaller offices. "Simon," Jim hissed quietly.

His boss skidded up behind him. "What is it, Jim?"

"I hear heartbeats."

"How many?"

Jim listened carefully. "Two. No, three!" Jim's eyes grew wide.
"Simon, it's Blair! I can pick out the baby's heartbeat. Blair's heart
rate is elevated, too. He's in trouble." The last words were spoken as
Jim dashed off down the hall, homing in unerringly on the sounds of
his lover and child.

~oO0Oo~

The door to the small room burst open, startling Mayfield, whose hand
jerked, cutting deep into Blair's inner thigh before releasing the
knife. Grabbing his gun, he backed away from the two policemen,
nervously alternating the pistol between Blair and his rescuers.

Simon circled around behind, drawing Mayfield's attention momentarily.
Jim took the opportunity to tackle the man. A gunshot sounded in the
small room, echoing off the metal shelves.

Jim wrestled the man to the ground, disarming him. He found the man's
own handcuffs in a pocket and quickly cuffed him to one of the
shelves. "You son-of-a-bitch! If you've harmed Blair, I swear, you'll
live to regret it."

"Jim, get your ass over here!" Simon called from where Blair lay on
the cot.

Jim loomed over his prisoner a second longer, then dashed to the small
bed. Blair's eyes were glazed, but he seemed to recognize his partner.
A very small smile curled the corners his mouth.

"Oh, God, Simon. He's been shot!" Jim looked in horror at the small
hole that had pierced Blair's abdomen low and to the right. He tore at
the rags of the dress, making a compress to staunch the wound.

"The ambulance is on its way," Simon announced, getting off his cell
phone. He turned his attention to getting Mayfield out of the room.
Jim could hear him repeating the Miranda to the man as he was led
away.

Jim turned his attention to Blair, horrified by the burns and bruises
covering his naked body. "Oh, Blair. Blair. . . . God, I'm so sorry.
We've been looking for you since Friday noon." Blair's smile grew
slightly. His protector had finally arrived. He lifted a hand to pat
Jim reassuringly, but it dropped heavily to the cot without completing
its mission.

Jim's hands roamed in feather-light touches over his lover's body.
"It's going to be all right, Blair. Everything's going to be fine." He
looked at the contraption constraining Blair's genitals. The area was
covered in blood, so he didn't dare try to remove the device. Tears
sprang to his eyes as he imagined the two days of torture his lover
had endured. Taking off his jacket, he covered Blair, then sat with
him, crooning gentle comfort sounds, until the ambulance arrived.

~oO0Oo~

Jim was out of his truck before the gurney carrying Blair through the
emergency room doors had made it into the hospital. He gripped the
battered man's hand, walking quickly alongside as the EMTs wheeled
Blair inside. He was shoved aside by the doctors who rushed their
patient into one of the treatment rooms.

Simon came in shortly after Jim, laying a restraining hand on his
shoulder. "Let them check him out. Someone will come out to give us an
update soon."

"I should be in there," Jim snarled, trying to break free of the
larger man's grip.

"Getting in the way of the medical professionals isn't going to help
Blair," Simon told him. "Just sit and take it easy." He pushed Jim
down into one of the plastic chairs and stood guard until a doctor
could come out to speak with them.

Fifteen minutes later, Lynne Casey burst through the emergency room
doors, flying past the waiting sentinel and his guard, to enter the
room where Blair was being tended. Five minutes after that, she stood
before Jim.

"Blair is being prepped for an emergency C-section," she told him.

Jim's jaw dropped in surprise. "He's only thirty weeks!"

"He needs the surgery," she explained. "The bullet didn't hit the
baby, but it ruptured the amniotic sac. Without the fluid, the baby
will die. Do you want to be with Blair during the procedure?" Jim
nodded, standing to follow the doctor. She led him into the scrub
room, where he washed and put on a cap, mask and gown. "Blair is under
heavy sedation," the doctor told him, "so he's not going to be
conscious. Just so you know."

Jim followed her into the operating theater and walked to the head end
of the bed. Blair had been intubated and was deeply asleep. He picked
up a cool hand and squeezed it gently. "It's going to be okay,
Sweetheart," he whispered into Blair's ear. "Dr. Casey is the best.
Our baby is going to be fine and so are you. Be strong for me, Blair.
Hang in there. You're safe. Nobody can hurt you anymore."

He kept up the steady chatter of reassuring words, until a small cry
echoed in the room. Their baby was immediately placed in a warmer and
wiped clean. The nurse rolled the warmer over to where Jim could see
their son. He was so tiny. How could anything that small be alive?

"Blair?" Jim turned to his mate. "Our baby is born. Jeremy is here. I
wish you could see him," he sighed. "He's as beautiful as you. Just
like Laurene, only smaller."

Lynne laid a bloody glove on the sleeve of Jim's gown. "Jim?" When he
looked up, she gestured to another doctor. "This is Dr. Trent. He's a
burn specialist and plastic surgeon. He's going to do the rest of the
required surgery before Blair can be returned to his room. Would you
like to come with me?"

"No, I'd rather stay with Blair," Jim said, turning back to his
husband.

Lynne tugged on his sleeve. "You have to come with me, now," she
insisted. "I'm sorry, Jim, but you'll just be in the way for the rest
of it. Don't worry, Dr. Trent is the best in the Northwest."
Reluctantly, Jim followed her out of the room. With one last glance
over his shoulder at the man on the table, he allowed himself to be
guided out of the surgery suite.

Once out in the halls, Dr. Casey turned to him. "Your son weighs two
pounds, thirteen ounces," she said. "He's small and definitely
premature, but younger babies have survived. I have high hopes for
him. He's being taken to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. You can
visit him there. When Blair comes out of surgery, I'd like to put him
in the ICU for a night or two, depending on how he does. He was
terribly dehydrated, as well as sustaining second degree burns over
some pretty sensitive areas."

"Is he going to have to have skin grafts?" Jim shuddered at the
thought. He knew the agony those patients went through.

"No, the burns themselves aren't that severe, but they will be
painful, especially the ones on his breasts and genitals. The scars
will fade over time, but I'm afraid he may never be completely free of
all of them. When his chest hair grows back, that will cover many of
them."

//Not to sentinel eyes,// Jim thought. //The scars will always look
fresh, no matter how much they fade.//

"What about his genitals?" Jim asked, almost afraid to hear. "When I
walked in on that mother-fucker, he was in the process of cutting them
off."

"From what I could see, most of the cuts weren't especially deep. The
cockring had to be cut off and it took some time before the swelling
subsided so that we could get a good look at the damage."

"And. . . ?" Jim prompted.

"There should be no permanent physical harm," she replied. "Dr. Trent
will be able to tell you more after his surgery is complete. Initial
assessment leads us to believe Blair should be able to have normal
function. *Physically*, he should be able to have intercourse in about
eight weeks, once the C-section has healed sufficiently. *Emotionally*
may be another thing altogether." Lynne paused. "Blair was tortured
for two days before you found him. There's no physical evidence of
violation, but that doesn't mean his *mind* wasn't raped. His recovery
will depend a lot on the state of his mental condition. I wish I could
tell you more, but it's too early to know."

"Thanks, Lynne," Jim said, pulling off the soiled gown and tossing it
in the disposal bin, along with his cap and mask. "How soon before I
can see him?"

"It's generally against hospital policy, but I'd be willing to let you
sit with him in recovery. Blair always seems to do better when you're
nearby." She smiled and patted his arm. "Why don't you go out to the
waiting area and tell your friends and colleagues the good news? I'll
let you know the minute he's out of surgery."

Jim nodded, mechanically turning toward the door to the waiting room.


Two hours later -- ICU:

Jim sat at the side of Blair's bed, stroking one pale hand as it lay
on top of the thin hospital blanket. Lynne walked in, followed by Dr.
Trent.

"Mr. Ellison?" Dr. Trent extended his hand. "I'm Eliason Trent,
Blair's surgeon. It's very nice to meet you."

Jim took the offered hand and shook, looking up at the earnest older
doctor. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances. What can
you tell me about Blair's condition?"

"The cigarette burns, though ugly and painful, are not especially
dangerous. Some were festering already, so I've ordered a strong
antibiotic to push back the infection. It looks like his genitals were
burned on two separate occasions. Some of the burns on his penis were
infected, others fresher. Ultimately, they won't impair his physical
functioning, although I wouldn't expect anything from him anytime
soon. The man has suffered some severe physical and mental trauma. The
cuts around his genitals were generally shallow. Considering their
placement, I have no doubt that the kidnapper had every intention of
carrying through with his threat to castrate that young man.
Fortunately, you found him in time." Dr. Trent turned sympathetic eyes
on the sleeping man. "He's very lucky." He took a deep breath,
continuing, "His throat is extremely raw. It was difficult to intubate
him. I think we'll leave the tube in a bit longer, until the swelling
subsides somewhat. I wouldn't want his airway to collapse. He will
suffer severe laryngitis for several weeks, I'm afraid. He shouldn't
be allowed to speak at all for the first week."

"Oh, that'll go over great," Jim deadpanned. He looked down at his
sleeping lover, then up at the doctor. "The term 'motor mouth' was
coined with Blair in mind." That brought a brief, but genuine chuckle
from the assembled group. "How long before he wakes up?"

"Not today, I'm afraid," Dr. Trent explained. "He's still under heavy
sedation. He needs his rest, and I'm afraid he won't get it outside of
drugs. We'll lessen his dose beginning in the morning and see how he
does. You should be able to talk to him by this time tomorrow. He
won't be able to talk back, of course, but he'll know that you're
here."

"Thanks, doctor." Jim turned his attention back to his partner,
brushing some stray hair from his forehead. He leaned in to kiss the
battered cheek, wishing he had been able to find his love sooner, and
praying that Blair would find it in his heart to forgive him one more
time for failing him.


Two days later:

Jim dropped Laurene off at Rainier's daycare center and hurried to the
hospital. Dr. Casey had approved Blair's move out of ICU into a
private room late the previous night. The sedation he had been under
for the past two days had been lightened considerably, and Jim looked
forward to being able to see his partner conscious again.

He walked into the hospital, steering for the information desk. "Blair
Sandburg? He was moved out of ICU last night."

The receptionist keyed the information into her computer and glanced
up. "Room 308. Take Elevator D." She pointed down the corridor to the
bank of lettered elevators.

Jim stepped off the elevator moments later, spotting Room 308 not far
from the nurses' station. As he approached the door, Dr. Casey stepped
out.

"Oh, hello, Jim. Good to see you." She smiled warmly at the worried
detective. "Blair is resting comfortably. He's awake and asking for
you," she added.

"Asking for me?" Jim looked surprised, knowing Blair shouldn't be able
to speak. Lynne handed him a pad of paper she had been holding.
Scrawled in a drunken version of Blair's handwriting was Jim's name,
repeated several times.

"You'd better get in there. He needs you."

Needing no more encouragement, Jim stepped through the door. Blair's
eyes were closed, his breathing deep and slow. Jim wondered if he had
fallen back to sleep. Pulling up a chair beside the bed, he lifted
Blair's hand, cradling it between his own. Blue eyes opened to regard
him from beneath sleep-heavy lids.

"Hey there, Chief." Jim tried his best to look cheerful for his lover.
He felt Blair's fingers curl around his hand and squeeze lightly.
"You're looking better than when I last saw you."

Blair raised his free hand, gesturing for the pad Jim had laid on the
nightstand. He got the paper and a pen, handing them to Blair who
scrawled a single word. //Baby//?

"Jeremy's fine. They have him in the NICU for now. He only weighed two
pounds, thirteen ounces, but Lynne says he's strong and healthy."

//Can I see him?//

Jim glanced at the paper as Blair wrote. "Not for a few days. As soon
as you're able to be up and about in a wheelchair, I can take you down
to visit."

//Tell me more.//

"Well," Jim mused, picturing the infant, "they have him in an
incubator. He's currently on low-flow oxygen, but Lynne thinks that
shouldn't last longer than a week, given how strong he is for his age
and size. He has a feeding tube down his throat and all sorts of
monitors hooked up. It's a little intimidating, but everyone says how
great he's doing." A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
"Come in," Jim called.

Dr. Trent entered the room, followed by a nurse with a cart. "How are
you this morning, Blair?" the doctor asked. Blair waggled his hand in
a so-so gesture and looked uneasily at the nurse. "You may not
remember me. My name is Eliason Trent. I'm your surgeon. I'll be
treating your burns, while Dr. Casey tends to the OB-GYN end of
things." He glanced across the bed to where Jim sat. "Normally, I
would have to ask you to leave," he said, "but Dr. Casey informed me
that you're especially averse to leaving during treatment. Blair's
burns are mainly shallow second-degree and require only a daily
cleansing with an antiseptic wash. None of the areas, even the nipples
and genitals, which were the most deeply burned, will require
debriding or grafts. Most should be healed in two weeks. You were very
lucky, Blair," he added, turning his attention back to his patient.

The nurse rolled the cart next to the bed and began to prepare the
sterile gauze she would use to wash down the burns. Blair's eyes grew
wide with concern and he looked expectantly at Jim. "Dr. Trent?" Jim
stood and walked around the bed to stand next to the nurse. "Did Dr.
Casey tell you of my medical training in the Army?"

"I do seem to recall her mentioning it," the doctor replied.

"Would you allow me to wash Blair's burns?" Jim asked. "Considering
the delicate nature of some of the areas, I think he'd be more relaxed
if he was comfortable with the person who did the work."

Dr. Trent nodded at the nurse to leave. "On one condition."

"Name it."

"You let me watch your technique. If I clear you, I'll leave word at
the nurses' station for this to be part of your daily routine."

"Just the chest," Jim bartered. "If I do that well enough, you'll give
us privacy for the rest."

"Deal," Dr. Trent agreed.

"You ready for this, Sweetheart?" Jim peeled the soft cotton gown down
to Blair's waist, revealing only the scarred breasts and rib cage. He
moistened the gauze and began a gentle cleansing of the wounds. The
scabbing over the nipples was the heaviest, and with great care, he
soaked away the dead skin and blood, revealing the tender new skin
beneath. Blair sucked in air, holding his breath, and Jim stopped.
"Does it hurt?" Blair nodded. "On a scale of one to ten?" Blair held
up seven fingers. Jim turned to the doctor. "When was the last time he
was given medication?"

The doctor checked the chart. "A little over an hour ago."

"Any chance we could get a hit of morphine here? This is going to get
worse before it gets better."

"I think that can be arranged. I'll go get the medication, then leave
you two alone. You're doing a fine job." The doctor patted Jim's arm
and took his leave of the couple. Minutes later, a nurse arrived with
a hypodermic which she injected into Blair's IV line.

"Just give him a minute. The morphine takes effect pretty fast." The
nurse smiled and turned to go.

"Thanks," Jim called after her. "Pretty little thing, don't you
think?" he asked, turning back to his partner. Blair grinned, giving
Jim a thumb's up.

Jim peeled the gown back a bit further, revealing the surgery scar
from the emergency C-section. He began to carefully clean around it,
making sure to treat the burns in and around the stitches, as well.
Blair barely grimaced, and Jim felt confident that they would finish
without much trouble. He pulled the gown all the way off and steeled
himself for the final hurdle.

Blair's penis and scrotum were heavily covered in burns. He cradled
the sensitive organs with care and began to wash them down. The ugly
stitches at the base of the penis were enough to make Jim wince. Blair
had come so close to losing his manhood. Jim didn't want to
contemplate what would have happened had he been even a minute or two
later in his rescue.

Blair tensed and squirmed, trying to hold still while trying to pull
away. Despite Jim's efforts to be gentle, it was obvious the young man
was suffering.

"You have to relax, Blair." He stroked his lover's thigh, noting the
stitches holding closed the final wound Mayfield had inflicted on him.
"Just close your eyes. Remember Laurene's first trip to the ocean?" He
watched as Blair closed his eyes and smiled at the memory. "We walked
down the beach picking up shells." Blair was nodding along with the
story, relaxing a bit more as Jim cleansed the delicate wounds. "Laur
could even find the ones that were all but buried in the sand. Don't
think I didn't notice you testing her sentinel sight that day." Blair
shook with silent chuckles and Jim knew his lover realized he'd been
caught.

"There. We're all done." Jim pushed aside the cart and went to the
cupboards to find a fresh gown. He shook it out, draping it loosely
over Blair's body, giving the young man some sense of decency. He
pulled up his chair again and settled down. "I've got some good news
for you."

Blair turned his head, watching Jim intently. His eyes clearly said,
"Spill it already, Ellison!"

Jim chuckled, then turned serious. "Simon said to pass this along to
you. Because we found you with Mayfield, the judge ordered the search
warrant for his apartment immediately. Megan and Joel did the search.
They found your evidence folder. Between the handwriting samples and
the tapes, there's more than enough to put him away. But there's more.
. . ." Blair looked at him expectantly. "They found a dark room with
photos and negatives of you taken on campus. There was also
photo-manipulation software on his computer and a graphic of that
print he sent you. Blair, this guy is going down hard. You may not
even be required to testify. The doctors documented your abuse. They
can testify in your place."

Blair looked panicked. //They're not going to show the pictures in
public court, are they?// he scribbled.

Jim picked up Blair's hand and squeezed it firmly. "Don't worry about
that. Simon's been talking with the DA. If the photos are needed, they
will be seen only by the judge and, possibly, the jury. Because of the
sexual nature of the crime, the DA convinced the judge not to allow
cameras in the courtroom." Blair looked relieved. Jim patted the hand
he held, then laid it carefully back onto the sheets. "I think that's
enough for you to process for the time being. Don't you think you
ought to get some sleep?"

Blair nodded, finding that with the morphine coursing through his
system, he was having a hard time staying awake. Jim sat beside him
until he was deeply asleep, then got up and headed for the NICU.


Neonatal Intensive Care:

"Hi, Mr. Ellison!" the cheerful NICU nurse greeted him. "Come on over
here and have a visit with your son."

"Can I hold him?" Jim asked.

"Not for a few weeks," the nurse told him. "But you can touch him if
you like. The more contact you can have with him, the better."

Jim was required to put on latex gloves, but the thin rubber did
nothing to dull the sentinel's sense of touch. He ran two fingers down
the tiny back, stroking gently. His son could have easily fit in the
palms of his hands.

"He's a feisty one," the nurse commented. "He's put on another two
ounces in the time we've had him."

"That's all?" Jim looked up, surprised.

"That's a lot, considering," he was told. "He's going to gain three or
four pounds before he leaves the hospital. He'll still be small, but
he'll grow like a weed." She turned to Jim. "How is Blair doing? Is
there any chance he'll be able to express milk for Jeremy?"

"You know about that?" Jim was amazed. Most of the hospital personnel
he encountered still looked slightly askew at him when he discussed
the subject of male pregnancy and lactation.

"Dr. Casey told us he successfully nursed your first-born up until the
point of his second pregnancy. You know, the antibodies in breast milk
are especially vital to a preemie. The little ones who get it grow
faster and have fewer complications."

"He's still getting frequent doses of morphine for the pain," Jim
explained. "He's also on antibiotics for the infections. I think it
might be a while."

"The sooner the better, but I don't want to encourage another patient
to give up medication prematurely, either. Do you know when Blair is
scheduled to be released?"

"Dr. Casey told me at least two weeks. She wants him able to speak
before she lets him out. The burns should be mostly healed by then and
the surgery sites will be well under way."

"Two weeks would be fine," the nurse agreed. "If he can express the
milk, we can store it here until Jeremy can drink it. He won't be able
to nurse or take a bottle for a while--preemies this young usually
don't have a developed sucking reflex--but we can feed him through the
tube."

"I'll talk to Blair. I'm sure he'd agree to do it."

"Very good, thank you." The nurse patted his arm. "I'm afraid it's
time to stop. We don't want to over stimulate Jeremy, either. If you
could come down two or three times a day, that would be great."

"I'll do what I can. I'm going to have to go back to work soon. There
are bills to pay," Jim said with a sigh.

"That's unfortunate. The cost of preemie care is high, even with
insurance to cover most of it. Come as often as you can. Every little
bit helps." She walked him to the door of the nursery.

"I'll do that," Jim assured her, taking one last look at his son.


Sunday, April 8:

"You're on compassionate medical leave at least until Blair is out of
the hospital," Simon insisted. "Your husband and your son need you;
not to mention Laurene. She only has one daddy to take care of her
now, and you spend your days at the hospital."

"I need the pay, Simon," Jim retaliated. "I *do* want to spend my time
with Blair and the kids, but there are bills to pay."

"Your insurance, and whatever coverage Blair has through the
university, should cover the medical bills."

"There's more than just that." Jim sighed. "I still have to put food
on the table, pay off Blair's student loans. He won't be going back to
teaching until fall term."

"Jim," Simon said, resting a hand on his detective's shoulder, "this
is paid leave and it doesn't come out of your sick leave."

"How?" Jim looked startled.

"Don't ask," Simon told him. "There's a special fund for this type of
emergency. It's not generally known, so that it isn't abused. I can't
think of a better use of the funds. Just don't worry about it. Take
care of Blair. Get him home so that he can help you with Laurene."

"She's been a real handful without her daddy," Jim admitted.

"A 'daddy's girl', eh?" Simon chuckled.

"In a home with two fathers, that does seem a little ridiculous,
doesn't it?" Jim laughed along with his captain.

"Is she at the daycare?"

"Yeah, the Chancellor said that given the circumstances, he can't see
denying Laurene the daycare just because her father isn't currently
working. It's been a Godsend. She loves the people and other kids
there, and neither Blair nor I have to worry about her."

"That's great news," Simon agreed. "Now, get yourself down to the
hospital and take care of your family."

"Blair's going to be allowed to get out of bed today," Jim said with a
grin. "I'm going to take him down to the NICU to visit with Jeremy."

"His first time?"

"Yeah. It's been a week, and he's chafing at the bit to see his baby."

"I can imagine. How are the burns?"

"They still bother him, but he's down to a light dose of morphine
during the washing and another one at night. Dr. Trent thinks he can
be weaned completely in another two or three days. He's got another
three of the antibiotics, then he can start expressing milk for
Jeremy."

"I'll bet he's excited about that," Simon said, remembering the
contented look on the young man's face as he had nursed Laurene. The
captain had, at one time, had some trouble watching Blair breastfeed,
but once Jim had placed the act in perspective, he had come to accept
it.

"Yes and no," Jim said, frowning. "Some of the worst of the burns are
on his nipples. Expressing milk is going to be uncomfortable for a
while, I'm afraid. Especially if he uses the pump. Hand expressing is
gentler, but slower. He may not feel up to trying right away."

"Give him my best, Jim. Now that he's doing better, I'll try stopping
by for a visit."

"He'd love to see you, sir. I'm sure he's getting tired of seeing only
my ugly mug day in and day out."

Simon chuckled. "That boy is *never* going to tire of seeing you, and
you know it. He worships the ground you walk on."

"I wish you'd tell *him* that when you come visit," Jim said with a
snort. "I feel more walked on than worshipped most days."

"James Joseph Ellison--that's not true, and you know it."

"Just come visit when you can. Blair needs some fresh meat to pester."
Jim slapped his friend's shoulder and turned to leave. "I'm out of
here. You know where you can reach me."

~oO0Oo~

"Up and at 'em, Chief!" Jim strode into the room, pushing a
wheelchair.

Startled, Blair sat up, gaping at his partner, the loose hospital gown
pooling at his waist.

"Looking good there, Sweetheart, but I think you'd better get dressed
if you're going to go visit your son." He walked over to the bed,
helping Blair to fasten the ties on the gown. He fetched a robe from
the closet and wrapped it around Blair's shoulders, then helped him
slide off the bed, into the chair. "Comfortable?" Blair adjusted
himself slightly, then nodded. "Okay, off we go."

They wheeled in to the NICU to the soft applause of the nurses on
duty. "Welcome to the preemie nursery, Blair. My name is Patty." One
of the nurses stepped forward and shook his hand, then turned to lead
the way to Jeremy's incubator.

Blair stared into the unit, then turned wide eyes on his partner. "So
small," he croaked, his voice still weak and raw.

"Yeah, it's kind of a shock at first, isn't it? I know, he's awfully
small, but he's doing really well." Jim smiled. Blair entwined his
arms and made a rocking motion. "Not yet," Jim sighed. "When can we
hold him?" he asked Patty.

"He needs to grow a little more," Patty explained. "At the rate he's
putting on weight, I'd say another week to week-and-a-half. Would you
like to touch him?" she asked Blair. The young man nodded eagerly. She
grabbed a pair of gloves and watched as Blair expertly snapped them
on.

"Where did he learn to do that?" Patty sounded amused. "Most of our
new parents struggle to get those things on."

"Police evidence work. He's learned how to handle them. You should
have seen the first time he tried them on. I thought he was going to
burst an artery." Blair elbowed his teasing partner before holding out
his hands, asking to be shown what to do.

Patty opened the incubator. "Feel free to touch him anywhere and any
way that you can. Just don't try to pick him up yet," she told the
anxious father.

Blair reached into the small bed, stroking the wrinkled, red skin. He
turned his head to smile up at Jim. "Ours."

"You shouldn't even be trying to talk yet, Mister," Jim scolded. "But,
yeah, he's beautiful, isn't he?" Blair nodded his agreement and spent
several more minutes blissfully making physical contact with his baby.

"I'm afraid that's enough for now," Patty apologized. "You can come
down to visit as often as you like, though. We love to have the
parents here. Jim, if you could talk or sing to Jeremy, that kind of
stimulation is as important as touch." She saw Blair frown and rested
a hand on his shoulder. "I'm told you're doing quite well. I'm sure
you'll be able to talk to Jeremy soon. He needs to learn the sound of
your voice as well. Just don't try to rush things and make it harder
on yourself." Blair nodded his reluctant agreement. "I'll give you
fellows some time alone with Jeremy." She patted Blair's shoulder and
walked off.

"Talk," Blair growled.

"Ah, Chief, you know that's more your area than mine."

"Sing," Blair commanded.

Jim shook his head. "I can't, Blair. I - I'm too embarrassed, all
right? I'll sound like a fool."

"For Jeremy." Blair's tentative hold on his voice was giving out
quickly. "Please."

Jim glared at his recovering partner for a moment, then cleared his
throat. "Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top. . . ."


Mid-week:

Simon opened the door to Blair's room and peeked inside. "All clear?"

"Hey, Simon! Come on in," Blair's raspy voice greeted him.

"Where's Jim?" Simon asked, entering the room carrying a balloon
bouquet and a large gift basket of newborn supplies, along with big
teddy bear for Laurene.

"He went in search of his morning coffee," Blair explained. "Wow,
what's all this?" He took the basket Simon handed him.

"Oh, just a little collection of stuff from the gang at Major Crime.
They just wanted to let you know that they're thinking about you."

"That's real nice. Tell them 'thanks' for me, will you?"

"You bet." Simon settled himself in Jim's usual spot, next to the bed.
"So, how are you doing?"

"You want an obfuscation, or the truth?"

"The truth," Simon told him.

"Okay, I guess. I'm having nightmares and the burns still hurt. I
haven't even tried expressing milk yet, even though I've been
cleared."

"Don't push yourself," Simon said. "Take it slow and easy. Has your
doctor told you yet when you'll get to go home?"

"Probably not for a few more days, at least." Blair sighed. "I'm *so*
ready to go home, you wouldn't believe!"

Simon chuckled. "Oh, I think I can." He looked up as Jim walked in the
room, carrying a steaming cup of strong, black coffee. "Hi, Jim!"

"Hey, Simon. I see you made it." He took a cautious sip of the
scalding liquid, then set it down on the table.

"I had to see for myself how he was doing," Simon responded. 

Blair looked from one man to the other, finally settling his gaze on
the captain. "Would you like to come to the nursery with us to see
Jeremy?"

"You bet I would!" Simon agreed enthusiastically. He stood as Jim
helped Blair out of bed and into the wheelchair.

"He's so *small*," Blair was saying as he was being pushing down the
corridor. He gestured with his hands, indicating the approximate size
of their son.

Even with the warning, Simon was still astonished when he saw Jeremy.
"My, God! I didn't know anything could be that small!" He leaned over
the incubator, awed at the tiny life.

"You should have seen him when he was first born," Jim said. "I could
have held him in one hand."

"Yeah, he's grown quite a bit in the past week and a half," Blair
added. "He's put on nearly a pound." He opened the incubator's lid and
began stroking Jeremy's back. "He seems to really like the attention.
I try to come down two or three times a day, but I have to find
someone to bring me." He sighed. "It sure will be nice to be able to
come when I want and stay as long as I please."

"That will happen soon enough," Patty told him, approaching the group.
"Now you do know the rule about the NICU, don't you? Only family?" She
looked up at Simon, grinning. "You must be the proud uncle," she said
with a wink.

"That's me," Simon agreed, laying a hand possessively on Blair's
shoulder.

"Well, then . . . I'll just leave the three of you alone to visit with
Jeremy. Call if you need anything." She waved and walked off.

"They've been great here in the nursery," Jim said, turning to Simon.
"Jeremy couldn't be in better hands."

"I can see that," the captain said.

All too soon, their time was up and Patty was politely shooing them
out. "Guess I'd better get myself back to the office," Simon said,
sighing deeply. "Someone's got to be there to keep order."

"Thanks for coming by," Blair said. "It was nice seeing a fresh face
for a change."

"That's what I kept telling him," Jim added, looking pointedly at the
captain.

"What can I say?" Simon responded in his own defense. "I was just
trying to give you enough time to be comfortable with visitors."

"I appreciate it, Simon," Blair said. "I really didn't want to be seen
much the first week. Sometimes it was hard even when Jim was here."

"You didn't say anything to *me*," Jim said, shocked by the
revelation.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings, man. After all, you were the one
who saved my ass."

"Your ass isn't all I saved," Jim teased, earning himself a slap on
the arm.

"And on that note, gentlemen, I will take my leave." Simon chuckled,
stopping at the junction of two corridors. "I'll see you again once
they've sprung you from this place, Blair. Take care of yourself."

"I will, Simon. Thanks."


Monday, April 16:

Lynne entered Blair's room, just as he was finishing up his lunch.
"Are you about ready to be released from this place?" she asked
cheerfully. "Fifteen days in here must feel like an eternity!"

"You have no idea!" Blair agreed, his voice still deep and rough.

"There are just a few things we need to go over, then I'll sign your
release papers. How does that sound?"

"Fine."

"All right," Lynne began. "First, Dr. Trent asked me to remind you to
be careful about using your voice. Take it easy for a while longer.
Your vocal cords are still a bit swollen." Blair nodded his agreement.
"The burns are all but healed and your stitches can come out before
you leave today. Would you like for me to do that, or would you rather
I call Dr. Trent?"

"You can," Blair told her, blanching slightly.

"You want Jim to be here before we start?" Blair nodded. "Okay. Then
there's one other thing I need to try." She stood next to Blair and
cupped one breast through the cotton gown. "How do your nipples feel?" 

"Still a little sore," Blair admitted.

"Too sore to try expressing milk?" Blair shook his head, but didn't
look very excited by the prospect. "I just need to see if the burn
scars have plugged up the milk ducts." She untied the gown and pulled
it down to Blair's waist. Cupping one breast in her hand, she began a
gentle massage with the other. After a minute, she applied light
pressure to the nipple, smiling as thin jets of milk spewed forth.
"Very good! Let's try the other one." She was gently massaging the
other breast when Jim walked in.

"I leave you alone for an hour and come back to find out I've been
replaced!" he joked. "Hi, Lynne. How's the patient?"

"I'm sending him home," she replied with a smile. Squeezing carefully,
she turned her smile on Blair when the milk sprayed from the nipple.
"Looks like everything's in working order," she said. "Now, Blair . .
. I want you to express milk as often as you feel comfortable.
Preferably every two hours, except when you're sleeping, but at least
four times a day. You need to clear the medications out of your system
and build up the supply. Dump what you express down the drain the
first four days--that includes today. On the fifth day, you can start
collecting milk to bring with you to the nursery for Jeremy."

"Can I see him before we go home?" Blair asked.

"Of course you can!" Lynne told him. "It would be a good thing if you
could visit at least once a day. Just don't forget that you're still
recovering yourself. You don't have your full strength back, yet, and
you need to take it easy."

"I'll make sure he behaves himself," Jim added.

"All right, then," Lynne said. "That just leaves one task to finish
before you go." Blair grimaced.

"What's that?" Jim asked, moving to the side of the bed and lifting
Blair's hand to cuddle against his chest.

"Dr. Trent says the stitches can come out."

"That's great news!" Jim enthused.

"I'm not so sure your partner agrees with you," Lynne replied, turning
serious.

Jim looked down at the pale face. He felt the trembling begin in the
thin body and stroked his free hand down Blair's cheek. "We have to
get this over with, Sweetheart. I'll be right here."

"It isn't going to hurt," Lynne assured her patient. "I'm just going
to need to lower the head of the bed." She pushed the button until
Blair was lying flat on his back. Pushing the portable table aside,
she lifted the gown. "Can you spread your legs just a little for me?"

The request caused the trembling to increase, and Blair squeezed Jim's
hand tightly. "He was bound in that position, Lynne," Jim informed the
doctor. "I don't think he can, right now."

"How about bending your knees for me, then?" Lynne asked. Blair drew
his knees up and tried to relax as the doctor nipped, then pulled, the
stitches around his penis. "There. All done. That wasn't so bad, was
it?" She pushed his knees back down and pulled the gown back into
place. Blair's eyes were shut tight, tears leaking from beneath the
lashes. "Oh, God, Blair. I'm sorry, Honey. We're all finished. You can
get dressed and go home."

Jim helped Blair to sit up and slide off the bed. Blair shrugged off
his help as he headed toward the clothes hanging in the small hospital
room closet and began pulling them on.

"You're going to have your hands full, Jim. Just remember what I said
about his body healing before his mind," Lynne reminded him. "You
haven't been here nights, when he's sleeping. The nurses tell me he
frequently wakens with nightmares. It's gotten somewhat better, but
his sleep is still haunted by the memories."

"Thanks, Lynne. Don't worry, I'll take care of him."

Blair wandered over and snuggled against Jim's side. Jim put an arm
around him, holding him close. "Ready to go home?"

"Stop by the nursery first?" Blair tilted his head to turn deep blue
eyes on his lover.

"Sure thing!" Jim guided Blair to the wheelchair and pressed him into
it. "Off we go."

"Good-bye, Blair. Take care of yourself. I'll see you in a week, all
right?" Lynne waved as Jim steered the chair out the door. Blair
nodded and waved back before he was whisked down the hall toward the
NICU.

~oO0Oo~

"So, you're going home today?" Patty greeted Blair as Jim wheeled him
into the nursery. "I've got good news for you both." At the men's
expectant looks, she continued. "The doctor took Jeremy off the oxygen
last night. He's breathing comfortably on his own. We've moved the
feeding tube from down his throat to through his nose. I know that
doesn't sound like much of an improvement, but it's much more
comfortable for Jeremy. Come and see." She led the way to the
incubator.

"He's looking better," Blair said, pleased at the changes in their
son.

"He's up to three pounds, five ounces," Patty announced.

Blair snapped on the gloves and opened the incubator. Reaching in, he
stroked the delicate skin. "Hey there, Jeremy. It's your daddy. You're
doing great. Keep it up. I want to hold you soon."

"Will you be expressing milk for him?" Patty asked.

Blair looked up. "Yeah. Lynne says we can't use any until five days
from now, though."

"That will be fine. We want to make sure that any medication in your
system is cleared out before we give the milk to him. But the sooner
he starts, the better," Patty said.

"When I come on Friday, I'll have some for him," Blair promised.

"We'd better get you home, Professor," Jim prodded. "You need to
rest."

"I think the hospital is going to seem less regimented than my home
life," Blair whispered in an aside to the nurse.

Patty chuckled. "You just see that you follow orders, soldier. Get
well and come take this baby off our hands."

"I can hardly wait," Blair answered fervently.

~oO0Oo~

Jim reached around Blair to unlock the loft's door. Swinging it open,
he allowed Blair to step inside first.

"Welcome home, Sandy!" Megan greeted. Laurene squirmed in her arms,
begging to be let down. She lowered the toddler to the floor and
Laurene took off at full speed.

"Da-de!" she called, wrapping herself around Blair's leg.

Blair stooped to pick her up. "You are a sight for sore eyes, Muffin!"
he cried, rubbing noses with the excited baby.

"Da-de, no go," Laurene stated, shaking her head. Auburn curls bounced
around her face as she made her opinion known in no uncertain terms.

"I don't plan on going anywhere for a while, Laur," he promised. He
headed for the couch, sinking down onto the cushions with the toddler
in his lap.

Jim smiled at the reunited pair. "He missed her something awful," Jim
confessed. "Too bad I couldn't take her to visit."

"It's just as well," Megan replied. "You wouldn't have wanted her to
see her daddy hurting like that. How is Blair doing?"

"Physically, most of the wounds have healed, or are well on their way.
Lynne won't be removing the C-section stitches for another week.
Everything else is fine. They told me he's been having nightmares. I
think it's going to take a while to get this out of his system."

"Do you think he'd be able to come down to the station tomorrow?"
Megan asked.

"Tomorrow?" Jim looked skeptical. "That's pretty soon. He's not
getting around all that well, yet."

"Mayfield's preliminary trial is set for two weeks, and the
prosecution is rounding up all its evidence."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Jim said. "They found enough to put him
away for good."

"But they want to use the hospital's photos of Blair's abuse as
evidence," Megan admitted.

"What?" Jim was shocked. "They don't need that to convict him. The DA
promised no one would see those photos but the judge."

"He changed his mind," Megan informed him. "He thinks the photos of
the actual injuries will seal his case. He doesn't want any chance of
Mayfield finding a loophole to slip through."

"I don't, either," Jim hissed, "but those photos were taken as part of
a rape kit investigation. Blair doesn't want them made public."

"That's why we need him down at the station," Megan explained. "Simon
wants to give him the chance to look through the photos, first."

"And relive the hell he went through?" Jim was furious. "No. I won't
put him through that!"

"Put me through what?" Blair asked. He had wandered up behind the
arguing couple without their noticing. He bounced Laurene on one hip.
"Put me through what?" he repeated.

"The DA wants to use the photos as part of his case," Jim told him.

Blair visibly blanched, and Megan pulled Laurene from his weakening
grasp. "No. . . . They can't do that. They promised they wouldn't."

"Simon wants you to come down to the station tomorrow to take a look
at them," Jim continued.

"Why?" Blair's rough voice all but gave out on him.

"A couple reasons," Megan said. "One, the DA wants you to know exactly
what's going up as evidence, so you won't be shocked at the trial.
Secondly, he's giving you limited power of discretion over them. He's
going to let you suggest which ones will go to trial."

"And if Blair says no to any of the pictures, does that mean the DA
won't use them?" Jim asked for his partner, who was currently
voiceless.

"It's my understanding he can veto any of Blair's decisions, if he
thinks the picture is needed for his case," Megan admitted.

"Then what's the *point*?" Jim exploded. "Why put Blair through that,
if his decision isn't the final one?"

"I'm just the messenger," Megan defended herself. She looked nearly as
miserable as the two men standing before her. "You really need to talk
to Simon."

"Jim?" Blair tugged on his partner's sleeve to get his attention.
"I'll go."

Jim turned, gathering Blair into his arms. "You sure?"

Blair nodded against Jim's chest. "I think I *need* to see them, to
help put this behind me."

"How much do you remember of what happened during those two days?" Jim
asked. Until now, he had just assumed Blair remembered every small
detail.

"Not much," Blair admitted. "I know what he did to me, I just don't
remember it happening. Even my nightmares are vague."

"I think it's too soon," Jim said flatly. "You just got out of the
hospital."

"The pre-trial evidence has to be submitted next week," Megan reminded
him. "Talk to Simon."

"It's my decision," Blair said flatly. "We'll be there in the morning,
Megan. Thanks for having Laur here when I got home."

"No problem, Sandy. You know how much I love the little one." She
handed Laurene back to Blair, who cuddled her close.

After Megan had left, Blair wandered into the nursery, coming out with
the breast pump. "Want to help?" he offered.

Jim chased Laurene down and deposited the lightning-fast toddler in
her playpen with a number of her favorite toys. After turning on some
soft music, he walked over to settle on the couch next to Blair.

Blair settled against Jim, with his back to Jim's chest and unbuttoned
his shirt. Jim ran his hands over the growing stubble of chest hair.
"Looks like it's about half grown in," he commented. "Does it itch?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Blair sighed, scratching lightly.

Jim grabbed his hand away. "Uh-uh. No scratching. You don't want to
aggravate the burn scars." He took the pump from Blair's hand and
placed it over one protruding breast. He turned on the motor and
settled in, with one hand holding the pump and the other arm wrapped
around Blair's waist.

"This is nice," Blair sighed.

Jim kissed his temple. "It's good having you back home again."

"Not nearly as good as it is to *be* home!" Blair declared, smiling.

They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence and
the sheer normality of the situation. Jim switched the pump to the
other breast, gently massaging the one he just finished. Blair's rough
voice purred under the touch. "Like that?"

"Mm-hmmm," Blair murmured, closing his eyes and enjoying the
sensation.

When Jim finished with the pump, Blair drew himself up, taking the
bottle to the sink to dump. "It feels really strange, you know."

"What does?" Jim asked from the couch.

"Not being pregnant, but also not having the baby here with us." Blair
stroked his flattened stomach. "I still had nearly two months to go.
It doesn't seem right."

"You feel like you were cheated out of that time?"

Blair wandered back over to the couch, dropping onto Jim's lap. "Does
that sound strange?" he asked.

"No," Jim admitted. "I don't know why you do, but you enjoy being
pregnant. There's nothing wrong in feeling cheated out of the full
experience."

"I want to hold him," Blair whispered. "I want to hold our baby, Jim.
It isn't fair. Mayfield took that away from me."

"He took that away from *us*," Jim corrected. "For what he did to you
and Jeremy, I'm going to see that bastard go down."

"I want that, too," Blair agreed. "I never believed in revenge before.
Naomi always taught me to forgive and move on. But Kurt Mayfield took
something precious. Something that can never be returned to us. I wish
he was dead." Blair laid his head against Jim's chest and sighed.
"Does that make me a bad person?"

"It makes you human," Jim said, stroking the silken curls. "I'd kill
him with my bare hands if I didn't think I'd end up in prison, leaving
you to fend for yourself." He kissed the top of Blair's head.

"Love you," Blair whispered.

"Love you, too."

~oO0Oo~

Dressed in boxers and a tank top, Blair climbed into the loft's big
bed. It felt both strange and wonderful to finally be home, to finally
be able to sleep in the arms of the man that he loved. Jim came up the
stairs fresh from an evening's shower and shed his robe. Blair's eyes
grew round. "What's the matter, Chief?"

"You're naked."

Jim glanced down at himself, as though noticing that fact for the
first time. "Is that a problem?"

"Well, um . . . no, I guess not," Blair hedged.

"It bothers you," Jim guessed.

Blair continued to stare. "A little, I suppose," he admitted.

Jim walked over to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of boxers,
stepping into them. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks, Jim."

Jim climbed into the bed, noting that Blair lay balanced precariously
on the far edge. "How about a little closer?" Jim suggested.

"I don't think I'm ready, Jim." The sentinel could hear the rapid
beating of his heart and the shallow, quick breaths.

"That's okay, Blair. I won't push you. Would you rather I slept on the
couch?"

"No!" Blair moved a few inches in from the edge of the mattress. "No,
please don't go. I'm not afraid of *you*, Jim. I just don't know if
I'm ready for . . . you know."

"You're not ready for 'you know', anyway," Jim asserted. "You haven't
been cleared by Lynne yet, and the stitches aren't out, either."

"I know, but you . . . I could help you." Blair's voice quavered.

"Not tonight, Sweetheart," Jim said, reaching out to put an arm around
his partner. Blair moved into the embrace, snuggling gratefully into
Jim's arms. The long day caught up to him and before he realized it,
he was snoring softly. Jim stayed awake for another hour, monitoring
his lover's sleep, grateful that he was alive and finally home.

~oO0Oo~

"*NO*! Get away!"

The screams and thrashing had Jim awake in seconds. He glanced at the
LED display on the clock: 3:17 A.M. Blair had fallen off the far side
of the bed and was tangled in the sheets on the floor.

"Don't touch me, you bastard!"

"Blair?" Jim crawled across the bed. "Are you awake?"

"No, no, no, no, no. . . ." Blair's voiced trailed off in sobs, as he
tried to back further away in the tight confines of the small room.

Jim climbed off the bed, trying to get the sheets untangled in order
to free Blair. "Leave me alone!" the young man shouted.

"Blair, you have to wake up." Jim shook him lightly. "Come on,
Sweetheart, please; please wake up." Blair blinked, looking up at Jim
in the dim light of the loft. "It's all right, Blair," Jim soothed.
"You're at home. You're safe."

"H - home?" Blair stuttered.

"Yup," Jim confirmed. "In your own bed, with your very own sentinel to
watch over you." 

"Mayfield?"

"He's in prison, awaiting trial. Remember?"

Blair crawled out of the tangle of sheets and into Jim's outstretched
arms. "It was just a nightmare, then?"

"Yeah, Kiddo. That's all it was," Jim assured him.

Blair shook his head. "I'm so screwed up," he lamented. "When is it
going to get better?"

"It will get better when it gets better," Jim told him. "There's no
way to rush it. We just have to learn to take one day at a time."

~oO0Oo~

One day at a time was going to be severely tested, Blair mused, as he
followed Jim out of the elevator and through the doors of Major Crime.
The bullpen had been forewarned of their observer's visit and were
considerably restrained. Instead of mobbing the young man, scattered
greetings were called out as he passed by. Blair smiled and
acknowledged his friends, while anxiously sticking close to Jim as
they headed toward Simon's office.

"Welcome back, Blair," Simon greeted him. "It's good to see you. I
just wish it didn't have to be under these circumstances. Megan
explained what's going to happen here today?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Blair croaked out, his voice failing him as his
nervousness grew.

"I don't think you've met our new DA, Victor Hernandez," Simon
introduced the stranger in the room. "Mr. Hernandez, this is Blair
Sandburg. Gentlemen, if you'll all be seated, please."

Everyone sat, with Blair at the head of the table, and Jim and Simon
to either side. Hernandez slid a manila envelope across the table and
Blair picked it up with trembling fingers. "Inside are the photos
taken upon your admittance to Cascade General Hospital," Hernandez
said. "I would like to present these in court as evidence of the
treatment you received at the hands of Kurt Mayfield."

"Wouldn't the doctors' testimony be enough?" Jim asked, as Blair's
fingers played with the clasp on the envelope. "I mean, is this really
necessary? I don't like putting Blair through this right now. He just
got out of the hospital yesterday."

"I think Mr. Sandburg is capable of making that decision on his own,
don't you, Detective?" Hernandez asked. Blair glanced up briefly, then
back down at the now-open envelope.

"Normally, yes," Jim agreed. "But you have undoubtedly seen the
photos, haven't you?" Hernandez nodded. "Well, then, you realize the
trauma that Blair went through, both physically and mentally. He
doesn't even remember the actual abuse, only the consequences of it."

"I think it only fair, given the delicate nature of some of the
photos, that Mr. Sandburg be given the chance to review the evidence
before it is brought up in court." Hernandez watched as the photos
spilled out onto the table. The one on top was a picture of Blair's
face, painted in the garish make-up of a street prostitute.

Blair picked up the picture and stared at it. "Is that me?" he asked,
wondering. "Why? Why did he do that?"

"Do you remember that at all, Blair?" Jim asked gently.

"He wanted to make me look like a woman," Blair whispered. "He made me
shave my chest and put on a dress, then he painted my face."
Discreetly, Simon had turned on a small tape recorder at the DA's
request. "I didn't know it looked that bad."

"Didn't he show you?" Simon asked. "I would think he'd like to gloat."

"No. He finished, then had to go out. He put a ball gag in my mouth. I
choked on it."

"What happened after that, son?" Simon asked softly, reaching out to
cover one of Blair's hands with his much larger one.

"He left me alone in the dark," Blair whispered, the tremors starting
to shake his thin frame. Jim shuffled through the pictures quickly,
grimacing at their explicitness. "When he came back, he had Wonder
Burgers. The smell made me retch. I nearly choked on my own vomit. So
he removed the gag. Then he decided to . . . he, uh. . . ." Blair fell
silent.

"He said you bit him," Hernandez prompted.

"Yeah. He, uh, he was smoking," Blair continued. "He put out his
cigarette on my right nipple. I didn't know anything could hurt like
that." He stopped, his eyes getting glassy, the trembling increasing.
"He had his dick out. He had made me look like a - a whore . . . I
guess he wanted to treat me like one. He shoved his dick down my
throat and when he pulled out, I bit him."

"Good for you, Blair!" Jim congratulated his partner. "The bastard
deserved that and more."

"But it made him mad," Blair said, his voice going very soft. "He used
a pack of cigarettes to burn my chest and belly." He pulled out the
pictures of the burns. There were close-ups of his badly abused
breasts and of the decorative patterns burned on his pregnant belly.
The final couple of pictures were close-ups of his genitals from
different angles, showing the extent of the burning and the sadistic
cock-and-balls ring. Blair quickly shuffled the offending pictures to
the bottom of the stack.

"What happened next?" Simon prompted, determined to get Blair's
testimony on tape at one sitting, if possible.

"He, uh, he got a new pack of cigarettes and started to burn my penis
and balls. I think I passed out," Blair admitted softly.

"Did he do that before or after he put on the cockring?"

"Before." Blair took a deep breath and passed the pictures back to
Hernandez. "I don't want you to show the pictures of my genitalia," he
said. "The rest you can use. The doctors can testify to the full
extent of the abuse." Jim glared at the DA, until he nodded in
agreement.

"All right, Blair. Go on," Simon prompted. "This statement is in lieu
of you taking the stand, so make it good."

Blair sighed, looking down at his hands. "I don't know how long after,
but he. . . ."

"Can you say who 'he' is, for the record, Blair?" the captain asked.

"Mayfield. He came back with another pack of cigarettes and said
something about the first time being no fun because I'd passed out."

"What did he do?"

Jim squeezed Blair's hand, amazed at the strength his lover was
exhibiting under extreme duress. "He started burning my genitals
again."

"Did he use the whole pack of cigarettes?"

"I don't think so. If he had, I don't think I'd have a dick left."
Blair shuddered.

"When did he put on the cockring?" Simon continued.

"Later. Much later. Just before you and Jim arrived." Blair grew quiet
for a few moments, then steeled himself for the last of his story. "It
hurt like hell, because of the burns," he admitted. "He stroked me
until I had a full erection. . . ." Blair stopped again, blushing
furiously.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Blair," Jim soothed. "We know you
weren't turned on by this guy. You can't help it that your body
betrayed you like that."

"I *should* have been able to control it," Blair hissed. "How could I
get hard as badly burned as I was?"

"Blair," it was Hernandez' turn to speak. "None of this is your fault.
None of it. Just tell your story, so I can put this guy away."

Blair glanced over at Jim, who squeezed his hand reassuringly. "After
he got me hard, he put on the cockring. It really hurt. Then he got
out a pocket knife."

"Were you still wearing the ball gag?" Simon asked.

"No. He'd taken it out. Once he found out my voice was gone, there
wasn't much point. I think he liked to see me attempt to scream."
Blair shook his head. "He wanted to make me into a woman. I was
pregnant. I wear my hair long. He had made me up and put me in a
dress. In his mind, all there was left to do was cut off my cock and
balls. I don't remember much of that, really. I could feel the blade
at the base of my penis, but between the burns and the cockring
cutting off the circulation, I couldn't feel much else. Jim and Simon
came in about that time."

"Is there anything else?" Simon prompted, vividly remembering the
cracking of the pistol shot as it rang through the small room.

"He shot me," Blair whispered, his voice nearly gone. "I think it was
an accident, when Jim was trying to take him down."

"Where did the bullet hit?"

"My stomach. Somewhere in the stomach. I remember being so scared he'd
killed the baby. After that, everything was a blur. Jim, I remember
you there." Blair smiled. "Thanks for being there."

"Okay. That's quite enough," Jim stated, standing. He turned to the
DA. "You have your pictures. You know which to use and which not to.
I'm going to hold you to that promise," he threatened. "And, Simon,
you didn't warn us about the interview. I'll take that up with you
later. Right now, I want to get Blair back home." The young man in
question had gone ashen in the wake of the testimony. He sat very
still, his hands resting in his lap. "Come on, Sweetheart. Time to
go." Jim helped Blair out of his seat and herded him toward the office
door. "Simon." He turned to his captain. "Can you come over this
afternoon?"

"I'll stop by after lunch. That okay with you?" 

Jim nodded and led Blair through the bullpen, an arm locked tightly
around his waist to keep him upright.

~oO0Oo~

"Simon, what was that down at the station?" Jim settled himself on the
couch opposite his captain. "You didn't tell us you were going to
interrogate Blair."

"If I'd said something, I was afraid Blair wouldn't show up. Either
he'd freak out, or you'd say no."

"And you'd be right. That was a chicken-shit way of dealing with it,
*Captain*."

"I'm sorry, Jim, but it was either that, or put him on the stand in
front of Mayfield, a jury and witnesses, and make him tell the tale.
You can imagine what a heyday the defense lawyer would have with the
very things Blair mentioned: his pregnancy, the long hair, his
*involuntary* response to Mayfield." Simon sighed. "It was better this
way. I think he held up rather well. Where is he, by the way?"

"Upstairs, sleeping. You didn't see him when we got home. He was white
as a sheet and could barely stand. I put him straight to bed and he's
been sleeping ever since."

"Papa, Papa!" Laurene had awakened from her nap in the playpen by the
balcony doors. She held her arms up above her head, begging to be
lifted from her nylon prison. Jim got up and released her, then had to
chase her down as she ripped the Velcro diaper closures open and
dropped the smelly covering on the floor. "Stimky." Gales of laughter
followed as she ran pell-mell through the room, playing keep-away with
her father.

Simon had to laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation they'd
been having. "Go through this often, Jim?"

"Only when she has a dirty diaper," Jim panted, finally cornering
Laurene. "She has a very sensitive nose."

"So I've been led to understand," Simon chuckled. "I wonder if you
were this bad when you were that age."

"I was never that age," Jim denied vehemently. He took Laurene into
the nursery to clean her up and put on a fresh diaper. Then he fetched
the one she'd left in the living room and disposed of it. "There. Now,
where were we?"

"You were reaming me a new one for what I did to Blair this morning,"
Simon reminded him.

"Yeah, well, you deserved it. You could have warned us," Jim said,
sounding suddenly very tired. "If you'd explained the way you just
did, I'm sure Blair would have agreed."

"But he did just fine this way, didn't he?" Simon prompted. "I was
really proud of how well he held up."

"Yeah," Jim finally admitted. "And I suppose it was a good idea to get
it over with. I thought he didn't remember anything."

"He probably didn't, while he was in the hospital," Simon admitted.
"But seeing the pictures brought it all back. He'll heal better now,
Jim. You'll see."

Jim sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. "Did we ever find out
*why* Mayfield targeted Blair?"

Simon studied his detective, seeing the toll the stress had taken on
him since Blair's attack. "Yeah, actually," he admitted. "But for the
life of me, I don't know how this guy managed to hide it. He has ties
to a white supremacist group in Oregon. They target blacks, Jews, the
gay community--whoever doesn't fit their narrow definition. Blair was
fine so long as his religion and sexual preferences were kept
discreet, but this pregnancy was the last straw. Mayfield saw this as
an opportunity to further his cause and to work his way up in the
hierarchy of the organization."

"So, were we able to get any of the others in this group?" Jim asked.

"The Oregon State Police have been notified and the Feds are joining
in the investigation. If there's a chance of cracking this cell group,
they'll find it," Simon assured him.

"Thanks, Simon. You're a good friend."

"I try." Simon put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up off
the couch. "Guess I'd better get my butt back to the office. You and
Blair going to visit Jeremy later?"

"After Blair's nap. He doesn't know it yet, but he's going to get to
hold Jeremy today." Jim's smile was ear-to-ear.

"That's great news!" Simon beamed. "When does the little one get to
come home?"

"At least another three weeks," Jim said. "It's a long haul for
preemies."

"Good luck keeping the secret," Simon said, grinning. "Maybe that'll
make up for my little deception this morning."

"It should go a long way, sir," Jim agreed.

~oO0Oo~

"What's going on, Jim?" Blair walked beside his partner down the
hospital corridor, heading for the NICU. "You know something you're
not telling."

Jim's grin grew wider. "I'm not saying a word. You'll find out soon
enough." He pushed through the door into the nursery.

"Blair! Jim! Welcome back," Patty greeted the couple. She took Blair
by the elbow and steered him away from Jeremy's incubator. "I want you
to sit right over here," she said, guiding him toward an upholstered
rocker. "I'll be right back."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, now?" Blair asked, looking
up at Jim.

"Uh-uh, Chief. You'll just have to be patient."

"Here you go," Patty said, returning with a small bundle that she
handed to the expectant father.

Blair accepted the offering, peeling back the layers of blankets to
see the tiny face of his infant son. When he finally looked up at Jim
and Patty, tears glistened in his eyes. "Thank you. Oh, thank you," he
murmured, turning back to the small bundle in his arms. "He's so
beautiful. Don't you think so, Jim?"

"Oh, yeah," Jim agreed, bending down to get a better look at the
scrunched, red face.

"He took a bottle this morning," Patty said proudly. "Would you like
to try and feed him a little?"

"Could I?" Blair was incredulous.

"Of course. I'll go get a bottle for you." Patty hurried off.

"He's taking a bottle," Blair said with surprise. "That means maybe he
can nurse on Friday. I don't believe this!"

Patty returned with the bottle. "His sucking reflex isn't very strong
yet, but he can manage, if you're patient."

"Could I try breastfeeding him on Friday?" Blair asked.

"Breastfeeding takes a lot more effort on the part of the baby than
drinking from a bottle," Patty explained. "I'm not sure if he suckles
strongly enough yet. We could certainly give it a try. Will you be
bringing expressed milk that day, too?" Blair nodded. "Great. That way
if the breastfeeding doesn't work out, he can still have your milk."

The nurse smiled and walked off, leaving the two proud daddies to
enjoy some special time with the newest addition to their family.
Blair unwrapped Jeremy further and tried to get the infant to grab at
his finger with a minuscule fist. The small hand wrapped reflexively
around Blair's finger, looking even tinier by comparison.

"Oh, Jim. I want so much to take him home," Blair said with a sigh,
"but I think I'm a little afraid, too. He's so *small*."

"He'll be bigger before we get to bring him home," Jim assured his
partner. "And even if he is still little, I don't doubt you'll do a
fine job with him." Blair looked up, a grin of delight lighting his
face.

~oO0Oo~

"And how are you doing, Blair?" Dr. Casey asked, as her patient
stepped through the door.

"Not bad," Blair told her. "It gets a little better every day."

"How's Jeremy?"

"I got to hold him last week." Blair beamed with pride. "He even
nursed a little. He's still a little weak, but he's growing stronger
every day."

"That's wonderful." Lynne nodded toward the exam room. "Let's get
started, shall we?" She followed him in. "You don't need to get
undressed, just drop your pants." She grinned at the young man, who
readily complied. "Now, up here." Lynne patted the exam table. Once
Blair was in position, she quickly snipped the stitches, then pulled
them free. "Looks good. That's all there is to it," she said with a
smile. "I'm clearing you for full sexual relations, too. Just
remember, don't let Jim rush you into something you're not ready for.
You're the leader. You take charge and remember to use safe words. It
might be a while yet before you're completely comfortable."

"Jim's been great," Blair said. "He hasn't even asked, yet I know he's
jacking off in the shower. He's been really patient with me."

"That's good. Just take it slow and easy."

~oO0Oo~

Jim climbed the stairs to the bedroom, pleased to see that Blair was
snuggled in the middle of the large mattress, instead of his more
usual edge-of-the-bed position. Stripping to his boxers, he crawled
under the covers. Blair scooted over next to him, draping an arm
across his waist. Jim was startled to realize that his lover was nude.

"Blair?"

"Mmmm?"

"What gives?"

Blair opened his eyes, a lazy smile growing on his lips. "Lynne
cleared me today," he announced.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Jim asked, concerned for his
lover's feelings.

Blair snuggled closer. "I don't know," he admitted, "but I'd like to
try." He captured Jim's mouth in a gentle kiss, rediscovering the
taste and feel of his partner. His hands glided along the planes of
Jim's back, across the strong shoulder blades, down to the small of
his back and under the waistband of his boxers to caress the roundness
of firm buttocks.

Tentatively, Jim's hands began their own exploration, encountering
only the slightest tension in his mate. He broke the kiss, trailing
moist lips along Blair's jaw, down to the hollow in his neck. Panting
slightly, he took the time to ask. "You can stop this any time, you
know. Just say the word. If anything is uncomfortable, tell me."

"Yes, Jim," Blair murmured, pushing the boxers off, then lifting his
hands to brush across the hair on his lover's head. "I promise."

Jim ranged lower, running his fingers through the newly-grown chest
hair, brushing lightly over raised nipples. Blair's only response was
to moan and arch into the touch, silently pleading for more. Jim
wrapped his lips around a moist nipple, licking and suckling and
nipping at the tender bud.

"Oh, Jim. Yes! Yes!" Blair squirmed as Jim's mouth worked its magic on
the sensitive nubs. Jim's hand ranged lower, to brush lightly over
Blair's cock. He was not entirely surprised to find the organ limp and
unresponsive. His lover pressed against him, wanting more, so Jim
continued his soft stroking. After nearly fifteen minutes of
stimulation, Blair rolled onto his back with a sigh. "This isn't
working, Jim. I'm sorry."

"Blair, we both knew it wasn't going to come easy, or soon, for that
matter. What counts is enjoying what we can."

"I can make love to you," Blair countered, rolling back onto his side
so that he could kiss the rosy buds on Jim's chest. He pressed Jim
down onto his back and straddled him, eyes lit with mischief. He began
a torturously slow route down his lover's body, tasting, touching,
kissing every inch. Jim summoned all his strength to hold still, to
let his partner lead their lovemaking.

Blair inched lower, until Jim's rigid cock bobbed in his face. He
nuzzled into the coarse pubic hair, sucking first one testicle, then
the other into his mouth, rolling them around on his tongue. Jim was
fighting for control as Blair licked his way up the underside of his
cock, intent on inflicting as much delicious torture as he could
before sucking Jim off. With deliberate slowness, his lips engulfed
the glans, his tongue tracing the contours.

Despite having dialed down touch to a manageable level, when the warm
mouth slid over his cock-head, Jim's hips bucked reflexively, driving
his penis down the inviting throat. Blair's frantic scrambles and
choking dumped instant ice water on his desire. Sitting up, he
gathered Blair into his arms, rocking and soothing. "I'm sorry. I'm
sorry. Oh, Blair, I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry." Blair sobbed
against his chest, trembling as the waking nightmare slowly faded.

"I - I guess I wasn't as ready as I thought," Blair sniffled, pushing
out of the warm embrace. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to spoil it
for you."

"Spoil it for *me*?" Jim was incredulous. "Blair, this was supposed to
be for you. I'm the one who spoiled it. Forgive me?" His lover nodded,
relaxing back into the circle of his arms.

"Next time will be better," Blair promised.

Jim held his lover until Blair fell asleep, then he slipped downstairs
to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he took his aching cock
in his fist and pulled hard: one, two, three times. His hand and chest
were sprayed with semen as his orgasm overtook him. He sank to his
knees on the tile floor. "Oh, Blair. What have I done?"

~oO0Oo~

"It isn't working out," Blair said despondently. "We've tried every
night for two weeks, and nothing."

Dr. Lynne Casey studied the man seated in front of her. "Maybe you're
trying too hard. You had a traumatic experience, Blair. You can't
expect sexual function to blossom overnight."

"But I can't get hard at all," Blair explained. "It's not like I can't
hold an erection. I can't even *get* one!"

"Have you had any trouble urinating?" the doctor asked.

Blair thought about the question. "Sometimes. Not always, but once in
a while."

"How often is once in a while? Once a day? Once a week?"

"Three or four times a week, I guess," Blair answered.

"What are the symptoms? Does the urine burn as it comes out, or do you
have a full bladder that you have trouble voiding?"

"I have trouble emptying my bladder sometimes," Blair admitted.
"Mostly it's okay, though."

"Well, why don't you let me take a look? I think I may need to refer
you to a urologist, but I'd like to eliminate the obvious, first."

Blair got up and walked into the exam room, stripping off his pants
without even being told. He hopped up onto the exam table, covering
himself with the cotton gown Lynne had provided.

"Okay. On your back and put your feet in the stirrups, please," Lynne
requested. Blair put one foot, then the other, in the cold, stainless
steel devices. "Now scoot your butt down to the edge of the table.
That's good." Lynne gently pressed against his knees. "Just relax,
Sweetie. I'm only going to give you a visual exam. Just touching.
Nothing even remotely painful." She examined the scarring at the base
of his genitals. The bright red was fading, but was still very
visible. She cradled Blair's penis in the palm of one hand, poking and
probing gently with her fingers. "Does the scarring on the glans give
you any trouble? she asked.

"It oozes sometimes. Gets a little sticky."

"Is it sore?"

"No, but it itches like crazy."

Lynne pulled the gown down to cover Blair and patted his knees. "You
can get out of those things now and get dressed. I'll meet you out
front." She left the room, and Blair dressed quickly.

"I don't see anything immediately wrong that would keep you from
having an erection," she explained. "I'm going to write you a
prescription for the discharge. It's an ointment. You need to rub it
into the scars on the glans, at least three times a day. Make sure
it's absorbed before you cover up. Right after urinating would be a
good time to treat," she told him. "Then, I'm going to set you up with
a urologist. There may be damage to the nerves that's preventing you
from having an erection. The blood flow seems adequate, so he'll have
to look for other causes."

"Thanks, Lynne. I appreciate the help." Blair took the prescription
and stood.

"Just remember. . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair sighed. "It could all be just in my head."

"You're recovering remarkably well, Blair. Don't be impatient with
your body. When the time is right, you may be pleasantly surprised."
Lynne picked up her phone and began to dial. "I'm going to make your
appointment with the urologist. Just give me a minute." When she hung
up, she scribbled the information on an appointment card and handed it
to Blair. "I couldn't get you in before Tuesday, May 29. I hope that's
all right?"

Blair took the card, glancing down at the name and time. "Yeah, sure,"
he said. "That's fine. Thanks, Lynne."

Dr. Casey patted his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Just remember
that you can call me any time."


Friday, May 25:

The NICU nurses gathered around the new family with well-wishes and
sighs of regret. "We're going to miss him," Patty spoke for the
assembled group. "Jeremy's been one of our sweetest success stories."

Blair hugged the bundle close to his chest, smiling. Jim had his arms
wrapped around his partner and was leaning down for a closer look at
the precious face.

"He's five pounds, fourteen-and-a-half ounces and a whopping eighteen
inches long," Patty announced. "He's done really well. At thirty-seven
weeks, he's officially full-term now. You've got all the instructions
with you?" she asked. Jim pulled the folded papers from his pocket.
"Good. We're sending you home with a few gifts, as well, including a
month's supply of preemie diapers. By the time you use those up,
Jeremy should be comfortably into the newborn size."

"Thanks, everyone." Blair smiled at the assembled nurses. "Besides the
birth of our first-born, this has got to be the happiest day of my
life."

"You just take good care of that precious bundle. And if you have any
questions or problems, anything at all, just give us a call. That's
what we're here for."

~oO0Oo~

Blair settled onto the couch and unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling back
the swaddling blankets, he offered a breast to the newborn. Jeremy
latched on and began suckling with noisy slurps. Laurene walked over,
climbing into Blair's lap. "Drink?" she asked, watching the baby.

"Uh-huh," Blair acknowledged. "He's drinking his milk."

Laurene poked a small finger at Blair's free breast. "Drink?" she
tried again. The nineteen-month-old toddler crawled higher in Blair's
lap, vying for room in her daddy's arms with the newcomer. Blair
wrapped his free arm around his daughter and watched as she latched
onto the spare nipple.

"Well, well," Jim chuckled, walking into the room. "Looks like you're
going to have your hands full."

"Like I care," said Blair, a beatific smile gracing his lips. "This is
heaven, man."


Friday, June 1:

"Blair, it's for you," Jim called across the room.

Blair hustled over and took the phone. "It's Lynne," Jim said, handing
over the receiver. A few minutes later, Blair hung up.

"What was that?" Jim asked.

"Lynne just called to say the results of the tests done by the
urologist are all negative."

"That's a good thing." Jim smiled.

"Yeah," Blair said with mock sincerity. "It means it's all in my
head."

"Give it time, Sweetheart. There's no rush." Jim wrapped his arms
around Blair's waist, nuzzling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I love you," Blair whispered, reaching up to guide Jim's mouth to
his. The jangle of the phone broke the tender moment.

"Sandburg-Ellison residence," Blair answered. "Oh, Eli! Good to hear
from you." He listened a bit longer, nodding. "Okay, yeah, I suppose
we could do that. See you later."

Jim looked at him expectantly as Blair hung up the phone. "Eli says
they've got some sort of end-of-the-school-year thing going on over
Rainier this afternoon and he'd like the whole family to come join the
fun," Blair told him.

"You feeling up to going out and hauling the kids?"

"Sure. So long as you're along to help," Blair teased.


Later that day --
Rainier University:

"Hey, Eli!" Blair greeted his mentor and friend as they walked up the
path to Hargrove Hall. "Where's the party?" He was carrying Jeremy,
while Jim bent over to sweep Laurene into his arms.

"There's going to be a barbecue out in the Commons later," Eli
replied. "But there's something inside I want to show you." He
gestured toward the building. Once inside, they took the elevator to
the second floor and started down a very familiar hallway.

"Where are we going?" Blair asked suspiciously.

Eli glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "You'll see. Come on." He
finally stopped at the door to Room 216.

Blair hesitated. The last time he had been in his office, his
nightmare had begun. "Uh, Eli . . . is this necessary?"

"You *are* planning to come back to teach this fall, aren't you?" his
mentor asked.

"Well, yes, but I had hoped I wouldn't have to confront my office for
a couple more months, at least." Blair glanced nervously at the ornate
brass doorknob.

"It won't bite," Eli assured him.

Carefully, Blair took hold of the knob and turned it. He pushed the
door, still standing in the safety of the hall.

"SURPRISE!"

Blair stood, stunned to silence. His office had been cleaned and
repaired. All the books and artifacts were returned to their shelves
and the room was packed with friends and colleagues from the
university. Blue and silver helium-filled balloon bouquets decorated
several of the bookcases and a large banner proclaiming
"Congratulations! It's a Boy!" was strung across several shelves. A
huge cake covered the top of his desk, decorated with blue booties and
teddy bears.

Blair took a tentative step inside and was immediately mobbed by his
colleagues, thumping him on the back and welcoming him back into the
fold. Vickie singled him out, pulling him away from the crowd.

"I'm so glad you're all right," she said. "The university just hasn't
been the same without you here."

"Thanks, Vickie. I've missed you, too." Blair noticed the hopeful
glances at the baby in his arms. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Oh, can I?" She reached for the bundle, cuddling the baby to her
chest. She walked over to the desk and silently pointed.

At first, Blair saw only the enormous cake taking up the majority of
the desktop. Then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted them. One by
one, he picked up the frames, running disbelieving fingers over the
images under the glass.

"Like 'em, Chief?" Jim had walked up behind his partner, still
bouncing Laurene on one hip.

"Oh, God, Jim . . . I didn't think I'd ever see these again!"

"It wasn't easy," Jim admitted. "Do you have any *idea* how
disorganized you are with your negatives? For a hot-shot professor
with a Ph.D. on his wall, your filing skills leave a lot to be
desired."

"You did this?" Blair turned, holding the picture of the stolen kiss
at the lake. Jim nodded. "Did you know about this party?"

"Oh, yeah," Jim drawled, a grin spreading across his handsome
features. Blair slapped him across his upper arm, before setting the
picture down and allowing himself to be pulled back into the party.

Hours later, Jim steered his exhausted partner through the loft door,
allowing him to fall limply onto the couch while he made the numerous
trips required to fetch the baby shower bounty from the truck.

Blair reclined on the couch, unbuttoning his shirt. He settled Jeremy
at one breast and waited patiently for Laurene to crawl into his lap
to claim the other. By the time Jim had finished bringing up the last
of the gifts, all three were sound asleep. He lifted Laurene first,
smiling at the wet popping sound her mouth made as she was forcefully
disconnected from Blair's breast. The younger man squirmed at the loss
and Jim reached down to pull the soft flannel of his shirt over the
moist nipple.

After putting Laurene down to sleep, Jim came back for Jeremy. He
carried him upstairs to the bassinet which sat on Blair's side of the
bed. He laid the baby on the special warming pad that lined the bottom
of the bassinet and covered him with a light blanket. When he got back
downstairs, Blair was awake.

"Thanks, Jim."

"For what? You were out cold. Somebody had to put the babies to bed."

"For the party, Smartass." Blair sat up. "You knew going back to my
office was going to freak me out, didn't you? You planned this whole
thing to make me comfortable."

"No," Jim corrected. "Actually, the whole thing was Eli's idea. He and
the other professors wanted you to know that they're okay with us,
with your pregnancy, with the babies. He didn't want you to feel
uncomfortable or out of place at the university, just because of what
happened there." He sat down beside Blair, wrapping an arm around his
shoulders. "He did ask me to be a part of it. Figured it might be hard
getting you there, otherwise. But you fell for the whole thing hook,
line and sinker."

"I guess I'm pretty easy, huh?" Blair grinned.

"Oh, I wouldn't say easy," Jim countered. "But definitely worth the
effort."

"How about we take the rest of this conversation upstairs?" Blair
stood, offering Jim a hand up off the couch. The two walked
hand-in-hand up the staircase.

"Are you sure you want to try again?"

"I love you, Jim. Of course I want to try again." Blair advanced on
his lover, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. Within minutes, two
naked bodies were tangled on the bed.

Blair pushed off Jim, panting for breath. He rolled them over onto
their sides and reached across his lover to the nightstand. 

"What do you think you're doing?" Jim's voice was muffled by Blair's
abdomen, as the smaller man dug in the nightstand's drawer. Making the
best of the situation available to him, Jim kissed the navel that
hovered above his nose.

"Cut that out! That tickles," Blair admonished, pulling back. Jim's
mouth pulled into a pout. "I've got something better," he teased,
waving the tube of K-Y in front of Jim's face. "And before you ask,
yes, I'm sure."

Jim took the lube and put it down on top of the table. "In a bit," he
said, capturing the astonished full lips. He then began a slow sensory
mapping of his lover. Blair's scent had returned to normal--the smell
of musk, sweat and milk mingling to make a unique and sensual
combination. His heartbeat was steady and strong; the air rushed in
and out of his lungs with no sounds of congestion or discomfort. The
scars marring his perfect body had faded to normal sight, but still
existed painfully fresh to sentinel vision. Fingers dusted over the
worst of the scarring, causing milk to leak from the sensitized and
stimulated nipples. He leaned forward to lick the offering, then
worked his way down the compact body, kissing away the memories of
those days of captivity.

Blair moaned his approval as the questing mouth and hands covered
every inch of skin within reach. He shuddered as a careful hand
stroked gently over his unresponsive cock. Desire shot to the center
of his being and he cried out in delicious anguish. He allowed himself
to be rolled onto his side, gasping as one lubed finger probed at the
tightness of his anus.

"Relax for me, Sweetheart," Jim whispered, slipping his finger in, one
knuckle at a time. He leaned down to kiss Blair's hip, then worked his
way up, kissing along Blair's shoulder to his ear. Grabbing the silver
rings in his teeth, he tugged lightly on the lobe, before probing the
delicate curves with his tongue.

"Oh, God, Jim! Get on with it, please," Blair begged, thrusting his
hips back, asking for more.

Jim slipped a second finger inside probing for Blair's pleasure point.
He rubbed against the gland, sending Blair into a paroxysm of desire.
His body was covered in a light sheen of perspiration, his temperature
rising as his need for his lover increased with each touch.

Jim pulled his fingers out, generously coating his erection with the
lube. Positioning himself against Blair, he slowly eased himself
inside, gliding in with one smooth stroke. Once he had buried himself
to his balls inside his mate, he spooned his body protectively against
the smaller one, wrapping his arm around Blair's waist. He began with
a slow, gentle rhythm, listening to and feeling for the reactions of
his lover.

Blair was lost in the sensations, floating on wave after wave of
desire so strong he thought he might explode. He needed for Jim to
touch him, so he took the strong hand and placed it on his genitals.

Jim immediately began to stroke Blair's cock, wrapping his fingers
around its length as it slowly began to rise. He pumped his fist
gently, encouraging the organ to fullness. Blair's hips rocked against
him and he cried out. "Oh, God, Jim! Harder!" He grunted with the
effort to fuck himself in Jim's fist. Jim tightened his grip and
fisted Blair's cock in time with his own thrusting into the tight heat
of his lover's ass.

Blair's cry of completion woke Jeremy, who also began to wail. Covered
in his own semen, and filled with Jim's, Blair thought the cry of his
child was the most beautiful sound his ears had ever heard. He
gathered the baby from the bassinet and put him to his breast.

Jim wiped himself and his lover clean, and pulled the sheets over all
three of them. Spooning against his nursing partner, his heart soared
with love. The healing was complete, and so was his family.


~oO0Oo~

Jeremy William Sandburg-Ellison
Born: April 1, 2001, at 8:27 A.M.
(30 weeks gestation)
Cascade General Hospital
2 lbs. 13 oz., 14 inches
Mother: Blair Sandburg
Father: James J. Ellison

~oO0Oo~