Title: Chip Off the Old Block

Author: Juli

Fandom: The Sentinel

Pairing: Rafe/m, m/m

Rating: R

Archive: Permission given to archive at WWOMB

Series: Sequel to "Table for Two"

Other websites: None

Disclaimers: "The Sentinel" and its characters belong to Pet Fly and the SciFi Channel. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes; no money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended.

Notes: I've been told by several readers that this story is an emotional rollercoaster. So, if you read "Table for Two" and liked it, be warned that this sequel is has quite a bit more angst in it.

Summary: Rafe has an unwanted admirer.

Warnings: Contains a non-consensual scene

Chip Off The Old Block
By Juli

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Reasonably certain that he wasn't being subjected to the infamous ancient Chinese water torture procedure, Jim Ellison sleepily batted one hand at the steady drip-drip-drip of water droplets currently hitting his face. "Go 'way, I'm sleepin' here."

His half-awake protest caused his torturer to give a throaty chuckle. "Wakey, wakey, Jim. It's your turn for the shower." A quick kiss on the nose brought his lover into closer proximity, the clean scent of freshly washed Brian Rafe a more effective wake-up call than a pot of freshly brewed coffee. In spite the catchy TV commercial jingle, Mrs. Folgers was far from being the best part of waking up. No, in the humble opinion of Cascade's Sentinel, the best part of waking up was opening your eyes to feast upon the sight of your towel-clad lover smiling down at you

Even if it was entirely too early in the morning.

"I'm awake." For the first time in his life, Jim was in a relationship with someone who was an even earlier riser than himself. Predictably, the Sentinel was not handling it well.

"What's the matter?" Rafe asked, running a hand down Ellison's bare chest. "Don't tell me you didn't sleep well last night, I know better." Brian was still damp from his own shower and the contrast of the dewy moistness of his lover's skin against his own sleep-warm body made the older detective shiver. Noticing the shudder, Rafe's expression went from amused to concerned. "Hey, you're not coming down with something, are you?"

"Nope."

Used to his lover's early morning surliness, Brian was appeased by the short answer. Turning away from the other man, he braced himself to get up. "Ah, just your usual Mr. Crankypants morning routine."

A growl was the only warning he got. A big hand grabbed the back of his towel and, before he knew what hit him, the young detective was flat on his back with a wide-awake Sentinel crouched over him.

"I've got a crank in my pants to show you, little boy," Ellison purred.

Rafe looked at the predatory gleam in his lover's eyes and decided it was not a good time to remind the Sentinel that he was not a boy anymore. "Ummm... Jim...you don't have any pants on..."

The bigger man gave him a feral grin. "How convenient..."

And then the Sentinel proceeded to show his lover just how tantalizing a wake up call could be.

"Yo, H.W.! Wait up, man."

Brian Rafe turned around at his partner's call and waited for Henry Brown to catch up to him. He was in such a good mood from his early morning assignation with Jim that he didn't even give his customary eye-roll to Brown's pet nickname for him.

If Blair Sandburg was Major Crime's mascot, then Henry Brown was their court jester. Everyone that the affable detective liked was gifted with one of his nickname creations, much to the amusement or chagrin of his co-workers. And because Henry was being Henry, all of the names started with the letter H. Thus, Blair was Hair Boy because of his protectiveness of his curly locks. Joel Taggart was Handyman, due to his fingers' skill in diffusing bombs. Because he was the boss, Simon Banks was His Highness - but never, ever to his face. Brian Rafe had been dubbed Hollywood, or H.W. for short, for both his good looks and his dapper dressing habits. Brian hadn't minded, although he fussed publically. The newest detective in the department, getting the nickname meant he'd been accepted by his colleagues, that he was truly a part of the Major Crimes team.

Besides, it could have been worse. Jim's nickname was Hard Ass.

Brown caught up to him and slapped Rafe on the back as the two men stepped onto the elevator. "Man, that must have been some meal last night. I'm proud of you, old son!"

Rafe's forehead wrinkled in confusion. He'd told H, one of the few people privy to his relationship with Ellison, to pass the word to Jim about who'd be having dinner with. "What do you mean?"

Brian had felt sorry for William Ellison, being kidnaped by a serial killer out to get even with his son. When Jim had been unable to look after his father that evening, Rafe had volunteered, hoping to get to know the elder Ellison better. He had even dared to have hopes that maybe someday they would be able to tell Jim's dad about their relationship. A good plan, but it had backfired. It turned out that William was attracted to Brian and had made a clumsy pass at the younger man. To make matters worse, he wouldn't take no for an answer and Rafe had ended up walking out on him. Jim had been understanding about the whole incident, surprised but relieved to find out about his father's sexual preferences, but Rafe had a lingering bad feeling about the whole thing...

"That was inspired," Brown answered, not noticing his partner's uneasiness at mentioning last night's dinner appointment. "Letting on that you were having dinner with Jim's old man, supporting one of you brothers in blue, when all the time you were just blowing smoke for what you two were really up to. And here everyone felt sorry for Jimbo 'cause he had to do paperwork" Henry shook his bald head in appreciation. "Paperwork, my ass! I knew you guys have to sneak around, but I didn't know you could be so devious..."

By this time, the elevator had arrived at Major Crimes' floor. The doors opened up to a busy hallway, the presence of so many potential eavesdroppers preventing Rafe from asking just what the hell his partner was talking about. Laughing, Henry brandished the report his was carrying, using it to salute the confused detective before heading down the hallway.

Rafe was still staring after him in puzzlement when Simon's assistant, Rhonda, walked by.

"Looks like somebody was a good boy last night," she teased, tweaking his suit lapel as she passed. "Whoever she is, she's a keeper." Giggling at his perplexed expression, she gently pushed him towards the squad room. "Go on, you're late enough as it is. But I guess we all know why..." He couldn't help but notice the witnesses to the strange encounter were grinning at him.

"Nuts, the lot of them," Rafe muttered under his breath, finally entering the squad room and realizing what all of the fuss was about.

His desk, assuming it was still there under the fragrant sea of red, was covered with vase upon vase of red roses. Brian didn't even want to guess how many dozens were there. Only a very rich or a very obsessed man could afford such an ostentatious display. Jim would never take that kind of risk at the station, which meant....

"Oh, shit."

You've never been teased until you've been teased by a cop. Or, in Rafe's case, a whole precinct full of cops.

Outsiders couldn't understand what it was to be a police officer. Didn't know the pressure of being a moving target every time you went to work. That tension had to be relieved in some way and jokes were often a harmless enough method of releasing some pressure before it built up too much. Intellectually, it made sense.

Unless you were on the receiving end. Or, worse yet, someone you loved was.

Jim Ellison watched the good-natured grin plastered on his lover's face become more and more forced. By the time the Sentinel arrived, having been told by Simon to take a little time to recover from the previous day's events, the sport of Brian-bating had been in full swing. Rafe had been asked, repeatedly, if he was going to recreate the infamous rose petal/bed scene from "American Beauty;" been cited for running a flower stand without a license; and had half the people on the floor talking to him with an Eliza Doolittle accent. At the moment, the crew from the forensics lab were just finishing up serenading him with the theme song from "The Rose."

As they took their bows, Brian insisted that each singer take a rose as a token of his appreciation. He'd been working hard all morning at giving the offending flowers away but with twelve dozen to start with, he'd had yet to make a discernable dent in their numbers.

Jim had been working hard all morning at not exploding. Rafe was putting up a good front, but the Sentinel could tell how much it was costing his lover to be nonchalant about the whole thing. Brian's heart was beating just a little too fast. His voice was just a shade too loud. Rafe was just a little too eager to laugh at his own expense. Ellison knew the teasing wasn't malicious, but he longed to be able to comfort the younger man, to pull him into his arms and....

... throw him down on the floor and mount him right there in the middle of the squad room, making it clear to the whole damn Cascade PD just who Brian Rafe belonged to...

Jim shook himself, forcing his eyes to stop watching Rafe's every movement and get back to where they belonged, studying the report in front of him. He'd already put a call in to Blair at the university. He needed his Guide to help him get this jealousy under control. Another call had gone to William Ellison, arranging for his father to meet him at the loft for dinner that evening. Brian had tried to tell him last night that his dad might be a problem, but like a fool, he hadn't listened. Well, in this case, flowers spoke louder than words and now Jim had a bulletin of his own to deliver.

Brian Rafe was off the market. Period. And, father or no, the old man had better get the message this time.

"Major Crimes, Detective Rafe speaking." Reaching across his blessedly clear desk for a file, Rafe answered the phone almost absently.

"Last night, I thought you looked too young to be a bonafide detective, but you answer so professionally, I'm going to have to revise my opinion - although, I still think you're too attractive to be hiding behind a badge."

The first thing Brian thought of when he heard William's smug voice was that it was a good thing for the elder Ellison that his son was absent from the squad room at the moment. Rafe's unlikely rescue from being teased to death had been Blair Sandburg. The grad student, having been warned by Jim about the mound of roses that had been delivered to Rafe, had arrived at Major Crimes prepared with a list of nursing homes. He and Jim were currently out delivering roses on their lunch break. Brian only hoped that Blair's breezy charm would offset his lover's scowl. There were times when Jim Ellison's glare could be too effective. It would negate the charitable action of donating the flowers if the Sentinel scared one of the nursing home residents into an early grave.

"Brian? Are you still there, sweetheart? I hope you liked the flowers. I wanted something beautiful but classic, just like you."

Brian's hand clenched on the telephone receiver. "I am not your sweetheart," he grated out between clenched teeth, careful to keep his voice down. The last thing he needed was to give his co-workers new fodder for their gossip.

The soft chuckle coming out of the telephone further put his nerves to the test. "Ah, playing hard to get, are we?"

Rafe had just enough presence of mind to do a quick scan of nearby desks. Since the squad room was relatively empty at the moment, he let more of his exasperation leak into his voice. "Listen to me and listen to me good. I am not playing hard to get because there is nothing for you to get. I told you last night and I'm telling you again - I'm in a relationship. I'm not interested. Not now. Not next week. Not ever. Got that?" He ended the conversation by slamming the receiver down, giving the phone a final glare before turning back to his work.

He allowed himself one last muttered, "prick" before forcing his attention to the case he and Brown had been assigned that morning. William Ellison was not worth his time and, besides, Jim would straighten it all out that evening.

If he said it to himself often enough, the young detective might even start to believe it.

Across town, William Ellison jerked the phone away from his ear, but not quick enough to avoid the loud click that accompanied Brian's termination of their conversation. Carefully, the older man placed the telephone back in its cradle, his fingers stroking over its hard plastic in lieu of the soft flesh that he longed to caress.

"I don't know what the younger generation is coming to," he mourned to the empty room. "Nowadays it's all 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am.' What ever happened to an old fashioned courtship?"

Sighing, William levered himself up from his leather chair. It was a good thing he'd already hired that private detective. Soon he would have all the details he needed about Brian Rafe in order to woo the young man properly.

As for Rafe's objections, they were likely just a token resistence and easily overcome. The young man obviously had never been courted by someone of quality before and was unsure of how to react. His inexperience was quite charming, actually.

William Ellison had a lot he could teach him....

Funny thing was, Brian didn't even like beer.

The young detective grimaced as he took another long pull from the frosty bottle. He kept beer in the refrigerator for Jim's sake. Rafe himself had never cultivated a taste for alcohol or for any other mind altering substances. He knew too well how devastating their affects could be and usually didn't want to chance the loss of control, even with something as relatively benign as beer.

There were, however, exceptions and this evening was a big one.

After the work day he'd just endured, Brian had felt a craving for alcohol. He didn't like the beer's bitter flavor but at least it replaced the acrid taste in his mouth left from William Ellison's grandiose flower statement. And the man had the gall just the night before to claim that he could be discreet? If having twelve dozen roses delivered to the squad room was his idea of discretion, then Ellison must have gotten lessons in subtly from Barnum and Bailey, that's all Rafe could say. Lord knew a public gesture that extravagant had turned Major Crimes into a three-ring circus.

Brian's reveries were interrupted by the distant slam of a car door shutting. His ears weren't as good as the Sentinel's, but he'd be willing to bet money that it had been a truck door slamming, not a car door. Which meant that Jim would soon be arriving and he'd have to look the older man in the face, knowing that his lover's father had just made a very public, very blatant play for him. It was no matter that the rest of the precinct didn't know it was Jim's father that was responsible for the roses. Rafe knew and Jim knew. That was more than sufficient.

A symphony of "if onlys" reverberated through his mind. If only William Ellison hadn't been attracted to him... If only Jim had believed him last night when he'd tried to warn him that his father's interest might be a problem... If only Rafe were the type of guy that could say "no" and be believed... No matter the self recriminations, though, he wouldn't ask himself what would have been if only he and Jim weren't in love. That was a scenario that he didn't want to contemplate, not even in the silence of his own heart.

Thankfully, before his thoughts could get any grimmer, the door to the kitchen opened and the Sentinel was there. Brian gulped as he saw the Need etched clearly across the hard planes of the older man's face.

"Hey, babe," he tried for a casual tone, but broke off when the bigger man stalked across the room.

When Jim reached Brian, the bigger man ever so gently reached for the beer bottle, rescuing it from his lover's rapidly faltering grip and carefully placing it on the kitchen counter. That operation successfully completed, Ellison made use of every bit of his two inch height advantage to pin his lover to the counter.

Nuzzling behind Rafe's ear, Jim's voice was trembling with longing. "Brian... I've got to... I need to..."

Rafe didn't require further explanation. It was enough to know his lover needed something and that, apparently, it was aid that he could give. Raising his hands in surrender, he crooned encouragement. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I'm all yours."

"Mine," the Sentinel growled in agreement, Brian's submission giving him the freedom to capitulate to the compulsion that had wracked him all afternoon.

Ellison started behind Rafe's ear, nuzzling him and drinking in the rich scent of the younger man. That area successfully mapped, he trailed down Brian's neck, subtly tasting the skin along the exposed and vulnerable neck. The other man's shirt was a momentary barrier, but an abrupt yank divested him of it, the buttons making a soft pinging noise as they scattered all over the kitchen. The t-shirt underneath was simply shoved up and out of the way, bunching up to reveal the hardened chest underneath. The Sentinel lingered there for several moments, enjoying the sensation of muscles rippling underneath soft skin. His tongue then dipped playfully into Rafe's navel, his strong hands keeping his lover in place, despite the younger man's squirms of pleasure.

Time, not to mention Rafe's breathing, seemed to stop when the Sentinel unbuttoned Rafe's pants. Jim undid the top button and slid the zipper down just enough to slip his hands inside both the trousers and the briefs underneath. Instead of releasing Brian's cock to the open air, however, Ellison knelt. Once on his knees, the older man buried his face into his lover's exposed pubic hair, breathing deep of his mate's scent at the spot where it was at its most powerful.

The tableau held for several heartbeats, then the Sentinel lifted his face a bit, resting his head against his lover's bare stomach. For the first time since he'd entered the squad room and realized that another had tried to stake a claim to his lover with those damn roses, Jim Ellison seemed a peace.

Rafe let the older man rest against him, gently carding his fingers through the short brown hair. Blair had warned him that Jim would be a bit more territorial than an average lover. Brian snorted faintly at the recollection. "Territorial" seemed inadequate to describe what had just happened, just as "average" was woefully deficient in describing Jim Ellison.

Even the quiet sound he'd made had disturbed his lover and Brian watched with some disappointment as Jim stirred. Blue eyes, softer now that his claim had been reaffirmed, raised to meet his. Sensing that Ellison was about to say something, he beat the older man to the punch.

"Feel better?"

Jim nodded, then rose smoothly to his feet. "Yeah. Thanks, babe."

There was something decadent to standing in your kitchen, pants undone and t-shirt bunched up around your nipples but Ellison's arms around him made it restful rather than risque.

"Anytime."

Soft lips bestowed a kiss to the younger man's temple. "You tried to tell me, but I wouldn't pay attention. I'm sorry about that. Pop's coming over to the loft for dinner tonight. I'll put a stop to it then."

Neither man needed a definition of what was meant by "it."

"Don't beat yourself up," Brian reassured his lover. "Next time, you'll listen."

That provoked a reaction. "Next time?"

Rafe ignored the suggestion of a growl in his lover's tone of voice. Jim Ellison might possess him, but only because Brian allowed it. "Yeah, next time one of your relatives gets the hots for me, you'll hearken to my warning."

The smaller man's attempt at humor was rewarded with another chaste kiss. "I wish I could stay here tonight."

"You can."

Ellison looked at Brian in question. His Sentinel instincts might be urging Jim to set his father straight post haste, but Rafe had been every bit as insistent. He was surprised to see his lover backing off on the subject.

"I mean, after you have dinner with your dad." The younger man blushed, abashed at being too eager. "If you want to, that is..."

The kiss was bestowed on the mouth this time and it wasn't at all chaste. "I'll always want to, you know that."

"I know," Brian said. "It's just that, it's your father."

"You say that like it's something sacred."

Rafe leaned back, almost right out of Jim's arms. "He's your father, Jim," the younger detective repeated, a frown marring his face. "That is sacred."

Jim chuckled without humor. "That just goes to show that you don't know my old man. He's not exactly something out of 'Father Knows Best.'"

"Yeah, but his still your dad." Rafe insisted.

Ellison looked at his lover carefully. He and Rafe had been together for several months but he'd been unable to coax much from the younger man about his family. Truth be known, he had a few skeletons in his own closet and hadn't tried too hard. Now, something in Brian's attitude made him wish he'd been more persistent.

"I tell you what, I'll make you a deal. You promise to let me worry about Papa Ellison and I promise to come over after he leaves. How's that?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Through the open window, they could hear the bells of the nearby cathedral chime the hour. "Damn, I've got to go," Ellison said, looking at his own watch in disbelief. "He's going to be there in about 90 minutes, I've got to get hopping."

"Good luck," Rafe said, planting a quick kiss on Ellison's lips before wiggling out of his arms. "Wouldn't do for your dad to arrive early and only have Sandburg to 'entertain' him."

Ellison shuddered, a gesture that was only partially feigned, at the thought. "Don't even tempt fate, Bri. Sandburg is safely on his way to his lady friend's for the evening, or so he promised me."

The Sentinel had been making his reluctant way to the door, but mention of the anthropologist had reminded him of something. "Ummm.... Blair did have a suggestion that might help me with this territorial thing." His face turned red as it was the older detective's turn to be bashful.

"What?" Rafe prompted when his lover was reluctant to finish the thought. "Don't keep me in suspense here. If it's Sandburg's idea, it's bound to be good. Wacky as hell, but good."

"He suggested that I get something that smells like you to have handy. Said it should act as an 'olfactory reminder of my mate.'"

Jim Ellison didn't often look cute. Daunting? Yes. Attractive? On a daily basis. Too sexy for his own damn good? Most of the time. But cute wasn't his usual trademark. Brian took in the sight of the older man blushing to the tips of his ears, eyes downcast, scuffling his feet around in nonexistent dirt and took pity on him.

Quickly stripping off his t-shirt, he threw it to the older man. "Will this do?"

Ellison caught the thrown garment and immediately buried his face in it. "Perfect."

Then, brandishing the Rafe-scented underwear, the Sentinel went off to do battle with his father, his step jaunty with confidence in the outcome.

Brian, left behind to wonder and worry, didn't have as much faith in William Ellison. He'd had prior experience, after all, in parents' reactions to finding out about their son's preference for male lovers. If William accepted Jim's life choice, if the elder Ellison accepted that his son was involved with a man he himself desired, if Brian didn't lose Jim over this whole shitty mess...

If... if... if.

"If" only consisted of two little letters, but still managed to be the meanest damn word in the whole human language.

"Want some more spaghetti, Pop?"

William Ellison leaned back from his son's table, hands contentedly folded over a full stomach. "No thanks, Jimmy. The spirit's willing but the body....Where'd you learn to cook like that, anyway?"

"Self preservation, Pop, from back when I was married. Carolyn is an intelligent woman with an amazing eye for forensic detail, but she can't cook to save her own life."

The detective picked up his wine glass and gestured for his father to do the same, leading the older man to the living room area in order to watch the sunset. Jim had steered clear of volatile subjects til now, wanting his dad to be at ease for their true conversation.

"I wondered about Carolyn," William said after a moment. "I never met her, of course, but she seemed like a good match for you."

Neither man mentioned that the reason that William Ellison had never been introduced to his daughter-in-law was that his son hadn't invited him to the wedding. Or any other part of his life, for that matter. Until now.

The younger Ellison sat down, placing his wine glass on the coffee table. Enough small talk, it was time to get to the point.

"I wasn't exactly what she wanted, Dad," he started out, watching his father's back as the older man remained at the window, gazing out at the city. "I wasn't attentive enough. Didn't kiss her deeply enough." The tone of his voice hardened. "Didn't send her dozens of roses at work."

As the two men's eyes met in the window's reflection, the loft became silent enough to hear the moist plopping sound of the kitchen faucet dripping. Idly, Jim berated himself for not giving the spigot the last hard twist necessary to keep it from dribbling.

"He told you." William didn't turn from the window, his voice brittle enough to break glass.

"Yeah, he told me, Pop."

The older Ellison finally turned to face his son, heedless of the wine spilling from his forgotten glass. "There used to be a code of honor among men, back when silence literally meant life or death. I thought Brian would be more of a gentleman than that."

Jim snorted. "Brian told you last night he had a lover. You chose not to believe him. He had to tell me, Dad."

William Ellison looked at his son, his amazement at Jim's attitude showing on his face. "You're more angry about that than you are about ... me." Even knowing that his oldest son now knew his deepest secret, William couldn't say the words "I'm gay" out loud. Too many years of hiding with too much at stake.

"Brian had to tell me, Pop," Jim repeated. "because I'm his lover."

Silence reigned again. As if in slow motion, William backed up, sitting down abruptly as his knees connected with the sofa behind.

"You're gay."

"Yeah," his son affirmed, quickly adding, "So are you."

William leaned forward and went to put his head in his hands, almost smacking himself with the long-forgotten wine glass. Looking at it as if in wonderment at its sudden appearance in his hand, he hastily put the neglected goblet down on a nearby table. Elbows on his knees, his grizzled head hung down as the older man fought to integrate the life-altering news he'd just heard.

Jim gave his father his mental space, but monitored his physical condition. A rapid heartbeat was to be expected, given what William had just been given to mentally digest, but he wanted to make sure he hadn't sent his old man into cardiac arrest.

Without lifting his head, the older Ellison addressed his son. "So, you're a queer as well as a freak."

The Sentinel's eyes widened in surprise. "Excuse me?"

Angry blue eyes lifted to meet his own. Jim Ellison's colleagues would have recognized that glare, a mirror image of the detective's.

"Don't give me that crap, Jimmy. With those mutant ears of yours, you heard me just fine."

Jim's surprise had passed, allowing him to meet anger with anger. "Well, maybe you had just better repeat yourself anyway."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" William got up and started pacing. "I don't believe you! A queer! Do you have any idea of the plans you just ruined?"

The Sentinel got up, putting himself in his father's path. "What the hell are you talking about? I just admitted to you that I'm gay, that I know you are too. Of all people in the world, I thought you'd understand."

The older Ellison stopped just shy of his son, not afraid to get nose to nose with the powerfully built man. "Understand? What? That you just reinforced every misbegotten cliche about gay men that homophobes hold near and dear to their hearts? That any son raised by a gay man will automatically turn out to be gay too?" Sickened, William turned away. "You were my proof, Jimmy. You and Stephen both. That's why I pushed you so hard. That's why you had to be perfect. I thought, if I ever did go public about being gay, that at least everyone would see that I raised my kids right. That I didn't corrupt them."

"You didn't corrupt me, Pop. I don't know why I'm wired this way, I just am." Jim reached out a hand to clasp his father's shoulder, but the other man shrugged it off.

William's thoughts were running circles. Gay... Jim... male lovers... Brian.... As thoughts of Rafe crossed his mind, he couldn't help but think of the attractive young man clasped in his son's naked arms...

"You know," William turned back to the Sentinel, as the mental image provoked a different train of thought, "Brian Rafe is a sweet piece of ass." The evening's multiple emotional shocks were making the older man cruder than he'd normally be. "He tempted me and I haven't seen a tail I liked well enough to chase in a long time. You don't suppose that Brian is just a phase you're going through?"

Jim clenched his hands at his side, keeping the fists there by sheer strength of will. "Brian is not a phase, he's a man. One I happen to care about a lot. You're just going to have to accept that."

The picture in William Ellison's mind shifted. Now, instead of being cradled in his Jim's arms, Brian Rafe was writhing in his own embrace, moaning at how much better a lover he was than his son.

"No," the older Ellison said. "I don't think I can accept that."

Jim couldn't quite fathom the glassy look in his father's eyes but the tangy scent of the other man's arousal was clear to his heightened senses. "Brian's off limits, Dad. I mean it."

"I think," his father responded, rather loftily, "that's up to Brian."

Blue eyes met, neither man willing to back down.

"I think you better go, Pop."

Without a word, his father gathered his coat and headed for the door. With his hand on the knob, he stopped to utter a final "I don't have any gay sons," before heading out of the loft.

As the sound of his father's steps receded, Jim murmured, "No, Pop, I don't suppose you do."

The detective scrubbed his hands over his face before heading into the kitchen and opening up the drawer where he'd stashed Rafe's t-shirt. Taking out the soft undergarment, he buried his face in it. He wanted desperately to leave, to bury the pain of this whole messed up night in his lover's warms arms. But even more than that, he wanted to eradicate the stench of his father from his living space.

Sighing, the Sentinel put the shirt back and headed for the closet that held the cleaning supplies. Luckily the loft was small enough that it wouldn't take too long.

Then he could get back into Brian's arms where he belonged.

Brian woke as the mattress dipped underneath his lover's weight. "Jim?" He asked, still more than half asleep. He'd tried to wait up for Ellison, but the day's tensions had caught up with him.

"Yeah, babe, it's me."

The older man's defeated tone brought him to complete wakefulness. Half sitting up, he caressed the nearest bare shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Jim hadn't turned the light on. Rafe knew that the Sentinel didn't need the light to see, but all he himself could make out in the dim illumination was the bigger man's form spread out on the mattress, flat on his back. Rafe chose to leave the lamp off anyway. If his lover needed the comfort that darkness afforded him, then that's what he would have.

"You were right. It wasn't all sweetness and light."

Brian waited for a little more explanation but none was forthcoming. "I'm sorry." There didn't really didn't seem like there was anything else to say.

Jim blew his breath out in an explosive sigh, then turned to wrap his arms around his lover, nestling the younger man against him. Brian allowed himself to be used like a live teddy bear, offering the Sentinel the tactile comfort the other man seemed to crave.

"You know what the worst part was?" Came a muffled question.

"What?"

"It was all about him. He was upset, but more because my sexuality reflected poorly on him. Not because it's hard to be gay in our society, or about the risk of AIDS, or even how dangerous it is being a gay cop. The only thing that mattered to him was that my sexual preference made him look bad."

Brian wrapped himself around his larger lover, trying to physically squeeze comfort into the hurting man. The silence of the bedroom combined with the warm support of his lover's arms slowly soothed Jim and eventually the older man drifted off into uneasy dreams.

Settling back against the bed's headboard, Rafe curled around the Sentinel, determined to protect the other man from any nightmares that might come. He didn't doubt that they would happen, it was just a matter of when. He knew this particular pain, the anguish a parent's rejection could cause.

Damn, but if he didn't know it all too well.

"Well, Bill, for a man of your age, you're in remarkably good health."

William Ellison paused while buttoning his shirt long just enough to lift one eyebrow sardonically. "'My age,' Greg? We were in the same class at Yale, if memory serves me right."

The other man laughed, as much old friend as physician to this patient. "Nothing wrong with your mind, that's for certain." Dr. Linder put his clipboard aside and became more serious. "Now you're sure about this?"

"Hell, yes." Ellison was emphatic. "I'm relieved to know I'm in good shape for my age, but my lover is much younger. I need to be able to keep up."

"At our age," both men smiled at the emphasis the doctor put on 'our' this time, "there's no reason to expect that you'll be able to perform the way you did when you were younger. That's perfectly normal."

William finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it in. "Ah, but you haven't seen this one, Greg. Brown hair, gorgeous smile, a body that just won't quit. The last thing I want is to have this beautiful creature be disappointed and regretting hooking up with an old man."

Dr. Greg Linder looked long and hard at his old acquaintance. He'd been William Ellison's physician for over thirty years and had a good idea what the other man's love like had been like of late: non-existent. "Sounds like a real looker. Hard to satisfy?"

"You have no idea."

"Okay, can't have you wearing yourself to the bone trying to keep her satisfied." Linder gave in to the inevitable. Besides, he was honest enough to admit his hesitancy had more to do with jealousy that the businessman had snagged a young honey than it did for medical reasons. "I'll give you a choice. I can write you a prescription for Viagra... or you can participate in a test program for a new potency drug, Vytal. Early reports are that it makes Viagra look as potent as a sugar pill."

Ellison didn't hesitate. After a long drought, Brian was like a drink fresh water and William had every intention of slaking his thirst. If that meant a drug to make sure his body was up to the task, so be it.

"I'll try the Vytal." He winked at his doctor. "Don't want to take any chances on this one getting away. Can I get it now or do I have to wait?"

Greg laughed. "My, she must be something special if you're this impatient. Now, normally, you'd have to go through a prescreening to be chosen to participate in the trial. But I think I'm familiar enough with your medical history to sneak you in." Writing quickly on a tablet, the physician filled out a prescription. "Take this to the pharmacy in this clinic, they'll be the only ones around that have Vytal. And make sure you read the directions and follow them to the letter."

William accepted the prescription, only half listening to the warning. He was one step closer to getting Brian Rafe in his bed. Thanks to Dr. Linder's assistance, now once he got Rafe there, he'd be sure to fully enjoy the experience.

"Thanks, Greg," William said, reaching out to shake the other man's hand. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

"Well, since you pulled me in on my day off to give you this impromptu physical, how about we play some golf this afternoon? I haven't seen you at the club lately. As your doctor, I'd advise the exercise."

"Maybe some other time," Ellison said. "But with these-" he held up the prescription,"I assure you that I'll soon be getting all the 'exercise' I can handle."

The next day, the roses were gone, but not forgotten. Rafe had been half afraid of what he'd find when he came in to the squad room that morning; cops with a good joke were like dogs with a meaty bone. To his relief, however, his co-workers had taken it pretty easy on him. The only teasing had consisted of some good-natured razzing and a vase of wilted weeds that adorned his desk.

It was a relief to have Major Crimes back to normal. Or, at least, what passed for normality in their precinct.

Brian was grateful. Not so much for his own sake, but for Jim's. The heckling the day before had gotten on his lover's nerves even more than his own; the Sentinel had a protective streak a mile wide and had chafed when he couldn't respond on Rafe's behalf. Add that to the territorial urge brought on by another man making a move on his mate, mix in his father's rejection, and you had a combination sure to upset the most stoic of personalities.

Rafe nudged his partner on the shoulder as he made for his desk, having spent his lunch hour taking food out to Jim and Blair, who were stuck in the warehouse district on a stakeout. "Hey, H, did I miss anything earth shattering?"

"Nah, bro," his partner responded in his typical easy manner. "We managed to get by without you. Still waitin' for our report from Forensics, though."

"Figures," Rafe said, settling in to his desk chair. His eye was caught by the closed door to Simon Banks' office. Normally that only happened when someone was getting reamed out, but the squad room was deceptively quiet. His interest piqued, the young detective looked closer. Upon inspection, he could tell that Simon wasn't alone in his office, shadows of at least two other people could be discerned.

"H, who's in with the captain?"

Brown stopped frowning at his computer and looked up. "Dunno. They were in there when I got back from lunch. Rhonda says it's the Chief of Police, the Deputy Mayor and some sort of VP guest."

Rafe bit his lip. Although Jim and his anthropologist sidekick had the best solve rate in the precinct, they also had the biggest talent for getting into trouble.

Henry saw the worried look and tried to reassure his friend. "Don't look like that. Ol' Hard Ass hasn't busted up any department vehicles lately, has he? Hell, it's probably just some grand high poobah that the Chief wants to impress, so he's parading him through, making all the captains kiss his butt."

Brian was saved from answering by the sound of Simon's door opening. Immediately both detectives bent their heads over the computer terminals, looking like school boys caught scheming against the substitute teacher.

"As you can see, gentlemen, most of my team are out on the streets right now, but I'd like to introduce you to two of my finest..."

Rafe obediently looked up, secretly amused to referred to as one of Simon's finest. Usually that accolade was reserved for the Ellison/Sandburg team. Standing up, he shook the Chief of Police's hand, he'd met the man at the ceremony that had made him a detective, although he didn't expect to be remembered. The Deputy Mayor was a familiar face, from television and the newspapers if not from personal experience. He didn't get a look at the third person in the group until the Deputy Mayor moved on to greet Henry.

"You might recollect Detective Rafe from the other day, Mr. Ellison," Simon said to Jim's father. "He was one of the backup personnel on the Foster case."

"Oh, I have an eye for quality, Captain Banks," William said, clasping Brian's hand. "Rest assured, I remember Detective Rafe very well."

Rafe didn't know what to do. He'd extended his hand automatically, before he'd gotten a good look at just who he was being introduced to. After yesterday's stunt with the flowers, William Ellison was the last person he wanted to touch, but there was no way to retrieve his hand without appearing rude.

"Chief McGinty is an old college chum of mine," Ellison went on to explain to the two detectives as he released Brian's hand. "and Deputy Mayor Grindberg and I are on the board of the Luna Foundation together. After the officers of your department saved my life, I wanted to come down and give them a personal report on what a fine job Major Crimes does."

Rafe surreptitiously wiped his hand on his pants leg as the other VP's chimed in their appreciation of the MC staff's work. Despite the smokescreen William was blowing at the others, he knew full well why the man was here. Name dropping was the name of Ellison's game; letting Brian Rafe know just how well connected he was.

"I'm sorry that Jim's not here right now," Simon apologized. "I'm sure that he'd love to give you a tour of the precinct."

"Surely that could still be arranged," Chief McGinty said, giving the captain a look that clearly indicated that Banks was expected to come through. "After all, Mr. Ellison came all the way downtown just to pay his regards to Major Crimes. The least we can do is show him a little Cascade P.D. hospitality."

"Captain Banks, I don't mean to intrude on your valuable time," William said congenially. "I image that a police captain has more important things to do than schlepping me around. Perhaps one of your men would be able to shepherd me through the highlights?"

Banks considered his options. William Ellison was pleasant enough, certainly a cut above Sandburg's flaky mother, but giving him a guided tour would eat up time better spent elsewhere. His choices of substitute hosts, though, currently consisted of Henry Brown or Brian Rafe. Not only were they the only detectives present while people trickled back in after the lunch hour, but they also had time available as they were waited for a Forensics report.

Normally his choice would be Rafe, hands down, but Simon was another one of the few aware of the young detective's true relationship with the Sentinel. He hated to put Brian in the awkward spot of ushering his lover's father through a visit of Major Crimes. His other choice, however, was Henry Brown, a good detective but a notorious goof. Considering William Ellison's connections, Simon gave Rafe a silent apology as his duty as a captain won out over his duty as a friend.

"That's very understanding of you Mr. Ellison. Since you and Detective Rafe are already acquainted, perhaps you wouldn't mind if he showed you around?"

Rafe felt his face blanch as William smiled at the captain. "No, I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, it would be absolutely delightful."

"So?"

Jim Ellison looked at his partner, surprised to hear the anthropologist's voice after nearly an hour of silence. "So, what?"

"You gonna tell me what's wrong or are you going to stare a hole in the windshield?"

The detective shifted in his seat, not having been aware that he'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts. "Sandburg, we're stuck in the middle of the industrial district, waiting for the bad guys to show up. Until they arrive, there's nothing really to talk about."

Blair sighed. As usual, Jim's jaw was speaking louder than his mouth, its clenching a sure sign that his friend was stewing over something. "What's there to talk about? Oh, maybe that you just found out your dad is gay. Or maybe that your dad made a pass at your lover. Or, for variety, how about the fact that your father didn't like hearing that you're gay too?"

Jim turned his head to give his Guide an unwavering stare. "How about a different subject."

"C'mon, Jim! You were happy to see Brian when he dropped off lunch, but since then you've been sour. "

Ellison tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. He didn't want to talk about this. Shouldn't, really, except with Brian. But, not only was Sandburg as persistent as a case of the crabs, he also was a good observer about people. Giving in to the inevitable, Jim tried to explain.

"This thing with my dad... it's really getting to Brian. More than it should. I mean, it's my father, I don't know why it's bothering him more than me."

Blair tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed as he thought about it. "So, which do you think is bothering him more? The fact that it's your dad or the fact that a guy persisted after Brian turned him down. Man, those roses! He'll be living that down forever."

As usual, Sandburg had seen right to the crux of his problem.

"Hell, I don't know, Chief." Ellison shifted in his seat again. "You remember when I told you about letting Brian in on the Sentinel stuff?" When Blair nodded, Jim continued. "Well, I said he took it pretty evenly, wasn't upset that I'd been keeping a secret. What I didn't tell you was that Brian had something he wanted to tell me that night, a secret of his own."

When the older man stopped, Blair prodded him. "Well, what was it? Can you tell me?"

Jim gave a short bark of laughter. "Can't tell you what I don't know, Chief. I stopped him from revealing it to me."

"You what? Why?"

Rubbing his chin, Ellison tried to put his reasoning into words. "It wasn't 'show and tell,' Sandburg. I didn't want him to think it was a case of 'I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours.' I wanted Brian to open up to me when he was truly ready, not just because he thought he had to reciprocate." Softly, almost to himself, he summed it up. "I wanted him to feel safe."

"Safe?"

"Yeah," Jim blushed, a little embarrassed that anyone, even Blair, was hearing him talk so tenderly. "Brian puts up a good front, but he's not as happy-go-lucky as he wants everyone to think. I'm pretty sure there are scars he keeps hidden. I only hope I didn't put him off, make him think I didn't ever want to hear what he had to tell me. I just wanted him to wait until he was ready."

"Jim," Blair said, putting his hand on his friend's arm. "Trust me, 'safe' is something you do really, really well. When he feels secure enough, he'll open up to you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do." Blair grinned suddenly. "Believe me, on the subject of getting reluctant people to open up and talk, I'm the expert."

"Really? They teach you that in those psych classes?"

The younger man snorted. "Not hardly, man. I got my all my experience at it just by being your roommate."

"I don't know why you'd want to go in here, Mr. Ellison," Rafe said as he opened the door in question. "It's just the break room."

"Brian, please, not so formal. I've asked you three times already to call me William." The elder Ellison looked around in satisfaction as they entered the room. It was crowded with vending machines but empty otherwise. "And I think you under appreciate its charms. This is where the 'boys in blue' gather to commiserate with their fellow urban warriors, the one place where you can let down your guard."

For the first time, Rafe found himself glad that Brown hadn't been tapped for this chore. There was no way that H could have listened to that pile of crap with a straight face.

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" Brian forced himself to be polite. It didn't matter that William Ellison was on this tour as a pretense, Simon had trusted him to represent the department and he was determined to be a good host.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Brian. Thanks, I'd love one."

The younger man turned towards the coffee machine, fervently hoping that William didn't think this was a "coffee, tea, or me" scenario. So far during the tour, his unwanted suitor had been a perfect gentleman, but Rafe had no illusions that it would continue that way.

"Do you take cream or sugar?"

"Just sugar, thanks."

Brian looked, but although the creamer was full, they were out of sugar packets. He started digging through the cabinet looking for the elusive sweetener, bending over in order to get to the very back. Anxious to find what he needed to get Ellison his coffee and vacate this too-secluded room, he lost track of the other man. Before he knew it, William had moved in close, too close, and was standing so that his pelvis was pushed against Rafe's ass.

From the feel of things, William's pelvis was pretty happy to be there too.

"What the hell are you doing?" Brian hissed, not moving for fear of drawing attention from outside. The last thing he needed was for someone to see this.

"I'm a firm believer in couples supporting one another. You saw earlier today, I have a lot of contacts that can help you, Brian. With your looks and my connections, you'd soon have a captaincy of your own."

Rafe didn't know what made him angrier. The fact that William was taking such liberties with his body, the risk he took doing it when and where another officer could walk in at any moment, or the assumption that Brian would sleep with someone in order to get ahead in the department.

Standing up, Brian turned around so that he and Ellison were - literally - nose to nose. "I'm not interested in your connections. I'm not interested in how you can further my career. And I'm sure as hell not interested in you. Now, I suggest you take your coffee now, because I guarantee you, that's the only thing you'll be getting from me."

He held out the cup of coffee, still sans sugar, to William. The older man hesitated for a moment, seeming to consider saying something, but eventually he just accepted the offered beverage. Brian watched while his lover's father sipped it, totally unsympathetic when Ellison winced. Without sugar, it was no doubt bitter. God, he hoped it was.

"Well," William finally broke the tense silence. "I suppose the tour is over."

It was tempting to take the opening and end this uncomfortable encounter, but...

Rafe considered the areas of the precinct he hadn't shown the other man yet and then mentally grinned. This was going to be as petty as hell, but would be worth it.

"No, we're not quite through yet," he said, feigning disappointment that he couldn't be rid of his unwanted guest. "We've got one more area to see. It's not a section we show to everyone, but I think we can make an exception in your case."

"Splendid, Brian. Absolutely splendid."

Putting the slightest bit of a wiggle in his walk, Rafe made sure he had William's undivided attention as he led the unsuspecting man down the corridor and through the doors marked "morgue."

If the honorable William Ellison wanted to see Major Crimes, then Brian was determined to give the old prick an eyeful he wouldn't soon forget.

As Jim pulled up in front of Rafe's townhouse that evening, he didn't have to wonder where his lover was. The garage door was wide open while Brian worked inside. The younger man had been talking for weeks about tearing down the old shelving, put up years ago by the previous owner and in serious need of replacement. Ellison was surprised to see the task underway - he thought that the project was supposed to be one that the two of them would work on together.

Walking up the driveway, Ellison winced as a board was tossed from inside the garage, narrowly missing his head. "My hair's thin enough up there as it is," he teased as he approached the other man, "I don't need you using airborne lumber to shave even more off."

Brian looked up when he heard the Sentinel's voice, his gaze moving from Jim to where the plank had landed, eyes widening as he mentally plotted the board's trajectory and realized how close he'd come to hitting the other man. "God, Jim, I'm sorry! I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, babe, that was obvious. What's all this?" Jim used his chin to point at the shambles in the garage, all that was left of the old, rickety shelving. "I thought you were going to let me help you with this?"

It was the wrong question to ask or, maybe, it was just the wrong time to ask it.

"I do not need your help," Rafe carefully enunciated, eyes uncharacteristically full of angry fire. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I have been since I was fifteen. I made detective on my own work, I bought this house on my own and if I want to tear down the freaking shelves on my own, I can do that too."

Ellison held up his hands to show that he was harmless. "Hey, babe, I don't doubt that. You know me, I just look forward to getting all hot and sweaty with you, any way I can get it."

Rafe looked at him woodenly, all of his anger draining out at the understanding in the Sentinel's eyes. He dropped the board he'd been holding and walked over to the taller man, reaching up to cup his hand around Ellison's face. Even with the leather gloves he was wearing for protection, the tenderness of the gesture came through. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Jim shifted slightly to plant a kiss on a gloved palm. "I dunno, turned in all of your library books on time? Left all the law labels on your pillows and mattresses? Flossed after every meal?"

His quips had the desired effect. The pain in Rafe's eyes drained away and the younger man smiled grudgingly. "Hey, what happened here?" Brian asked. "You're usually the snarky one and I'm usually the clown."

Ellison's own smile faded. "You've got reason to snark, babe. Brown told me that my dad came down for a visit."

Brian let his hand drop and turned back to the debris that had formerly been shelves. "Yeah, well, I think Daddy Ellison got more than he bargained for."

"Yeah, I heard about the morgue. Blair'll be relieved."

Rafe turned back around, eyes full of question marks. "Blair? Why would he be relieved?"

Jim took a couple of steps closer to his lover. "I hear my old man beat Sandburg's regurgitating record, both for quick release and distance hurled."

"Yeah," Rafe chuckled, remembering. "It was a beautiful thing."

Ellison finally dared to lay a hand on Rafe's shoulder. "You know, you don't have to be so careful with my dad. He comes after you, take the gloves off and treat him like any other asshole that sniffs around where he's not wanted."

Brian shrugged, but carefully, so as to not dislodge Jim's hand. "I dunno. He's your father, I hate to come between you."

Ellison reached out one arm and pressed the garage door opener button, pulling Rafe into his embrace as the door shut enough to shield them from view. "Babe, any distance between me and my dad is his fault, not yours, trust me on this one. Okay?"

Rafe bit his lip in indecision, but finally nodded. "Okay."

"All right then." Satisfied, the Sentinel guided his lover towards the door into the house. "Now, how about you make up for getting hot and sweaty without me?"

"How?"

"Easy, babe," Jim explained as he took Brian's hand and led him inside, glad to see the desire back in the younger man's eyes. "By taking a shower with me and then getting hot and sweaty all over again."

Sally tsked at him reproachfully as she cleared away William's nearly untouched plate. She knew that her employer had gone to the doctor that morning and hadn't returned until much later in the afternoon, decidedly green about the gills. Ellison wasn't about to tell her that he'd puked his guts out at the sight of an autopsy being performed. Sally'd worked for him for decades and had the notion that her employer was invincible. He'd worked hard to foster that impression and had no intention of ruining it over the little prank that Brian had pulled on him. Never mind that the chicken breast she'd served him for dinner made him think of the cadaver's chest from that afternoon, cracked open for coroner to examine.

Let her think he was sick.

When the Asian woman finally left him in peace, William took the prescription drug bottle out of his pocket. He'd been surprised when his body had reacted to the sight of Brian's upturned ass that afternoon. Even without having taken the drug yet, he felt the blood start to flow to areas of his body that hadn't stirred in years.

Even the unfortunate incident in the morgue couldn't dull the flush of excitement that view of Rafe had caused.

Thumbing the bottle open, Ellison popped two of the pills after giving the directions only a cursory glance. He had to be ready for Brian, and soon.

Then, picking up the phone, he dialed the number of his private investigator. Brian showed more spirit this afternoon than he'd expected. He'd better just make sure that his private dick was finding the information he'd need to make the young detective a little more tractable.

And then Rafe would see who got the last laugh.

"I hate that suit."

Brian looked up in surprise. Facing the mirror, he could see his lover's reflection as Jim emerged from the bathroom, one towel around his waist and another across his shoulders. The older detective looked like a man who'd been well-loved the night before, which, in fact, was precisely the case.

Rafe checked his own appearance. Sure enough, he was still dressed in his favorite suit, a dark brown number that was tight in all the right places. A Versace, it was the best one he owned. "What's wrong with it?" Brian was confused. Ellison's taste wasn't as refined as his own, but the older man was no slouch in the dressing department either. Besides, he'd never said anything bad about it before.

While Rafe had been double-checking himself, the Sentinel padded up behind him, even more silent than normal in bare feet. Wrapping his arms around the smaller man, Ellison rested his chin on Brian's shoulder, so that as both men looked in the mirror, their faces were side-by-side.

"Because it's your 'don't look at me' suit."

His brief explanation did little to enlighten his lover. "What are you talking about, Jim? I mean, this is Versace, for crying out loud. It just begs to get noticed."

Jim's smile was sad. "That's precisely the point. This is the outfit you wear when you want people to notice the clothes, not the man in them. My dad really shook you up yesterday, didn't he?"

Brian dropped his gaze, not able to meet Jim's eyes, not even in a mirror. "A little." He'd told the older man what his father had implied, that Rafe could sleep his way to the top of the police department. The explanation had gone a long way towards explaining Rafe's outburst the evening before about being able to accomplish things on his own.

Ellison shook him gently. "Well, I want you to know - I always see you. Not your outfit, not some sort of mask you've put up for the world. I see you." He let the younger man go when Brian's blush told him that the words had hit home.

Rafe grabbed his coat. "I gotta get going. We finally got that forensics report back late yesterday. Henry and I are going to be busy, now that we've got some stuff to work with on this case."

"All right."

Halfway out the door, Brian turned back, the need to go warring with the desire to stay. "See you later?" he asked, wistfully.

Jim touched one finger to the corner of his eye to give his answer special emphasis. "See you? You can count on it. Always."

Half-awake, William rolled over in his plush and lonely bed. Since retiring, he'd come to enjoy the mornings. With no pending meetings, no financial committees to appease, and no ambitious vice presidents to hold in check, he found the mornings to be quite invigorating. As he tried to get comfortable, however, it occurred to him that one part of his body was rather more invigorated than the rest of him.

Surprised, he lifted the blankets to make sure he was feeling what he thought he was feeling.

"Well, hello there," he said to his morning erection. Gads, but that Vytal was powerful stuff. It had been over a decade since he'd woken up with an early morning hard-on. Now, after only taking the drug for a handful of days, his penis was rising to greet the sunrise with him, just like the old days.

Whistling a happy tune, William got up to start making his preparations for the day. It was a good thing that he was meeting with his private detective later. It looked like he was going to be ready for Brian sooner than he thought.

"You can't see anything, can you, babe? Not cheatin' on me, are you?"

Brian grinned and shook his head, nearly dislodging Jim's hands in the process. "Nope. On my word of honor as a cop, a man, and a member of the Cigar Club, I cannot see a thing."

Both men awkwardly shuffled forward, Rafe making his way blindly while Jim walked right behind him, hands covering the younger man's eyes. They had to walk extremely closely for Ellison to keep his hands in place, not normally a chore for the lovers, but their feet kept wanting to tangle and trip them. Luckily, they were only making their way through Brian's townhouse, familiar territory for each of them.

"Good. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. Careful, Bri, we're at the steps. Don't fall."

Carefully, Jim guided his lover into the garage, glad for once that he'd had a day off that Rafe didn't share. It made the set-up for this little gift a lot more convenient to arrange.

"Are we there yet?" Rafe whined. "I can think of activities a lot more fun to do while blindfolded than wandering around my garage."

"You peeked!"

"Did not," Brian retorted. "It's my house, remember? I recognize the layout. Us real detectives have a knack for that kind of thing."

"Yes, Smartypants, we're there. Hey, none of that!" Jim admonished as the younger man tried to shrug out of his living blindfold. "I'm not ready for you to see yet."

Brian immediately stopped his struggling. "Geez, Henry had you pegged right. You really are a hard ass."

"Flattery, babe, will get you anywhere." Jim planted a wet kiss at the back of Rafe's neck, chuckling when the smaller man shivered. "Now, quit your bitching for a minute and take a deep breath." He paused while the man in his embrace obeyed. "What do you smell?"

"Let's see." A couple more deep breaths followed, Brian's nose wrinkling as an unfamiliar odor reached him. "Umm... wood?"

"Got it in one." Jim nudged Rafe, urging his lover forward until they reached the wall of the garage. "Now, close your eyes and keep them closed." Waiting until he could feel the eyelids underneath his fingers flutter shut, the Sentinel took his hands from Brian eyes. Reaching down, he clasped Rafe's hands in his own and lifted them until both men's fingers came into contact with the raw lumber leaning against the wall.

"Feel that? How smooth it is? That's quality oak, feel the grain?"

"You bought oak, for my utility shelves? Are you nuts?" Despite his complaints, however, Rafe kept stroking the wood plank, mesmerized by it's silken hardness.

"If you want something done, do it right and use quality products," Jim defended his purchase. "Besides, the oak's just for the framework, I got pine for the rest."

Brian leaned back against the athletic body behind him, relaxing into the embrace and letting Jim's larger hands guide him in stroking the lumber. "Who knew that boards could be so sexy? Gives a whole new meaning to 'having a woody.'"

Ellison responded to Rafe's teasing by nuzzling his neck, turning the lithe body in his arms until Brian was facing him. Kissing his mate's still-closed eyelids, the larger man all but purred. "So, you like it? I thought we could spend some time together this weekend and get the shelves up. Shouldn't take long if there's two of us. Plenty of opportunities to get hot and sweaty together."

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Ye-" The Sentinel had barely begun to form the word when Brian wrapped himself around the older detective, locking his arms around Ellison's neck and claiming his mouth in a passionate kiss.

Finally, the younger man pulled back, giving Jim breath enough to talk. "I guess that means you like it."

Brian rubbed noses with his lover. "I think it's one of the most thoughtful presents that anyone's ever gotten me. Not just the wood, but that we can work together on it and.... Hey, what's that?"

Rafe pulled out of Jim's embrace but kept one hand clasped in the other man's. Looking beyond Ellison's body, he could see a red tablecloth and picnic basket had been carefully placed on the floor, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"That's the other part of the surprise. I thought we could use a little time just for us. It's been a rough week."

Brian shuddered at his understatement. First, it was the serial murder case and then the frantic search to find Jim's father before he became the latest victim. That, of course, had led to William Ellison meeting him and becoming intent on getting in Rafe's pants.

The Sentinel noticed the shiver. "Hey, babe, it's over. It's been four days since my old man showed up for that tour of Major Crimes. There's been nary a peep from him. I think he finally got the message."

Rafe wanted to believe him. Really, he did. "You think so?"

"Yeah, babe, I think so." Tugging on Brian's hand, he encouraged his lover down on the tablecloth. "It's just you and me here. Relax."

Rafe settled down next to the older man, Jim positioning him until Brian's head was pillowed on his thigh. The Sentinel brushed his long fingers through the thick brown hair, enjoying the full tactile pleasure of stroking his mate. Sighing, the younger detective allowed himself to be lulled into a state of complete repose.

"You're really into that wood thing, aren't you?"

Ellison laughed softly. "I guess you could say that. Maybe it's part of being a Sentinel. You know, the feel and smell of it. Building something with your own two hands."

Rafe stared off into space, half hypnotized by the continued petting. "Did you learn that from your dad?"

"Not hardly, babe. Pop was always above that kind of thing."

"Yeah, William strikes me as the type who doesn't like to get dirt under his nails. So," Brian continued, showing the persistence that made him a good detective. "If you didn't learn it from your dad, who'd you learn it from?"

"Would you believe Carolyn's father?"

"Really?" Rafe looked at his lover in surprise.

"Yep. Nate was a good guy. I often wondered if Caro and I would have stayed married longer if he hadn't died of a heart attack. Or maybe not. I think Nate knew I was gay before I did. He had a way of paring life's complexities down to the bare essentials, make you see what was really important." It was Jim's turn to do a little detective work. "What about you? Did you and your father do anything like that? Home projects? Work on cars together, that kind of stuff?"

Brian's eyes seemed to darken. "Nah. When I had the chance, I wasn't interested. Then, when I finally was smart enough to be interested, I didn't have the chance." Shaking himself, the younger man re-focused on his lover. "You know, there's one disadvantage to being out here with you."

"What's that?" Ellison saw right through Rafe's clumsy attempt to change the subject, but was willing to play along. He'd meant what he said to Sandburg earlier in the week. He'd be willing to do whatever Brian needed to feel secure.

"With all this wood in the garage, if we get... busy... out here, we might get splinters in some embarrassing places."

"Oh really?" Ellison tugged his lover up so that he could kiss his way from Rafe's jaw to his ear. "Don't you think getting a splinter in the butt would be worth it?"

Brian laughed and got to his feet, offering a hand up to Jim. "Maybe so, but I've got other things in mind for your ass tonight, Ellison, and all of them have to do with something a little bit bigger than a splinter..."

"Promises, promises, babe."

William Ellison closed the folder, staring intently at the man across the desk. "Are you sure this information is accurate?"

"100%, Mr. Ellison. I traveled to Illinois myself to get some of the documentation. Your son's... friend... has an interesting history."

Ellison tapped his fingers on the closed folder. "Interesting" was an understatement. "Brian" was full of surprises.

"Thank you, Thomas, for your customary thoroughness, especially considering the rushed nature of the job." Reaching into a desk drawer, William drew out a fat envelope. "Included is the check for this job, your monthly retainer, and a little cash bonus to show my appreciation."

"Thanks, Mr. Ellison."

William rose from his chair to escort his visitor out. "I'm assuming I can be assured of your usual level of discretion?" In truth, the elder Ellison wasn't worried about Thomas Dyer giving anything away. If the private detective had wanted to blackmail him, he'd have done it years ago. William been using his investigative services for decades, especially in checking out would- be lovers. When a man had a secret as large as his to protect, you simply couldn't be too careful.

Too bad Jimmy hadn't exercised the same level of caution.

"Of course, Mr. E. Mum's the word."

After his long-time associate left, Ellison went back to his office to give the papers and other items that Dyer had collected a more thorough look. As a businessman in a very competitive corporate environment, he'd learned long ago to use the most effective tool when it came to getting what he wanted, even if the most effective tool wasn't the most ethical one.

Even in his own mind, he couldn't call the tool he'd just been handed a respectable one. That didn't matter to William Ellison. He wanted Brian Rafe and he'd just found the key to getting him.

Considering the prize, he wasn't about to let little thing like morals stand in his way.

Being a trained observer, Brian noticed the late model sedan parked outside his townhouse as soon as he drove up. With all the wood stacked in the garage, he couldn't pull in, so he left his car in the driveway and watched as the other person got out too. He'd already noticed that it was a woman and he let her come to him as he kept a wary eye on her movements. The sign on the car indicated a delivery service, but he couldn't be too careful.

"Mr. Rafe?"

"Yeah, that's me."

The woman held out a plain brown package. "I have a special delivery for you. Could you sign for it?"

"Sure." Rafe signed and accepted the unmarked envelope, waiting until the woman got in the car before heading into the house. He didn't want to open the damn thing, not at the moment. He had a few minutes to spare, but had to get changed and get over to the loft for the Friday night poker game.

The young detective sat the package on the table and went in to change clothes. He got as far as taking his shoes and shirt off before his sense of curiosity kicked in. "Just get it over with, damn it," he muttered to himself, giving in and coming back in for the packet.

Sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch, he carefully opened the big brown envelope. Inside, was a piece of thick creamy paper, a file folder and a videotape. Feeling his stomach start to tighten, Rafe opened the paper first. It was expensive, hand-made stationary, embossed with the name "William Ellison."

That didn't make him feel any better.

As he read, Brian became more and more pale. He finally finished reading the note, allowing the paper to drift from suddenly numb fingers. Hands shaking, he reached for the file folder, fumbling until he managed to open it. Inside was a series of photographs. Some were mugshots and others were a little more... risque.

As he got a good look at the pictures, Brian's stomach rebelled. It was a race for the bathroom, the young detective barely making it to the toilet in time to empty the contents of his stomach into its porcelain bowl. It seemed like he retched for hours, until finally drained, he slumped to the floor.

In the back of his mind, he'd always known that the possibility of this happening existed. He'd innocently thought he'd readied himself for it. But now that the time was here, he knew he was woefully unprepared. What was the hell was he going to do?

As soon as the question flitted across his frantic brain, the answer did too, calming him immeasurably. Crystal clear, he knew exactly what his course of action had to be.

Picking himself up, Rafe made a beeline for the phone. He had to call Jim.

The Sentinel pulled up to the gates, double-checking the hastily scribbled address. The street and numbers matched, but the Shady Hills Cemetery was the last place in Cascade he expected to meet his lover.

Working in Major Crimes together the way they did, Jim had seen Brian in a lot of tense situations. But even with all the life threatening predicaments they'd been in and out of, he'd never heard the tone that had been in Rafe's voice when he'd called.

Like a man ready to implode.

Ellison had immediately wanted to come over to Brian's, but the younger man had insisted that they meet elsewhere. Frantic with need, both as a Sentinel and as a lover, to find out what was wrong, Jim had agreed. Now that he was at Rafe's chosen meeting place, however, he wished that he'd stuck to his guns and insisted that he come to the townhouse.

Getting out of the truck, Jim pulled the collar up on his coat, hoping to keep out the persistent wind. The blustery weather was keeping most visitors away and the cemetery was nearly deserted. It didn't take Ellison long to locate Rafe. The younger man was sitting on a cement bench not too far from the graveyard's gated entrance, staring off into space. His face had a pinched look to it that Ellison didn't like. Quietly, the big man walked up to him, sitting down wordlessly next his lover.

The hush lasted for a few minutes, until Rafe finally broke the silence. "Sorry to take you away from the poker game."

"Don't worry about it." The poker guys were also the people that Rafe and Ellison were closest to in Major Crimes and all of them were aware of the true nature of their relationship. Hiding it from them had never occurred to the lovers. Their friends, after all, were detectives. Good ones. Simon, Henry, and Joel would have noticed, no matter how hard Jim and Brian tried to hide it.

"Talk to me, Bri." It was a public place, but scanning with his Sentinel senses showed they were all but alone. Jim risked putting a careful hand a Rafe's knee. He was afraid to do more for fear the younger man would shatter.

"You know what I like about cemeteries?" Brian asked. "No matter how bad your problems seem, coming to places like this puts it all into prospective. Like, you think you've got it bad? Consider the alternative." He nodded briefly at the nearby graves, indicating that death was the alternative he had in mind.

"Is that why you wanted to talk here?" Jim was sure to keep his voice gentle.

For the first time since he'd entered the graveyard, Rafe looked at him. Jim gasped. Brian's normally clear hazel eyes were all but black with pain. "It's part of it. But... I didn't want to talk about this in my house, Jim. Didn't want reminders of this conversation every time I entered a room or have to remember the disgusted look on your face whenever I come home."

"Babe, nothing you could do could disgust me..."

"Don't, Jim." Rafe looked away again. "Don't make promises to me that you can't keep. I'm not going to expect you to stay, not after this."

Worried by the quiet despair in the other man's voice, Ellison resolved to prove his lover wrong. "Try me, Brian."

Silence reigned for another few moments, then Brian broke the silence with another seemingly incongruous question. "Jim, when did you know you were gay?"

What?

The Sentinel started to ask Rafe to explain the sudden change of subject, but he could feel the faint tremors in the smaller man's body. This was obviously enough of an ordeal for Brian the way it was, without Jim trying to take control of the conversation. Remembering his resolve to do whatever it took for Rafe to feel secure, Ellison silently promised himself to sit back and let the other man do this the way that gave him the most comfort.

"I don't know, babe. Pretty late, I guess." No matter how odd he thought the question was, Jim did his best to answer honestly, trusting that there was a reason for it. "I dated lots of women, but couldn't find the right one. It wasn't until after Carolyn, when I was in Vice, that I realized that it wasn't a woman that I was looking for."

Brian smiled bitterly. "I wonder what that was like? You know, going through your adolescence feeling pretty normal?"

Without waiting for an answer, the younger man plunged on.

"I'm from Chicago, did I ever tell you that? Youngest of five boys. Good Irish family."

Three short sentences, less than 20 words, but they contained more background information than Ellison had gleaned from his lover in the whole time he'd known him.

"My dad, he was a man's man. A firefighter. He'd come home sometimes smelling like smoke and I thought he was the biggest hero there ever was. I never could understand why Mamma hugged him so hard on those days or why she'd have tears in her eyes when he'd tell us about the fire he'd been fighting. She knew it was in his blood and I never heard her ask him to choose a safer profession, but you could tell she just worried to death about him."

"They sound like great parents, Bri."

"They were. Salt of the earth types. It wasn't easy raising five kids on a firefighter's salary, but they managed. My mom did a little sewing on the side, but not much. Being the youngest, I got all the hand-me-downs but my dad, he always insisted that I have something new to wear to church. Even though fancy clothes got the least wear and looked the nicest by the time they got handed down to me, every year, he always took me to buy a new suit. My mom would roll her eyes and say he spoiled me, but Dad always said a man had to look his best when he went worship the Lord."

In Rafe's voice, Jim could clearly hear the love that was missing when he himself talked about his own father. "Sounds like the two of you were close."

"Yeah," Brian sighed. "Patrick used to say I could get away with murder, 'cause I was the youngest and I looked like my dad's brother. My uncle Sean died years before I was born, he and my father were really close."

"Patrick's one of your brothers?"

Rafe nodded. "Yeah, he's a couple years older than me. Used to tease me something awful, say I was geeky and would never get a girlfriend. Mom'd just say that I was a late bloomer. Frankly, it never bothered me much. I'd hear the things my friends were saying about girls and just didn't get it, you know? But then when I was fifteen, things changed."

"Changed? Like what?"

"I was the only freshman to get on the high school Junior Varsity squad for the football team. Dad was so proud, I thought he would burst. My brothers all wanted to take the credit for it, said roughhousing with them all those years toughened me up."

In spite of the serious nature of the conversation, Jim couldn't help but smile. Football. A game he'd played in school too, another thing he and Brian had in common. "So how did football make things different?"

While he was talking, Rafe had mainly focused in front of himself. At Jim's question, his eyes flicked over and Ellison could see a faint blush creep up his face. "Locker rooms. It was the first time I'd been around a room full of wet naked guys that weren't my brothers. It... hit me kind of hard. All those things my friends had been saying about girls, about how looking at their breasts made their cocks twitch, suddenly I was thinking those things too. Only, it wasn't about girls, it was about the other boys and, I guarantee you, I wasn't fixated on their breasts either."

"So that's when you discovered you were gay?"

Rafe gave a bitter chuckle. "Hell, Jim, our family was so conservative, I didn't know what gay was. I just noticed the other guys and that looking at them made me feel good. What I didn't know was that my looking hadn't gone unobserved."

Ellison frowned, knowing how cruel high school athletes could be. "They beat up on you?"

"No. Only one of the seniors noticed. Jeremy, the quarterback. Their practice was first, so they'd be taking a shower while the J.V. squad was still dressing. The first time I realized he'd noticed I was staring, I thought he'd kill me."

"But he didn't." Jim didn't phrase it as a question.

"No. He licked his lips and winked at me. Over the next few practices, he'd start staying later, I'd start arriving earlier. Before you knew it, he had me out under the bleachers after practice, teaching me things I didn't know were possible. No one had ever kissed me before, let alone touched me. It was... heaven. I was in love. I thought I would die or blow apart from the shear pleasure of it all. I was convinced I'd found the love of my life."

"What happened?"

"Idiot kid that I was, I thought what we were doing was secret. But one day, Jeremy and I were under the bleachers making out like normal when suddenly there was the bright light shining on us. It was the coach... and he'd brought our fathers."

Jim winced, imagining the scene. "Ouch."

"My dad didn't say a word. Just waited for me to pull my pants up and hauled me off to the car. Every time I'd try and say something, he'd just hold his hand up. I could tell he was really steamed."

"He didn't have a clue before that?"

Brian sorted. "I didn't have a clue before I met Jeremy. The family knew I'd met someone, I got teased at the dinner table every night. But Mom always made my brothers stop after a minute or two. She said I was shy and they shouldn't put me off."

"What happened when you got home?"

"My dad all but threw me in my room."

"He still hadn't said anything to you?"

"Nope. Couple of hours later, he came and got me and took me downstairs. My mom was there and I could tell she'd been crying. Her nose was all red and her mascara was clumped. The priest was there too and that's when I knew it was really serious. Father McNamara only came when someone died or for something else that was bad, like that time that Connor thought his girlfriend was pregnant."

Brian seemed to get lost in his thoughts for a few minutes, finally shaking himself and continuing. "Dad described what he'd seen me doing with Jeremy and then asked me if I denied it."

"Did you?"

His question was met with a shrug. "How could I? I mean, I'd been caught with my pants down. This is going to sound funny, but as my dad talked, I got really mad. I'd always been the good one, you know? The youngest always gets to see where their siblings screwed up and avoid the trouble they got into. With four older brothers, I had lots of examples of what not to do and I always managed to keep my nose clean. It pissed the others off, that I was my parents' little angel. But you know what? Sitting there in our living room, hearing my dad describe in vivid detail what I'd been doing with Jeremy, I got really mad. Here I was, in the middle of the great love affair of my life and my father was making it sound tawdry and cheap."

Jim briefly touched Brian's cheek. "You sounded like every teenager in the midst of their first crush, babe."

Rafe leaned into the caress for a moment, but then pulled away slightly. "Yeah, but big difference. This Romeo wasn't chasing after Juliet."

"What happened?"

"I yelled at my dad, told him that I loved Jeremy. Mom... well, she buried her face in her hands and just started sobbing. I remember Dad going over to her and rubbing her back, saying stuff like it wasn't their fault. Father McNamara got up and opened up his bible, and started quoting all sorts of stuff at me. I yelled at him too, told him he was a interfering old prick who didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. That I loved Jeremy and Jeremy loved me and if the Bible said that was sinful, then the Bible was wrong."

When Rafe's voice trailed off, Jim prompted him again. "Then what?"

Brian sighed. "I picked a really bad time to start my teenage rebellion. Priests were sacrosanct in our house. Dad escorted me back to my bedroom. I could hear all sorts of angry voices coming from downstairs, but he'd locked my door. I wanted to go and call Jeremy and make sure he was okay, but I couldn't get out of the house. Eventually, I just curled up on the bed and cried myself to sleep."

Rafe paused, rubbing his face with his hands. His fingers came away wet, but Jim pretended not to notice. "In the middle of the night, my dad came into the room and hauled me out of bed. While I was asking him what was going on, he shoved some stuff into my gym bag and then threw it at me. Next thing I knew, he was hauling me down the stairs by the collar. When we got to the foyer, my mom and all of my brothers were there. Even Ian, and he'd been away at seminary for two years. Dad said that I'd chosen the ways of the devil over the rules of the Lord and that I was no longer welcome at his house or in the family. He wanted everybody to witness it."

"Jesus."

Brian looked over at Jim. "You know, I'm not the biggest fan of the church, but I think Jesus had little to do with it. He's more forgiving than that."

"What did you do?"

"I went to Jeremy's house. He lived about a mile away. The lights were on at his place too, so my family wasn't the only one having late-night discussions. I knocked on the door and his father answered. He looked at me like I was a piece of dog shit he'd just stepped in. He told me to wait there and he closed the door in my face. When he came back, Jeremy was with him. From the bruise on his face, his father had been more physical with him than mine had. We all kind of stared at each other, until Jeremy's dad grabbed the back of his neck and shook him. 'Tell him. Tell the little fag he's had his fun but that he won't be doing his perverted things to you anymore.'"

"Say what? Wasn't Jeremy the instigator?"

"I guess he forgot to mention that to his old man. But he nodded at everything his dad said and then he looked at me and said if I ever tried to touch him again, he'd tell everyone what a little queer I was. Then they shut the door in my face."

There was silence between the two men.

"What did you do then? Did you go back home?"

Brian exploded off the bench and started pacing. "When Jeremy turned his back on me, I tried. I mean, I always thought that my parents would love me, no matter what I did. That's what they always said. But I guess being gay is different. Unforgivable. Whenever I'd knock on the door or try and talk to one of them, they'd turn away."

"How did you live?"

"I went to different friends' houses. Jeremy's family wanted to keep it quiet and Lord knows, my family did too, but word slowly got around. I'd stay at one place and then another. At first, they'd be horrified that my parents had kicked me out but then they'd find out why and I'd have to move on."

Jim watched his lover's agitated movements. He longed to take the younger man into his arms, but had the feeling the embrace wouldn't be welcome at the moment. "How long did that last?"

Rafe briefly looked up at him. "A couple of months. Finally, the father of the last friend I stayed with discovered I was gay. He was so mad that I'd 'abused his hospitality' that he hit me. I mean, I hadn't even done anything. Even if Pete'd wanted to, the last thing on my mind right then was sex. But Pete's dad wouldn't listen, he dragged me out to the car. It was the middle of the night again. I thought he was going to kill me and hide my body... but he didn't. He drove me downtown Chicago and kicked me out of the car. Told me that's where all the garbage ended up and I might as well be with my own kind. Then... then he spit on me and drove off. It was... a bad part of town. I had grown up in a pretty sheltered part of Chicago. This was almost like being in a different universe."

Jim closed his eyes in pain. He could just imagine an adolescent Brian Rafe being dumped off in a crime-ridden neighborhood of a big city in the middle of the night. It was not a pretty picture. Like a gawker staring at a car accident, he had to ask even though he didn't really want to know the answer. "What happened?"

Rafe's pacing stopped, the younger man facing away from him. "I was in shock. I found a doorway and just huddled on the steps. I didn't know what to do..."

"Brian, I don't mean to be judgmental, but when your folks kicked you out, why didn't you go to a teacher or the authorities? They could have gotten you help, a foster home maybe?"

His lover was still facing away from him, but the shrug he gave to the older man's question was eloquent. "I was a kid, Jim. My parents had taught me to respect authority but when your parents turn your back to you, and so does every other adult who finds out your secret, you lose faith in that sort of thing. My friends seemed safer, but when they found out, sometimes they turned on me even faster than their parents. By the time I found myself on the streets, I was well on the way to thinking everyone was right, that I was a perverted piece of shit."

Ellison longed to take that desolate fifteen year-old into his arms and comfort him. He couldn't, that Brian Rafe was half a lifetime away. "How long were you in the doorway?"

"Not long, couple of hours maybe. Long enough, though. A guy came up to me. He seemed nice enough, asked if I had a place to stay. When it was obvious I didn't, he said I could stay with him." Rafe laughed bitterly. "His name was Gary. Funny thing was, he didn't even try and touch me at first. Just let me stay with him, gave me things to eat. He seemed to like me too. Complimented me all the time, asked what a good lookin' guy like me was doing in a place like that, that kind of thing."

Having worked in Vice for a couple of years, Jim knew exactly what Brian was talking about.

"When Gary finally made a move on me, I was more than ready. The things he did to my body made my sessions with Jeremy seem like baby stuff. I was such a stupid kid, it even felt good. I told myself that Jeremy was just a practice run, that Gary was the real thing. Can you believe that I even thought he was worth losing my family over?" Rafe turned to look at Jim with haunted eyes.

"I can believe it, babe. You said yourself you were a kid. You were lost in a jungle a hell of a lot more dangerous than Peru, Bri. The wrong kind of guy found you. Believe me, I know the type. This Gary pushed every button you had, you know that, right?"

Jim was pleased to see that his answer drove a little of the anguish out of the younger man's face. "Sure, now I know he was playing me like a fiddle, but at the time, I thought he loved me, that he'd always take care of me."

"Let me guess, at first it was just him and you. Then he started asking you to do stuff."

Brian nodded. "Yeah. At first, he just started putting me down, nothing I ever did was good enough. Gary had me up on such a pedestal before, that I thought it was all me. That I was screwing up. It scared the shit out of me. I thought he would kick me out too."

"Then..."

"The first time he asked me to... do it... with someone else, I said no. He claimed that I didn't love him and was just using him, but I still wouldn't. Then Gary came home beat up, said he owed money and if we didn't get some fast, the guy he owed it to would kill him. I mean, Gary was everything to me. I'd lost my family, my home. He was my whole world and I couldn't let anything happen to him. So..."

Rafe wrapped his arms around himself, as if trying to ward off some inner chill. "I suppose I was lucky. Gary's clientele were the sophisticated type. AIDS was just beginning to be headline news and everybody used condoms for everything. For the most part, they were doctors and lawyers and the like. You know, established business guys. Mature."

Jim did know the type. They sounded a lot like his father.

"Gary'd take me to their house or to some fancy hotel, leave me for a couple of hours and then come pick me up." Now that he'd gotten to the ugliest part of his story, Rafe seemed eager to finish it and be done. "Mostly, it was just sex. But some of them would want pictures. There was a video or two. Gary liked the movie stuff. I think he got more money for it."

When Rafe laughed, Jim could hear the tears in his voice. "I don't know when I realized that Gary didn't love me or even care much about me anymore. Maybe it was when I came back with a bruise on my face and he swore at me for making the client mad, 'cause the next one wouldn't pay as much if my face wasn't pretty. I just know that I looked at him one day and realized that all I really was to him was a paycheck."

Suddenly, the younger man whirled, abruptly moving back to the bench that Jim was still seated at. Dropping to his knees, Rafe looked earnestly up into the older man's face. "Look, Jim, I'm not going to try and excuse what I did. I was a whore, plain and simple. And I don't want you to think I'm going to expect you to stay in my life, now that you know. I just wanted to be able to tell you about this... I wanted you to know that being with you has been the first time since I was kicked out of home that I've felt loved. Safe. I'll always remember that, Jim. Always."

Rafe started to get up, but Jim stopped him, pulling the younger man down onto the bench next to him so that they could be seated at an equal level. "Hey, where do you think you're going, babe? You've been doing all of the talking here. I think it's my turn."

Brian gulped. He'd heard plenty from people in his past. Pervert. Whore. Although he'd really wanted to break it off from Jim before those words came out of Ellison's mouth, he owed the other man to sit through whatever he had to say. Slowly, he settled back and nodded.

"You said you were a whore, but that's your word, not mine." When Brian started to protest, Jim held up a finger, silencing him. "Did you take any money for what you did?"

"No, but Gary..."

"All right. You just made my point. Gary is the one that sold you, Brian. You were doing it because you loved him and wanted to keep him safe. But, actually, that's beside the point. How old were you when all of this was going on?"

"F-fifteen when my parents kicked me out. I'd just turned sixteen when I hooked up with Gary."

Jim reached out and cupped Brian's face. "You said it yourself, babe. You were a kid. I'll go even farther, you were a kid that had been mortally wounded. Not in the body, but by finding out that your parents didn't love you nearly as much as you thought they did. If you'd been an adult, hooking for drug money, yeah, I'd have a problem with that. But you weren't, you were a hurt teenager ripe for the picking. You did the best that you could, Brian, given damn lousy circumstances. You survived. I love the man you are, the one that came through all of that hell and became the person you are today. Not the kid that got forced into prostitution by intolerant parents and a manipulative bastard."

Ellison felt his fingers get wet as tears started streaking down Rafe's face. "You aren't disgusted?" The younger man asked in disbelieving whisper.

"Disgusted? Hell, yes!" Jim held on as Brian started to pull away at his words. "I'm disgusted at your parents for turning their back on their own child. I'm disgusted at all those other adults who had a chance to help you, but chose not to. I'm disgusted at this Gary creep who used you and sold you to line his own pocket. And I'm disgusted with the men who'd not only have sex with a kid, but would pay to do it. But you?" Jim reached forward to brush his lips against Brian's. "Babe, the last thing in the world I'd feel for you is disgust."

Ellison moved his hands from Rafe's face to his shoulders, pulling the shaking man into his embrace. He was glad, now, that his lover had chosen such a quiet place for this talk. Brian had been right, he wouldn't want to associate the images that resulted from the story with either of their homes. He rocked his mate in his arms, keeping part of his awareness on the younger man's emotional state while the rest of his senses focused on the environment. This was not a time for unwanted intrusions.

Slowly, Rafe's shaking abated and Jim felt he could ask a question. "How did you get out?"

Brian rested his head on Ellison's shoulder, reluctant to break off the contact. "Gary had taken me to a party one night. I was supposed to be the... entertainment. A living, breathing party favor. It got busted. One of the cops, he gave me a blanket and escorted me outside." Rafe smiled sadly. "He reminded me of my father. Anyway, he made sure I didn't get written up with the rest of the crowd. Took me home with him that night."

Jim prepared to get angry. Not that he wasn't already, hearing about the abuse his lover had suffered, but the thought that a fellow police officer had taken advantage of Brian as a teenager...

Rafe took a look at the Sentinel's angry face and quickly explained. "No, it's not what you think. I mean, I thought he wanted me for sex too. Mitch lived alone and so I assumed that he wanted what everyone else had wanted, a piece of ass. So, I presented himself to him that night." Brian's grin got wider. "He got real gruff with me and embarrassed to, I think. He told me to put my clothes back on and marched me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He made us both a cold meatloaf sandwich and explained that he just wanted to help."

"And did he?"

"Yeah, he did. Got me away from Gary and back into school. I wasn't quite seventeen, so he even made arrangements for me to live with him as a foster father."

Jim gave a silent prayer, thanking whomever was listening for good cops. "Sounds like a great guy."

"He was. Tony Mitchell, Mitch for short. I wanted to be just like him too, so when I graduated from high school, he helped me start over. I got a scholarship to a community college and took a two-year course on criminal justice."

"How did you end up in Cascade? We're a long way from Chicago." Jim rubbed his cheek against Brian's hair. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I, for one, am glad you made it to the pacific northwest."

Rafe sighed, leaning into the caress. "Mitch again. He had contacts here, someone he was in the military with ended up here and helped me get hired on and start a new life." Brian bit his lip, hesitating before rushing on. "When I say 'start over,' I mean with everything. Mitch helped me change my name too."

"Your name?"

"Yeah. His friend claimed he was my uncle and smoothed things over with the background check. I didn't have a record or anything in Chicago, I was never arrested thanks to Mitch. I did make note of the name change on my Cascade P.D. application," Rafe was quick to clarify, not wanting his lover to think he'd lied to their mutual employer.

"No reason you shouldn't, babe. There's nothing illegal about changing your name." Jim was equally quick to reassure.

"Do you want to know what it was?" Brian asked shyly.

Jim tilted his head, considering. "Only if you want to tell me. I'm glad you survived what you did, but the person you are now is the one I'm in love with."

Rafe thought about it for a minute, then shook his head. "Then, let's just leave it. I like who am now. That kid, I can feel sorry for him, but I don't want to be him any more."

The two men sat in silence. Jim hated to break the feeling of calm that had descended following Rafe's emotional revelation, but there was one more thing to clarify.

"Don't get me wrong, babe, I'm glad you told me. I've known for a while now that you had something that was eating at you and I'm honored that you trust me. But, Bri, why now?"

The younger detective sighed. Sitting up, he pulled a brown envelope out of his jacket. "Because this was delivered this afternoon." He handed the packet to his lover.

Jim could smell his father on it. Dreading what he would find, he opened it up. Like Brian had earlier that day, the first thing that caught his eye was a letter. The bold, terse words were easy to read: "It appears as though that classy image of yours is just a pretense. I wonder how Jimmy will react to the lie? You'll be hearing from me - WmE."

The big man crumpled the paper in his hands, wishing it was his father's heart instead.

"I wanted to tell you, before you found out any other way," Brian said softly. "I meant to tell you before, but... I just couldn't get the words out. I knew you'd feel disgusted and you meant too much to me to risk it." Seeing his lover turn towards him, Rafe was quick to reassure him. "Remember, before we made love the first time, when we both said we'd been tested? Well, I have. Over and over again. Like I said, I was lucky, they always used condoms."

"Lucky," Jim muttered, shaking his head at Rafe's attitude. After all he'd been through, the younger man still saw that the glass was half-full.

Ellison looked briefly at the contents of the packet, not willing to really study them in front of his lover and risk upsetting him further. "Bri, I'd like for you to let me take care of this."

Rafe stiffened, suddenly angry. "I'm not a kid anymore, Jim. I'll take care of it. I didn't tell you about it so that you could fix my problem. I told you because I wanted it to come from me, not that prick of an old man of yours."

"Babe, I know you can take care of yourself." Jim gave the other detective a tight smile. "Otherwise, there'd be no way in hell I'd let you partner with anybody else but me. You're a good cop, I'm not doubting that. I know you're perfectly capable of shoving this little blackmail plan right up my dad's ass, but..."

With the Sentinel's stumbling explanation, a lot of the anger had left Brian's face. "But what?" he softly asked.

"How much has Sandburg told you about the Sentinel stuff?"

Rafe shrugged. "Some, mostly what he thought I'd need to know as your lover. Not as much as I wanted, but he said that you should be the one to decide what I needed to know."

"But you know about the territorial thing?"

Brian remembered the arousing way Jim had claimed him in his kitchen, after William Ellison had made a move on him with those stupid roses. "Yeah."

"This is part of it, babe. Sandburg says that, as a Sentinel, I have an overwhelming need to protect my tribe. You're my heart, Bri, you can't get much more tribe than that." Jim looked at Rafe, the bright blue of his eyes conveying the depth of his feeling. "I need to do this. Not for you, but for me. Please, will you let me?"

The younger man looked from the damning package to his lover's face, seeing there the primordial drive to protect. At first, he'd balked at the idea that Jim thought he needed to be sheltered, that he was unequal, but then it occurred to Rafe that for the first time in years, he'd found someone that he could lean on when he needed to. Someone who would never let him down.

Brian smiled slowly at Jim, not the glib and flashy grin that most of the world saw, but a shy smile all the more precious because Ellison instinctively knew that it was reserved just for him.

"Okay, Jim," Rafe said, relinquishing control of the blackmail problem to the older detective, "I'll let you deal with it."

The Sentinel got up, pulling Brian to his feet and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Let's go home, babe. Cemeteries may be good places to talk, but we need to re-enter the land of the living."

"Amen to that."

Ellison stopped for a minute, just realizing that he hadn't seen Rafe's car at the graveyard's entrance. "Where's your car?"

"Over at the other entrance," Brian waved in the direction the opposite to the way they were heading. "I... I didn't want to have to see you drive off without me, so I parked in the back."

Jim stopped, swiftly pulling the smaller man into a quick but firm embrace. "I'm right here, babe. Not going anywhere." Feeling the hug returned, Ellison let go and tugged Brian towards the car. "Let's go home. We'll pick up your car tomorrow."

The young man formerly known as Rafferty David O'Brian followed, basking in the knowledge that this man now knew all of the ugly spots in his life... and loved him anyway.

William slowly got out of his Lexus luxury sedan, wincing as his knees creaked. Feeling every year of his six-and-counting decades, Ellison made his slow way inside the dark house. With Sally away for the evening, attending her niece's wedding reception in Seattle, he'd decided to dine at the Club. His faithful housekeeper had offered to fix him dinner and leave a plate warming in the oven, but he couldn't bear the thought of eating alone again at that impressive but lonely dining room table. Not that eating alone at the Club was much more entertaining, but at least while he was there, he could imagine the next time... when he strode in with Brian Rafe on his arm.

As was usual, the thought of the young detective brought a lascivious smile to his face and, thanks to the vitality drug, a hardening in his groin. Those pictures Dyer had procured ought to do the trick, convincing Rafe to abandon his son's bed for someone with a little more influence in Cascade. Someone who could help keep his dirty little secret safely under cover.

Far from being repulsed by finding out Rafe's former profession, William found that it attracted him even more strongly to the young man. Brian would be the ultimate companion for someone of his status, classy and elegant in public but a thoroughly skilled paramour in the bedroom.

Caught up in his fantasies as he entered his living room, Ellison didn't notice that someone was already there. Turning on the lamp, he was startled to see a figure seated in his favorite chair. It was facing away from him, but William could just make out the top of his visitor's head over the chair's back, the brown hair giving away the identity of his evening caller.

Yes, his photos had given him the desired result and even sooner than he'd hoped.

"Brian, how good of you to drop by. I trust you found my little package most enlightening..."

William's voice trailed off as he rounded the chair and realized that it wasn't Brian Rafe seated there, but his eldest son. With their similar body build and hair color, it had never occurred to him before how much the two lovers looked alike.

"Yeah, Pop. Let's talk about the package." Jim greeted him, blue eyes icy cold. Disdainfully, the detective tossed the brown envelope on the coffee table, the slight impact causing the incriminating photos to spill out. "Come on in and sit down. Take a load off. We've got some things to discuss."

To his chagrin, William did exactly what he was told. It was his house and his son ordering him around, but the look in Jimmy's eyes kept the older man silent and obedient.

His son sat back, elbows on the chair's arms, fingers steepled in front of his face. "I don't know what disgusts me more. The fact that you tried to blackmail Brian... or that you get off on photos of a teenager who's been forced into prostitution."

"I don't find the photos alluring," William protested. "I was merely trying to show what kind of man you're involved with..."

"Cut the crap, Pop." Jim didn't yell, but the steel in his voice cut through his father's vague attempts at justification. "Don't forget who you're talking to. What you're talking to." The younger Ellison tapped the end of his nose with one finger. "I can smell your hard-on from here."

William pulled himself up. His pride wouldn't allow him to admit that it was the Vytal in his system that accounted for his erection, not the photos. But reference to Jimmy's freaky senses reminded him of just who was the parent in this situation.

"James Joseph Ellison, don't you spout off to me about those senses of yours. You forget who protected you when you were younger, kept you from revealing yourself as a freak to those cops. You forget who taught you how to be the best man you could be and wouldn't let you or your brother settle for anything less than the absolute best. Not to mention, you forget who went to a lot of trouble to see to it that you got born in the first place."

Jim could remember a time, barely, when his father had seemed larger than life. Of how, when Jim was very young, William Ellison would come home from work and swing first Jim, then baby Stephen around and around in his arms, stopping only when all three of them were dizzy with laughter. That loving father had slowly disappeared, becoming the tyrant that insisted that Jim and his brother continually compete, never satisfied until he'd wrung blood out of stones. Somehow, beneath the bitterness that had characterized their relationship in later years, Jim had held that old image deep in his heart. Hoping that, if he was good enough, perhaps that loving parent would come back into his life. Now, as he listened to the older Ellison rant, that image of a larger-than-life father dwindled, until all that was left was the bitter and lonely man in front of him, spewing out a hateful diatribe while trying to justify his own actions.

"Enough." Jim slapped his hand down on the coffee table, silencing his father with the sharp, sudden sound. "That's enough. I warned you to stay away from Brian. I don't call this," the Sentinel lifted the envelope, "'staying away.' You know, not only should I kick your wrinkled old ass for pulling this stunt, I should haul it down to the Precinct for being in possession of child pornography."

"But you won't. Taking me in would reveal your lover's past. I don't think either of you want that."

His father was right. Not only would Rafe's name be mud with the rest of the Cascade P.D. if they found out about his past history, but his life might very well be in danger from homophobic factions within the department. More telling, Jim had promised Brian to give his father another warning and one final chance. The last thing the younger man had said to Jim before he'd left for this confrontation was to remind him that parents were precious commodities and that the Sentinel might later regret severing all contact with his dad. Knowing that Brian was transferring his feelings about his own father onto Jim's about William, Ellison had nonetheless agreed, not wanting to bring any more pain into those hazel eyes.

"No, I won't be taking you in." Jim was quick to continue when he saw the satisfaction in his father's eyes. "Not tonight. But before you try and pull another stunt like this one, just keep in mind what kind of freak you spawned." The Sentinel got up from his chair and slowly approached his father. "No matter where you go, I can find you. It won't matter how deep a hole you try to hide in, I'll be able to see you." Almost delicately, Jim sniffed the air. "Smell the stench you give off."

Stooping, the detective scooped up the envelope and its pictures. "Every night before you go to sleep, I want you to remember how easily I got in here tonight. I can do it again." He grinned ferally at the older man. "You've got to close your eyes sometimes, Pop. Screw up like this again, I'll be the worst nightmare you could ever imagine."

"But you're a policeman.... and my son." William whispered, seeing the threat of his death in his child's eyes.

"I'm a Sentinel, Billy old chum. I protect my tribe. That includes Brian now. Not you." Turning to go, Jim bent down to whisper in his father's ear. "Oh, I found the original pictures too. In your night stand. Tacky, really tacky. And the private detective? The one you used to dig up this filth? He won't be working for you anymore."

The younger Ellison took a wrinkled and folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket, depositing it on William's lap. "I'll let myself out." Then, having said all he'd come to say, he left.

William Ellison sat for several minutes after his son departed, then unfolded the piece of paper that Jim had left behind. It was a resignation letter from Thomas Dyer, indicating that the private detective had found a sudden need to retire. Too bad, the man had proven useful over the years.

Jimmy had been thorough, he had to give him that.

But not quite thorough enough. William reached in to his suit coat, pulling out a photo that had been stashed there. It was his favorite, showing the teenaged Brian on his knees, servicing an old man. Ellison blissfully ignored the fact that the "old man" in the photo was roughly his own age.

So Jimmy thought to warn him off, hmmm? Pulling his aching member out of his pants, William kept the picture in his left hand while his right moved to ease the sweet throb between his legs. Jimmy was just going to have to learn who was the head of the Ellison family. Not only would Brian Rafe suit his own needs, but he could use the young detective to teach his oldest son a much-needed lesson about respecting his elders.

William settle back into the chair, the hand on his penis keeping a steady rhythm as he stroked up and down its length. He'd quickly found that the Vytal drug in his system kept him hard for hours at a time... a physical trait that Brian would no doubt come to appreciate. Thoughts of Rafe reminded the older Ellison of his earlier observation, that the young man he was pursuing did bear a resemblance to his son. Firmly, the masturbating man pulled his mind away from that train of thought. His attraction to Brian had nothing to do with his son. Absolutely nothing.

He wasn't a pervert, after all.

Billy Wong watched through the binoculars as a young man in a Camero pulled up to the townhouse. Glancing down quickly at the photo propped against the dashboard, he made a quick comparison. Yup, this was the guy.

"Hey, Lou, get your ass up here. Our little pussy has arrived."

"Man, I just fell asleep. This van of yours is a pig stye, you know that, right?" Complaining all the way, the big blonde lurched from the back of the van to plop himself into the seat next to Billy. "So, this is the guy the old man wants you to grab? You sure you got the right one?"

Billy gave his companion a disgusted look. Actually, the young man was disgusted with this whole thing. Old man Ellison was not his favorite person in the world and he resented working for the man, even on a one-shot arrangement. If you listened to his mother, the prick was a saint but Billy knew better. A saint wouldn't keep an employee away from her family as much as Willy-boy had over the years. Hell, the Ellison family was more important to Sally Wong than her own kids. Nose-in-the-air rich guy, William Ellison had deigned to help bail him out of jail a couple of months ago, and then the son of a bitch had proceeded to lecture him on it, rubbing his nose into the fact that he'd screwed up. Forgiving the bail money like it was just so much pocket change to a moneybag like him.

When Ellison had called in the debt, Billy had almost said no. But the cash Ellison had offered certainly sweetened the deal. He owed some money to a couple of people, the kind of people that tended to shoot off your body parts if you don't pony up the dough on time. Even though this caper had the potential to earn him some big jail time if he got caught, the reward was worth it.

"Billy?"

Wong's attention was drawn back to the other man. Lou was hurting for money too, with a bad need to score, the combination making him the perfect companion for this outing. "Take a look for yourself," he said, handing the binoculars to his partner. "See him? Looks too pretty to be a guy, that's the cunt Ellison wants us to snatch all right."

"Huh," Lou said, lowering the glasses as their target entered the townhouse. "Who would have thought that a rich old bastard like Ellison was a cocksucker? Can't say as I blame him with this one, he's almost good enough to be a woman."

"Get your mind out of your crotch," Billy said, slapping the bigger man on the shoulder. "We got a job to do." Since they'd scouted out the townhouse earlier in the day, their plan was all set and ready to go.

But even as he went about setting the arrangements into motion, Billy Wong couldn't help but think that it wasn't fair that the rich guys got to have all the fun.

Jim Ellison guided his truck down the street, fingers beating in happy time to the Santana tune coming through the radio. The thought of the music made the big man grin. Sandburg had had to eat some words when Jim's favorite musician had become hottest act on the Billboard charts this year. The anthropologist always prided himself on being on the leading edge of hipness, but had suffered a serious blow to his self-image when his behind-the-times roomie had been proven to be more in vogue than he was.

The music wasn't the only reason for the Sentinel's good mood. It'd been nearly a week since his little chat with his father, with no signs of trouble from the old man. The continued absence of William Ellison in their life meant that the fine worry wrinkles had started to disappear from Brian's forehead. The younger man had even started sleeping through the night. Well, he had last night anyway and Jim was convinced it was the beginning of a trend. William's blackmail attempt had brought a lot of old pain to the surface and, although he knew that Rafe had to work through it before he could get any better, it still was frustrating as hell to see his lover hurt and not be able to do anything about it. Oh, Brian insisted that being held by Jim was the best way to banish his nightmares, but Ellison was a Sentinel. Held in a loving embrace or not, he knew that Brian rarely slept after one those dreams...

But that was going to change, last night's unbroken sleep had just been the start of the good things that were going to be coming their way. Brian was just starting his three-day off cycle and Jim had taken some personal time to join him. Ellison had given out that he was taking a solo fishing trip, to get his head together after the Foster case. In truth, he was going to be holed up at Brian's townhouse, helping the younger detective build those shelves they'd been talking about. No doubt there'd be some time for extracurricular activities too, it would be a shame to waste all that hot and sweaty energy on inanimate objects like shelves.

The Sentinel was broken out of his reverie by the ringing of his cell phone. He was tempted to ignore it, or toss the damn thing out the window, but training and a well-honed sense of responsibility made him answer. "Ellison."

"Jim, I'm glad you picked up." The cell phone always made Simon's voice sound uncharacteristically small. "Look, dispatch just gave me the heads up on a emergency call..."

"No way, Simon. Two days off, that's all I ask." Jim was determined that the time with his lover would remain uninterrupted. "You and Sandburg are always after me to take some p-t-o. No way am I gonna get pulled into a case. Not when I've got a couple of days lined up to be with Brian."

"Listen to me," Even diminished by the cell phone, Jim could tell when Simon was using his Captain's voice. "That's just it. The emergency call was to Rafe's address. There was a report of fire. I know you're on your way there now, but I thought you'd want to speed it up some."

Jim didn't even bother to reply. He dropped the phone and picked up the siren all in one fluid movement. Activating it for both lights and sound, he quickly threaded his way through the traffic, using Sentinel senses to judge the distance between cars to a hair's breath as he wove his way through rush hour congestion.

Minutes later, he pulled up to the townhouse. Jumping out of the truck, his eyes scanned the crowd that had gathered, looking for one particular brunette head. Not finding it, he grabbed the nearest firefighter.

"Hey buddy," he said, flashing his badge. "I'm with Cascade P.D. What happened here? Was anyone hurt?"

The firefighter took a look at him and reached for the bulky helmet that topped its heavily bundled figure. Taking the headpiece off, she shook out her hair before giving him a sardonic look.

Looking at her long blonde tresses, currently matted with sweat, Jim let go of the firefighter's arm. "Sorry about that, miss. This house belongs to a friend of mine, I'm just trying to find out if he's all right."

The woman looked mollified at Jim's apology, the worry apparent on the big man's face. She was used to seeing frantic families at a fire scene and it was always a pleasure to be the giver of good news. "No one was in the house by the time we arrived. The neighbors said that the man that lived here had been overcome with smoke fairly early. We were told that some friends of his used their van to take him to the doctor. I can't swear to that myself, but there was definitely no one inside when we got to the scene."

Friends? Van? Although relieved that Brian was apparently okay, Jim was still perplexed. They'd carefully planned to have this time to themselves, he knew that Rafe wasn't expecting anyone. Protector instincts immediately alerted, he probed deeper. "Where did the fire start, do you know yet?

The woman looked at the soggy mess behind her. "Wasn't much of a fire really. Pretty well contained to the garage area. It looked like there was some wood stored there, maybe some wood finishing chemicals. That can be a dangerous combination if not handled right. He's lucky the whole place didn't go up."

Yeah, lucky.

"You know when we'll be able to go in and take a look around?" Since the woman had told him that no one was inside, Jim had been able to confirm that assessment with his own senses. Thankfully, although the air was thick with smoke, none of it had the charred meat smell of burned flesh. He was still itching, however, to take a look around.

"Not for a while yet. The chief's pretty particular about that kind of thing."

Jim nodded his thanks to the helpful firefighter, quickly heading back to the car to call Simon. He was going to need backup. A first priority would be to canvas the crowd, find out who saw Brian taken away in a van. There was the possibility that the whole thing was benign or just a coincidence. He hoped so....

....but every instinct he had, as a cop and as a Sentinel, screamed that this was a set-up.

So. This was what being drunk felt like.

Thanks to his experiences with Gary, by the time he was old enough to get his driver's license, Brian Rafe had spent more time being pawed at by drunken clients than he cared to remember. That, more than anything else, made him steer clear of alcohol throughout his adulthood. He could feign putting a few back with the guys, but it was mostly pretense for the sake of fitting in. As a result, he'd never even been tipsy before.

Without opening his eyes, the young detective felt dizzy. Not that he wanted to open his eyes, each eyelid felt like it was weighed down with an elephant or two and he didn't fancy struggling with them just so that he could see. In fact, if it weren't for the constant buzzing in his ears, he'd be content to slip back into unconsciousness. Moaning softly, he tried to turn his head to find a more comfortable position but soon found that his neck wasn't working properly. All in all, Rafe decided that being drunk wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

The soft chuckle that answered his moan made Brian's blood run cold.

"You're awake. That's good. I was afraid that you were going to sleep through all of the fun."

He knew that voice. Hearing it made Brian struggle to open his eyes, but when he finally was able to see, all that was in his line of sight was the rough-hewn log ceiling far above him. Try as he might, the young man could not get his head to move. Panicked, he tried to make other parts of his body obey his commands, but the best he was able to do was get his arms to twitch an inch or two. Gasping with exertion, he gave up. Obviously, moving was out of the question for the moment. He'd better off to save his strength for later; something told him he was going to need it.

A hand came from his right side, the cold fingers reaching to cup his cheek and move his head for him. At first, all he could see was a sea of blue, but then the figure hovering over him moved back to reseat itself at a nearby chair.

William Ellison. Of course.

"Don't worry, you're only temporarily incapacitated. The boys gave you a dose of muscle relaxant. Then, when they brought you here to me, I gave you another one. You've put me off long enough. I'm a patient man, but I have my limits."

The older man leaned back and Brian could tell that the sea of blue that had blocked his sights moments before was actually the fabric of William's elegant dressing gown. The plush robe was open, revealing Ellison's turgid erection.

Rafe found he had enough control, barely, to keep himself from retching. He couldn't afford to choke on his own vomit. He'd wait until he'd managed, somehow, to wipe that smirk off Jim's father's face, then he'd puke all over the prick.

Seeing the anger in Brian's eyes, William laughed again. Getting up, he slowly approached the helpless man, circling him as he talked. "You've only yourself to blame for this, you know. I tried to woo you, but you rejected my offer. I tried to come down to your level by visiting the precinct, show you I had a personal interest in your career, but you thought it would be better to pull a childish prank on me. Don't think I've forgotten that little trip to the morgue, because I assure you I haven't." Stopping by Brian's feet, William put one hand to either side of Rafe's motionless legs, leaning in over him. "I tried to show you that a man with your past history couldn't afford to be choosy, but you used that advice to turn my own son against me."

Turning away from the young detective, Ellison grabbed a glass and a prescription bottle. "I have another little pill for you to take." He made his way back to Brian and set the objects down on a surface out of Rafe's line of sight. Then, the older man braced himself behind Rafe, grunting in strain as he struggled to lift Brian's dead weight.

As he was raised to a sitting position, Rafe could see that he was in a small cabin. One half of it was taken up with a large, fluffy bed. The part that he was in had a couch, which he was lying on; a fireplace; and a small kitchenette. It was compact but comfortable; in other circumstances, he would even call the place cozy.

While he'd been checking out his surroundings, cataloging anything that might be of use in helping him get out of this situation, William had brought a pill to Brian's face, shoving it forcefully into Rafe's mouth. Brian couldn't get his tongue to work right and hadn't managed to spit it out before a glass of water was poured down his throat. It was swallow or choke. Rafe would have chosen to choke, except Ellison's large hand was on his neck, stroking it to encourage the muscles to react instinctively. It worked. One involuntary swallow and then another, and the pill was down.

"There, now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" William used the bright, empty tone of voice that some people used with small children. Or dogs.

"We'll give that a chance to work and then we can have some fun. You'll like Vytal," Ellison stroked his erection. "It's done wonders for me."

William had watched while the captive man's eyes roamed the cabin. "Wondering where you are? It's a little place I've had for years, useful for those secret trysts with a.... friend. See the comfy bed?" He didn't wait for Rafe's response, knowing that even had the younger man wanted to, he was physically incapable of it. "Now don't be disappointed, but you won't be trying out the bed."

Despite himself, Brian's eyes closed in relief. Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

Ellison's face came in close, allowing Rafe to see how dilated the older man's eyes were. "Beds are for lovers or people you care about." Leaning down even further, he whispered in Brian's ear.

"Sluts like you get taken on the floor in the dirt."

Billy Wong leaned back in his chair, watching his partner futilely try and pick up women. After delivering the "package" to Ellison at his cabin and getting their money, the two men had stopped by a little dive of a bar. Halfway back to Cascade, it was the predetermined exchange location for both the money he owed his dealer and for a delivery of drugs that Lou needed. The shit that the runner delivered was pretty bad quality, but considering the debt, it'd be a while before he was back in his supplier's good graces.

Besides, pour enough cheap beer after the coke and both he and Lou were flying plenty high.

Billy was surprised that the job had gone as well as it had. Distracting the cop with a small fire had been a good plan, luring the pretty man out to the garage where the billowing smoke obscured the fact that he and Lou were waiting for him. Even though the guy had been athletic, he was no match for Lou. When their target had come to check out the smoke, the giant blonde had simply grabbed him and held on while Billy had stuck him with the needle Ellison provided. Whatever the shit in the syringe had been, it had hit pretty-boy like a truck. It was child's play from that point out, hauling him to the van and telling the nice neighbor lady that they were taking him to the hospital.

All in all, they'd delivered Ellison his toy boy right on schedule, all with barely messing up the pretty cop's hair.

Despite the relative ease of the job, not to mention the hefty pay-off, something didn't sit right with Wong. He had no great love of cops, so nabbing one didn't bother him much. You took your money and you took your chances, just like the old saying said.

No, what bothered him was that, once again, a Wong was doing an Ellison's dirty work.

His mother had worked hard for decades, cleaning Ellison's house, looking after Ellison's health, even raising Ellison's kids. Considering she scrubbed the old fag's toilets, she'd literally been up to her elbows in Ellison's shit for years. He'd resented his mother's other family just as long. How many times had he heard her apologies for missing birthday parties or school conferences, all because of something the Ellisons needed? Hell, she'd even named him after the old man, he couldn't even sign his own name without thinking of his mother's employer. Then, as he got older, he found himself being compared to Ellison's kids. Why can't you be as responsible as Jimmy? Why aren't your grades as good as Stevie's? Somehow, Billy never measured up.

No, he didn't like doing William Ellison's dirty work. Not at all.

A slapping sound caught the young man's attention. Looking up, he saw one of the local prostitutes walking away from Lou in a huff. The big blonde growled and made to go after her, but Billy quickly intervened. With the booze and the coke, Lou was spoiling for a fight but Wong had another idea for what to do with that energy. Grabbing his partner's arm, he started hauling him towards the door.

"What'cha doin' Billy? I 'bout had that one ready to ride." Smirking, the big man adjusted his crotch, making a crude visual reference to what kind of "ride" he had in mind.

Billy snorted. Even the "working" girls wouldn't come near Lou when he was like this; he was mean when he was high. "In your dreams, lover boy. Places like this, the locals stick together. And the hookers are so ugly, it's surprising they don't shoo them outside to graze instead of feeding them."

By this time, the two men were outside and Billy led the bigger man over to the van to continue the conversation. "Besides, don't waste your money on a hooker, I've got something better in mind. And it'll be free."

"Free?" The blonde grinned. "Like the sound of that. What'cha plannin'?"

Wong smiled at the other man before answer, jerking his thumb back in the direction of Ellison's cabin.

"You still think that cop is pretty?"

Jim walked up and down Rafe's street, intently peering at the asphalt even though the sun was all but down. If there was a clue here, he'd find it. Or go blind trying.

"Anything?" Blair had come up behind him, the uncharacteristic brevity of his question evidence of the anthropologist's worry. A syringe had been found in the garage. Even with a rush job, it'd likely be hours before Forensics figured out what was in it. Combined with the fact that an accelerant had also been discovered on the scene, foul play was now highly suspected.

"Just some oil here. A couple of wrappers." Ellison squatted down to point out the clues. "Someone parked here for a long time, Chief."

"Staking the house out?"

Wiping his hands on his pants, the tall detective stood, eyes bleak in the fading light. "I don't know."

Both men's attention was drawn to the figure trotting towards them, Henry Brown's laid back nature was history as he focused on the search for his partner.

"Brown," Jim greeted him. "What did you get from the witnesses?"

H flipped his notebook open. "Several people saw a van. Old and rusted, brown in color. No consensus on the make or model, just that it was a piece of junk. Nobody got a real good look at the driver, they were too busy calling the fire in. The guy that helped Rafe out to the van was Asian. In his twenties, might have been wearing jeans."

"Well that narrows it down," The grad student's statement was heavy on the sarcasm. Sandburg wasn't a detective but he'd hung around them long enough to know how sketchy the descriptions were.

Henry looked at Jim in worry, seeking answers from Cascade's best detective. "I don't get it. Brian and I don't work the high profile cases, you and Sandburg do." In the crisis, Brown had dropped the nicknames. "We're not far into the Werness case either. I don't think this is a grudge thing, but I don't know what else it could be. I mean, Rafe's not rich. He's a good cop but he doesn't get the publicity that you do. Hell, we know his lover's not involved." H had become more and more confused as he listed the reasons why Rafe wouldn't be kidnaped. "But who'd want to grab Brian and why?"

At the mention of the words "rich" and "grudge," fairly close together, the Sentinel's eyes hardened. "Oh, I think I've got a pretty good idea."

William had miscalculated.

He'd been so fixated on getting Brian Rafe into his bed and under his control, that he'd neglected to consider what a task it would be to undress a totally limp man. That athletic physique and those well-developed muscles were certainly desirable, but a little unwieldy to work with when their owner was as flaccid as a wrung-out washcloth.

And the muscle that was the most limp was the one that interested the older man most. But to Ellison's dismay, young detective also wasn't responding to the Vytal. His organ remained depressingly soft, unlike William's cock, which felt like it had been hard forever.

For his part, as humiliating as it was for Rafe to lie motionless while William Ellison fumbled with his clothes, he was grateful for the delay. He knew what was coming, it wasn't the first time he'd seen the type of unreasoning lust that currently inhabited the older man's eyes, and he wasn't anxious to get started.

At first, Brian had been angry. Angry with himself for getting snatched. He remembered bits and pieces of the smoke and being grabbed. He was a cop, for crying out loud, it should have been harder than that! Then, of course, he got angry at William. The older Ellison was purported to be an intelligent man, didn't he know what the hell the word "no" meant? From anger, it had been a short trip to fear. It'd been over a dozen years since he shared his body with someone not of his own choosing. He'd sworn a long time ago, even before he was a legal adult, that he'd never again have sex or just be fucked. He'd hold out and only make love with someone he cared deeply about or go without physical intimacy altogether. He'd been true to that vow ever since, only having two real lovers before Jim. Brian'd been proud of that fact, but now it looked like even that little bit of self-esteem would be taken from him.

With the anger had been the determination that he'd get himself out of this predicament, since he'd been stupid enough to fall for the fire ruse in the first place. It had become rapidly apparent, however, that William had loaded the cards against him. Rafe could fight a lot of things, but the drugs coursing through him were beyond his control. Once he realized that, he gave up his pride and started praying for rescue.

He didn't care how it looked to his fellow cops, didn't care what kind of rep it gave him in the department. All he wanted in the world right now was for Jim to come smashing through that door and get William Ellison's hands the fuck off him.

What Rafe wished for was Ellison. What he got were two punks, high on dope and booze.

Ellison jumped as the only door in the cabin was smashed in. Rafe would have flinched as well, but he was still too drugged to respond. The older man turned around to face the newcomers, dropping the detective's limp body to the floor.

"Here's, Johnny!" The big blonde yelled, ala Jack Nicholson in "The Shining." The giant turned to his partner and gleefully said, "I always wanted to do that."

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Ellison looked as outraged as a man in a blue lounging robe can be, considering his pecker sticking straight out in front of him. "I gave you your money, you should be long gone by now."

"I don't think he's glad to see us," Billy pouted to Lou.

His partner snickered. "At least part of him is." Fueled by the Vytal, William's erection had not faded, despite the unwelcome surprise.

From the floor, Rafe watched as the Asian man strode across the small cabin to face Jim's father. With his policeman's instincts, he immediately knew that the smaller of the newcomers was the more dangerous of the two. It was in the eyes. The blonde's were full of lust for mayhem, but the Asian's were cold with hate.

"I want you to leave. Immediately." William spoke confidently, used to having his pronouncements obeyed.

Billy Wong looked his mother's employer up and down, smiling as Ellison's face got red with outrage. Almost casually, he lifted his arm and struck the old man, his grin getting even wider as William toppled to the ground. "I'm not my mother. I don't have to take orders from you."

Rafe wasn't a Sentinel, but he could tell that the young Asian was deriving a great deal of pleasure from seeing William on his knees. Brian wouldn't mind seeing the tables turned on Ellison, but the situation was rapidly degenerating. As much as he didn't want to be raped by Jim's father, neither did he want to be killed by two low-lives like these. Silently, the drugs still making speech impossible, the detective urged William to caution.

Whether in answer to Rafe's mental pleas or because Wong's blow had finally knocked some sense into him, Ellison backed off a little. "So, you want more money, do you?" William smiled as he wiped the blood from his chin. "You did do an excellent job, I have to give you credit for that" reaching out, Ellison casually stroked Rafe's hip, "I suppose I could come up with a little extra bonus for you."

Billy didn't answer, but reached down as though to help the older man up. But, instead, as William reached up, he hit him again, knocking the retired businessman flat on his back. "Oh, you'll give us the money, old man, don't worry about that."

Seeing his mother's revered employer down on the floor and bleeding from his blows egged Wong on. Circling the downed man, he kicked him randomly, timing a statement with each strike of his foot. "That's for calling my mom to come sit with your sick kids when you had to go out of town, she missed my ninth birthday party. That one's for making her stay late on Christmas Eve because of some fancy dinner. And that one's for lecturing me when you bailed me out of jail."

Out of breath, Billy stepped back to admire his handywork.

"Hey, Billy," Lou said, looking at Rafe's half-clothed body. "I thought you said we were gonna party."

Wong laughed. "Oh, we will, we will. But we're gonna save the pretty one for later."

Bending over William, he used a handful of gray hair to lift the semi-conscious man's head from the floor. He wanted to look into the rich prick's eyes and see their expression when he said...

"I wanna do the old man first."

Jim Ellison pulled up to the stately house that had been his childhood home, even more frantic than the recent day when he had been rushing to save his father from a serial killer. The irony of the situation didn't escape him, that he was rushing to the same place, only, this time, to save a different loved one from the very man he'd worked so hard to rescue before.

Despite his desperate worry, Ellison halted for a moment after he leapt out of his truck. Sending his sense of hearing out ahead of him, the Sentinel checked out the status of the house and its occupants. This was Brian's life in jeopardy this time and that made all the difference in the world. He wasn't about to risk his lover's health by rushing in to a situation blind.

By the time Blair had exited the truck and joined him, the detective knew that only one person was inside, and that it wasn't Rafe. When the grad student looked at him hopefully, Jim just gave a brief shake of his head to indicate that the missing man wasn't in the house. Silently, the two men waited impatiently until Simon Banks pulled up behind them, the police captain's long stride bringing him to their side in moments.

"No luck, huh?" The more worried Simon got, the more abuse the unlit cigar in his mouth took. Already it was a soggy little stub.

"He's not here, but I think Sally is." Jim answered. "Look, I didn't really think William'd be stupid enough to bring Brian home, but I'm guessing that if anyone know's where his bolt holes are, it'll be Sally."

"'William?'" Even in the midst of a crisis, Blair was sensitive to his partner's choice of words.

Jim gave him a penetrating look before heading towards the front door. "You don't think I'd call him my father, not after he's done this."

Blair had barely caught up to his longer legged companions when all three men were startled when the door opened before Jim could knock. Inside stood a very haggard-looking Sally Wong.

"Jimmy," she cried, rushing out to hug the man she'd practically raised. "I've been sick with worry, I'm so glad you came!" Tugging on his arm, she pulled the much-larger detective into the house.

"Sally, calm down," Jim said, placing his hands on the small woman's shoulders to steady her. "Tell me what's wrong." Knowing the woman's loyalty to William Ellison, he knew that he'd have to tread carefully in order to not alienate her.

"I've been wanting to call you or Stevie, but I've been afraid to. Your father's gone to such pains to hide it, but I thought you should know. I didn't know what to do."

Over the Asian woman's head, Simon and Jim exchanged a questioning look. Had Sally known about Rafe's abduction?

Gently, having great affection this loving figure from his childhood, Jim led Sally to the living room. As he helped her get settled on a plush chair, Sandburg quickly darted to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water for the distraught woman. Sipping it with Ellison's encouragement, she slowly calmed down. The Sentinel seated himself directly across from her on an ottoman, much the way he and his brother used to sit at her feet as kids while she told them stories. He hoped the familiarity would help her open up.

"Sally, start at the beginning. Tell me what's wrong." Jim encouraged her.

Gulping great breaths of air, Sally started telling them her story. "It all started about a week or so ago. Your father had been acting... odd... lately. Restless. Up at all hours, acting almost secretive. Then, one day, he went to the doctor. Oh, he didn't want me to know where he'd gone but the doctor's office called to say his insurance wouldn't cover the treatments - but they wouldn't tell me what they were! When I gave your father the message and tried to ask if he was all right, he just said that he was fine and that it was nothing to be concerned about. But he looked so... ill... that night at dinner. His skin had almost a green cast to it and he didn't touch his food. So, I knew that he wasn't well, despite what he said."

As Sally talked, Jim did a quick mental tally. He had no idea what was up with the doctor's visit, nor did he really care, but the green-at-the-gills description of William roughly matched the time frame when Rafe had given his father a tour of the morgue.

"Then, today, I found this," Sally held up an empty prescription bottle. "I was cleaning the bathroom and it was in the wastebasket. I knew he was hiding how serious his condition was from me, I just knew it."

Ellison took the pill bottle from the distraught woman. The drug's name, Vytal, meant absolutely nothing to him but the large, brightly colored label that read "Experimental" immediately caught his eye. Wordlessly, the Sentinel handed the bottle to his captain, the other man's lifted eyebrow showing that the drug wasn't familiar to him either.

"Dr. Linder, huh? I'll give him a call and see what I can find out." Simon walked a few paces away, drawing his cell phone out to start the inquiry.

"Sally," Jim drew his attention back to the housekeeper. "Do you know of a place that Will-... that my father... might go if he wanted to be undisturbed for a while? Someplace... private. Isolated."

The woman's eyes got big as she imagined the reasons behind the detective's questions. "You don't think he'd harm himself, do you Jimmy? I've read that when some people are diagnosed with an illness, they decide to end it quickly to avoid the suffering. You don't think Mr. Ellison would do that, do you?"

It was Blair who jumped in to reassure the woman, the look on Jim's face showing that, if the Sentinel had anything to say about it, his father would suffer plenty. "No, Sally, nothing like that," the grad student soothed her, obfuscating with his usual grace. "Captain Banks just needed to get more details for Mr. Ellison's deposition against Foster, but now that we've heard your concerns, Jim just wants to make sure his father isn't alone at a time like this."

Sally wasn't immune to the Sandburg charm and relaxed at his calming words. "Well, he still has an apartment in the city. You would remember that, Jimmy, Mr. Ellison would sleep there the times when work kept him so late that he was too tired to drive all the way home. But he doesn't use it much anymore since he retired." The woman looked thoughtful. "I guess that would just leave the boat or the cabin."

Ellison had quickly discarded the apartment as possibility. If his father were planning what the Sentinel was afraid he was planning, the older man wouldn't want Brian around such a high concentration of people. The boat or the cabin, on the other hand, would both be ideal locations for a horny old man up to no good.

"Can you get me more information on those, Sally? I don't want to take any chances." Jim spared a little remorse at deceiving the woman, but only a little. Even after an absence of over a decade, he could see that the housekeeper still had his father up on a high pedestal. Given the opportunity, the detective would rather have explained his true suspicions to her, but not knowing what Brian's situation was, he couldn't spare the time that would be likely needed to convince her that his father was capable of harming the young man. Assuming, of course, that he could convince her of that fact.

"Of course," Having a solid task to do steadied the woman. "In fact, I'll get you the directions and the keys you'll need." Hurried but no longer panicked, she went to retrieve the needed items.

As Sally left, Simon finished up his phone call. "Taggert's putting in a trace on this Dr. Linder now but it might be an hour or two before we get info on what the Vytal stuff is."

"Doesn't matter, Simon. I don't care what the bastard's been diagnosed with, doesn't excuse him grabbing Brian."

Banks urged caution. "Jim, we don't know that it was your father. It could have been..."

"No," Ellison broke in. "It was him."

"So, when Sally gets back, how are we gonna do this?" Blair asked, trying to smooth over the tension.

"I think we can rule out the apartment," Jim continued when he saw the other two men nod in agreement of his assessment. "But maybe you could have some uniforms check it out anyway. I'll scout out the cabin, Simon, if you'll take the boat."

"No way, detective," Simon took his pathetic cigar stub out of his mouth and used it as a pointer to reinforce his gestures. "We'll let Taggert and Brown check out the boat. If you go to that cabin, so do I. Don't forget that if your father did this, he didn't do it alone, Jim. We don't know if the two guys who grabbed Rafe will still be hanging around. You'll need someone to back you up."

The large police captain looked at Blair in apology. They both knew that in a normal situation, Sandburg was all the backup the Sentinel needed. But if something had happened to Rafe, well, it might take at least the two of them to hold Ellison back.

He was ashamed to admit it, even to himself, but he was glad it wasn't him.

Left laying on the floor, body still limp from the drugs administered earlier, Brian Rafe could only listen to the soft slapping sounds, the creaking of the mattress, and the curses mixed in with Billy Wong's grunts as the young man took his pleasure of his victim. William Ellison had stopped crying out early on during the attack, and Rafe couldn't decide if that made it better or worse. It didn't matter to the detective's conscience that William himself had planned on doing essentially the same thing to him.

No one deserved to be raped. No one.

Besides, Rafe was a cop, an honest one. No good cop would want to be present during such a violent crime and not want to put a stop to it. But, thanks to the massive quantity of muscle relaxant in his system, he couldn't coordinate his body enough to clench his fist, let alone come to anyone's rescue. That was William Ellison's fault, but the older man was paying a high price for his actions now.

Thanks to Gary, Brian had some harsh experiences when it came to sex. Many of his past clients had cherished the teen they'd paid to have in their bed, but others enjoyed pain. His pain. As a result, he knew what William was going through and, despite his altruistic tendencies as a cop, there was a small part of him secretly relieved that it was his kidnapper that was enduring the assault and not him.

He'd never be able to look Jim in the eye again. Never.

From his position, he couldn't actually see what was happening and he had to rely on his hearing. The tempo on the bed, both from the creaking and the grunts, increased after a time. From a guttural cry that was only vaguely human, followed by the cessation of movement, Rafe assumed that Wong had climaxed. It was a guess, but a pretty good one.

"Well, for an old guy, Willy-boy, that wasn't a bad ride. What'cha say, was it good for you?" When William didn't answer, Rafe could hear Billy laugh. "Hey, Lou, it's your turn."

More sounds followed, of a zipper being lowered and of bodies exchanging places on the bed. But, apparently, Lou didn't share his partner's tastes.

"What the f...?" Rafe could hear the loud sound of a large body hitting the floor as the blonde man leaped back from the bed. "Man! Billy, the old prick shit all over himself! I'm not sticking my pecker in there."

"Don't be such a baby, Lou. Do him." Wong's tone of voice reminded Brian of the hatred he'd seen housed in the young man's eyes.

"No way, man. There ain't enough condoms in the world make shove my dick into that mess."

Rafe could hear the ice enter into Wong's words. "Fine, be that way. It's gonna be a little bit before I'm ready to get back into the saddle, but now we've got wee Willy here all warmed up, it'd be a shame to make him wait. If you're too prissy to do him, find something else. There's got to be a mop handle around here we can use."

In the silence of the cabin, Brian could hear the harsh breathing of both men.

"You are one sick fuck, Wong. You know that? You said this'd be an easy job, just grab some pussy for an old fag. So, I said okay, I could use some easy money, let's go for it. Then, just when we get the job done and are ready to party, you start this weird shit. Well, that's it. You stay here and fuck all the fags you want, I'm headin' back to town."

Lou's outburst had been accompanied by the sounds of him gathering his clothes together and, by the time his diatribe had ended, Rafe could feel the floor vibrating from the big man's strides as he made his angry way towards the door.

He didn't make it.

A shot rang out in the small cabin and Rafe winced as he felt warm liquid splatter across the small of his exposed back. Lou's corpse toppled next to him and the detective found himself staring into the blonde man's lifeless eyes.

"You big shit, look what you made me do." Brian could tell from Wong's frantic pacing that the rush of cocaine, alcohol, and adrenaline were getting to him. "Couldn't be flexible, go with the flow. No, you had to go and try to ruin everything." Nearly unintelligible mutterings accompanied Billy's steps and Rafe could almost imagine the surviving kidnapper pulling his hair out while feverishly musing. Suddenly, pacing and muttering alike stopped and the young man's voice went from agitated to cheerful. "But, guess what, boys? Billy's going to fix everything. I'll just escort this loser from the party, and we can pick up where we left off. There's enough of Billy to keep everybody happy."

Brian felt a rush of cold air as the outside door was open, flinching when Wong approached to grab Lou's body by the ankles. Luckily for the detective, the other man was concentrating on dragging the corpse out of the building and hadn't noticed Rafe's minute movement. Brian, however, had recognized the involuntary motion for the boon that it was. With every ounce of focus he could muster, he concentrated on his fingers, delighting when they curled at his command.

"Well, well, well..."

Rafe almost jumped again when Billy Wong's voice came loudly from the direction of the doorway. He'd been paying so much attention to trying to force his body to move that he'd nearly forgotten the true danger.

"Two wild and crazy guys, just waiting for me to service them."

It took a supreme act of will not to flinch when Wong bent over him, but Rafe knew that he needed every element of surprise at his disposal, if he had any chance of stopping the younger man. Even the pathetically limited range of movement he'd recovered would only give him a snowball's chance, true, but it was all he had and he wasn't going to waste it.

Holding still became even harder when Billy trailed one finger casually down Brian's spine. "You're a pretty thing. Should I do you next? I mean, if you're good enough for my Sweet William, then you're good enough for me, right?"

The other man bent down still further, finally kneeling on the floor with one knee on either side of Brian's prone body. The detective could feel the assailant's erection as Wong ground his crotch into his back, the only barrier between their bodies the fabric of both men's pants. One final thrust and then Rafe closed his eyes in relief as Wong stood and the unwelcome touch left his body.

"It's tempting, but... mother always did say to do your chores first, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you two boys all on your own for a while. Lou wanted to go into town and play. Just 'cause he's dead, doesn't mean that he can't have what he wants, right?" Wong's voice became less cheery as he mumbled his plan to himself. "Besides, we're in the middle of Bumblefuck, Washington. All I got to do is stick the body near that bar and the toy cops in these parts will just figure one of the locals popped him."

Brian couldn't believe his luck. Wong was actually going to go off and leave him and William unsupervised. Maybe there was a phone he could use....

Suddenly, a pair of boots were right in front of his face.

"Now, it wouldn't be nice to go off and leave you all alone on the floor, would it? Not real hospitable."

Brian felt two hands grab his shoulders and then found himself being dragged across the floor. Before he knew it, Wong had managed to heave him onto the bed with Ellison. Once again, Rafe was staring at another man's lifeless gaze. Only, this time, he could tell by the wheezing of William's breathing that he was still alive.

"There you go." Wong reached across Brian to pat William on the behind, but the older man didn't move. "You wanted the pretty cop, now you got him."

Billy moved to the door, tossing one final comment over his shoulder as he left. "Enjoy him while you can, Mr. Ellison, sir. Because when I come back, I expect you to share."

The drive from Cascade had been tense for the three men. Blair had tried to start a conversation, but wasn't having much luck getting the others to participate.

"I always knew you were brave, Simon, but this is going above and beyond the call of duty," Blair gestured, drawing attention to the fact that they were riding in Banks' sedan rather than Jim's truck - and the Sentinel was the one driving. "Suggesting we take your car, letting Jim drive. That's real generous of you."

"Generosity had nothing to do with it, Sandburg," Banks growled, grumpy at being regulated to the back seat of his own car. The anthropologist had jumped into the passenger seat, stating that he'd need to be up front with Jim in case the Sentinel zoned. Banks wasn't happy about it, but had let the police observer get away with the maneuver. "I wasn't about to be crowded into the cab of Ellison's truck for the whole ride here." Simon's voice softened. "Besides, if it were Daryl that was missing... I'd want to be behind the wheel too."

Sandburg nodded his understanding, knowing how his partner was fretting about not being able to find Rafe immediately. At least driving would give the detective something to concentrate on. Those inner thoughts, however, only kept the grad student busy for a heartbeat or two as he gazed out over the dark landscape. Fingers tapping his knee in impatience, he soon popped up with another question.

"It's taking a long time to get there, why didn't we just call the local authorities?"

Jim spared enough attention from the road to give him an answer. "Because calling it 'local' is being kind. This far out of the city limits, Chief, there isn't a city police. It's all woods and forest out beyond Cascade. That means county sheriffs, park rangers, and maybe a state trooper or two. They're spread a little thin as it is, without trying to get them to roll out on a possible dead end...."

"And you want to do it yourself," Sandburg finished for him.

The Sentinel smiled tautly. His Guide knew him well. "And I want to do it myself," he agreed.

The momentary peace in the car was broken by the rapidly - and unsteadily - approaching headlights from the other direction of the two-lane highway.

"Jeez, that guy's all over the place."

The words were barely out of Sandburg's mouth before the oncoming vehicle swerved, nearly driving the sedan off the road. Ellison brought the car under control, skidding to a stop on the narrow shoulder. The Sentinel turned to look at the vehicle that had nearly run them down, doing a double take as he realized that it was a van. Honing his sight, he concentrated in the poor light.

Not only was it a van, it was a rusted, brown van.

Quickly stomping on the gas pedal, Jim swung the car into a sharp turn, spraying gravel as the tires spun rubber.

"Ellison, what the hell are you doing?" Simon cried out, bracing himself as the car lurched back onto the road - going hellbent for leather back the way they'd just come.

"That van, it meets the description of the one at Rafe's townhouse," was the terse answer. Given that they were near William's cabin, the sighting was not likely to be a coincidence.

Neither of the car's passengers needed to be told to hang on; they'd both ridden with Ellison before.

It didn't take the van's driver long to realize he was being pursued. Still weaving erratically across the narrow road, the rusted vehicle sped up, taking the curves in the highway at dangerous speeds. Jim caught himself more than once starting to tell Sandburg to call for backup, only to realize that they weren't on their home turf and there wouldn't be any.

It was an impasse. Simon's was the better vehicle, but Jim didn't dare try and force the van from the road. They were driving at such high speeds that he couldn't afford to split his focus on using his senses to try and detect who else might be in the van. He didn't know if Brian was inside and was afraid that if it crashed, any passengers would be severely injured. Still, he was a police officer and every second of a high-speed chase meant that an innocent person might wander into the wrong place at the wrong time and be put into danger. It was a dilemma, one that tore at his conscience.

Nature took care of it for him.

One minute, both vehicles were tearing down a empty stretch of road. The next, a stag was directly in front of the van, the rapidly approaching vehicle illuminating its massive rack of antlers. The sudden presence of the animal startled both drivers. The van tried to veer out of the way, but was going too fast and turned too sharply. It toppled to its side, sliding across the gravel in a shower of sparks.

If the Cascade PD motor pool could have seen Jim Ellison at that moment, they would have realized that the detective saved many more vehicles than he destroyed. Slamming on the brakes and controlling the car during its rapid deceleration, the Sentinel managed to keep it upright and in one piece. Barely, but he was successful.

As quick as Jim was out of the car, the driver of the van was even quicker. In the fading daylight, he could see that it was a young Asian male, further confirming the description from Brian's place.

"Stop where you are!" Ellison yelled, quickly reaching for his ever-present gun. "Cascade PD!"

The young man staggered a few steps to the side, holding one arm to his side as though he was injured. "Cascade cops? All the way out here? I don't believe it."

"Believe it, son." Simon had come up to beside Jim, his own weapon ready. "Now put your hands up nice and slow..."

As Captain Banks took control of the situation, only part of the Sentinel's attention was on the man in front of him. The majority of his focus was on the vehicle and who else it might contain. He extended his hearing first, eagerly listening for a familiar heartbeat. To his disappointment, however, there was only silence. He tried not to think of other implications of the ominous lack of sound, preferring to believe that the perp had been alone. Concerned that the accident might have ruptured the gas tank, Jim extended his sense of smell next, but instead of the acrid fumes of spilt fuel, he was confronted with the stench of blood and death.

It was the perp that saved him from zoning on the possibility that the van contained his lover's body.

"We're a long way from Cascade, how do I know you're not car-jackers or something?" Despite his situation, driver was still protesting.

Gritting his teeth, Ellison whipped out his police identification. "Detective James Ellison, Cascade PD," he barked, wanting to get past the creep and see what was causing the smell in that van. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Ellison?" To Jim's irritation, the young man started to laugh. "Jimmy Ellison? William's little boy? Your dad's a good lay, you know that?"

It took a minute for the words to penetrate the detective's understanding, but once he realized what the man in front of him had implied, he could smell it. He'd been so focused on the vehicle earlier that he must have skipped over the closer scent, the one coming from the man.

Semen. And more blood.

God help this piece of trash if any of it was Brian's.

The still nameless man took advantage of Jim's momentary lack of attention, pulling his arm away from his side to reveal that he wasn't injured after all, he'd merely been concealing a gun.

Sandburg, who'd been watching the whole confrontation from the sidelines barely had a chance to cry a warning before three shots rang out. One from Simon. One from Jim. And one from the suspect, firing harmlessly into the air as he was hit before he could fully bring his gun to bear.

The driver was dead before he hit the ground.

Banks lurched forward to check the man's condition but Ellison ran straight to the van. The driver, whoever he had been, was now dead meat as far as he was concerned. He didn't need Simon to confirm that fact. It was much more important to find out what was inside the vehicle.

Reaching the crashed van, Jim quickly could see where the now-dead driver had exited through a broken window. Blair could probably fit through the opening, but there was no way he was sending the anthropologist in there, not with what he'd smelled. Hopping up on the van's upturned side, Ellison grabbed the door handle and pulled, muscles straining as he fought the bent metal. Finally, the door gave and Jim could see inside.

Sandburg, waiting anxiously on the ground, saw his partner's head suddenly droop, chin hitting the older man's chest. "Jim," he called up, "What is it? Is everything all right?"

Ellison wiped his hands off on the knees of his jeans. Raising his eyes to meet his partner's gaze, he reassured the younger man. "There's a body in here, but it's not Brian. I'd say it was the other kidnapper."

Simon joined Blair, both men watching as a relieved Sentinel climbed down from the van. "We're not far from the cabin, Jim. I'll call this in," A quick jerk of the head indicated both the van and the body on the ground. "You two go on ahead."

He didn't need to say it twice. Ellison nodded and made for the car, stopping only to give his boss a quick slap on the shoulder. "Thanks, Simon."

"Don't mention it," Banks called out to the rapidly retreating figures. "But, Jim..."

He waited until his best detective turned around. "I don't want a third body tonight, you hear what I'm saying?"

In the harsh glare of the sedan's headlights, Banks could see the glint in his friend's eyes as he answered. "I hear you, Simon."

As the car sped off in another shower of flung gravel, Simon shook his head. "Yeah, you heard me all right, but that still doesn't mean you listened."

One night when they were cuddled in bed, back when both Brian and Jim still found William Ellison's amorous pursuits more exasperating than frightening, Rafe had told the Sentinel that it was a good thing that his father had blue eyes. When the older detective had looked at him in confusion, Brian had laughed and explained that the blue eyes were at least one good trait that the father could pass down to the son.

Those words haunted him now.

Rafe remained on the bed where Billy Wong had thrown him, directly across from the blank stare of a barely breathing William Ellison. The older man's empty blue eyes, so like his Jim's, seemed to bore right down into the young detective's soul, silently asking him why the policeman hadn't prevented the vicious attack.

Although the softness of the bed was an improvement over the floor, Brian wasn't happy about being there. Not only because of the smell coming from the injured man was repellent, but because he still didn't have much range of body movement. After a quarter of an hour of intense struggling, he'd only managed to drag his hand from hip-level to where it was now cradled on his chest. At this rate, he'd still be in an extremely vulnerable position when Wong returned.

Brian stopped his efforts, needing to rest and regroup. This just wasn't getting him anywhere. As he did, his eyes were immediately drawn back to the man next to him. William hadn't moved or even blinked. It was as if his mind had already fled his abused physical shell.

Rafe didn't blame him. He remembered experiences from his own past, there were plenty of times where he'd have given anything to have escaped what his body was going through. A deepening bruise on William's temple in particular worried Brian. It had probably happened when Wong kicked the downed older man. Other bruises were obvious on the man's pale skin, but none placed in such a potentially harmful spot.

Rafe began trying to lift his hand further, intending to assess the injury when it dawned on him what he was doing. Would he really consider offering comfort to the man who'd pursued him relentlessly, arranged to have him kidnaped, and had every intention of raping him?

Yes, the answer came quickly, he would.

Not for William's sake, but for his own; because to witness another human being's pain and not react would make him less of a human being himself. And, a little, for Jim's sake too. No matter what his lover said about him, this was still his father and Brian owed the elder Ellison care for Jim's sake, if nothing else.

Inch by slow inch, he managed to bring his hand up to the older man's face, being as careful as his lax muscles would allow. "Will...iam..." Talking was as much effort as moving. "W....ake....up. H...h...he's....gone."

When there was no response, Rafe wanted to throw his head back and howl. This was his worst nightmare, to not only be helpless, but to be helpless in another man's bed. When Mitch had gotten him free of Gary's pimping, Brian had sworn he'd never share his body with another person he didn't care deeply about. For nearly half his life, he'd kept that vow but, thanks to William's meddling, that oath might be broken. Not only that, but one of the things he'd liked most about being a cop was being one of the good guys. Rafe was well aware that, without Officer Tony Mitchell, he likely would have been dead in a gutter before he was old enough to vote. He'd set his sights on being a policemen too, helping people just like Mitch'd helped him. Sort of evening the score.

But now, here he was, in a predicament where someone needed his help more than anyone ever had before, and he was drugged. Helpless. It was enough to make you want to hit something...

Rafe's other hand shot out to his side, fingers clenched into a fist. He stared at it for a moment before he realized that he had managed to move it, that the anger had helped him work past the drugs. The detective considered for a moment. What to do with this improvement? Unfortunately, he didn't have many options. William was in bad shape, but was also beyond his abilities to assist. Besides, there was no telling when Wong would be back; his best bet was to try and call in some assistance.

His movement a little easier now, Brian hitched his way across the mattress, grimacing in disgust when his legs brushed against a damp spot. He knew that William couldn't have helped losing control of his bowels during the rape, but it didn't make it any more pleasant to encounter. Once he'd managed to grab hold of the bed's headboard, he used it to lever himself up, needing the extra height to scope out the cabin.

A phone. He needed to find a phone.

He groaned aloud when he finally spotted it. Of course it was all the way across the cabin from the bed, mounted on the wall by the entrance. It was, in fact, much closer to his original position on the floor than to where Billy had moved him. Brian promptly debated the methods of getting there. He had better movement, true, but not much in the way of control. Walking was out of the question and might prove to be downright hazardous.

Turning around carefully, he backed his way down the bed, William's empty eyes giving silent witness to his effort. Then, all dignity abandoned in the necessity of summoning aid, the detective started crawling across the room. Each yard of progress was a journey in and of itself, his nerves stretched thin as he fought to reach the telephone before Wong returned.

He only made it halfway before he heard a vehicle approaching.

Brian refused to give up, doggedly continuing on his journey. He might be crawling, but it was a damn sight better than laying down and just waiting for Wong to come take him.

When the door was flung open, the young detective's only reaction was to keep moving, refusing to even look up at their tormentor. He expected to hear the mocking laughter again or perhaps the cold sensation of a gun muzzle pressed to the back of his neck. The last thing Rafe thought would happen was for the new arrival to drop down to his knees and gently call his name.

"Brian?"

He looked up as quickly as his slack muscles would let him. He couldn't believe his eyes. After hoping and praying for it, his lover had found him. Rafe mouthed Jim's name, but he no sound came out of the dry lips.

Ellison saw the silent calling of his name and his heart twisted. He wanted to reassure Brian that everything was all right now, but one look at the young man made it obvious that the statement would be a lie. Rafe was dressed only in his boxer shorts, knees red from crawling on the floor. The beloved hazel eyes were wide in shock, large in a face that was much too pale for the Sentinel's liking. Jim wanted to grab his mate and pull him into his arms, as much to reassure himself as to comfort Brian. But... he also couldn't forget that Rafe had been kidnaped and...

... and he didn't want to think of what else might have happened to Brian tonight.

Not wanting to force an embrace on a man that may have been forced too much against his will already, Jim simply opened his arms and softly said, "Please, babe."

Brian didn't need a translation, he clearly heard everything that Ellison was asking for. Please let me hold you, please allow me to comfort you. Lurching forward, he closed the distance between the two of them, gratefully burrowing into his lover's arms. Jim immediately closed them around Rafe's shivering form, already murmuring words of reassurance. "I've got you. You're safe now. It's all over."

The cabin, which moments before had seemed ominously silent, now enjoyed the joyful hush of reunited lovers.... until the sound of Sandburg's retching interrupted the tranquility.

Blair had entered the cabin right behind Jim. Ellison had already determined that two people were inside, one seriously injured. Like his partner, he'd been shocked to find Rafe crawling on the floor, but at least it had meant that the young detective wasn't the badly injured party. While Jim tended to Brian, Blair approached William, intending to offer the older man assistance.

What he saw when he got to the bed turned his stomach.

"Jim," Blair choked a cry to his partner. "Your dad... Man, he needs help..."

The Sentinel could hear the sirens in the distance. It looked Simon had managed to round up some assistance. "It's on the way, Chief." Standing carefully, he helped Brian to his feet, letting go of the other man only long enough to shrug out of his barn jacket and wrap it around Rafe's shoulders. He assisted his lover to the sofa, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist in order to steady him. The brief body contact gave Jim the opportunity to do a subtle inventory of his lover's physical condition. To his relief, he found Rafe relatively unharmed, although there seemed to more to his shaky condition that shock alone could account for.

He barely had Brian settled against the soft cushions before the other detective was pushing him away. Jim was immediately contrite, afraid that he'd been a little too familiar, not knowing what sort of emotional scars this event had left behind.

"Go... h.help... your.... dad."

Jim shook his head, reaching for a knit afghan to drape over the younger man's legs. "No. He made his bed, now he has to lie in it." Grimly, the Sentinel winced, uncomfortable with his unintentional jibe. The bed William was currently in was literally unpleasant, an all too graphic reminder of what he'd endured.

Rafe looked at Ellison's determined face. No doubt, the Sentinel's protective instincts were going haywire right about now. But, he had a feeling that if his lover didn't try to help his father, he'd regret it later.

The problem was getting Jim to see it that way.

Thinking quickly, he came up with an idea. "Sh..shouldn't....make....B.blair...deal...with...it...all alone."

The Sentinel looked at the other man sharply; Brian had hit upon the only argument that had a chance of swaying him. "You don't play fair."

"N..not playing. Important."

Ellison's face softened in affection at his lover's determination. "Yeah, I suppose it is. You," he pointed firmly at the seated man, "stay there. I'll be right back."

Jim turned towards the bed, afraid of what he'd find. Sandburg had been in enough emergency situations to know it was important to keep William from going shock. To prevent that from happening, the grad student had piled as many blankets as he could find on the prone man. The Sentinel left them in place, lightly moving the top layer out of the way so he could take his father's pulse. Weak and thready, but it was there.

Looking down, the detective felt like he was three men as his eyes took in the damage that had been done to his father. The Sentinel in him simply wanted to complete the job that had been done to the man who'd dared to lay hands on his mate, preferably with his bare hands. The policeman part of his personality coldly noted the injuries and pieced them together with the sketchy details already gathered. Whomever the two men in the van were, William must have hired them to snatch Brian, only to have his own henchmen double cross him. The cop part of Ellison couldn't help but feel that some sort of karmic justice had been dealt, sort of "what goes around, comes around" on a grand and brutal scale.

But the part of Jim that had loved his father was appalled to see the state the man was in. That surge of emotion surprised the detective. He'd thought, after all that had happened, that whatever love he'd once had for William Ellison had been buried underneath a mountain of bitterness and shattered illusions. For the first time, Jim understood why Brian had been so persistent that he try and maintain the relationship with his dad, no matter what crap the older Ellison pulled.

No matter what else he was, William was and, would always remain, his father.

Reaching out, he cupped dad's face in one hand. "It'll be all right, Pop. Help's on the way." The detective looked up at his partner, not at all surprised to see the compassion on Sandburg's face. "You've done all you can, Chief. The paramedics will be here in a minute. Why don't you wait outside and flag them down?"

Not bothering to see if the young man took his suggestion, Jim walked back to the couch. He and Blair had done all they could for his father, but there was another man that needed his attention. All three aspects of his personality had one thing in common - they all loved Brian Rafe. Whenever his lover needed comforting, all of them, the Sentinel, the cop, and the man, were happy to oblige.

In fact, it was a duty he performed most gratefully.

"C'mon, babe, just two more steps."

Jim kept one arm firmly underneath Rafe's elbow as he encouraged and cajoled his sluggish lover into climbing the steps to reach his loft bedroom. He would have much preferred carrying the younger man there, but although he was a strong man, he didn't think he could safely manage to heft Brian up a flight of steps. Not without risking major injury to one or both of them.

There'd been a enough hurting tonight already. Ellison wasn't about to chance more.

Once they'd made the last two stair steps, Ellison turned to flick on the light. He wouldn't need it, of course, but he was more concerned about Rafe's state of mind. The other man had barely said two words since leaving the hospital, although he'd been most eloquent earlier when convincing the doctors to let him go home instead of making him stay overnight for observation. The muscle relaxants that had been injected into him were slowly making their way out of his system. He'd be a little listless for the next twelve hours or so, but in no real danger. As for the Vytal that William had made him swallow, one dose wasn't enough to cause any reaction.

Jim had thoroughly supported Brian's efforts to come home. He could see that what his lover needed was something that the medical community simply could not supply - security. He longed to wrap the smaller man in his arms and block out the rest of the world, an impossible act in a hospital bed, and he was glad when their arguments had proven successful. With the fire, going to Rafe's townhouse was out of the question. Ellison was just as happy to take him to the loft, his own territory. Sandburg had already made other plans for the night, although considering what the anthropologist had witnessed earlier, he doubted that Blair would be seeking intimate company.

The Sentinel turned back to his lover, taking Brian's hand and leading him to the bed. At the hospital, the staff had been kind enough to allow Rafe to shower and someone had even given the mostly nude young man a set of medical scrubs. The navy blue color of the fabric made him look unusually pale and emphasized the delicate shadowed circles that had appeared under his eyes. The combination made Rafe look years younger than his actual age and Jim had every intention of tucking him for the night.

To his surprise, as they neared the bed, Brian flinched back and refused to come close.

"Beds are for lovers or people you care about," Rafe whispered, eyes blank as his memory took him down a road that Ellison couldn't follow. "Sluts belong on the floor."

Jim wanted to hit something... or start crying.

"There aren't any sluts here," he soothed his lover. "Just you and me."

"Are... are you sure?"

The Sentinel smiled gently. "Absolutely. But if you don't want to lay down on the bed, babe, that's okay. We can go downstairs and cuddle on the sofa. Just as long as we're together."

He'd hit exactly the right note with the shell-shocked man. Hesitant and wan, Brian's smile nonetheless warmed Jim right down to his toes. "No, on second thought, the bed would be fine."

Rafe let his lover settle him beneath the blankets, not letting go of the older man's hand. Jim gave in to the wordless request and lay down too, happy to feel Brian snuggle up next to him. When they were situated with the younger man's head pillowed on Ellison's chest, he started to rub his hands up and down Rafe's back, hoping to sooth him into sleep. The drooping of Brian's eyelids told the Sentinel that his tactic was succeeding, but Rafe was still awake enough for a question.

"Will the hospital know to call here if something happens with your dad?"

Jim flinched, not wanting to ruin the tranquil mood with disquieting talk of his father. Still, Brian had asked and he wasn't in a frame of mind to deny him anything at the moment.

"Yeah, babe. Simon gave them all the numbers. They're bringing in a neurologist tomorrow. He got a pretty good crack in the head."

Rafe shuddered, remembering Billy Wong's vicious kicks. Jim felt the tremor and immediately increased the pressure of his massage, as if he could rub the bad experiences right out of Brian's body and memory.

"Jim, did I tell you that my father died?"

"No, babe, you didn't." The Sentinel wondered why his lover was bringing it up now, but figured that if Brian wanted to talk, he'd be happy to listen. "I'm sorry about that, I know you loved him."

"Yeah, I did. I still do. You know what was the worst?" Rafe continued, not waiting for Jim to guess. "I saw the obituary. It said he was survived by four sons. At first, I thought one of my brothers had died too. I mean, there had been five of us boys, not four. But they listed them all. Ian. Patrick. Michael. Connor. All of them, but not me."

Jim smelled the bitter salt of Brian's tears. He knew that the day's event were bringing back an older, deeper hurt but it didn't make the pain any easier for Rafe to endure. He kissed the top of his lover's head and said the only thing that he could think of. "That sucks, babe."

"That's why," the younger man explained, "I didn't want you to totally cut William out of your life. I know what it's like, to not have a chance to go back and make things right. Family is always... family. I didn't want to be the cause of you and your father having a permanent rift."

Jim brushed his fingers along Brian's jaw, applying gentle pressure to make Rafe lift his face and look at him. "Let's get one thing straight here. Whatever crap came between me and my father, most of it started long before you came on the scene. That's not your fault. And what he did these last couple of weeks, what happened today, that's definitely not your fault."

Brian brushed a kiss against Ellison's palm. "Still sucks, though," he said, a ghost of a smile playing around his lips as he echoed his lover's sentiments of a few minutes before.

Jim smiled back. "Yeah, it still sucks. Now, go to sleep, babe."

"I don't think I could stay awake if I tried," Brian admitted, punctuating his statement with a huge yawn. "You'll stay? All night?"

"You better believe it," the Sentinel answered, tightening his arms around his lover as if defying anyone to try and take him away.

Rafe soon drifted off into slumber, safe in the older man's sheltering arms. Ellison stayed awake, both to guard Brian's dreams and to savor the feeling of having his mate back with him. As the hours slid by, he spent the time in quiet contemplation, reflecting on fathers and their unique capacity to both love and hurt the sons they brought into the world.

Four Weeks Later...

Jim Ellison pulled up to Rafe's townhouse, noting again how improved it was over the evening, a month before, when a fire had been set in the garage. Normally both he and Brian were hands-on type of men, but neither had considered trying to refurbish it themselves. They had more important things on their mind, like healing.

As he exited the truck, the tall detective unknotted his tie with a grimace. He hated the things. Actually, he disliked suits in general, particularly dark suits like the one he currently wore. In his own experience, dark suits equaled unpleasant experiences. Funerals. Internal Affairs investigations. Weddings - his own to Carolyn being a prime example. Maybe it wasn't the suit, after all Brian cut a nice figure in one. Probably his dislike had to do more with the occasions they were worn at, somber gatherings of insincere people mouthing meaningless words to keep up appearances. What a waste of time.

As he approached the house, Ellison couldn't help but think it was odd that Rafe wanted to meet him here. The young man had felt uncomfortable accompanying him this afternoon, although Jim and his family had made it perfectly clear that he was welcome. But William was still a sore point with Brian, and likely would be for a while. Rafe didn't think it was appropriate and Jim simply didn't think the issue was important enough to press him.

They hadn't actually spent a lot of time at the townhouse since the abduction. At first it was because of the need for repairs, but those were quickly taken care of. The more time Rafe spent at the loft, however, the more Jim realized that he'd missed having him there all along. Before, the couple had used the townhouse for their private time, simply because Jim and a roommate and Brian didn't. Not that Ellison resented Sandburg's living with him; the anthropologist's presence made the small space more of a home rather than just a place to live. But Brian's living there, even temporarily, it filled up the lonely spots in the loft that the Sentinel never realized had been there.

It was yet another thing the whole experience with William had taught them.

Jim entered the townhouse and, having already ascertained that his lover was in the garage, cheerfully called out to him. There would be no more sneaking up or playful pouncing. Not for a while anyway.

"I'm in the garage, Jim," Brian answered. "Don't you dare come out here, I'll be right in."

Ellison grinned, glad to hear the bossy tone in the younger man's voice. Brian had been unusually dependent on him directly after he'd been rescued. The Sentinel in him had liked that, protecting his mate had been a natural instinct and cozening Rafe had been something he'd genuinely enjoyed. But it couldn't last - it wasn't healthy for either one of them and, he had to admit, he liked having a lover that was a full partner. Someone he knew could reciprocate when the need arose.

"Hey, you're back early."

Jim looked up as Brian entered the living room, smiling as he appreciated the younger man's appearance. Like his townhouse, Rafe had been through some sabotage and then a period of rebuilding. Ellison was pleased to see that some of the weight Brian dropped was back on and that a healthy tan replaced the pallor of his face. At his councilor's insistence, Brian had taken a month-long leave of absence from Major Crimes and the young man had spent the time putting in some volunteer hours at a local cemetery. His other friends thought that his spending days cleaning and repairing neglected grave sites was morbid, especially considering that Rafe was trying to recover from a traumatic experience.

Jim knew better. He remembered a conversation he'd had with Brian about cemeteries. About being reminded, no matter how bad your situation was, that there was always a worse alternative.

Rafe took a look at his lover's contemplative face and wordlessly wrapped himself around Jim. "Was it bad?"

Jim dropped a quick kiss onto Brian's lowered head. "About what we expected. The lawyers thought it was odd, but as long as they keep getting their stipend and as long as he's well cared for, they aren't going to fuss."

The lawyers in question were William's. After a month, the elder Ellison was still totally unresponsive and showed every indication that he would stay that way. The doctors didn't know what had caused his vegetative state or, to be more correct, they didn't know which of the three likely candidates had contributed most. It turned out that Dr. Linder had been most lax in entering his old friend into the Vytal testing program. The drug was supposed to be used by men with only the most severe cases of erectile dysfunction. For William, who had no dysfunction but had only wanted to use the drug to increase his sexual stamina, it had been like pouring gasoline onto a fire. Dr. Linder's negligence on that matter, plus prescribing William the muscle relaxants that had been used to subdue Rafe, had led to the suspension of the doctor's license to practice. Jim didn't think the suspension would prove permanent, but maybe the old fart would think twice about handing out drugs like they were candy to his country club set.

The head wound, inflicted when Billy Wong had kicked his mother's boss, had also caused some brain damage, although they had no way of telling how much until or unless William awoke. Last but not least, it was also likely that the emotional trauma of being brutally raped had caused him to withdraw from reality, although the doctors also thought it possible that the head injury had been so bad that he hadn't really been aware of what had been happening to him.

Having witnessed William's hoarse cries, Rafe could have told them differently.

In a small way, William was lucky. He was wealthy enough that he could be cared for in his own home and wouldn't have to endure a nursing care facility. This afternoon's meeting had been to set up a trust to manage his estate, with Stephen Ellison appointed guardian. Jim's younger brother had been taken aback when Jim had declined, but then, the detective hadn't told his sibling the whole story. Maybe he deserved to know, but if his brother had managed to hold on to any affection for their father, he wasn't about to shatter any of his illusions.

The odd part had been Sally Wong. Jim had been sickened to learn that the dead Asian man was her son. Thankfully, Simon had been the one to break the news to her and the police captain said she'd taken it better than he thought. Later on, when Jim had been at the hospital checking his father's condition, he found her at his dad's bedside. She blamed herself for what Billy had done and Ellison readily believed her sincerity. It had taken some fast talking to convince the lawyers that she was the right person to oversee his father's care, that she wouldn't try to exact some sort of weird revenge on a helpless man, but both Jim and Stephen had been insistent. With her son dead and her husband long since gone, William was all the woman had left and they weren't about to make her leave him.

Simon Banks had taken care of the rest. With a talent for obfuscating that would have done Sandburg proud, the police captain had woven a tale to explain what had happened. He knew the lovers wouldn't want the details scrutinized, so he'd come up with a story of blackmail gone wrong. In his report, Banks indicated that Wong was trying to squeeze money out of the Ellison family and that Rafe had been asked to investigate as a personal favor to Jim. The kidnaping and subsequent events happened, according to his account, when Wong discovered that William couldn't be forced to pay.

It was thin. So thin that it was remarkable that anyone with an I.Q. higher than a rock's would believe it. That was where the contacts that William had boasted of came in. It turned out that he did indeed have friends in high places. With their help, the story held.

Rafe sensed that his lover's thoughts were in a distant and unpleasant place. Reaching up, he put one hand reverently to either side of Ellison's face and then slowly stretched upwards so that he could press their lips firmly together. Kissing until he felt he had his lover's complete attention, Brian relaxed, rubbing noses with the older man until Jim smiled.

"You know," Rafe said, nipping at Ellison's lower lip, "I only have a couple days before my leave's over."

"Yeah, I know. So?"

"So, I was thinking," Brian grabbed Jim's hand and started leading him towards the garage, "I don't want to waste the whole thing. Let's do something fun..."

Ellison stopped suddenly, his grip on his lover's hand making Rafe jerk to a halt too. "Wait a minute, babe. You haven't been wasting your time. You've had some pretty important stuff to do, like getting over what happened."

Rafe smiled, loving the fierce expression on Jim's face. Ellison wouldn't let anyone dump on him, not even himself. "Okay, okay. You're right. I've been doing 'important stuff,' but now I wanna do fun stuff... before I have to go back to the P.D. and do detective stuff." He tugged on the Sentinel's hand until he got the bigger man moving towards the garage again.

Jim swatted his lover on the behind, chuckling when Rafe yelped. "That's for making of the way I talk, babe."

Hazel eyes fluttered innocently. "Would I do that?"

Ellison laughed, he loved the twinkle that was back in Brian's eyes. "Damn straight you would. Now, what sort of fun 'stuff' do have in mind?"

"C'mon, I'll show you."

Jim let Rafe lead him in the garage, his nose telling him what was there before they even got through the doorway. Wood. Brian had replaced all of the wood that had been burned in the fire that had damaged his house. Much like Brian had done when Ellison had shown him the original boards, Ellison walked around touching it, enjoying the natural springiness of the boards against his fingertips.

"I was thinking," Rafe said shyly, "that maybe we could try the shelves again. I think I'd like building something. If you're ready, that is."

Jim wasn't the people person that Sandburg was, but he instinctively knew that his lover wasn't only talking about a set of shelves. Over the last couple of weeks, they'd spent a lot of time hashing over the past. Talking about what they could change and, more importantly, what they couldn't. It was time to move on and see what the two of them could build for the future.

Together.

"Babe," Jim said thickly, thinking of the life the two of them could create, "I can't think of anything I'd like more."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," the Sentinel said firmly, his smile answering one stretched across his lover's face. Looking around, he pretended to assess the supplies that Rafe had brought in. "You know, Bri, I think you forgot something."

Brian's forehead wrinkled as he compared what he'd bought to what Ellison had obtained before. "I did? Are you sure?"

Jim turned away in order to hide his smile. "Last time, didn't somebody mention something about a 'woody'...?"

In the yard next door, Rafe's neighbor startled when a muffled crash was heard coming from within the young man's garage. She was about to head over there to see if he needed any assistance, when loud shrieks of laughter were heard coming from inside. Shaking her head fondly, the woman went back to watering her daisies.

She'd been worried about Mr. Rafe ever since the fire had happened. He hadn't been around much for weeks afterwards, and, those few times when he had been at home, he'd looked like a pale shadow of himself. But if that particular truck was parked outside and laughter was coming from inside, no doubt the rhythmic thumping would soon begin.

It looked like everything was back to normal.

~finis~