Title: Fit 3

Author: Grey

Grey853@aol.com

Fandom: THE SENTINEL

Pairing: Jim and Blair

Rating: NC-17

Date: July 2002

Series: Yes, third in the Fit series

Archive: Yes

Website: http://www.e-fic.com/~grey

Summary: Jim must deal with both jealousy and repercussions from his past when a brutal murder hits close to home.

Notes: I'd like to thank XFreak for all her support. Without her continuing friendship, this wouldn't have been written.

Warnings: This is an AU in which Jim runs his own security agency and Blair is still in college. Jim is 26 and Blair 18, but they've been together for two years in an established relationship. You don't have to read Fit 1 and 2 to understand this one, but it would help you understand the dynamics of their time together if you did.



Fit 3
by Grey


Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the frosted window to find his lover's worried eyes trained in his direction. "It's barely six o'clock. You should still be in bed."

"So should you." Blair paused on the bottom of the stairs and then stepped closer, his palm on Jim's bare chest. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You've been saying that for weeks."

Turning away, Jim walked to the kitchen and got down two mugs. He pushed against his own weariness, his arms heavy with fatigue. "You worry too much."

"That's rich coming from you."

Jim poured the coffee and brought both mugs to the table before he sat down. "It's just a bad stretch right now. It'll pass. It always does."

"This has happened before? All these nightmares?"

"Right after Peru."

Blair settled in the chair across from him. Pushing back his wild curls, he studied Jim with earnest. "But you got better, right?"

"For awhile, yeah."

"So you've had this problem since Peru?"

"Once or twice." Jim sipped his coffee, avoiding his lover's stare. "It goes away, Chief. I'll be fine as soon as all this mess with Winston is cleared up."

"I don't think Winston or the job has much to do with it."

"It's just stress."

"Maybe, but you've had stress before and you've never screamed in your sleep. It scares me."

Reaching out, Jim took Blair's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It's nothing I can't handle, babe. I promise."

"I think you should see someone about this."

Pulling away, Jim snapped. "A shrink? I told you before, Sandburg, that's not going to happen."

"Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn about this, Jim? You've been going on fumes for weeks now. You keep saying it's going to get better, but it hasn't. If anything, it's gotten worse. Last night you didn't sleep but a couple of hours, tops. I'm just worried, that's all. We've been together for two years and I've never seen you like this, never. You need help, man, and it's not a sin to admit that."

Standing, Jim returned to the sink and rinsed out the mug without speaking. After a few moments, he turned and leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed. "Talking to someone's not going to help."

"How do you know that if you don't try?"

"Because I did try."

"When?"

"Right after the army pulled me out of the jungle. I had a whole battery of shrinks and it was all bullshit. All of it. I won't go through that again." He paused, his words more hushed. "I can't."

Blair got up and came to stand next to Jim, wrapping his arms around his middle before resting his head on his chest. "I love you. It tears me up to see you this freaked out."

Combing his fingers through the soft curls, Jim closed his eyes. He drank in the unique fragrance of his lover as he whispered, "I'm not freaked out, babe. I swear it'll get better."

"What if it doesn't?"

"It will." Jim kissed the top of Blair's head and then pushed him towards the bathroom. "Now go get a shower and get dressed. I'll fix us some pancakes and eggs."

Blair shook his finger at Jim in temporary defeat. "Don't think we're through with this. You can't distract me with food, you know."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Chief. I'm just hungry."

Moving in closer, Blair ground his crotch into Jim's. "I'm hungry, too, man, but not for breakfast. It's been awhile. Shower first, pancakes later?"

His cock lifting, Jim's body flushed with need. He kissed Blair's neck, his skin salty and soft against his lips. "I've missed this."

Blair turned his face up, meeting Jim's mouth eagerly, his tongue darting in and out before he pulled away. "Upstairs or in the shower?"

"Slick and soapy works for me."

A hand snaked to Jim's cock, the strokes like sweet, forbidden candy in the dark. "Clean me inside out, man."

Jim groaned as he followed Blair to the bathroom, his desire burning away the midnight fears calling his name.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blair sat down at the kitchen table gingerly, but with a smile. "You okay there, Chief?"

"You don't hear any complaints."

Flushing bright red, Jim grinned and shrugged. "Hope I wasn't too rough."

"You were great. I like switching sometimes."

"But you're sore."

"It's a good sore, man. Don't worry about it. You get too rough to handle, I'll let you know." Blair put down his coffee, his face serious again. "You needed that as much as I did."

"No denying that."

"I'm glad."

Jim noted the sad tone and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"It's been three weeks. I was beginning to wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"Wonder if maybe you were tired of me or something."

Jim snorted and leaned in, clasping Blair's right hand between his own. "Don't ever think that, baby. That's never going to happen. I've just had a lot on my mind, that's all. It's not you. It's me." He lifted the younger man's hand and kissed the palm, the hint of fresh soap mixed with the lingering scent of their lovemaking tickling his nose.

"I know." Blair cupped Jim's cheek tenderly before their lips met. Pulling back, Blair's dark blue eyes met his. "I couldn't stand it if you ever wanted to leave me."

"What brought this on?"

"You haven't touched me in weeks, Jim. I guess with all these late nights at work and the nightmares, well, my brain just goes all wiggy."

"Wiggy is right. I love you. Always will. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't. I'm just being stupid."

"You're not stupid." Jim sat back, his mind reviewing the disturbing number of times when Blair belittled himself. "Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"Put yourself down all the time. It pisses me off."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just cut it out."

"Habit, I guess. It's just sometimes I feel really dumb about shit."

"You're not dumb. Just young."

"So you keep reminding me."

Jim stood up, irritation clouding his earlier contentment. "Look, drop it. I've got to get to work."

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad, just tired."

"I know. I'm sorry. Why don't we do the dishes and head out? I've got an early appointment with Eli."

With a stab of annoyance, Jim crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. Anger swelled his chest. He'd met the man once and once was more than enough. "He lets you call him Eli? Sounds awfully chummy."

Ignoring Jim's irritated tone, Blair brought his dishes to the sink, his voice neutral. "I told you last week, he likes to be called Eli. It's no big deal."

"Does he let his other students call him Eli?"

Biting his lower lip, Blair shook his head. "What's your point, man?"

"No point. I just don't like you hanging around with the guy so much. You've got other classes but all I ever hear about is wonderful Eli Stoddard, god's gift to the fucking world."

"Jesus, Jim, you're being an asshole."

"I just don't like him."

"You don't even know him."

"But you do, right? Too damn well if you ask me."

Taking a deep breath, Blair finished rinsing the plate and changed the subject. "When are you going to be home for dinner? Should I fix something?"

"Depends. Can Stoddard spare you?"

"Damn it, man, stop it. There's nothing going on between Eli and me. He's my professor. He's helping me with some research and some papers. He might even be able to get me on the expedition for this summer."

"Let me guess. It's an expedition with him, right?"

"He's the best in his field. It's got nothing to do with what you're thinking."

"He's a dirty old man who wants to fuck you, Sandburg, that's what I'm thinking. You just don't see it because you're so fucking naive."

"I'm not naive, Jim. I know when a man wants me and you're right. Eli does find me attractive, but so the fuck what? It doesn't mean a thing because I love you, not Eli Stoddard."

Blair threw the dish towel on the counter and turned to walk away. Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him back, resistance brief before the smaller man settled against him. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm being an asshole."

"You piss me off when you do this."

"Forgive me?"

Pushing away enough to look up and meet his eyes, Blair sighed. "You have to stop this shit, man. Lots of men appreciate the view, I know that. You know that. None of that matters. What matters is I only want you."

"I know. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"I get crazy sometimes." Jim petted back the dark curls and drank in the strong features of the young man he loved. "I just worry you'll grow up and won't need me anymore."

"I grew up a long time ago. I'll always need you." Blair palmed Jim's chest, the heat like a fever. "What do I have to do to convince you?"

"Be patient."

"I have been, but you've got no reason to be jealous."

"I know that in my head, but my heart, well, it's a stubborn bastard."

"Fits the rest of the package then, huh?"

"Unfortunately."

Blair shook his head and then traced his finger along Jim's lower lip, the touch inviting. Jim kissed him, their tongues wrestling before he pulled away. "We need to get going."

Reluctantly, Blair stepped to the door and got his leather jacket. "You didn't say when you'd be home tonight."

"Call me when you get back from school. I've got no idea how long it's going to take to sort out this whole deal with Winston today."

"You going to fire him?"

"I haven't decided. I have to hear his side of the story first. It's a mess."

"You know what Tim would say."

Jim chuckled at the thought of his former partner's colorful language. "No doubt he'd tell him to cut off his fucking dick and stop being a horse's ass with the clients."

"No doubt." Blair paused as he pulled on his woolen cap. "Have you heard from Tim lately?"

"No. Why?"

"I don't know. Just wondered."

Hugging Blair, Jim whispered, "It's not your fault, Blair."

"I know, but I can't help but feel guilty. He saved my life and now he's in a fucking wheelchair, maybe forever."

"It wasn't anything you did."

"But it sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

Stepping back, Jim grabbed his heavy, grey wool coat. "You want me to drop you at the university?"

"I can catch the bus."

"I know, but my truck's faster and it's free."

"Sure, okay." Blair stepped to the sofa and got his backpack.

"You need a car."

Shaking his head, Blair shouldered his pack. "We've had this discussion, man. You're not buying me a car."

"But it'd be so much easier. You'd always have a ride and I wouldn't have to worry about you standing out in the cold waiting for some drafty, old bus."

"We can't afford it."

"Sure we can. The company's doing pretty well now. We can swing it, and the insurance, too."

As they stepped to the door, Blair kissed him gently. "Thanks, Jim, but no thanks."

"Why not?"

"I told you before, I want to buy my first car for myself."

"That could take awhile."

"Thanks, man. The vote of confidence is appreciated."

"I'm just saying, you're on a limited budget. I don't get why you won't let me help."

Moving to the hallway, waiting for Jim to lock the door, Blair kept his voice even. "You already do more than your share. You pay all the bills as it is."

"You won't let me pay for school."

Blair put his hand on Jim's back. "Jim, listen. I appreciate the offer. I do. It's just I like to have a little independence, too. You understand that, right?"

Grudgingly, Jim nodded. "I just don't want to see you do without, that's all. I've got this friend with a used car lot and we could get a great deal."

"Let me think about it."

"Seriously? You'll think about it?"

"Don't be so shocked. Besides, I'd only do it if you'd let me pay you back."

"Chief..."

"I mean it. If I get a car, you're going to have to let me pay you back or I'm not even going to consider it."

"God, you're stubborn."

Blair laughed as they waited for the elevator. "What can I say, man? I learned from the best."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Verify the Burton notations and you're ready to start the first draft." Stoddard sat back from his desk and took off his reading glasses as he handed over the notes. "Good job, Blair. Excellent detail."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"No problem." Stoddard ran a hand through his short, sun-bleached hair. He stood up and walked to the window, his lean body moving easily despite the tight jeans. Dark blue eyes scanned the winter landscape briefly before turning. He leaned against the file cabinet, his handsome face suddenly more serious. "So, you're still determined to go forward with this sentinel thing?"

"Sure. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me. It's just that the subject's pretty obscure. Don't get me wrong. You've done a great job with the resources you've used, but I just don't want you to get stuck with something that could be a real pain in the ass down the line."

Blair frowned. He shook his head in confusion. "How's that?"

"You've got limited available documentation. Granted, it's an intriguing idea, but a bit unconventional. You're going to need a hell of a lot more research to go much further. An actual test subject wouldn't hurt, either." He paused, his head tilting slightly. "Any particular reason why you're so obsessed with this sentinel thing?"

"I'm not obsessed."

"I'd say doing almost every optional paper on sentinels is pretty damn obsessed. I'm not ragging on you. I'm just curious."

"It's a fascinating area, that's all." Blair slipped his papers into his backpack and pushed his hair back out of his face. Stoddard's observations concerned him, but he didn't want to think about the obstacles, only the payback for helping Jim. Smiling, he redirected the subject. "Besides, it gives me an excuse to use the restricted sections of the library."

"You mean where they keep all the dirty pictures?"

"Dirty's in the mind of the beholder."

Eli laughed as he sat back down at his desk. "And my mind's pretty damn dirty. How about yours?"

Grinning, Blair flushed and avoided the playful stare. "Just average."

"No need for any help then?"

"Help with what?"

"Well, you've got Jim, right? You don't really need any erotic pictures to get going. You've got the real thing."

The direct mention of his personal life surprised him. Skin hot, Blair met Stoddard's eyes. "We probably shouldn't talk about that."

"Why not?"

"I'm just not comfortable, that's all. Jim doesn't like me talking about our private life..."

"With strangers?"

"With anyone." Blair swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully. "You're not a stranger, Eli. I appreciate the fact that you've been really great about not being weird about Jim and me."

"It'd be a little hard to be weird about it, when I'm gay myself."

"I know that. It's just that with the age thing, we've always kept a low profile."

"But you're 18 now. You're legal in every state. It's not really an issue anymore."

"Maybe not, but some people might still try to make it one. Jim's got a business. He's lost clients over this. Hell, he even lost his partner."

"Really? Damn. I didn't realize."

"Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

"No, it's okay. I understand. It's just that if you ever did want to talk about it, I'm here. I've been lucky."

More comfortable, Blair settled back in his chair. "How long have you been out?"

"Almost from the beginning. I think being an academic and an anthropologist helps. People expect us to be a little different." He smiled, his mellow voice adding a sweet buzz to the words. "I have to admit, being successful helps. They can't fuck you over as quickly if you've got a federal grant or a hefty book deal. Still, there are always going to be assholes who want us out of the picture completely, people like John Waverly, for instance."

"I've heard he's a real homophobe."

"You heard right. We served on a couple of committees together. Prick back-stabbed me every chance he got. Son of a bitch wanted to cancel the Australian exchange program."

"How come?"

"Because I sponsored it. The man has some serious issues. Nobody can hate gays that much without craving some ass candy himself."

"You think most homophobes are closet cases?"

"Without a doubt. It's been my experience that once you get past all the macho and pseudo-moralistic bullshit, that's what it's all about, insecurity about one's own sexuality."

Blair frowned, his thoughts taking a serious turn. "I guess I've been lucky, but Jim's had to deal with it a few times."

"Yeah, when?"

"In business. Plus, the military was kind of hard on him."

"I can imagine. All that male bonding."

Stoddard's teasing tone bothered him, made his skin itch with irritation. "It wasn't like that, man. Can you imagine having to hide so much of yourself, having to be on guard all the time? And then when he got out, he hooked up with me, and then he had to start hiding all over again because I was too young. It sucked. It still does sometimes."

"How so?"

"Jim's business. He doesn't hide the gay thing, but like I said, we keep a low profile as a couple."

"And that bothers you?"

"Shouldn't it?"

"I'm asking you. Sounds to me like there's something else going on that's bothering you more."

Startled at the keen observation, Blair met the concerned gaze. "No, I'm fine. Really."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or you?" Eli sat back, his hands behind his head as he kept his sight directed at Blair. "You've been edgy for a few weeks now. Anything I can help with?"

Uneasy, Blair shook his head, his eyes averted. "Not really."

"Is it Jim? You two having problems?"

"Nothing like that. We're fine."

"But?"

Blair leaned in, his hands together and resting on the desk. "What do you know about PTSD?"

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?" Puzzled, Eli put his arms down and studied Blair closely before he spoke. "Is that why Jim left the army?"

Instead of answering, Blair asked again, "What do you know about it? I mean, I've read some books and articles, but it's all kind of confusing."

"That's because we don't know as much as we should. It's one of those conditions that affects people in different ways. Some people are quite functional with periodic episodes of symptoms. Others are pretty much crippled by it."

Disheartened, Blair sighed. "Yeah, that's what I read, too."

"So, what's going on with Jim that's got you so worried?"

"I probably shouldn't talk about it."

"Anything you say is confidential. I know I'm not your shrink, but I do like to think of myself as your friend. So, what's going on?"

"Thanks, Eli, but it's personal. I don't think Jim would appreciate me talking about him, especially about this."

"Is he at least seeing someone?"

"I wish."

"He won't even consider it?"

"He hates shrinks."

"Doesn't everybody?" Eli's joking tone softened. "Seriously, Blair. If he's got PTSD, he needs help. It doesn't just go away because he doesn't want to deal with whatever happened to him."

"I know, but Jim can be a little stubborn sometimes."

"Maybe he just needs to relax a little bit." Stoddard paused and then smiled. "What would Jim say if I invited you two for dinner at my place?"

Stunned by the prospect of disaster, Blair stalled. "He's been really busy lately. There's this big crisis at work."

"It doesn't have to be tonight. I was thinking this weekend. Surely the man lets you out to socialize sometime."

"I appreciate the offer, man, but this really isn't a good time."

Nodding, Eli frowned knowingly. "He hates me."

"What? Of course, not. He doesn't know you."

"You don't lie worth shit, Sandburg. I'm betting he's not the least bit happy that you're spending so much time with good old Eli."

"Jim supports whatever I do, man." Blair stood up, his nerves rattled by the bull's eye concerning Jim's feelings. "I've got to go. I'll ask Jim about dinner. Saturday night okay?"

"Fine by me."

Stopping by the door, Blair paused. "I'll call and let you know."

"Sure. Bet you ten bucks he says no."

Blair frowned as he walked out, knowing full well he'd lose the bet.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You want to tell me what happened between you and Angela Phillips or should I fire you right now?"

"You can't fire me, Ellison. Not over some stupid shit like this." Omar Winston fumed, his chest puffed up, his anger too near the surface. "The girl liked what she saw and so did I. She's eighteen and prime, man. Her daddy's got no right controlling who she sees."

Jim sighed and fought to keep a professional composure. Tim always took care of personnel problems better than he did. Without Tim, he got stuck on the front lines and he hated it. Still seated, he kept his eyes on a seriously agitated Omar. "Her father pays us for security, Winston. He's a client. As long as he is and you're working on site, his daughter should be off limits."

"Why? It's not like I'm sleeping with him."

"Are you sleeping with the Phillips girl?"

"Isn't that what this is all about, me sleeping with Angie?" Winston shook his head, his dark face even more shadowed with temper. "Her old man doesn't like his baby girl being with a black man. Tell me you don't think that's the case."

"It doesn't matter."

"What the fuck do you mean, it doesn't matter?"

Jim slowed his breathing, keeping his voice level. "I mean, it's about the fact that as long as Phillips pays his bill, we don't fuck with his family. It's as simple as that."

"That's bullshit."

"Maybe, but if you want to keep your job, you follow the rules. If you don't, then you can quit and date whomever you please. Then you can tough it out with Phillips on your own."

Winston paced the office, his hand rubbing the back of his head in frustration. "It didn't say nothing in my contract about who I could date."

"I know that. But in the beginning, I thought I made it clear that we keep a professional distance between ourselves and the clients and that includes the client's families."

"You didn't fire Jerry over Clarise Williams."

"There's a difference. Jerry stopped seeing Clarise until we finished that project. Mr. Williams hired his own staff. All we did was install the cameras and alarms. Afterwards, Jerry was free to see her again and even marry her as the case may be."

"So you're saying I either have to stop seeing Angie or quit? That's fucked, man."

"Call it what you want, but I don't want to lose Phillips as a client. He's one of our largest accounts."

"So the bucks talk over what's right? I thought you were better than that."

Jim sat back, his hand to his mouth briefly, his mind wildly running over all the possible solutions. His choices were limited. Finally, he cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Phillips made it clear he doesn't want his daughter dating one of the men who guards his estate. What if I moved you over to another site? That would limit your contact with his daughter at home. Maybe I could convince him that what his daughter does off the grounds is up to her."

"You'd do that?"

"If I can. Look, Winston, you're a good man. I don't want to lose you, but you've stepped over the line with Angie during the job. You know that and I know that. We've got it on video for christsakes."

"She's the one who started it."

"Whoever started it, it's unprofessional. On top of that, dating her and disrespecting Phillips when he called you on it, well, it puts me in a really tough position. I want to help you out, but you've got to give me a little help here."

Winston settled into the chair across from Jim, his face still broody, but more composed. "Angie's cool. I like her. You can move me if you want, but I'm still going to see her, man, no matter what Phillips says. You going to fire me if he still says I can't see her?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to wait and see what Phillips says about it."

"He's not going to be happy, man, because we both know it's got nothing to do with me guarding his shit."

Sadly, Jim agreed, but didn't say so out loud. "I'll phone Kramer and have you two switch places. I'll talk to Phillips this afternoon. I've got an appointment at four."

"I'm sorry, man, about putting you in the middle and all, but I really do like her. A lot. I ain't just playing."

"I can see that, Omar." Jim paused, studying the serious features of his employee. "Go on over to the Charles site and let Kramer brief you before he leaves."

"How much should I worry about losing my job?"

Keeping his voice steady, his resolve suddenly strengthened. "Just make sure she's worth it and that I don't regret keeping your ass."

"You won't, man, I promise."

"Send Leslie in and then take off."

"Sure thing. And thanks, man."

A few moments later, a young lady no more than thirty walked in. She pushed back her dark, curly hair and smiled. "Hey, Jim. What's up?"

"I need you to call Kramer and tell him his schedule's flipped with Winston's. If he's got a problem with that, have him call in."

"Is that how you're going to play this?"

Jim glanced up into sparkling green eyes, her bright expression reminding him of Blair on a good day. He fought down an urge to call his lover and focused on his secretary instead. "Why? You got an opinion on this like everyone else?"

"Well, we're all kind of batting for true love, you know. Even straight love's better than no love."

"It's probably just hormonal rebellion."

Leslie laughed and shook her head. "Cynic. Besides, the girl's eighteen. Daddy's just being overprotective, if not a little bit bigoted, which is sort of like being a little bit pregnant, not that I'll ever know what the hell that feels like. Thank god." She took a deep breath as she rubbed her flat belly and then jotted down Kramer's name. "Anything else?"

Jim shook his head and then rubbed his temples. "We got any aspirin?"

"Got a headache?"

"A pounder."

"You do look a little frayed around the edges. Everything okay? You sleeping all right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "You shouldn't let this whole business get you down, Jim. You take everything way too seriously. I was just talking to Cindy about this last night. She says you and Blair should take a vacation or something. Have you thought about that, just the two of you going away together for a few days? I've got this cousin who's a travel agent and he can..."

"Leslie."

"What?"

"Just get the aspirin and call Kramer, okay?"

Subdued only slightly, she reached over and patted his shoulder. "Sure, honey. I'll get right on that." Instead of leaving, she glanced around the sparsely furnished office. "You know, what you really need is a big, comfy couch in here. It'd be just the thing. You could just stretch out and catch a few winks whenever you needed to."

"I just need some aspirin and some quiet." The words came out sharper than he intended.

"Oops, sorry, Mr. Grouchypuss. Don't mind me. I'm just here to serve the master."

It didn't take sentinel hearing to catch the next line when the door slammed shut behind her. "Man, someone needs to get laid."

Jim closed his eyes, his head still thumping like a hammer at his temples. He sighed and spoke quietly to himself. "If only it were that easy."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim slugged the punching bag, the impact traveling up the tight muscles of his arms. Sweat trailed down the side of his face, the repeated blows hard, but satisfying work. In his mind he beat Eli Stoddard beyond recognition, the smirking man's face shimmering in his mind as he pulverized it to a bloody pulp. The controlled violence made him stronger, more clear on what he needed to do to keep Blair. Reining in his own jealousy gave him the power and resolve to contain it.

It took several tries for his name to register.

"Jim?"

"Simon." Reluctantly, Jim stopped working out. He pulled off his gloves and then picked up the towel from the workbench. Drying his face, he took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

"You look, I don't know, a bit raw. You always go all out on the bag like that?"

Instead of answering, Jim opened the water bottle and took a long drink. He wiped his mouth, trying to manage the anger still swarming all through him. "How'd you find me?"

"Your secretary. Man, she's something else."

Smiling, Jim nodded. "She does tend to take the long way to the point."

"You can say that again." Simon Banks looked around the well equipped gym. "Nice place. I didn't know security companies had their own gyms these days."

"Offices and meeting rooms are in the front, gym in here, and the firing range is in the back. It used to be the old Tanner warehouse. I got a deal and had it renovated."

"Must be paying off. Your company's got one of the best reps in town."

"And I appreciate the business you've thrown my way."

Simon shrugged. "No problem. I figure if I can't have you as a cop, might as well send you the jobs more suited to the private sector."

Jim nodded, thinking over the numerous bodyguard and home security projects he'd done because of his friend's referrals. "Thanks. We're doing okay."

"And Blair? How's he doing?"

"Fine. Is that why you're here, to check up on Blair?"

"No, actually, I'm here about something else. Maybe you should clean up and we'll talk in your office."

The serious tone and somber expression set off alarms. "Why? What's going on?"

Simon hesitated only briefly. "What can you tell me about Jasper King?"

"Jasper? He's a friend. Up until last month, he used to work here. Why? What's going on? Did something happen to Jasper?"

Simon nodded, his face drawn and sad. "Afraid so. We found his body last night. I'm sorry."

The cold, sinking feeling almost swallowed him whole. Clenching his jaw, Jim struggled to tame his tongue. "How'd he die?"

"Stabbed in the heart." Reaching into his pocket, Simon held out an evidence bag. "I was hoping you could tell me why this would be at the scene."

Staring at the article inside the plastic, Jim shook his head, his mouth dry. "Fuck."

"That's you, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

Jim closed his eyes, working like hell to block out the image of his mournful face on the bloody cover of NEWS UPDATE MAGAZINE.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Showered and back in his grey wool business suit, Jim sat at his desk. Shell-shocked, he handed the folder to Simon. "Here's all I've got on King. He was a good employee and a friend. I knew him in high school. When I started up the agency, he was one of the first people to show up and sign on."

"Why'd he quit?"

Jim avoided the intense stare. "There was an incident."

"What kind of incident?"

"One of the clients went out clubbing and OD'd. She lived, but Jasper felt responsible. He wasn't, but he decided he wanted to do something else."

"Which was what?"

"He always wanted to open up his own restaurant." Jim stood up and walked to the window, the view of the winter field wide and desolate. It suited his mood for the moment. "He liked to cook. He had Blair and me over several times."

"He knew about you two?"

"Jasper knew about me from high school, Simon. He was one of the few people who didn't give me shit about it."

"So you liked him?"

Arms wrapped tightly around his chest, Jim nodded. "Yeah, I liked him. Like I said, he was a friend. I offered to help him get started with the restaurant, but he wouldn't let me."

"Why not?"

"That's just the way he was. Proud."

"Too proud?"

Suddenly angry, Jim snapped. "How can a man be too proud? He was a good man. He didn't deserve this shit."

"Nobody does, Jim. I'm just trying to get a handle on what might have led up to him being killed and your picture taped to his chest."

"What?"

"You heard me. It was taped to his chest with duct tape. I guess the killer wanted to make sure we made the connection."

Jim settled into the nearest chair, his legs suddenly weak. "This is seriously fucked. Jasper and I were friends, but we weren't that close, not best friends. Why would this have anything to do with me?"

Simon shrugged and sat on the edge of Jim's desk, his voice softer, but still professional. "There are a couple of reasons that come to mind. One, the perp could have a grudge against you and knew you were a friend to King. Two, this is related to something that the two of you worked on together. And there's always the third possibility that this has nothing to do with you and this is just to throw us off."

"What do you think?"

"I don't have enough to know that yet. What I do know is that this killer spent a lot of time on the scene."

"What do you have besides my picture?" "King was tied to a chair. He'd been beaten and cut up before he was actually stabbed to death."

"Cut up?"

"His clothes were sliced off and there were deliberate cuts and gashes to his chest, face, and thighs."

Simon's momentary lapse as he looked away, begged the question. "Was he raped?"

"It's possible. It didn't look like a sexual assault, but we won't know until the report comes back."

Jim rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wipe away the disgust. "But we don't need a report to know that someone mindfucked and tortured him before he was killed."

"Looks that way."

"What can I do to help?"

"Tell me if you know of anyone who might have a beef against King."

"Nobody, at least none I know of. He and his ex fought some, but Debbie would never do anything like this."

"Debbie would be Debbie Baker?"

"Yeah. I can't think of anyone else."

"What about a boyfriend for Baker?"

"No, not as far as I know."

"What about the client who OD'd? Any hard feelings there?"

"No." Jim shook his head, the pressure building inside, the earlier chill replaced by the heat of growing rage. "Everybody liked Jasper. He was a good guy."

Simon nodded and then focused his gaze on Jim. "Then that pretty much leaves you. I think it's time I had a little more background about what happened to you in Peru."

"You think this has something to do with that?"

Holding up the cover page again, Simon pointed at Jim's stony image. "I don't think it's a connection we can dismiss. I mean, I've already read the article that goes with this, but I'm sure there's a lot more you can tell me about what really happened. I need details, anything that might make this thing make sense."

Jim leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head down for a few moments before he sat up again. "I can't talk about that. Not here. Not now. Come by the loft tonight around seven. I don't know if it'll help, but I'll tell you what I can then."

Simon put the evidence bag back in his pocket and stood up. "Fair enough." He paused, his words careful. "I know this is difficult for you, Jim. I don't have to be a detective to see that. I wouldn't ask you to go through it if I didn't think it were important."

"I know that."

Stepping to the door, Simon hesitated. "You going to be okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure you are. Maybe you should call Sandburg. If he knew King, it might be easier to hear about it from you."

"I'll do that."

"And, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch your back. This killer might decide to go after you directly next time."

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind."

As soon as Simon left, Jim buzzed for Leslie. When she came in, he grabbed his coat from the rack by the door. "Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day."

"I'd love to, hon, but what about Phillips?"

"Keep that one, but reschedule the rest."

"What's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost. God, don't you hate that expression? My grandma used to claim that she could see spirits."

"Leslie."

"What?"

"Jasper King is dead."

"Shit. You're kidding." Her voice caught in her throat. "Not Jasper."

"I need you to let people know." Patting her shoulder, he fought down his own grief as he watched her eyes moisten with tears. "I need to find Blair and then we need to see about arrangements."

Nodding, her face red, her hands shook as she wrote down the notes. "Whatever you need, Jim. You want me to call Jasper's mom?"

"Jesus. I didn't even think."

"I'll do it. I'll call Cindy and she can go over and stay with her for awhile. She shouldn't be alone right now. You know how close she was to Jasper."

"I know. Thanks."

"And, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"You should tell Phillips to go fuck himself if he gives you any shit about Omar. Tell him to be damn grateful he still has a daughter."

Jim kissed her forehead. "Thanks, but right now, I could give a shit about Phillips."

"As it should be. Now, go on, go get Blair. He's going to be really upset. You know how he is. Promise to give him a kiss for me."

"Promise."

As he headed out the door, Jim knew that one kiss would never be enough and that his promise included far more than kisses.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Frantic and frustrated, Jim did what he least wanted to do, knock on the door of Eli Stoddard's office.

"Come in." Stoddard looked up, surprised. "Jim. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Sandburg. Have you seen him?"

"This morning." Standing up, Stoddard studied him with concern. "Are you okay? You look terrible."

"I need to find him. I checked the library and the student center, but he's not there and no one's seen him. He doesn't have a class right now and he didn't take his fucking cell phone." Jim stood in front of Stoddard's desk, his heart racing, his temples throbbing worse than before. All around him the air shimmered with a tight, yellow tension.

"Just calm down. Tell me what's wrong."

The controlled voice fired Jim's temper higher, his hands balled into fists. "Just tell me where the fuck he is."

Stoddard glanced at the clock and then back at Jim. "Probably in the basement working on the catalog."

"Catalog? What catalog?" "I asked him to help catalog some new artifacts I got in from Borneo. It's easy cash. Chances are he's still down there."

Clenching his jaw, Jim fought back the urge to kick down the walls. Blair hadn't told him about taking money from Stoddard. He struggled to keep his voice steady. "Where's the basement?"

"It's in the annex next door. Take the back entrance and it's the third stairwell on the right."

Turning, Jim started out, Stoddard's voice at his back. "Jesus, no wonder Blair was concerned."

Jim whirled back around. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you look like shit. He said he was worried about you and now I know why."

"You two talk about me?"

"Look, it's not what you think."

"You don't know shit about what I think."

Shifting uneasily, Stoddard kept his back to the window, his face taut and his eyes on Jim. "He was just worried about you and he mentioned it, that's all. We don't sit around talking about your love life."

"Fuck you, Stoddard. I don't have time for this shit." Jim stepped closer, his voice low, the force of the words deadly. "He's mine. Don't touch him. Don't even think about it. Got that?"

"Got it."

Intense blue eyes met his with a strength that surprised him. Jim backed up a little bit. "Just so we understand one another."

"We do. I'm no threat."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"I just like to be clear."

Standing absolutely still, arms crossed, Eli smiled for the first time. The words bit the air between them. "Oh, you're clear all right, Ellison. Crystal clear. You think you own the boy."

Jarred by the words, Jim shook his head, his vision blurry. "I never said that. He's not a boy and nobody owns him."

Alarm replaced the smug tone. "Are you okay?"

Sound echoed around him, stretched out, the air currents vibrating and slicing his ears. Jim fumbled for the back of the chair, the world unsteady. "I need to find Blair."

Hands guided him to sit down, the touch like fire through his clothes. Lids squeezed shut, light still poked at his eyeballs. "Stay here. I'll get him."

"I should go."

"You're not fit to go anywhere. Now, stay put."

Jim didn't argue. He floated in flashing blue lights and struggled not to scream as wildfire buzzed his skin.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tumbling through sickly sweet ether, Jim lurched forward, his head in his hands. Blair's voice caught him. "Jim?"

Reaching out, Jim touched his lover's frightened face. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I couldn't control it."

Worried, Blair kneeled beside Jim and looked up at Eli. "We need to be alone."

"Sure. Is he going to be okay?"

"In awhile." As the older man opened the door, Blair added, "Appreciate the concern, man."

"No problem. I'll be in Elaine's office. Call if you need help."

"We'll be fine. Thanks."

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jim squeezed Blair's hand. "Is he gone?"

"He's gone. What the hell happened? You scared the shit out of me. You were totally out of it."

"I know." Jim sat back up, still dizzy, but less nauseous. "I couldn't find you."

"Why did you need to?"

Taking several deep breaths, Jim cupped Blair's cheek, the brush of his whiskers warm and rough against his still sensitive skin. "Jasper's dead."

"What?"

"Simon told me he was murdered last night."

"Oh, my god." Blair leaned in and wrapped his arms around Jim.

"He was tortured."

Blair's breath hitched. "I'm so sorry." Pulling away, he brushed his lips against Jim's. "You should've called."

Snorting, Jim pulled away. "I tried. You didn't take the damn phone, Chief."

"Oh, fuck, man. I meant to. I just got distracted this morning and forgot."

Jim sighed, remembering the delicious case of distraction in the shower. "It's okay, but don't let it happen again. I need to be able to reach you."

"It won't." Pausing, Blair stood up and moved to the chair beside Jim, his expression twisted with deep thought. "So, why did Simon come see you? Why not his mom or Debbie?"

"He went to see them, too, but I was Jasper's friend and his ex-employer."

"What aren't you telling me here?"

Jim stood up and walked to the window, uneasy and stalling. "Why do you think there's more?"

"Because you'd be upset, but not this upset if there weren't."

"You'd make a great detective."

"When it comes to you, maybe. Now what is it?"

Jim rubbed his face, working his tongue against the dryness. "There was a picture of me taped to his chest."

"Picture?"

"The one from the magazine cover."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Simon thinks the murder might have something to do with me."

"And Peru?"

"I don't see how, but yeah. He's coming over tonight to ask more questions."

"This sucks, man, I mean really sucks."

"I know. Why go after Jasper if the dumbfuck wants me? It doesn't make any sense."

Blair moved to stand next to Jim, palming the older man's chest. "It does if he wants you to suffer."

"Like I haven't suffered enough? Like crashing and losing all my men weren't bad enough?" Jim closed his eyes, the fury firing through him like a million bullets all at once. "This is so fucked."

"I know."

Blair's gentle touch kept him grounded. Taking his lover in his arms, Jim rested his forehead on Blair's shoulder. "I was just so worried when I couldn't find you."

"Why?"

"It would kill me if something happened to you."

"Ah, Jim." Blair kissed the side of his face as he rubbed the top of Jim's head. "Nothing's going to happen to me."

"I'll bet Jasper thought the same thing."

Blair's smile faded. "What about his mom?"

Jim stood up straighter and sighed. "Cindy's with her. We should go over and see if she needs help with the arrangements. It'll probably be at least 48 hours before the police release the body, but we still need to call people."

"Let me get my stuff and we can go."

"I'll go with you."

"Okay." Blair stopped and tilted his head. "Jim, why where you in Eli's office when you zoned out?"

"I didn't zone out."

"What do you call it?"

"I don't know. My senses spiked for some reason."

"Well, what exactly were you doing when that happened?"

"I was looking for you. I'd tried everywhere else." Suddenly angry again, Jim pushed past Blair, but stopped at the door. "And why the hell didn't you tell me you were working for that asshole?"

"First of all, keep your voice down. These walls are paper thin. Second, he's not an asshole. You're the one acting all crazy. I was making a few extra bucks. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is, you didn't tell me. If there's nothing going on, why keep it a secret?"

"Damn it, I wanted to buy you a present."

"A present?"

"Yeah, man, a present, something I bought with my own money."

Anger suddenly gone, Jim wondered why Blair even bothered with him sometimes. "I didn't know."

"That's the whole point. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Really?"

"Really. Eli offered me the job and I took it. Simple as that."

"I still think he has an ulterior motive."

"Jesus, Jim, just let it go for christsakes."

Both hands up, Jim surrendered. "It's gone."

"Right." Still annoyed, Blair stepped to the door. "Let's go get my shit and go see Mrs. King."

"Sure."

"And, Jim, we are so not done with this."

After two years of living with Sandburg, Jim knew better than to say another word.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That is like so sad, man."

Jim sat beside Blair, the engine running, but the truck still parked. "Yeah, it is."

"It was nice of you to tell her about the insurance though."

"It was his policy."

"But he didn't work for you anymore."

Jim shrugged. "The premium was still paid up through the end of the month, so technically, he was still covered. It should take care of most of the funeral expenses."

Blair stared out the window, his face pale. "She was so lost. She doesn't have any other children."

"I know."

Hesitating, Blair spoke quietly. "Would you mind if I called Naomi tonight?"

Startled, Jim glanced over at Blair. Reaching out, he pushed back a wayward curl. "You don't have to ask that, Chief. You can call her anytime you want. You know that."

"I know. It's just that right now I think she's in Paris, but I'm not sure where. I might have to make several long distance calls to track her down."

"Then do it. It's not a problem."

"Thanks. It's a shame it takes something like this to make me call though."

"You'd call more often if she bothered to let you know where she was."

"Don't start on my mom, man."

"I'm not. I'm just saying."

"Well, don't." Blair covered his mouth momentarily before he spoke again. "So, what do we do now? I'm too messed up to go back to school today."

Jim glanced at his watch. "I've got a meeting with Phillips in just a few minutes. After that, we'll go home."

"I forgot about that shit. What did Omar say?"

"That he likes the girl and she started it."

"Figures. So, what are you going to tell Phillips?"

"Leslie says I should tell him to fuck himself."

"She would. But what are you really going to say?"

Shaking his head, Jim didn't want to think about another nasty confrontation. "I guess it depends on how he reacts to my plan."

"Which is?"

"I move Winston to another worksite and we treat Angie and Omar like adults, let them decide if they want to date or not."

"You think Phillips will go for it?"

"We'll know soon enough. Frankly, with all this shit with Jasper, this doesn't seem very important."

Blair touched his arm, his voice soft and reassuring. "It's just business. Jasper's personal. It'll work out."

"Will it?"

"If this Phillips creep has a problem with Omar, then we don't need his business anyway."

"Tough talk. Maybe I should send you in to set him straight."

Blair sat back with a smile. "Only with you behind me for back up. Give him one of your glares and we're set."

"You saying I have a menacing countenance?"

"Sometimes." Blair teased a finger along Jim's jaw. "Personally, I miss the smiles."

"I smile."

"I know, just not as often as you used to."

Jim met worried eyes as he captured Blair's wandering hand. "I smile when I think of you."

"Wish we didn't have this meeting."

"I could cancel and reschedule."

"No. Let's get it over with." Blair leaned in and brushed Jim's lips with his own, his tongue meeting the older man's briefly. Pulling back, he spoke in a hush. "Then we go home. Together."

Blair's desire steamed the air. Jim kissed him again, his skin flushed as he turned his attention back to the car. The sooner he saw Phillips, the sooner he could hold Blair in his arms and show him just how much he loved him.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, that's the way it is, Mr. Phillips. My man doesn't work on your estate any longer, and I won't interfere with my employee's personal life. Your daughter isn't a minor and from what I've seen, she's the one who initiated the relationship. I don't see what else I can do."

"You can fire that arrogant boy, that's what."

Jim held his temper in check just barely. "Mr. Winston is twenty-five, sir. He's not a boy by any stretch of the imagination."

"He's too old for my daughter."

"Not according to your daughter."

"She's just a child."

"She's eighteen. Frankly, I don't see the problem."

Phillips sat back in his leather chair, fuming. "Do you realize how much I pay your business, Ellison?"

"Yes, sir. You're one of my biggest clients. That doesn't change the fact that I won't tell one of my men who he can date when he's not working directly on this particular assignment."

"I could take my business elsewhere."

Jim kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his face stoic. "You could, even though it would cost you a lot more money and wouldn't really solve the problem."

"How would it cost more?"

"Well, I'd have to remove all the security equipment or you'd have to buy it outright. Then you'd have to hire another firm. It would take time for the change over."

"And if I'm willing to do that?"

"You'd be spending twice the amount you're spending now. If you're not satisfied with the actual work we've done, fine. But this isn't something that has anything to do with security. It's about controlling your daughter. If you think getting rid of my agency will help that, you're mistaken."

"I don't want that boy anywhere near Angela."

Jim looked away for a moment in frustration. After a couple of deep breaths, he continued. "You may not like it, sir, but the fact is, she and Mr. Winston like each other. It's been my experience that if parents try to keep two young people apart, even if they think they're doing the right thing, it tends to backfire. Let this alone and it may simply run its course and go away."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Mr. Winston's a good man, honest, hard-working. Your daughter could do a lot worse."

Phillips pursed his lips, his face puffy and red. "He's black."

"Is that a problem?"

"I didn't say that, but what could they possibly have in common?"

"I think that's for them to decide."

"I'm her father, goddamn it."

"Then show her how much you really care and let her make her own decisions. Support her choices. You could lose her if you don't."

Phillips snorted and shook his head. "You obviously don't have any children."

"No, but I was a son once."

Startled, grey eyes met Jim's. "Excuse me?"

Surprised by his own candor, Jim forced himself to continue. "My father drove me away because he thought he knew what was best for me. He didn't. I'd hate to see the same thing happen to you and your daughter."

Obviously disconcerted, Phillips looked away, suddenly thoughtful. After a few more moments of silence, he finally spoke. "My own father did that. Forced me to do things that were a big mistake. He meant well, but he made my life miserable at one point."

"Then you understand the situation."

"I still don't like it."

"I'd be surprised if you did. I think it's hard for any father to admit that his child has grown up."

Nodding, Phillips frowned as he slowly relented. "So, this Winston, he's okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"If he hurts my daughter, I'll kick his ass."

"You should let him know that, sir. Invite him to dinner."

Phillips laughed in spite of his reservations. "Don't push your luck, Ellison." He sighed and stood up, extending a hand. "Meanwhile, you still have your contract."

Shaking the man's hand, Jim nodded. "Thank you."

As he turned to leave, Phillips asked, "Ellison, you and your dad, are you two okay now?"

"My father's not part of my life."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not."

Walking out the door, Jim heard Phillips call his daughter on the phone. "Angela, baby, we need to talk."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trembling, his body drenched in sweat, Jim sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Humiliation stretched every muscle, carved every bone. A shaky hand settled in the small of his back. "It's okay, man. It's no big deal."

"It is to me."

"I didn't mean that. I just, I mean, I don't know what the fuck I mean." Frustrated, Blair shifted on the bed behind him and moved in closer. "This was a bad idea. You're stressed out. It happens."

"Not to me."

"You're human, Jim. A friend just died. Your senses are all fucked up. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I love you, Chief. I wanted to show you. It's not you."

"It's not you, either, man. It was just bad timing." Blair kissed his bare shoulder and then rested his forehead against his spine. "Why don't we get cleaned up and eat something before Simon gets here?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You've got to eat. You missed lunch."

Jim wiped his face with one hand, the world suddenly too cold. He stood up and slipped on his flannel robe. "I'm taking a shower. Order something. I don't care what."

"There's leftover lasagna. I can heat it up and fix some salads."

"Whatever."

Blair grabbed his wrist, his voice tense. "Jim, it's okay. I love you."

Avoiding anxious blue eyes, Jim nodded and turned away, pulling his arm free. "Sometimes I wonder why."

"How can you say that?"

"Because we both know I'm a pain in the ass, especially lately. I don't know why you bother."

Climbing off the bed, Blair shook his head with frustration and then wrapped his arms around Jim's waist. "Because you're my world, Jim, my whole world. I love you because you're special and the most honest man I've ever met. Sure you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but so am I. We need each other. What's wrong with that?"

Jim gazed at his lover with wonder, his heart punch drunk with the words. Sighing, he shook his head, still unconvinced. "You give more than you get."

"Sometimes. And sometimes it's the other way around. That's what being together means."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. We both give what we can and take what we need. It all balances out. Don't you get that?"

"I hope you're right."

"I am."

Jim lifted Blair's chin. "You're a confident little shit, Sandburg."

"Fuck that little shit, okay?" Teasing tone gone, Blair cupped his cheek. "We'll get through this."

"You believe that?"

"Yeah, man, I do. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

"But it hurts like hell in the meantime." Jim closed his eyes as Blair hugged him tighter, the younger man's arms the only anchor against the misery swelling around his drowning heart.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Simon. You're early." Blair greeted the detective with a smile and took his coat. "Jim's in the shower. He should be out in a little bit. Want some coffee or a beer?"

"Wouldn't say no to some coffee. Thanks."

"Cream, no sugar, right?"

"You've got a good memory."

"About some things. Have a seat. I'll bring it over." Blair poured them both coffee and added cream to one before taking them to Simon on the sofa. He straddled the armrest and held the mug between his palms. "So, do you have any more information on Jasper?"

"I'd rather wait until Jim's here. I'd just as soon not go through it twice."

"Bad, huh?"

"Bad enough." Simon took a sip of coffee and then studied Blair. "So, how are things at school?"

"Fine, I guess."

"You guess?"

"It's just hard to focus on academics all the time."

"Maybe you should take fewer classes. You did start awfully young. Don't want to burn yourself out."

"No, it's not that, Simon. I like school, it's just..."

"Just what?"

Nervously, Blair glanced down the hallway toward the bathroom. He heard the shower still going. "It's Jim. I'm worried about him. You're bringing up a lot of stuff that he's got a tough time with."

"You think he can't handle it?"

"He can handle it. He has to. It's just hard, you know? He was already having a rough time before this happened. Now, I don't know. I just hate seeing him so stressed out."

"Might do him good to talk about it."

"Maybe."

Simon put his mug on the coffee table, his face serious. "I won't make it any harder than I have to, Blair."

"I know that. Just step lightly, man, that's all I'm saying."

The shower cut off and Blair cringed at the thought of the long night ahead.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim walked into the living room bare-footed, his hair still wet and the sweatshirt and jeans clinging to his damp skin. Carrying his shoes and socks, he sat in the chair across from the sofa. He slipped them on as he spoke. "Did you find out anything else?"

"No rape, but there was evidence of semen other than King's at the scene. The evidence suggests that the killer ejaculated, either before or after King was killed. We don't know which." Blair's breathing hitched, but he remained silent as Simon continued. "At least that gives us a DNA sample. If we can find a suspect, we'll have something to use."

Jim leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Any suspects in mind?"

"Not at this time. I need you to tell me about your relationship with King."

"My relationship?"

"You said you knew him in high school. Start with that."

Jim shrugged and crossed his arms as he sat back, spinning his mind back to former unpleasant times. "We were on the football team together."

"Were you friends then?"

"Not really. We hung out in groups, but not just the two of us. I don't think he was very comfortable with me back then. Not surprising. I wasn't very comfortable with myself back then."

"You said he knew about you being gay. How did that happen?"

Jim closed his eyes, the memory like an oozing scab. "It was stupid. John Weasley and I were wrestling around in the locker room after practice. I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. I got hard and so did John. One thing led to another and we were kissing. Jasper walked in."

"What'd you do?"

Jim sat up and shook his head. "I went after him. I just knew I was dead, but he told me to forget about it and to get a room. He didn't tell anyone or hold it against me."

"That was it?"

"No. We went to a few keg parties together. He got drunk once and told me he had an uncle who was gay. Other than that, we were just teammates. He didn't hassle me, but we didn't get that friendly, either. That didn't happen until later when he came for a job."

"When was that?"

"When Tim and I first started the business. That was a little over three years ago. He didn't have a degree, but he had martial arts training and was a quick study. He was my best personal security man, even though he did tend to get too close to the clients."

"That's what happened with the one who OD'd?"

"Yeah. He felt responsible because he really wanted the girl to go to rehab. I told him he wasn't a social worker. He told me to go to hell. After he settled down, he told me he needed to do something different. That's when he mentioned opening a restaurant."

Simon rubbed the back of his head, his face worn and drawn. "Not much to go on."

"No."

"Think, Jim. Isn't there any time that maybe King got in someone's face as a bodyguard, maybe pissed someone off?"

"Sure, but not enough for something like this. You've got the complete file, Simon. There's nothing like that. I'll go through it again, but I doubt there's anything to find."

"Then that leaves us with you. It's either someone you both knew or someone who's trying to get to you through King. Which brings us to your time in Peru. Tell me about that. The article said you spent eighteen months in the jungle with some tribe called the Kopeks?"

"Chopec."

"So, what exactly happened?"

"Eight men went in, only one came out."

"That one being you. You were the leader?"

"Yeah." Jim paused, the air around him suddenly too dry. "I need a drink. Want one?"

"I'm good."

Ignoring the concerned glances, Jim went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He twisted off the top and swallowed half before he walked over to the window. The drink helped a little, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. His back to Simon and Blair, he rode a wave of fear, his stomach tight and rebellious. Several moments later, he fought to keep his voice steady. "I left home right after high school and enlisted. First week out of boot camp, Special Forces grabbed me up and started in on covert ops and officer training. Being a sniper came easy. Luckily, so did the survival skills. When we were assigned that mission in Peru, it never occurred to me that my whole life would change in an instant."

Jim squeezed his eyes shut against the explosion, the screams, the stench of scorched flesh mingled with the crack of bones inside his head. "We were shot down with heavy artillery. By the time the 'copter hit the ground, five of the eight were already dead. Stone and Rodridquez were seriously injured."

"What about you?" Simon's voice interrupted the thick trail of memories.

"Broken ribs, concussion, deep lacerations to my back and right leg, first and second degree burns over most of my chest and face. Somehow I managed to get free and pull the other two out of the wreckage. Didn't do any good. Roddy died first." Jim rubbed his stinging eyes as he pushed away the memory of the desperate cries of his friends. "Stone survived the longest, almost an hour. His whole pelvis was crushed. There was nothing I could do."

"You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough, Chief. They all died on my watch."

Simon's careful voice interrupted. "What then?"

"I don't remember exactly. There was so much blood. I couldn't breathe. The pain, it was too much. I passed out." Jim rubbed his arms, a phantom swarm of insects buzzing his skin, the rusty tang at the back of his throat too real. "When I woke up, I was with Incacha."

"Incaca?"

"Incacha. The shaman of the village. He saved my life."

"He treated you?"

"Yeah. He kept me sane when it would've been a lot easier to walk off a cliff. Plus he taught me what I needed to know to get by as part of the tribe."

"You understood him?"

"He used more than words." Jim stopped briefly, pushing away the memory of soft touches, the whisper of tongue across his skin. Swallowing back his anguish, he continued, his voice strained. "I learned the language. For some reason, it was easy for me."

Simon shook his head in amazement. "You were damn lucky to survive."

"So they say."

"But once you were well, why didn't you leave, try to find some way back home?"

Jim turned and met the dark gaze. "I couldn't, Simon. They took me into their world, made me one of them. I belonged there. Besides, I owed it to the others to stay. It was my fault that they were dead. I buried their bodies and then secured the pass. I needed to do that."

Simon leaned forward, confused. "How was it your fault? Were you the pilot or one of the men who shot down the helicopter?"

"No, but..."

"But what?"

"I should've known. I had this bad feeling that something was wrong before we left. Col. Oliver was acting suspiciously. Apparently, he tipped off the guerillas that we were coming."

"Then it's his fault, not yours."

"That's what the army shrinks said."

"But you didn't believe them."

"No. Those men were my responsibility." The words caught in his throat. "I fucked up and they died because of me."

Blair got up and moved to Jim's side, wrapping his arms around his middle. Jim's whole body shook against his. Meeting Simon's worried eyes, Blair motioned for the door. "That's enough, man. He needs to rest."

"I'll let myself out."

Jim settled into Blair's embrace, his eyes squeezed shut, the crash playing over and over in his head. His throat tight, his breaths in short pants, he let Blair guide him upstairs. He paid no attention to being stripped and tucked in, his young lover sliding in beside him before turning off the light. Riding the wreckage to the jungle floor one more time, he wondered if a ghost ever really survives.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim hung up the phone and looked over as Blair settled on the sofa beside him. Troubled eyes stared back. "Who was that?"

"Leslie. I was making arrangements for a bodyguard."

"Bodyguard? For me?"

"It was either that or keep you handcuffed to my side until this thing is over."

"I can't take a bodyguard to school."

"Then you're going with me. Those are your choices."

Instead of arguing, Blair shrugged. "I guess if you think it's necessary."

"I do."

"You really think that whoever killed Jasper might come after me?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure not going to take any chances."

"Okay, but what about you?"

Puzzled, Jim glanced over. "What about me?"

"You need someone watching your back, too."

"I can take care of myself, Chief."

"So could Jasper."

Unsettled by the observation, Jim nodded. "You're right. He could. Whoever did this must have been really good or someone he wouldn't have suspected."

"Like someone he knew?"

"Or someone who seemed harmless enough and then ambushed him."

Blair crossed his arms and hugged himself. "This is really creeping me out, man."

Scooting in closer, Jim drew Blair to his side. "It's going to be okay. We'll find whoever this bastard is and stop him."

"I hope so. The sooner the better." After a pause, Blair turned slightly and looked up at Jim again. "We need to talk about yesterday."

"I know."

"First of all, I want to get this thing about Eli out of the way."

Jim tensed. "What about him?"

"Do you trust me?"

"You know I do. It's people like Stoddard I have a problem with."

"No, it's not. You either trust me or you don't. It doesn't matter what Eli or anybody else does. I don't want to keep having this conversation. I need you to really trust me to always be faithful. Have I ever once given you reason to think I'd cheat?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why do you keep thinking that's going to happen?"

Standing, moving to the window, Jim shook his head nervously. Dread weighed down his words. Saying what he feared made it too real, too possible. "I don't know. Maybe because you're so young. You've never had a chance to be with anyone else."

"I've never wanted anyone else."

"You say that now, but I worry that someone else will come along who's better for you, someone who fits into your world better."

"Someone like Eli."

"Right."

"I can understand that."

Startled, Jim turned, his mouth slightly open. "You can?"

"Sure. Eli's good looking, he's smart, and he's secure enough that he doesn't give me shit about looking at other men. Still, there's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"I don't love him."

"Lucky for me."

"You're right. Damn lucky for you. The point is, it's not about age, never has been. This jealousy thing is serious. It contaminates the relationship. You have to trust me."

"I do trust you."

"Then prove it. Stop worrying about Eli or anybody else who shows an interest. Be secure enough to know that I'll always be with you."

Nodding, Jim heard the words, but his gut kept clenching. "I want to. I keep trying."

"I know you do, and that brings me to the second thing we have to talk about. I want you to see the shrink Simon recommended, the one who specializes in PTSD cases."

"I can't do that."

"You won't do that. And I went along with it for awhile, but seeing you last night and hearing about what you went though again, damn, man, you have to."

"I don't have to. I told you before, shrinks don't work."

"Maybe not then. Maybe they weren't the right ones or maybe you weren't ready, but, Jim, face it, you're on the edge here."

"I can handle it."

"I can't."

Jim looked into troubled blue eyes, his breath catching. "What?"

"I can't take it."

"Then maybe you should go see one."

"Maybe I should. I sure as hell need to do something." Blair pushed back his hair and shook his head in frustration. "I don't know what else I can say to get through to you. You need help with this shit. I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You didn't see yourself last night, Jim. You scared me."

Jim sighed and turned back toward the window. "I'm sorry, Chief. I don't mean to."

"I know you don't, but the point is, you don't control it anymore. This survivor's guilt you feel, it's destroying you. Can't you see that? It's time to get help."

"What, you think sitting around talking about it is going to make it all better? It's done. I can't change it. My men are still dead."

"But you're not and that's the problem. You think you should've died with them."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to, man. It comes through loud and clear." Blair got up and moved to stand next to Jim, his hand on the older man's crossed arms as he spoke quietly. "Please, at least think about it."

Reluctantly, Jim rubbed his face with his right hand. "I'll think about it." Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through Blair's thick, curly hair. "Thanks for taking care of me last night."

"I'll always be here."

"I know." Jim said it, but in his heart, he didn't know if he truly believed it.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What's with the escort? You a celebrity now?"

"Funny, man."

The younger man's serious expression wiped the smile from Eli's face. "What's wrong?"

Blair turned to the man behind him. "It's okay, Greg. We're just going to talk."

"I'll be right outside." Greg put a hand on the door before Blair could close it. "I'm going to call Jim and let him know we're running late."

"We're not late. We're not due back for another hour."

"Didn't you say you needed to go to the library, too?"

"Yeah."

"Then we're running late."

"Fine. Do what you have to." Blair shut the door with more force than he intended before sitting down and dropping his backpack beside him. He glanced up at Eli and shrugged. "Sorry. He's my bodyguard. Jim's idea."

"How is Jim?"

"He's fine. Sorry about yesterday. He was having a bad day."

Unconvinced, Eli shook his head. "That was more than a bad day. He needs to see a doctor."

"I appreciate your concern, Eli. I really do. But Jim will work it out in his own way."

"His own way doesn't seem to be working."

"Leave it alone, man." Blair ignored the hurt expression and took a deep breath. "Look, I've a got a problem."

"A problem that requires security?"

"Sort of. A friend of ours was killed and the police think Jim and anyone close to him might be at risk."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"How do the police connect Jim to his friend's death?"

"It's a long story, man, but the thing is, Jim feels responsible. He does that, feels guilty when shit happens he can't control."

"Are we talking about the murder or something else?"

Blair hesitated briefly, but then explained. "Jim suffered some serious trauma a few years back. He lost his men on a mission to Peru and was in the jungle for 18 months before being rescued. He still thinks it was his fault."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"I guess that explains the PTSD you were asking about."

"And this murder is bringing that all up again."

Nodding, Eli leaned forward. "How are you dealing with all this?"

"I'm okay. I'm just worried about Jim."

"I can understand that."

The tone hit Blair the wrong way. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Eli raised a hand, his voice softer. "Don't get defensive. I just meant anyone can see he's on edge."

"He's got his reasons."

"I understand that. I just hope one of those reasons isn't me."

Blair bit his lower lip and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Fatigue beat down his muscles. "It's not you, man. It's Jim. I don't know what more I have to do to convince him that there's never going to be anyone else."

"Maybe he's afraid you're going to outgrow him. Let's face it, Blair. You're only eighteen and you've probably never even been with anyone else."

"So, what's your point?"

"My point is, that for Jim it's a legitimate concern."

"You're as bad as he is." Blair sat back up, suddenly angry. "He's not an old sweater. I don't outgrow someone I love."

Eli smiled weakly and shrugged. "It happens."

"Not to me and Jim. You're way off base here."

"I might be, but it happens more often than not." Eli paused and then leaned forward. "I never thought my first love would end, but it did. So did the second and the third. I never planned for any of my relationships to be over, but people change. Their needs change and they don't fit anymore. That's all I'm saying."

Blair noted the solemn expression and calmed down. "I'm sorry, man. That must have been hard."

"Being thirty-five gives me a different perspective. When I was young like you, I thought love lasted forever. It doesn't, not for everybody."

Blair shook his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "I understand what you're saying. I do, but..."

"But you don't think it applies to you and Jim."

"It doesn't."

"That doesn't seem to be what Jim thinks."

"Jim's got other issues." Frustrated, Blair didn't wait for a response, but pushed ahead to change the subject. "Look, I didn't stop by for a lecture about my love life. I wanted to let you know I can't work on the catalog anymore."

"Because of Jim?"

"Because I don't know how long it's going to take to catch this guy. I'm going to my classes, but the rest of the time, I'm helping with funeral arrangements and trying to work with the police."

"Don't worry about the catalog. Luther Doss can use the money." Eli frowned. "Just how serious do the cops think the threat is to you and Jim?"

"Serious enough that we had a police guard on our place last night."

"Any idea what it's all about?"

"Not really. Anyway, it's been pretty rough since we heard about Jasper."

Eli's face suddenly drained of color. "Jasper? Jasper King?"

"Yeah. You know Jasper?"

Stunned, Eli stood and walked to the window. He shook his head and then cleared his throat. "How did it happen?"

"He was tortured and stabbed. It was in the news."

"Tortured? My god." The words stumbled out.

"How did you know Jasper?"

"I lived with his uncle." Glancing out the window, seeing the past instead of the campus, his voice got thicker. "Jason was love number three."

"I'm sorry, Eli. I didn't know."

"Jason and Jasper were tight. I should probably give him a call, see if he's all right."

"Are you okay, man?"

Eli glanced up, his eyes more red than before. "I really liked Jasper."

"Yeah, me, too."

"When's the funeral?"

"I'm not sure. I'll call and let you know."

"Thanks." Eli sat on the edge of the desk, his face more intense. "Just be careful, Blair."

Standing, Blair picked up his backpack. "I will, man."

"And don't worry so much about Jim. He'll be okay. He's got you. What more could he need?"

Blair nodded and headed out, bodyguard in tow, wanting more than anything for his friend's words to be true.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim rolled the bottle of whiskey between his hands, the cold, hard surface a comfort against his palms, the amber liquid a tease in the dim light. He didn't drink much, not anymore. A few beers, a couple of shots, those were his limits since he met Blair.

Life with Blair had meaning, a point beyond going through the motions, a reason beyond fighting the urge to eat his gun.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed the hurt, the awful fear that he might drive away the one person in his life who mattered. He knew one drink would make it better, four or five would make it bearable. He unscrewed the cap, shuddering, the aroma taunting his gut, his tongue hungry for more than a whiff of promise.

"Jim?"

Glancing up, Simon stood in the doorway, his dark face shadowed and severe.

Sighing, Jim dropped his head in defeat. He closed the bottle and put it back in the bottom drawer of his desk. "Finished with the interviews?"

"Not quite. Taggart and the others are making a list of people we missed. You okay?"

"Not really."

"That's a first."

"What?"

"Admitting it." Simon moved into the office and shut the door. "You look rough."

"I feel rough."

"I'm sorry about last night."

"I know. Thanks for putting a unit on my place."

Simon shrugged. "I figured you were in no shape to defend yourself." Hesitating, his friend sat down, his voice even grittier than usual. "This is probably none of my business..."

"Never stopped you before."

"When I saw you just now, it made me wonder. I've seen that look before."

"What look?"

"The one that says you'd kill your best friend for a drink look. You have a problem with the bottle?"

Jim didn't meet his eyes. Instead, he stood and walked to the window, his mind rolling scene after ugly scene of all the drunken times in his life, at least the ones he could remember. "It started in high school. Keg parties, stealing bottles from my dad's bar. Dad never noticed, or if he did, he never said. Fuck. I played the championship football game plastered and still won. It wasn't so bad in the army. I kept busy, working out, training." He stopped, his mouth dry. "But after Peru, that's when it got out of control. The booze helped dull the sharp edges. When I first got out, I hooked up with Tim. Tim understood. He drank, too. Fuck, we closed a lot of bars together even after we started the agency. We were quite a pair. He'd find a woman, I'd find a man. I lost track of how many strangers we fucked."

"I've never seen you drunk."

"I hope you never do. I stopped getting drunk and sleeping around when I met Blair."

"So why the bottle in the office? Why tempt yourself?"

"A test, I guess. I don't know. It just reminds me that it's always a choice."

"What would you have done if I hadn't shown up when I did?"

"I don't know. I wanted to drink. Honestly, I can't say that I wouldn't have, not for sure."

Uneasy, Simon shook his head. "Jim, no offense, man, but you can't afford to go off the deep end right now."

"I know that."

"Then maybe you should reconsider that shrink I suggested."

Anger flushed his skin. "Fuck, not you, too."

"I take it Blair suggested the same thing?"

"Get off my back about this. It's not going to happen, not right now. I don't have time for some asshole to fuck with my head."

"Your head's already seriously fucked, my friend."

Startled by the solid conviction of Simon's words, Jim crossed his arms, his heart racing. "I'm handling it."

"How? By eating your guts out with undeserved guilt? By thinking about getting drunk? That's not coping, Jim. You're a smart man. You know that." Simon stood and moved to stand next to Jim, a supportive hand on his shoulder. Concern pushed the words. "Look, I can't even begin to understand all the pain you're feeling, but you can bet that you're not alone. Blair hurts when you do. You didn't see how he looked last night. He's worried. I'm worried. You need help. If you keep on like this, you could lose yourself or Blair, or maybe both."

Confession forced the words. "Sometimes it's all too much."

"What?"

"The world, Blair, just breathing."

Simon squeezed his shoulder gently. "If I make an appointment this afternoon, will you see the doctor?"

"Too soon."

"Not soon enough. Come on, Jim. See this guy. It can't hurt worse than what you're already feeling."

"What if he tells me I'm nuts?"

"Then you know he's too smart to fool."

Jim smiled in spite of his own fear. He sobered quickly and then nodded. "Do it."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Simon." Blair walked into the office and looked around, puzzled. "Where's Jim? We were supposed to meet for lunch."

"He had an appointment."

"Appointment?"

Simon sat behind Jim's desk turning the pages in King's file. He looked up and motioned towards the chair. "Have a seat. We just got the toxicology results back on King. Apparently, he was drugged."

"Drugged?" Blair took off his coat and hung it on the rack before sitting down across from Simon. "What kind of drug?"

"Ketamine."

"Special K?"

Suddenly more alert, Simon glanced up. "What do you know about drugs?"

"I go to college, man. Drugs aren't exactly a state secret."

Sadly, Simon agreed. "I guess not."

"In fact, I was just talking to a friend about how there's a whole alphabet of shit out there. K can knock your ass out, so I guess that would explain why Jasper couldn't fight back."

"It would. We're trying to track his movements on the night of his death. We think he went to a club, some dive called Chico's. He might have met up with someone who spiked his drink."

"And then took him home to kill him? Wouldn't somebody have noticed someone being dragged out?"

"Not necessarily. The drug might not have kicked in right away. The perp could've followed him and then killed him. Or even if he was passed out, people pass out at bars all the time. So far we've got no witnesses either way."

"That sucks." Blair shook his head, his face solemn. He looked up at Simon. "So where's Jim, really?"

"Like I said he had an appointment."

"He would've called me."

"This came up at the last minute." Simon avoided the young man's eyes as he skimmed the pages in the file.

"Where'd he go, Simon? Jim doesn't take off and change his schedule unless there's a serious reason."

"He should probably tell you himself."

"Tell me what?"

Simon wiped his mouth with his hand and then leaned forward. "He went to see Dr. Carson."

Blair shook his head in disbelief. "The shrink? Really?"

"Really."

"He told me this morning he'd think about it. How'd he get an appointment so quick?"

"I made it. Carson knows me. He knows I wouldn't call unless it was really important."

Swallowing hard, Blair nodded. "Thanks, man."

"Don't get your hopes up, kid. Seeing somebody might not make that much difference right away. It's been my experience that situations like Jim's take time to resolve."

"I know, but it's a start." He got up and walked to the window, his arms wrapped around his chest. "I'm surprised he agreed. He's really stubborn about shit like this."

"He's scared, Blair, and I'm not talking about being scared about this thing with the murder."

"I know. The nightmares just keep getting worse. Doesn't seem to matter what I do or say."

"That's because it's not about you. It's about Jim. He doesn't think he deserves you or to be happy."

"Or to be alive."

"Yeah, that, too."

Still by the window, Blair leaned one shoulder against the wall as he watched the drizzle slowly wet the brown earth. "You know, his father and brother live in town. I've never met either one."

"Why's that?"

"Because according to Jim they don't exist."

"Don't exist? That's pretty harsh."

"I know."

"What about his mother?"

"Left when he was a kid. He told me I was his only family. I don't know if I can be enough sometimes."

Simon closed the file and sat back, nodding. "He's not exactly low maintenance, that's for sure."

"I just don't want to fuck up. I don't know what to say when he hurts so much. It's like he dismisses me because of my age and because I love him, like I couldn't possibly love him if I were old enough to know better or weren't blinded by love."

"That's not true. He doesn't think that."

"Sure he does. Jim loves me, but he doesn't love himself. He thinks the only reason I love him is because I haven't seen the true Jim yet. As soon as I do, I'm gone. He also thinks as soon as I find someone better, I'll leave him. That's what he thinks."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do. It's getting harder and harder to see him like this."

"Maybe the shrink will help."

"I hope so."

Simon paused as he played with the edges of the folder. "What if it doesn't?"

"What?"

"What if the shrink doesn't help? What if Jim never gets better? What if he gets worse?"

"I can't let that happen."

"What if it's not up to you?"

Blair met Simon's dark brown eyes. "Let me ask you a question."

"What?"

"What would you do if your wife was traumatized in some way, attacked or robbed? What if she was so terrified and freaked out that she couldn't sleep at night? What if she was so jealous it threatened to wreck your marriage? Would you love her any less?"

"You know I wouldn't."

"It's the same with Jim. I want him to get better, but if he doesn't, I'm not giving up. The law won't let us get married, but that doesn't mean that we're not."

"Marriages end sometimes."

Blair moved closer to the desk, his words vehement. "Not this one." Stuffing his hands down in his pockets, he smiled for the first time during the conversation. "Now, enough about this stuff. I'm hungry. You eat lunch yet?"

"No. Why? You buying?"

"Me, buying? You must be joking. Bodyguards always foot the bill. I'm pretty sure it's in the bodyguard handbook or something."

Simon chuckled as he stood up. "And I'm the bodyguard?"

"Comes with the badge, man."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim came into the office, the air too tight inside his lungs, his eyes gritty and raw. Blair looked up and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." Taking off his coat, Jim kept his voice neutral. He shut off the replay of the conversation with Carson, the words still too sharp, too crisp in his head. He needed to focus on the present, not the fucking past. "Sorry about lunch."

"It's okay. Simon took me out to eat."

"Simon?"

"Yeah. He paid, too. See, he's not as tight as you said."

Jim loosened his tie and hung up his coat. He frowned as he glanced at his desk. "Where's the King file?"

"Simon took it. He said he wanted to check out a few of the clients."

"Fuck. He has his own copy." Jim slammed a fist into the side of the file cabinet, the anger too quick to control.

"I'm just telling you where it is, man."

Jim met hurt blue eyes and fought down his irritation. "Sorry. I just wanted to read through it again myself."

"It's okay." Blair played with the edge of the desk, avoiding Jim's eyes. "So, how'd it go?"

"How did what go?"

"Come on, Jim. Simon told me."

"Fuck."

"What? You wanted to keep it a secret?"

"No. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

"Why not?"

"Jesus." Jim rubbed his temples, his head throbbing. "I just had a really rough day, okay? Give me a minute to breathe here without the fucking third degree."

Blair bit his lower lip and stood up. "Maybe I'll go wait out in the front office with Leslie. Give you some time alone."

Jim shook his head and came around the desk. He took Blair by the shoulders and then pulled him into an embrace. "I'm being a shit. I know."

"Then stop it."

Jim closed his eyes as Blair wrapped his arms around his middle, the younger man's heart rate too fast and his breathing too quick. "I'm sorry, Chief."

Blair gave him a quick squeeze and then pulled away. He touched Jim's face lightly. "I don't want to push you, Jim. If you can't talk about it, then don't. I'm just glad you decided to see someone."

"It's okay. I probably need to tell you some of it." Jim released Blair and moved back behind the desk, his face pale, his eyes like bruises. "This Carson guy's tough."

"Good. You need tough. You wouldn't respect anything else."

"That's not true."

"It's true."

"Well, maybe. Anyway, I have to see him every day except the weekend."

"Every day? Shit. Isn't that a lot?"

"It was a compromise."

"With what?"

"Inpatient care."

"As in committed? No fucking way." Blair swallowed hard, his body tight with concern.

Jim leaned forward, elbows on the desk, rubbing his face with both hands. "I told him the same thing, that he was overreacting. Bottom line, we agreed that we'd try every day for awhile and then maybe cut back to three times a week once I start sleeping and dealing with things a little better."

"Why would he want to commit you, man?"

"I guess because I'm fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but you're not that fucked up. You're not dangerous or anything."

Jim studied his lover, looked for the conviction he so needed. "He said I had self-destructive tendencies."

"So? We all do. It's not like you wanted to kill yourself or anything, right?"

Jim looked away, avoiding the searching blue eyes, aiming to keep his voice light. "I won't have to bother. This guy's homework assignments might do it for me."

Blair came around the desk and kneeled in front of Jim, forcing the older man to meet his worried gaze. His voice trembled as he took Jim's hand. "You didn't answer the question. Is that why he wanted to put you in the hospital? Did you tell him you wanted to kill yourself?"

"I never said that."

"Then what did you say? Tell me."

Jim closed his eyes, the words twisty and hard to control. "I told him I dream about dying, that sometimes I think it'd be better if I'd died in Peru." He opened his eyes again and cupped Blair's cheek as he whispered. "I didn't say I wanted to be dead, Blair. I don't."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. I love you."

Blair turned his head and kissed Jim's palm before he stood up. He settled on the larger man's lap and rested his head on his shoulder. "I love you, Jim, but you break my heart sometimes."

Jim hugged him closer, wondering for all the world how to make it all better, his empty stash of answers like spent bullets in snow.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blair finished putting away the dishes and hung up the towel after drying his hands. He turned around, leaning back on the counter. "Okay, man. Homework time. Spill. Tell me what this guy wants you to do."

Jim shook his head and took his coffee to the couch. He sat down and put the mug on the side table. "I really don't want to talk about this now."

"Why not?"

Sitting back, Jim crossed his arms and waited while Blair settled on the other end of the sofa. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Chief."

"Then don't. Tell me what's going on."

"These assignments, they're personal."

"Personal as in private, right?"

"Right."

Blair shrugged. "I get that. It's not like I'm offering to do them. I'm just curious as to what he's expecting you to do. If you want me to butt out, I guess I can do that."

"But being the curious soul that you are, it'll make you crazier than me if you don't know."

"I wouldn't go that far, man." Blair's teasing tone matched his grin. "So, what do you have to do?"

Surrendering, Jim shrugged. "He wants me to keep a journal."

"A journal's no biggie. I keep a journal. Hell, I keep two, one for me and one for school."

"But you're an anthropologist, Chief. It's what you do, make observations, record what you think about what you see. I'm not like that. I don't want to dissect the day or analyze how I feel about every fucking thing that happens. I'm not comfortable with that."

"You'd just as soon forget about most of what happens."

"Pretty much. Besides, writing things down can be dangerous."

"Dangerous? How?"

"People can use it against you."

Confused, Blair shook his head. "I don't get it. What people?"

"Anybody." Uneasy, Jim avoided Blair's eyes. "I mean, like when I was a kid, my dad found some things I wrote and, well, it was pretty bad."

"Pretty bad how?"

"I don't want to talk about my dad. He was an asshole. Just leave it at that."

"Okay, but Dr. Carson's not your dad. Everything you write is confidential. Nobody's going to read it unless you say so. Besides, you could start out small, just notes. It doesn't have to be anything big."

"He wants me to record my dreams."

"Ah."

"Exactly. And not just what they're about, but how they make me feel. I mean, I just don't get the need for all this introspection shit. My dreams scare me shitless. How many times do I have to write that?"

"I guess until you figure out what they mean and why they scare you so much."

Jim scowled, his face darker. "It doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"So you told him no, huh?"

"I told him I'd think about it."

"Okay. Anything else?"

Jim turned on the sofa and reached over to Blair, pulling him closer. The younger man relaxed against his chest, Jim's arms wrapped around his neck. "I'm supposed to make a list of the things I like about myself. Talk about a short list."

Blair jabbed him in the ribs. "Don't say that, man. You've got a lot of great points."

"You're prejudiced, Chief."

"You bet."

Jim squeezed Blair a little tighter and kissed the side of his face. Then he sighed, holding Blair soothing his nerves. "I also have to make a list of what I hope to accomplish with therapy. God, therapy. I can't fucking believe I'm doing this."

Blair snuggled against him, the body heat a comfort. "It took a lot of guts to get started, man. I'm proud of you."

Resting his chin on the top of Blair's head, Jim closed his eyes, his voice whisper soft. "I'm not sure I can do it."

"Sure you can. I'll help."

"I know you will, but this shit is going to make getting shot seem like a cake walk. It's going to hurt like hell."

"You've got a right to be scared, Jim. But you can do this."

"I don't have a lot of choice."

"You've always got a choice. Some choices are just better than others."

Before Jim could argue, the phone rang. Frowning, he untangled himself from Blair and picked up the receiver. "Ellison."

"Jim? It's Tim."

Alarmed by the strained voice, Jim leaned forward to focus on the call. "Tim? What's up?"

"You're not going to fucking believe this, but I think some motherfucker's trying to kill me."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Let me get this straight, your ex-partner's van was tampered with and your dog tags were taped to the underside where the brake line was cut?"

Jim paced the small interview room, his whole body on hyper alert. "He'd been ill, so he hadn't used the van in a couple of weeks. The perp could've done it before coming up here to attack Jasper."

"That's true, if it's the same guy."

"It has to be, otherwise why the dog tags?"

"You're sure they're yours?"

"I checked. They're missing."

Simon sat back, his face drawn and tired. "When was the last time you saw the tags?"

"I don't know. Years ago. I had them stored in a box at the back of my closet. When I checked after Tim's call, they weren't there. Neither were some pictures."

"What kind of pictures?"

"Army stuff. Just some of the crews I worked with before my discharge."

"Nothing blackmail worthy then?"

Jim stopped pacing and frowned. "What? You think I take kinky pictures and leave them around for people to fuck with?"

Simon raised a cautioning hand. "Don't get hostile, Jim. I'm just asking."

"Sorry. I'm a little on edge here."

"With good reason. You know what this means?"

"It means that some fucker broke into my place and took my shit without me knowing."

"Or it's someone you know."

Jim took a deep breath and then sat down across from Simon. Very deliberately, he put both hands palm down on the rough surface, the tension stretching up through his arms. "Yeah. I thought about that."

"Any ideas?"

"None. Believe me, I've been trying to think, but there's nothing."

"What about Blair?"

"What about him?"

"Maybe he brought someone home and he took the tags and pictures when the kid wasn't paying attention."

"I asked, but he says no. Besides, he rarely brings anybody home. It's only been since he turned eighteen that he lets many people know we're together."

"Makes sense." Simon rubbed the back of his head and then took a sip of coffee. He lifted the Styrofoam cup. "Want some?"

"No, thanks."

"Okay, I've got a call into the San Francisco PD. Maybe we'll get lucky and pull some prints from the van. Now, tell me again what Davis said."

Sitting back in the wooden chair, Jim crossed his arms. "He's got this custom-fitted van, but he hadn't driven in a few weeks. Apparently, his brother Jack decided to change the oil and do some work and that's how he found out the brake line had been cut. Tim lives on a hill near a steep cliff. There's no way he would've been able to keep from going over the edge."

"It's a different MO."

"But the tags and the fact that Tim's my ex-partner makes me think it's the same guy."

"I'd say there's a strong connection. Davis got lucky."

"Yeah. Luckier than Jasper."

"He could still be in danger."

"Yeah, I told him what's going on. He's taking precautions."

"He's in a wheelchair, Jim. He might need more than just being alert."

"You don't know Tim. Now that he knows there's a threat, he'll take care of it."

"You probably should've called him about King earlier."

Guiltily, Jim nodded. "Probably."

"Don't beat up on yourself. Hell, all things considered, I should've contacted him myself. In fact, he was on my list as a follow up on some of King's cases."

Jim sat back, his hand to his mouth, his mind eliminating a whole list of names in his head. "I don't think this is related to a case. I think it's personal."

"It's personal, no doubt about that. This guy's fucking with your head. But now with the attempt on Davis, we may have more to go on. You said King was one of the first guys you and Davis hired. Were there any cases that all three of you worked on?"

"Sure. Before he started specializing as a bodyguard, we all worked on a lot of set ups."

"Set ups?"

"Evaluating the needs of the clients and installing the tech work and security teams. Tim and Jasper worked most of the first crews I set up."

"I'm going to need those files. Tonight."

"No problem. I'll go over and get you some copies."

"Any particular job stand out in your mind, someone who gave you problems or wasn't happy with the service?"

"None that I can think of offhand. I'll need to go through the files." Jim hesitated, avoiding Simon's gaze. "To be honest, I don't remember much about those early days."

"You were drinking?"

"Pretty heavily. I mean, I could do the job. I just don't remember much more than that."

"So is it possible you could've fucked someone over and not remember it?"

"Yeah, it's possible, but this doesn't make any sense." Jim shook his head in frustration and anger. "I just don't remember anything that would make a person do something as fucked up as this."

Simon paused and leaned forward, his hands fisted together on the table. "Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going ask you something that might piss you off."

Wary, Jim frowned and scooted back a little further from the edge of the table, his arms crossed again. "What?"

"What about ex-lovers?"

"What about them?"

"You told me that you and Tim used to get drunk and pick up strangers. Is it possible that one of these guys might be obsessed with you for some reason?"

Shaking his head, Jim stood and paced the room, wishing like hell for a window. "I don't see how. I never fucked anybody more than once."

"Always one night stands, no exceptions?"

"I didn't want to get involved." Jim noted his friend's silent disapproval as he shifted uneasily in his chair. "I know, Simon. What can I say? I didn't give a shit about myself or the people I slept with, not until Blair."

"I'm not here to make judgments, Jim. You turned yourself around and I'm glad about that. I hope you at least protected yourself."

Jim didn't answer right away, knowing Simon wouldn't want the truth, the fact that he didn't care one way or the other about condoms before Blair. Fucking and being fucked gave him relief from the black pit that he'd lived in. Sexual Russian roulette never bothered him before Blair. "I got tested. I'm clean and I'm always careful with Blair."

"You lucked out, Ellison, and I'm not just talking about dodging the bullet with the diseases out there."

"I know."

"Were they all legal?"

Startled, Jim looked up. "What?"

"Were all the guys you took to bed legal?"

"Jesus, Simon."

"You know I have to ask, considering."

"Fuck. This is crazy. I wasn't some sexual predator out to fuck kids. They were all grown men as far as I know. Hell, most of the time I went for older guys."

"Why was that?"

"Don't ask." Ignoring Simon's troubled expression, Jim shook his head and rubbed his face with both hands. "God, I hope it's not someone I slept with."

"Why's that?"

"Because I don't remember any of their faces much less their names."

Simon shook his head and heaved a sigh. "Maybe we should invite your ex-partner down and see if he remembers anybody in particular."

"Tim drank even more than I did."

"Maybe, but it's been my experience that sometimes a best friend remembers more about your love life than you do. Besides, I want to talk to him myself, see if he noticed anybody hanging around the van, anybody who might have been out of place or who seemed familiar."

"I'll see what I can do."

"And, Jim, you might want to tell Blair about what we're going to be looking at."

"He doesn't need to know about this."

Simon stood up and drained the rest of his coffee. He tossed the cup into the trash before training his dark eyes on Jim. "Tell him. If he finds out on his own, he'll be hurt even worse."

Clenching his jaw, Jim nodded, wondering if the past would ever stop peeling off the scabs of his damaged life.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So what you're saying here is that you went through a promiscuous period."

"That's one way of putting it, yeah."

Blair refused to make eye contact as he considered the situation. He bit his lower lip and kept his hands together on the table. "Studies show that most males go through periods of sexual experimentation in their teens and early twenties. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I didn't experiment, Chief. I fucked. Period."

Shifting uneasily in his chair, Blair frowned and pushed back a stubborn curl from his face. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot. "I get it, man. I don't need a fucking hammer to the head, okay?"

"I'm sorry."

Sitting at the end of the table, Jim leaned over to reach for Blair's hand. The younger man pulled away and stood up. He walked to the window and stayed there quietly for several long moments. Finally, he turned, the distress haunting his face. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Simon thinks whoever's after us might be someone I slept with and pissed off."

"That's a stretch."

"Maybe, but he can't rule it out, not with the dog tags and pictures missing from my closet. I don't see how someone could've gotten those without me knowing. No one's been up there since I've been with you. That's been over two years now."

Blair's brow creased and he turned away again, his voice hushed. "You slept with all those men in our bed?"

"It wasn't our bed when I did it."

"Shit."

Jim walked over to stand behind Blair, wanting to hold him, but keeping his hands to himself. "It all stopped after you, baby. I swear. I never touched anyone after you."

Turning slowly, Blair sighed heavily. He blinked several times to clear his vision before reaching out and drawing Jim into his arms. "I know that. I just hate thinking of you with somebody else."

"They didn't mean anything."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It should."

Blair pulled away and shook his head. "You don't get it."

"What's to get?"

"It's not about you sleeping around. It's about the fact that none of it mattered to you. Didn't you have feelings for anybody you slept with?"

"They were strangers, Blair. I didn't want to have feelings."

"Just sex."

"Yeah, just sex." Ashamed, Jim turned away, slumping down on the couch. He leaned forward and dropped his head to his hands. He hated that part of his life, hated how he'd let his body control his actions, let men touch and humiliate him. He got off on other men using pain to make the real hurt go away. Taking risks made him hard, the more dangerous, the better. Names and faces just got in the way of the pleasure.

The cushion sagged beside him and a familiar hand settled on his thigh. "It's okay, Jim."

"No, it's not. If Jasper died because I fucked the wrong man and I don't even remember, how messed up is that?"

"We don't know that's the case."

"We don't not know it."

"I don't know what you want me to say here. I love you. It makes me sad that you went through all this stuff before we met. I can't imagine what it must have been like."

"Empty."

"What?"

"It was empty. Sure, it was hot when it was going on, but afterwards, I couldn't get the guy out fast enough. It's all a blur. Hell, sometimes I'd wake up and not even remember bringing the fucker home."

"You had black outs?"

"I guess. I don't remember."

"I think that's the point." Blair rubbed between Jim's shoulders gently, his voice softer. "Look, we're tired. It's after two. We need to pick up Tim at the airport at eleven. Let's get some sleep."

"Omar's picking him up and bringing him by the office. I'm going over the files with Simon at nine."

"You still need to sleep."

Jim sat still while Blair got up and headed down the hall to the bathroom. "You okay, Chief?"

"I'm fine. Go on. I'll be up in a minute."

Jim watched Blair shut the door before he headed up the stairs and settled on the edge of the bed. Even the distance and closed door couldn't block out the sad sound of his lover's long, wet cries. Falling back on the bed, arms outstretched, Jim squeezed his eyes shut. Tears stung his cheeks as they burned and salted his skin.

Moments later, Blair climbed on the bed beside him, his tongue licking away the pain, his eager mouth trying to kiss away the shame.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Simon dropped another file on the pile before picking up a new one from the smaller stack beside Jim. "You got any more coffee?"

"Sure." Jim stood up and brought the carafe over to the table, filling both mugs. Before sitting back down, he checked out the clock. "It's getting late. Tim should be here by now."

"Probably got stuck in traffic." Simon cleared his throat and looked over the list on his pad. "What's your take on Jamison?"

"If you'd asked before Tim's van, I'd have said, yeah, it's possible. I mean, we did cost him a lot of business."

"And put his son in a mental institution."

Jim shook his head. "That was Jamison's fault, Simon. Not ours."

"He might not see it that way."

"I thought you questioned him already."

"I did, but right now I'm just making a list of people with beefs against you, beefs that might include fallout to your friends."

"Jamison wouldn't have had access to the tags."

"You sure?"

Jim met Simon's teasing eyes and smirked. "Funny. Jamison wasn't my type and I definitely wasn't his."

"Just asking."

Tired, Simon stretched his arms above his head just as the door opened. In rolled Tim Davis with a flustered Omar Winston right behind him. "Hey, Jim. You ready to kick the ass of the son of a bitch who killed Jasper?"

Omar spoke before Jim could say a thing. "He made me bring him straight here, man."

"I don't need a goddamn babysitter, Jim. You can tell Big O here to fuck off."

Patiently, Jim smiled. Tim always made a colorful entrance. "He was just following orders."

"Fuck orders. I can handle myself."

"I know that. I just thought it'd be easier to have a driver since you flew in."

"Well, yeah, there's that. I just don't need to be handled like I'm going to fucking break, you know?"

"I know." Jim nodded to Omar. "Why don't you take his bags to my place and I'll drive him home later?"

"Thanks for the invitation, but I'm not staying at your place. Juli and Jack are with me and we're staying at the Hyatt. They've got all the luggage there already."

"I didn't know they were coming."

"They came for the funeral. They both knew Jasper from when he flew down last summer to go fishing." Tim's expression grew dark. "I can't believe he's fucking dead." He glanced at Simon for the first time. "Banks, right?"

"Right. I appreciate your cooperation."

"Some crazyass motherfucker kills a friend and pulls this shit with me, well, it wasn't an option not to show up."

Jim turned to Omar. "Stay in the front office with Leslie. If Greg calls about Blair, let me know right away."

"Sure thing, Jim."

Closing the door, Jim sat back down at the table. "I'm glad you came, Tim. I'm just sorry it's because of something like this."

Tim studied him for a few moments, his face somber. "You look like shit."

"It's good to see you, too."

"I mean it. You look tired."

"It's been a rough few days."

"Everything okay with you and the kid?"

"We're fine."

Unconvinced, but letting it go for the moment, Tim turned his attention back to Simon. "How I can help?"

"We've been going through all the files that you three worked on, but so far, no luck. Any names of disgruntled clients come to mind?"

"Jamison, but other than that most of the people liked what they got."

"We've pretty much eliminated Jamison and you already told me you didn't see anyone suspicious before the tampering. They're still processing the prints from the van. Maybe we'll get lucky there." Simon leaned back uneasily, glancing first at Jim and then at Davis. "What I'm going to say might sound crazy, but I think whoever's doing this might be someone Jim slept with back when you two first started the company."

Tim sat back in his chair, caught completely off guard by the possibility. He stared at Simon a moment and then looked over at Jim. "You're shittin' me, right?"

Jim shrugged, dreading what his friend might say. "I'm afraid not."

"Fuck. You're in a shitload of trouble then, because that's a hellava big number."

Simon kept his face neutral. "Do you remember anyone in particular from that time period? Maybe someone who gave Jim a hard time?"

Tim rubbed his chin, his mind stretching back over the many faces from the past. "You know, now that you mention it, there was that one guy." He glanced over at Jim. "You remember, Jim, that Grady guy, the one who kept showing up at the bars that winter we first opened up."

Jim struggled to place the name with a face, but came up with nothing. "I don't remember a Grady."

"Sure you do. Very butch, but creamy on the inside. Looked like a fucking model. It was Grady something, Edwards or Edgars. I remember because he just wouldn't give up. He just didn't get the message that you weren't interested after the first fuck. I remember Jasper calling him a drama queen because he acted like you were his greatest love or some such shit, like you two had been together for years and you were leaving him for no good reason. Even showed up at the office once. What a prick."

Frowning, Jim shook his head, his memory a blank. "I don't remember that."

"You should. You told me he showed up at your place two or three times before you threatened to beat his ass."

Simon turned to Jim. "And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Beat his ass?"

Frustrated, Jim stood and walked over to his window. No amount of straining cleared his head. "I just don't remember this guy at all. How could I forget something like that?"

Tim's voice softened. "You were in bad shape, Jim. You were just out of the army. Hell, I'm surprised you remembered your own name half the time, much less functioned well enough to run the company."

"You ran most of it."

"No, fucking way. Sure, I worked the clients, but you did all the rest, books, tech work, training new men. But at night, man, you fucking broke loose. Sometimes I wondered if you had a death wish or something."

Suddenly defensive, Jim snapped. "I seem to remember you put away your share of the booze."

"I'm not talking about the drinking, Jim. You picked up some seriously rough trade at the time."

Simon interrupted. "What do you mean by rough trade?"

"What the fuck do you think I mean?"

"I just want to be clear."

Tim shrugged. "I just mean Jim sometimes went home with mean, hardass fucks I wouldn't fucking turn my back on, no pun intended. He came in beat up more than once, but he always came in. I'm sorry, man, but that's the way it was back then."

Jim shook his head in disbelief. "You're making this shit up. It wasn't that bad."

"I'm just saying that for awhile there, you had me worried."

Breaking into the conversation, Simon asked, "When did it change?"

"After he met the kid and got shot. Believe me, I was fucking worried about what that was all about, too. Jesus, Jim, you sure don't take the easy road."

Jim stood frozen, his body numb as he processed his friend's words. He recalled almost nothing of that time in his life, blurred faces and visceral images, nothing concrete. He swallowed down the rising bile and kept his voice even. "Blair changed my life, Tim."

"I know that, man. Who would've fucking guessed that a kid would make such a difference? Not me, that's for damn sure."

All the men stayed silent for several moments before Simon cleared his throat. "Let's get back to this Grady guy. Could you give a description?"

"I can do better than that. There should be a picture of him in your mug shots."

"Why's that?"

"He was a user. I remember he got picked up in a vice raid out of Murdock's. He should have a record."

Simon frowned. "How do you know that?"

Tim glanced over at Jim, his face worried. "You really don't remember any of this?"

Jim shook his head, his throat tight. "I wish I could."

Tim used his arms to shift himself a little higher in his chair. "I remember Jasper and me talking about how close Jim came to getting busted that night because we'd dropped him off there only a few hours before the raid went down. He was pretty wasted. Anyway, we were teasing Jim about his friend looking for love in all the wrong places." Snorting to himself, Tim shook his head. "I also remember Jim getting seriously pissed at us for ragging on him so much. Ellison's hangovers can be a bitch."

"Do you think you could pick him out of a mug book?"

"I'll fuckin' give it my best shot."

Simon stood up. "I'll drive you downtown and we'll see if we can find this guy."

Tim tapped the arm of his wheelchair. "This going to be a problem?"

"Shouldn't be."

"Then let's roll."

Simon turned to Jim. "You want to come with us?"

Before Jim could answer, Blair opened the door and walked in. "He's got an appointment, Simon."

"Hey, Kid."

"Hey, Tim."

"I can cancel the appointment, Chief."

Determined, Blair shook his head. "I don't think so. We'll see you guys later. Jim and I have to talk."

Exchanging amused glances, Simon and Tim both nodded and headed out the door. Simon made a show of closing it gently behind him. Blair stepped closer. "You're not ditching the doctor, Jim."

"I've got a lot to do. The shrink can wait."

"It's only the second day."

"So?"

"So, you're going."

Jim walked over to his desk and sat down, his arms crossed, his mind made up. "I'll call and reschedule when things settle down. Besides, I didn't do my assignments."

"Fuck your assignments. You sound like you're in high school or something. Get your ass up and go to your session. I'm not going to argue about this, man."

"You want this shit so bad, you go."

"You don't think I would if I could?" Blair moved to the front of his desk, his arms outstretched as he leaned forward against the edge. "You don't think I'd do anything to make this easier for you?"

Suddenly humbled by the conviction of the words, Jim confessed. "I know you would. I just don't have time for Carson and his head games right now."

"It's not a game, man." Blair's voice softened as he maintained his gaze. "After what you told me last night, I'm even more convinced you need his help."

"That stuff's all behind me."

"It's still part of you. You need to deal with it, not repress it."

"I'm not repressing."

"What do you call not remembering whole chunks of your life?"

No answer came to mind, so Jim shook his head and gave up. Sighing, he stood up and grabbed his coat. "You want to stay here or tag along and boss me around some more?"

"I don't boss you around."

"You're bossy as hell."

"Only when you need it."

Jim snorted and shook his head as he touched the small of Blair's back to lead him out of the office. "You coming with me or staying here?"

"I need to go back to the library and finish some research."

"You came all the way out here just to check up on me?"

"Someone has to. I'll meet you back here at three."

"Better than that, I'll pick you up at the library when I'm done."

Blair glanced down the hall at his young bodyguard sitting in the front office. "Greg will appreciate that. I'm sure he's not thrilled babysitting me all day."

"He should be. He's getting time and a half."

"Time and a half?" Blair smiled, pleased with the information. "I'm worth time and a half?"

"Every penny."

"Cool." Suddenly more serious, Blair looked up at him. "Jim, do me a favor."

"What?"

"Tell Carson what you told me last night."

"What makes you think I haven't already?"

"Have you?"

"No, but that's not the point." Jim stopped walking and turned, keeping his voice low. "What I talk about is my own business. I'm not trying to shut you out here. I just need space. Can you understand that?"

Nodding, Blair tried to hide the hurt, but failed miserably. "Sure, Jim. I was out of line."

"You're worried. I get that. I just need to do this at my own pace."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Just don't worry so much. It'll be fine."

"Sure."

Jim leaned his head into the front office. "Hey, Greg, take Blair here over to the library. I'll pick him up later and then you can either pick up some overtime or take off."

Nodding, Greg stood up and followed the younger man out the door, Blair's face way too troubled for Jim's peace of mind.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Issues? Of course, he had fucking issues. Who the hell didn't? Carson got on his last nerve with all the damn catchwords, like he didn't already know he had issues. Fuck, before it was over, he'd probably have therapy issues. Damn shrinks.

Pissed and fuming, Jim fumbled with his keys. They jangled and fell through his fingers. Tingling spread up from his palms, through his arms, and around his shoulders. Bending over, the world tilted and he steadied himself against the solid metal of the truck. He carefully retrieved the keys and stood up slowly, still dizzy, numbness swelling all through his skin. Jesus.

Taking a deep breath to hold back the panic, he opened the door and climbed in. He put the keys in the ignition but didn't start the engine. He didn't dare, not with his heart racing faster than a Triple Crown winner. A thick, sweet smell filled the air, the scent constricting his lungs, his throat tight and his mouth dry.

Traffic noises vibrated through his head like rolling thunder, the world shaking all around him. Reaching out, he picked up the picture taped to his dash. Familiar faces zoomed in, Rodriquez, Stone, all the others, all standing around him in fatigues, all smiling as they stood in front of the helicopter that crashed. Icy sweat trickled down his forehead.

Reds and greens, blues and yellows, dots of black and grey, all spun out from pinpoints to swirling stars, the universe infinite as he zoned on the colored lights of the photo in his hand.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Relentless beeping brought him back as Jim blinked several times and turned his head. White walls bleached the world and the antiseptic stench knotted his stomach. Fighting off the urge to retch, he groaned and tried to sit up. A hand restrained his chest.

"He's awake." A woman released him as an older man's face came into view. Thin, white, mid-forties, he wore a lab coat. Fuck. He knew that look.

"I'm Dr. Fuchs. How are you feeling?"

Jim cleared his throat before he could speak. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell us. What do you remember?"

"I was in the truck. How'd I get here?"

"Officers found you. EMS transported you here a couple of hours ago. We're evaluating you now. Do you know your name?"

"Ellison, James." He answered the list of orientation prompts without hesitation, birth date, day of the week, who's the president. "Are you using any drugs?"

Jarred by the question, he shook his head. "No." Jim's body ached, his muscles still tight and complaining, his head pounding like a son of bitch.

"Do you have any medical history of epilepsy?"

"No." Jim took several deep breaths, tiny flashes of blue stabbing at his eyeballs. "Look, I haven't eaten or slept much the last few days. A friend was killed. It's just stress."

Fuchs shook his head. "This wasn't low blood sugar or stress. We're doing more blood work, but you were unresponsive for over two hours and your brain waves were abnormal. I'd like to admit you for some more testing. I've called a neurologist and scheduled an MRI."

Jim shook his head and regretted the movement. Vertigo returned with a vengeance. "Look, there's nothing wrong. I'm fine, or will be. I need to get out of here."

"I wouldn't advise that."

"I'm not staying."

"Mr. Ellison, you could have a serious neurological problem, anything from a brain tumor to an aneurysm. You need more tests."

"It's not your call. Now, where are my clothes?"

Fuchs shook his head and motioned to the nurse. "Get him ready to discharge while I write this up." The doctor paused, his face serious. "You're making a mistake. If you won't see the specialist, at least check in with your own doctor as soon as you can."

"Sure, doc. Whatever."

"And you shouldn't be driving." Shaking his head, Fuchs left and the nurse took over. Efficiently, she removed the sticky, white patches, the catheter, and IV. She chided him when he tried to sit up too fast. "Just take it easy. Go slow. You're still a little weak."

And he was. His hands trembled as he braced himself on the side of the bed. She handed him a bag with his clothes and shoes. "Do you need help getting dressed?"

"I can do it."

"I'll be right outside the curtain.

Hands shaking, he managed to get his clothes on without falling on his face, but just barely. A zone never took him out so hard before.

He patted his jacket and frowned. "Wallet, cell phone, gun?"

"At the desk. Wait here. I'll get them along with your papers. You need to sign some forms for insurance and a form saying you understand you're leaving against medical advice."

Jim ignored the tone of disapproval. "Do you know if they left my truck on the street or towed it in?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask downstairs at admitting or call the police about that."

As soon as she left, he sat in a chair against the wall. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Fuck. He remembered.

It wasn't Grady. It was Garvey, Eddie Garvey, psycho fuck, soldier wannabe who killed Jasper and tried to kill Tim. It was Eddie Garvey who wanted payback for being fucked over.

Jim rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, his skull barely containing the rhythmic pulses of pain. He didn't have time for this shit, his body's betrayal. He had to stop the prick before he had another chance to screw with his head or make him as dead as his crew from Peru.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You sure you're all right?"

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and then nodded, not completely recovered, but determined to keep going. "Yeah. Look, we need to find Garvey. He's behind this shit."

Simon frowned and sat down at the table of the interview room. "So you said. How can you be so sure?"

"I smelled him. He was in the truck."

"Smelled him?"

"Yeah, he's still wearing that shitty aftershave from before."

"That's not exactly proof positive. I need more than some whiff of cologne to make anything stick. A murder weapon would be nice."

"Then let's go to his place and do a search."

"We've got to process your truck and I'm waiting for a warrant. Plus, Sandburg's on his way over. I won't even tell you how upset he is."

"You don't have to."

"And even when we get a warrant, you're out of this. You're not a cop. You can't be in on the search or the questioning."

"I figured." Jim leaned forward and rested his face in his hands, the vertigo returning. Blair's touch would make it all better.

Simon paused and tilted his head as he studied Jim carefully. "Are you sure you shouldn't have stayed in the hospital? I read the report. They thought you had a seizure or something."

"I didn't and I'm fine. Just tired."

"If it wasn't a seizure, what was it?"

"I focused too hard on the picture. I couldn't snap out of it."

"The picture? What does that mean, focus too hard on the picture?"

"Blair calls it zoning out. He can explain it better than I can."

"So this sort of thing has happened before?"

"Not often, but, yeah, sometimes."

"Must be scary."

Jim avoided the answer and changed the subject. "Where's Tim?"

"He went back to the hotel. To tell the truth, I think the trip wiped him out. He's just getting over a kidney infection. He probably shouldn't even be traveling."

"Did he find Garvey's picture?"

"Eventually. We were looking under the wrong name." Simon opened the file on the table. "Seems Garvey, Edward P. is an auto mechanic by trade, but has a list of priors. He's got two for possession of narcotics, one for solicitation, and two for assault with a deadly weapon, a knife in both cases. No convictions on the assaults."

"Why not?"

"The victims refused to testify."

"I'll bet."

Simon looked up, his eyes somber. "You remember this guy now?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Want to share?"

"Not really. Suffice it to say, he's good for killing Jasper and trying to kill Davis. He was in my truck. He put the picture there for me to find."

"The picture he took from your closet?"

"Along with my tags. Along with some other things."

"What other things?"

Jim swallowed hard before he could answer. "Cuffs. A baton. A couple of knives."

Simon sat back, irritated. "You didn't mention these before."

"I didn't remember before."

"And you do now?"

"They were in a different box. I remember being pissed that they were gone right after I was with him. I just didn't know he took the tags and pictures, too."

"What else did he take? What else aren't you telling me?"

Frustrated with his own hide and seek memory, Jim shook his head and held up a hand. "I'm not trying to keep anything from you on this. I just didn't remember until I woke up this afternoon."

"Remember what?"

"Garvey. He's a freak. He gets off on playing games."

"What kind of games?"

"You don't want to know."

"Probably not, but I need to know anyway. What kind of games?"

Jim avoided the intensity of Simon's eyes, wanted to shut down and not talk, but he couldn't. He braced himself against the hurt of the words. "Blood sport, torture, rape. Cutting mostly. He wanted it as real as it could get. It got messy."

"And you did this with the guy?"

"Yeah. I was good at it."

"Jesus, Jim."

Ignoring Simon's dismay, Jim forced himself to talk on. "The thing is, Garvey was different from the rest."

"How?"

"I was with him more than once, at least five times that I remember. He fixated on me. I knew it was a mistake, but he kept coming back. He was pretty persuasive."

"And pretty damn nuts."

"He didn't do this shit alone."

Simon shook his head and stood up, rubbing the back of his head, his voice strained. "So you hid the fact that you were seeing this guy from Davis and King. You didn't want them to know what was going on."

"They wouldn't understand."

Simon snorted in bewilderment. "They seemed to understand quite a lot. I don't know many other straight guys who would've put up with the shit you pulled."

"They did the same thing, Simon, only with women."

"You think they were cutting up their dates?"

Jim didn't argue. How could he explain his needs to Simon? Hell, how could he explain his desires when he didn't even understand himself? Instead, he kept his voice even, the hurt of Simon's harsh judgment buried away. "It was a phase of my life I can't really justify or explain. It was what it was. It's over now. The thing is, Garvey thought we had a romance going on outside the bedroom. He was hurt that Tim and Jasper harassed him when he'd show up at the clubs or at the business."

"Harassed him how?"

"Typical stuff, name-calling, laughing, you know. Just regular bullshit. But he took it hard."

"And he showed up thinking you'd stand up for him."

"Yeah."

"But you didn't because you didn't want to admit that you were using the boy for target practice."

"He wasn't a boy and he got out of it as much as I did."

"Maybe, but he seems to have had a change of heart since then."

"And Jasper paid the price. You don't have to remind me."

Simon sat back down slowly, watching Jim several long moments before he finally spoke. "Damn it, Jim, I thought I knew you, but I don't know you at all." His voice toughened. "I need an answer to something. The truth."

"What?"

"Have you ever done this shit with the kid?"

Jim met Simon's dark gaze. "I've never hurt Blair. He never knew about any of this until I told him last night."

"You swear?"

"I swear."

Simon considered the words several seconds and relaxed, nodding in acceptance of the oath. "Promise me something."

"If I can."

"Promise you won't stop seeing this shrink until you get yourself out of the hole you're in."

"The hole's pretty deep some days."

"All the more reason not to bury yourself alive."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jesus, Jim, what the fuck happened?" Blair hurried into the interview room and wrapped his arms around Jim. He kissed the older man's cheek, his black leather jacket still cold and damp from the weather.

"I'm okay, Chief. Calm down."

Pulling back, incredulous, Blair shook his head. "Calm down? Calm down? How can you say that? You were in the fucking hospital and you didn't call. You left and came here instead." Blair stopped talking and then bit his lower lip. Reaching out slowly, he cupped Jim's chin and whispered, "You shit. Are you okay? Really okay?"

Jim took Blair's hand and squeezed it, his throat raw with emotion. "I'm okay. Really."

Shaking his head, Blair settled into a chair and scooted it closer. "Simon said someone rigged the truck tires."

Nodding, Jim sat back. "They were dusting for prints and found the trigger devices. If I'd been driving, they would've gone off all at once and I'd have lost control."

"You would've been dead on the expressway."

"Along with anyone nearby."

"The fuck."

Jim brought Blair's hand to his lips and kissed it. "But it didn't happen. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You look terrible."

"But alive."

"Yeah." Blair motioned for the door. "Let's get out of here. Greg left me the company car and got a ride with Omar back to the office."

"That works." Jim stood, his body protesting such a sudden move. He steadied himself against the table.

Blair's hand touched his arm. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry. My stomach's throwing a hissy fit just for thinking of food."

"You need to eat something. Why don't I get you home and fix you some soup?"

"I could do soup. Nothing heavy."

They walked out together and ran into Joel Taggart. "You guys heading out?"

Jim nodded. "Simon get the warrant?"

"Yeah. He took Brown and Rafe with him to serve it."

"What about you?"

"I'm running a check on those trigger devices we found on your tires, local supply houses in particular. Plus, I'm waiting to hear back about whether we got a match on some unidentified prints we pulled off the inside of one of your tires. SFPD also sent us some prints to run from your friend's van." Taggart paused and then added, "The more evidence we get, the better chance we have of nailing this guy."

Jim touched the small of Blair's back. "We appreciate all the effort you're putting into this. I know this isn't your only case."

"No problem. It's the job."

"Still, you're putting in a lot of overtime. I just want you to know I appreciate it, that's all."

Joel shrugged and stepped closer, checking the hallway for eavesdroppers. He lowered his voice and spoke directly to Jim. "Simon respects you and he likes Sandburg here. I've always valued his judgment. Despite that, you have to be prepared. If this Garvey turns out to be the perp and the motive's personal because of your sexual history together, well, those details of your life are going to go public. You need to be ready for that." He turned to Blair. "Both of you."

Blair swallowed hard. "Thanks, man, but I know that.'

"Can you handle it?"

Jim answered before Blair could. "We'll do what we have to. The fallout couldn't be worse than another murder. If I lose the business because of this, there's not much I can do about it."

"I'm not talking about the business."

"Then what?"

"We've got a new Assistant DA, Taylor Washington. She's super vigilant when it comes to enforcing and prosecuting the child protection laws. Normally, that's a good thing, but sometimes she isn't very practical, if you get where I'm going with this."

Jim's skin tingled. "You're saying she'll find out that we were together when Blair was underage and act on it?"

"She might. I don't know. I just thought I should warn you in case it comes up when she reviews the case."

"But I'm eighteen now. It shouldn't matter."

Taggart shrugged. "Maybe not, but you weren't legal when you two first hooked up. Simon knew that and didn't turn it in. He could get in trouble, too, if she wanted to push it."

"Thanks for the warning." Taggart nodded and walked off as Jim met Blair's concerned gaze. "We're not going to worry about this now, Chief. Let's go home."

"Oh, man, this sucks."

"Yeah, it does. Now, let's go. I'm tired."

Blair's attention shifted immediately to Jim. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. You must be beat."

Heading to the elevator, Jim leaned against the wall while they waited. "You drive."

"I intend to. No way you're getting behind the wheel until we figure out what happened."

"I know what happened."

"What?"

"I don't want to talk about it here."

"When we get home then?"

"Sure."

The elevator dinged and they got on with two other passengers. Standing close together, they remained quiet. When they got to the parking garage, Blair led the way to the blue Lumina with the company plates. Once inside the car, Jim let his head fall back and his eyes close. He pushed away the warning from Taggart and focused instead on just staying awake. "I wonder how Tim's doing. Simon said he's just getting over a kidney infection."

"I know. Tim told me. It's probably the catheter."

Jim opened his eyes and sat up. "Catheter?"

"He wears one."

"I never thought about that."

"I was reading about it."

"Why?"

"Why? Why do you think? Tim was paralyzed because he saved my life. The least I can do is learn about what it must be like for him."

Jim shook his head, a terrible sadness washing over him as Blair started the engine. He waited until they pulled out into traffic before he spoke quietly. "You'll never know what it's like until you live it, Chief."

"Doesn't mean I can't try to understand."

"Tim doesn't expect that. He doesn't blame you for what happened."

"How do you know?"

"Because he told me and he's told you. How many times does it take?" Jim turned his head and studied his partner. "Do you need to hear it every day to believe it?"

Blair shook his head. "Wouldn't make any difference. He might not blame me, but I blame myself. Intellectually, I know that's bullshit, but emotionally, well, I see where you're coming from with that guilt trip you do."

"Guilt trip? Me?"

"Yeah, Jim, like you don't know what I'm talking about."

"You're talking about issues, Chief. Lord knows, I've got issues. You should get together with Carson and have a chat. He's really big on dealing with fucking unresolved issues." His hostile words clipped the air.

Blair didn't speak right away, but halfway home, he asked, "This zone you had, it was right after the session, right?"

"So?"

"So, were you upset about the session? Is that why you zoned?"

"I was upset, but that's not why I zoned."

"You sure?"

"Look, there was this picture on the dash, a picture of me with the group that died in Peru. I zoned on the colors."

"Colors?"

"Every picture has thousands of different dots of color. I couldn't look away."

The car stopped at a traffic light and Blair glanced over. "Was it really the colors in the picture or was it what was in the picture?"

"Where are we going with this?"

"I'm just saying that when you've zoned before it's when you've had some intense emotion."

"Like coming?"

Blair smiled in the dark. "Yeah, like coming." He stopped grinning and became more serious. "But the other times, think about it. The other times happened when you were upset. I'm just saying that it's possible that you were already wound up from the session and seeing the picture just set you off."

Reluctantly, Jim accepted the explanation. "It's possible."

As the car headed toward home again, Blair frowned. "I'm going to the sessions with you until this whole murder thing is over."

Jim flushed with irritation. "You going to hold my hand, too?"

"Don't be a shit. I'll sit outside in the office, but you're not going alone, especially tomorrow."

Closing his eyes, Jim whispered, "The funeral's at three."

"And the session's at one. I don't want you zoning, man. You're a pallbearer. Those church bells start ringing and you could end up in the ER all over again."

"And you think you can stop it?"

Blair kept one hand on the wheel and put the other on Jim's shoulder. "I'll teach you to focus on me whenever you start to feel like you're losing it."

"Why you?"

"Because, right now I'm the best center you've got."

Capturing Blair's hand, Jim held it over his heart, the heat blazing into his skin. Blair's touch or his voice always kept him grounded. He prayed that would always be true.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Simon dropped the file on the interview table and glared at Edward Garvey. The man didn't look very butch or like a model, more like an ad for safe sex. His denim shirt hung loosely across his chest, the thin frame wasted. Scabs covered his arms and a large, dark lesion peeked out from under his collar. Every breath labored the lungs. Full blown AIDS was never pretty. Shit.

"So, Garvey, you want to tell me about the bloody knives we found in your apartment?"

Pale, his black hair stringy and thin, Garvey smiled. "No law against it."

"Depends on whose blood it is. Did you know Jasper King?"

"Sure. A real asshole."

"He's dead now, but you already knew that."

Garvey smirked and shrugged. "I read the papers. Can't say I was sorry."

"Where were you Monday night?"

"Where I am every night, at home in bed, alone."

Simon could believe that. Not much traffic in the clubs for the walking dead. "We found illegal drugs at your place."

Green eyes narrowed. "For the pain."

"The heroin, maybe, but you use Ecstasy and ketamine for pain?"

"K works for the cramps. E just makes it all feel better."

Simon sat down and struggled with his feelings. He couldn't afford pity for a killer, so he focused on the kill. "You flew to San Francisco last week."

"Did I?"

"We've got the record on your credit card."

"What if I did?"

"Tim Davis lives in San Francisco. How do you feel about him?"

"He's an asshole, too. He and King both."

"Why's that?"

Garvey sat up, his bony hands on the table, his breathing wheezy. "Why don't we cut the bullshit and you tell me why I'm here? This isn't about some bogus drug charge. You think I killed King and tried to kill Davis."

"You forgot Ellison."

"I could never do that, forget Jim that is."

The soft tone focused Simon's attention. "Tell me about your relationship with him."

"I loved him. Still do." Garvey tilted his head, his lips twisted into the caricature of a smile. "That bother you?"

"Why should it?"

"You're straight, right? Does it make you sick to think about two men fucking?"

"What two consenting people do is none of my business. Murder is."

"How very PC." Garvey pursed his lips and shook his head. "You don't know him. You think you do, but you don't."

"Then tell me about him."

"He's different. Special. He's got these gifts."

"What kind of gifts?"

Instead of answering, Garvey shook his head, like he had at least one more secret to keep. "Jim was a soldier, you know, a hero."

"I know."

"I never fucked a hero before." Garvey frowned, as if the memory hurt to mention. "I never figured on a hero needing to be punished or how good it would feel to have that much power."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to. All you need to know is that he pushed me to do things, things I'd never done before. But he lied. I never figured on that, Mr. Bigshot hero being a fucking liar. He used me to get what he wanted and then he told me to fuck off. His friends thought that was funny. They deserved to die."

"You're not the first man to be lied to. Why wait over three years to do anything?"

Suddenly edgy, Garvey shook his head. "Look at me."

"I'm looking."

"I don't have much time."

"I'm sorry you're sick, but what's Ellison got to do with that?"

Garvey dropped his head back and laughed. Then he gazed intently at Simon. "You don't get it. Ellison got me started. I couldn't stop after him. I needed more. Then I got sick. It's not fair. He's fine. He should be as sick as I am. God should punish him, too."

"Ellison didn't give you HIV."

"No, but before him, I never took the risks."

"You're saying he was your first?"

"No, but he was the best. He made me hungry for more."

"And you blame Ellison for this?"

"Who else?"

Disgusted, Simon sat back, his face grim in the low light of the room. "Try taking responsibility for your own actions. You killed King. Admit it. Then you tried to kill Davis and Ellison."

"You can't prove it."

"Actually, I can. I've got a warrant for a DNA test. If your DNA matches the sample we took from King's apartment or the blood on the knife is King's, then I'm going to arrest you for his murder. If I get confirmation on the prints on the van and truck, I'll get your for two attempted murders, too. For now, you're being held on drug charges."

Garvey sighed and crossed his arms as he sat back. "Doesn't matter."

"Why's that?"

"Jim knows."

"Knows what?"

"How much I love him."

"You killed his friend and tried to kill him. How does that translate to love?"

"King was an asshole. He doesn't matter, but Jim, I needed to get his attention."

"His attention?"

"I didn't want to die alone."

"And people say romance is dead."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim clicked off the answering machine. "Why the hell is Eli Stoddard asking about Jasper's funeral?"

Blair hung up his coat and locked the door. "He knew Jasper."

"I don't believe this."

"He had a relationship with his uncle."

Jim shook his head and sagged down on the sofa. "Son of a bitch. I can't get away from this guy."

Walking to the kitchen, Blair took down the coffee filters. "Jason and Eli are about the same age. They live in the same town. It's not so hard to believe they might get together."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it. Not everything's about you."

Jim frowned at the unexpectedly sharp tone and turned around to watch his partner get the minestrone out of the freezer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that Eli's coming to the funeral because he's still got feelings for Jason and was Jasper's friend. It's not about you and your insecurity."

"I'm not insecure."

"I'm not having this conversation." Blair popped the soup in the microwave and set the table, his movements efficient, like a natural dancer. "It'll be ready in less than ten minutes. Why don't you relax while I go take a quick shower?"

"You don't need a shower. Come sit down."

"I stink. It's been a long day."

"I like the way you smell. Come sit." Jim patted the cushion beside him.

Blair opened the microwave and stirred the soup and then hit the button again. He walked over and sat down, his body still tense. "Relax, Chief. I'm sorry about the Stoddard shit. You know how that guy pushes my buttons."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That's a first." Jim wrapped his arms around Blair's shoulders and pulled him closer. The warmth of the hug soothed him, made the aches less potent. "I'm sorry."

Blair ignored the apology, but fingered the bruised IV site on Jim's hand. "What did the doctor say?"

"Same as the army quacks. He wanted to do more tests."

"You know, someday we probably should do some more tests."

"Someday. Not today or anytime soon."

"You're feeling okay now though, right?"

"Just tired."

Blair hesitated, his palm on Jim's chest. "I've been thinking about some things."

"That's a surprise."

"Hush and listen." Blair avoided Jim's gaze, his voice soft. "I need to know something."

"What?"

"You said you did all kinds of different things with all these men, right?"

"Right."

"Kinky things."

Jim sighed and tried to move away, but Blair grabbed his arm and held him still. "Wait. Listen. It's important."

Cupping the back of Blair's head, Jim marveled at his partner's loving expression. "What I did then has nothing to do with us."

"But is there something you want to do, something that you need to do, that we haven't done?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to keep you from something that makes it good for you, you know?" Blair wet his lower lip, but he couldn't hide the slight shudder. "I'd be willing to try. We don't have to be vanilla all the time."

"Vanilla?"

"Yeah, I was reading..."

"Reading what?"

"Some of the sites on the internet say that sometimes couples just have to try different things to break the routine. I'm open to experimenting if it'll make it better for you."

Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, he drew Blair to him and captured his mouth, his tongue exploring the hot slickness. Pulling back, he whispered, "I'm fine with how we are, Chief. I don't need props and costumes to make it better."

"But what about the other day when you had, you know, that problem?"

"The other day was a fluke." Jim took Blair's hand and guided it to his erection. "Want to go up and practice vanilla?"

The bell rang on the microwave, but they paid no attention as they headed upstairs. Soup couldn't compete with a horny sentinel on the mend.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blair moved around the kitchen, reheating the soup. He wore jeans and his white T-shirt, his hair still loose around his shoulders. Jim sat on the couch, relaxed and grateful. He closed his eyes, comfortable in the moment. Suddenly he frowned. "Set another bowl, Chief. Simon's here."

He got up and opened the door just as Simon raised his hand to knock. "How the hell do you do that?"

"Your cigars."

"My cigars?"

"They smell."

"Right, they smell, like that makes any sense." Simon stepped in shaking his head in reluctant acceptance and saw Blair. "Hey, Kid."

"Hey, Simon. Want some soup? There's plenty."

"Sure. Sounds good. And I wouldn't say no to coffee."

"Coming right up."

Jim hung up his friend's coat and waited. "Well?"

"Garvey's locked up. He as much as admitted that he killed King."

"As much as?"

"It's enough for now. He's in for drug charges until the DNA and prints come back. I've got no doubt that he's guilty." Simon hesitated, avoiding Jim's eyes.

"What is it?"

"When was the last time you saw Garvey?"

"Years ago."

"Then you don't know."

"Know what?"

"He's got AIDS, full blown. I doubt he'll live to stand trial."

Jim stood stock still, processing the information, his face somber. He moved to stand by the window as Blair handed Simon his coffee. After a few moments, he turned and spoke quietly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling about this."

Blair stepped closer. "You feel what you feel, man."

"After all this shit, why do I feel bad that he's dying?"

"Because it's sad. It's all a big waste." Jim nodded at the simple truth and pushed back Blair's hair, his pleasant mood gone, his body unsettled.

Simon didn't say anything, but sat down at the table. Finally, Jim joined him while Blair served up the soup. He put crackers out on a plate and then put his hands on his hips. "Anyone want a sandwich or anything?"

"Sit down, Chief. We're fine."

Doing as he was told, Blair sat and ate. After a few minutes, Simon put his spoon down. "You didn't ask."

Jim met his gaze. "I don't have to. It doesn't matter."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true. Whatever reason Garvey gave for killing Jasper, it's bullshit. He was crazy when I met him and I doubt that having HIV eat away at his brain improved his condition. So, no, I don't have to ask why he did it."

"You're something else. Garvey might be crazy now, but he wasn't alone in your bedroom when all this shit started."

Blair frowned. "Why are you coming at Jim? It's not his fault."

Simon pursed his lips and then nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's been a tough case. Maybe I should go."

Jim sat back, his arms crossed. "No, don't go. Tell me what you're really thinking. This isn't about it being a tough case. It's about you finding out that I'm not who you thought I was."

Blair watched both men, his face flushed. "Jim, don't do this. Simon's our friend."

"I know that. That's why he needs be honest. You think I was a shit to Garvey and that's what caused this whole business to happen."

"Don't put words in my mouth. I never said that."

"You're thinking it."

Simon got up from the table, anger pushing the words. "Look, you might be able to smell my cigars from the rooftop, but you're not a fucking mind reader. I don't think that. I just think you could've used better judgment. I don't understand how you could've put yourself in those kinds of situations."

"What's to understand? I wanted to get off."

"You put yourself at risk, and I just don't get that."

"How could you understand? You've probably never even fucked a stranger."

"Come on, Jim, you're not being fair, man."

"You taking his side?"

"I'm not taking anybody's side."

"You don't have to defend me." Simon turned his attention fully on Jim. "Listen, you want to hash this out, then fine. Why in god's name would you take those kinds of chances? I mean, fuck it. You could be the one dying instead of Garvey. I mean, Jesus, Jim, that could be you. Did you ever stop to think about that?"

"Of course, I have." Jim hesitated, his anger suddenly deflated. "I just didn't care back then. It didn't mean anything. Nothing meant anything."

Simon's voice lost its harsh edge, his eyes never leaving Jim. "I have to ask. Garvey's the cutter, not you. You let him hurt you to get off. Why did you want me to believe it was the other way around?"

Blair's mouth opened and then shut, his face drained of color as he waited for the answer. Jim swallowed hard and turned his back to both men, the words too hard to say if he saw their faces. "I guess I didn't want you to think any less of me than you already did."

"Any less of you? Jim, I told you before that I'm not here to make judgments. There's no doubt in my mind that you were messed up from all the shit that went down in Peru. None of that's your fault. You made some bad choices, choices, that looking back, could've gotten you killed. Still, you got through it. Why would I think any less of you for being a survivor?"

"Maybe because I think less of myself. I'm ashamed for what happened then and I'm ashamed of Jasper dying."

"You know that's not reasonable, right? You're not to blame for what Garvey did. Hell, before it's over, I doubt the court-appointed shrink's going to say Garvey's responsible, either. The guy's got a brain riddled with cancer. He doesn't even make sense half the time and the rest of the time, he's just too damn creepy."

Jim wrapped his arms around his middle, his eyes closed. "I just know that what I did set this whole thing in motion. In some way I'm responsible."

Blair's hand touched his back gently, his voice hushed. "You're too hard on yourself. Simon's right. You're not to blame."

"I hear the words, Chief, but that's all they are, just words. They're not real to me."

"I'm going to go now."

Jim and Blair both turned as Simon got his coat from the rack. Jim swallowed, his throat dry. "I appreciate everything you've done and for coming by to tell me about Garvey."

"I thought you should know. He probably won't be arraigned for a couple of days, if then. He collapsed in his cell. Doctors say pneumonia in addition to the cancer. His skin's falling off the bone, literally. It doesn't look good."

Blair walked over to the door, his hand on Simon's arm. "Thanks for everything, man. I mean it."

As soon as Simon left, Blair locked the door. Jim slumped down on the sofa and the younger man joined him. "I'm glad that's over, man. It'll be a relief not to have to worry that something's going to happen any minute."

"Yeah."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go to bed. You're tired."

"You go on up. I need to sit here for awhile and then I'm going to do the dishes."

"Leave the dishes."

"That's not going to happen. Besides, you know I always feel better after I clean."

Blair laughed lightly as he rubbed the nape of his neck. Kissing Jim's cheek, he whispered, "If you're not up in half an hour, I'll be back down here."

"Goodnight, Chief."

"Night."

As Blair headed upstairs, Jim sighed and leaned forward, the weight of the past bearing down on him with a vengeance. He hated the thoughts weaving in his head, the memories exploding as he recalled the times with Garvey. Each ghostly cut sliced into his skin. Each phantom thrust became a hammer blow to his spine. He let the man hurt him, use him, and now, after all this time, the debt came due. Problem was, Jim wanted to stop payment, to stop draining his soul over something he just wanted to be fucking finished. He just didn't have a clue how to do it.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A warm hand rubbed his thigh, each caress like a sweet kiss nudging him to the light. Blair licked his belly, his tongue firing pleasure all through his groin. Jim opened his eyes and shuddered. "Morning, baby."

Blair lifted his head, his lips swollen, his face flushed. "Morning. How you feeling.?"

"Pretty good, considering."

Blair laughed and kissed his navel, his morning beard tantalizingly rough and burning. He took Jim's hard cock in hand and stroked it several times, fondling his balls with his other hand. "Considering what?"

"Considering I was half asleep when you started."

"Then catch up, sleepyhead."

Jim mussed the curls, but dropped his head back to the pillow, surrendering as Blair doubled his efforts. A warm mouth took him in, the tongue massaging the pulsing veins. "Oh, god."

Blair threw back the covers completely and then shifted his position. He pushed Jim's legs apart and kneeled between them before putting the older man's calves on his shoulders. Using a spit-slick finger, he teased the tight hole. His voice husky, Blair whispered, "Tell me what you want."

Air hissed from Jim's lungs, his throat too tight. He needed this so much, for Blair to push him, to make him accept it all. "I want you to fuck me."

"I'd love to." Blair smiled, his blue eyes focused on Jim's. "You're so gorgeous, man."

"And so yours."

"So mine, oh, yeah." Blair laughed out loud and nodded. "That, too."

Through with talking, Blair reached for the condom. He rolled it on himself and then grabbed the tube of KY, slicking his own cock and warming more of it between his palms. Once again, he fingered and played with Jim's tight hole, the muscles slowly relaxing.

Jim trembled, his body tight and aching, wanting Blair inside him. Lifting his hips, he urged his young lover to work faster. The head of Blair's cock pushed in, a pressure full of pleasure and pain. He thrust to meet Blair's first full shove. Jim's eyes squeezed shut, drinking in the sensation of fullness. Taking it all in, he drew a deep breath. "Do it harder."

By command, Blair did just that, pulling almost all the way out and then ramming back in. Jim's body bent in on itself, his knees meeting the pillow as Blair hammered into him, the rhythm making Jim's body hum in unison. Wildfire ran up every nerve, the sweat stinging his skin, his bones praying for more. Blair's balls bounced against Jim's ass as the younger man drove into him. Their thick grunts became a chorus as Jim's hands captured the back of Blair's thighs, guiding him to ride him even harder, deeper. But Blair slowed for a moment and then rotated his hips, changing the pattern.

Jim groaned in protest, wanted to finish, craving the final rush that fed his hunger. Blair took pity and leaned forward, forcing Jim's knees all the way against the mattress as he kissed him. "I love you." Sweat dripped from Blair's forehead, curls clinging to the sides of his face. With renewed vigor, he once again fucked with passion.

Eyes closed again, stars zapped behind Jim's lids, the blues turning to orange and then into red and yellow flashes. Ripples tingled his belly, his cock burning for release, his balls swollen and tighter than ever. The ultimate blast exploded like lightning, up through his middle, sparks flying out in all directions.

Even as he screamed, Blair continued riding him before suddenly thrusting one last time. Shaking, his lover collapsed on top of him, the salty, wet heat slicking their skin, Jim's cock still twitching in release.

Moments later, Blair withdrew slowly, throwing away the condom as Jim lowered his legs. Rolling to the side, Blair snuggled against him, his hand going to Jim's spent cock, petting it with affection. He relaxed and moaned in satisfaction. "Oh, man."

Too wasted to respond, Jim held his lover tighter and kissed the top of his head. They lay quietly together for several long minutes. Sleep pulled him closer before Blair nudged him back to awareness. "We've got to get up."

"I think we already did that."

The smile tickled his chest. "I mean it."

Jim didn't answer right away. Instead, he shut out the practical voice listing all the things he needed to do. He didn't want to think about the funeral, the session, and Blair going off to school, probably seeing that asshole Stoddard on his own again. He just wanted quiet, to stay there with Blair and keep the world at bay just for a little while longer. Tightening his hold, he whispered, "In a minute, okay?"

"Let's make it ten." Blair nuzzled his chest and heaved a big sigh. "You slept straight through."

"Yeah."

"No nightmares?"

"No."

"Cool." Their breathing slowed down and sweat and semen grew sticky. Blair broke the silence with a squirm. "We need a shower. Bad."

"A shower? I like showers." He squeezed Blair to emphasize how much he really enjoyed certain bathroom activities.

Chuckling, Blair failed to keep his voice firm. "A shower shower, Jim. Nothing but water and suds, no horsing around."

"Spoilsport."

"Greedy pig."

"Oink."

Blair snorted and oinked in return.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim stared at the stack of unread papers and reports on his desk with a growing despair. Neglecting his business only reminded him of how hard it was to do this job on his own. Thank god his well-trained crews worked without a lot of supervision or he'd be seriously fucked.

He adjusted his black armband and picked up the pink message slips. He shook his head as he sorted them by priority, established clients first, potentials second. He'd call who he could and then get Leslie to call the rest to set up appointments later on. Sitting down at the desk, he picked up the phone only to put it down again as Tim knocked and rolled into his office.

"Morning, Jim."

Jim noted the pale skin, the haggard expression. "You feeling any better? Banks said you were pretty done in after yesterday."

"Yeah, I'm okay. Better than Jasper."

Not knowing what to say to that, Jim shrugged. "You want some coffee?"

"Whiskey would be better."

Nodding, Jim pulled the bottle from the bottom drawer and fetched a glass. He offered it to Tim and poured himself some coffee. Tim eyed the drink and then put it untouched on the desk. "I hate drinking alone and Julie wants me to quit anyway. Coffee smells good."

Jim served up another mug and then sat down behind his desk. Both men remained silent for several long moments before Jim finally spoke. "I appreciate you telling Banks about Garvey."

"No problem." Uneasy, Tim frowned. "You really didn't remember the fuck?"

"Not until later. To be honest, I don't remember a lot from that time."

"You said the same thing about Peru when you first got back. You remember Peru now?"

"Some of it, certain people, but not much."

"Must be weird, having big, fucking holes in your memories like that."

"I'm used to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jim sipped his coffee, avoiding Tim's thoughtful gaze, wanting the conversation to go away. No way did he want to talk about the big, fucking holes that peppered his childhood.

Luckily, Tim changed the subject. "That Detective Banks, he's pretty good. He knows the job, too."

"Yeah, he does."

"You trust him?"

Troubled, Jim put his coffee down and sat back. "Why?"

"I just wondered."

"Come on, Tim. Spit it out. What's going on? Why the 20 questions about Banks?"

"I think you should know he's on the hot seat about you and the kid, that's all."

"How so?"

"Some woman came in while I was checking out the shots for Garvey. Turns out she's the new assistant DA and she's pissed. After reading the background on the case, she seems to think he should've turned your ass in two years ago."

"She said that?"

"And more."

"What did Banks say?"

"To go fuck herself."

"He did not."

"No, but he might as well have. He told her to stick to the cases she could win and to forget about those she couldn't. He mentioned that a good lawyer would eat her alive if she tried to move against you, you being a fucking fine citizen these days."

"He said all that?"

"Yeah. But the thing is, she threatened him."

Jim sat up straighter. "Threatened him how?"

"She told him that his captain and Internal Affairs might be interested in knowing about a cop who protects a pedophile."

"Shit."

"Shit is right. It was pretty damn tense in the bullpen after that. I think the man's fucked. My question is, can you trust him not to turn against you to save his job?"

Jim clenched his jaw and rubbed his face. "You don't have to worry about Banks. He gave me his word."

"And his word is good?"

"Yeah."

Nodding, Tim accepted the statement without question and then looked around the office. "You know, I can't believe this is the same business we started out of a storefront just a few fucking years ago. You've done a great job, man. Who the fuck knew?"

"Why don't you come back to work? We could be partners again."

Surprised, Tim met his eyes, but then shook his head as he tapped the arms of his chair. "Not going to fucking happen, my man."

"The chair doesn't matter."

"Shut the fuck up."

"I'm serious. You don't have to work in the field. We've got tons of potential clients. That was always your best skill anyway, reeling the folks in." Jim leaned forward, his enthusiasm for the idea pushing the words. "The business is more than I can handle on my own. I need you here."

Tim shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm still in the chair."

"But that doesn't matter."

"Don't fucking say that again."

Jim stopped, the frustration and anger in his friend's voice jarring. "I'm sorry. I just thought..."

"No, you didn't fucking think. I'm going to walk again, Jim. I know it doesn't look like it, but I am. I go to rehab every fucking day." Tim took a deep breath and then sat back in the chair, forcing himself to relax. "Besides, I couldn't come back here, not now, not after all that's happened."

"Because of Jasper?"

"Because we're different people now."

Nodding, Jim couldn't disagree. "So, what now? What will you do after you go back home?"

"What I've been doing, trying to get on my feet."

"Then what?"

"Whatever the fuck I feel like. Juli wants to get married. I might give that a try. I mean, hell, it worked for you, right?"

"Right."

"So, tell me, is it hard to stick with just one partner?"

Jim came around and sat on the edge of the desk. "It's the easiest thing I've ever done."

"No shit?"

"No shit." Lifting a hand, they both grinned like fools and high-fived.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blair knocked on the open door and peeked around the edge. "Hey, Eli, got a minute?"

Stoddard motioned him in. "Sure."

Blair came in, shut the door, and sat down. He'd never seen Eli wear a tie before, much less a suit. "You look like a young Paul Newman."

"Thanks." Eli glanced down at himself and waved the grey tie. "I haven't been to a funeral in years. Every time I get this thing out, I think about all the effort we put into ritualized grief. I guess intellectually I understand it, but it still sucks."

"Yeah, it does, but it serves a purpose. Jasper's mom needs closure."

"Don't we all?"

"I just meant..."

"I know what you meant." For the first time, Eli met Blair's eyes. "So, how's Jim?"

"He's doing okay, but I need a favor."

"What?"

"You're coming to the funeral with Jason today, right?"

"Yeah."

"Could you kind of take it easy if Jim says anything."

Shaking his head, Eli smiled. "You're asking me to behave?"

"I've already talked to Jim. He's promised not to start anything."

"You know this is ridiculous. I'm a grown man. I know how to behave, especially at a funeral."

"I don't mean to insult you, Eli, it's just you and Jim, well, I don't know what it is with you two."

Eli stood up and walked to the window, hands on his hips. "I think you do. I think you know exactly what the problem is."

"So you admit that it's not just Jim."

Eli grinned and winked, but then became more serious. "Maybe, but it gets on my nerves how he thinks he owns you. You don't belong to anyone, Blair. You've got a right to your own friends and to see other people. You're only eighteen for godsakes. Why tie yourself down with someone like Jim?"

Eyes narrowed, Blair sat straighter. "Someone like Jim? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, I think you should explain it."

"You said yourself he's got problems. Why limit yourself to somebody who's so damaged?"

Standing, stepping face to face with his mentor, Blair spoke with conviction. "Because I love him. He needs me and I need him. For such a brilliant man, Eli, you can be pretty damn stupid when it comes to relationships. How can you study cultures all over the world and not have at least some of this shit figured out? It's not about having fun all the time or thinking only about yourself. It's about sharing your life with someone who would do anything for you and wanting to do anything for him. I'm sorry you don't get that, I really am."

Eli touched his shoulder, his icy blue eyes meeting Blair's. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just think you can do better, that's all."

"With you?"

"Maybe."

"Fuck, Eli, no wonder you're alone."

Heading for the door, Eli's voice stopped him. "Jason wants to get back together."

Blair turned, his hand on the knob. "Is that what this is about, a test? See if you could get me to say yes before you made up your mind?"

"It's not like that. I love Jason, I do. But we don't want the same things anymore. You and I, we fit. We've got the same passion about exploration and studying cultures around the world. I could take you to so many new places, teach you so many new things. We just fit." Eli moved closer, his hand resting on Blair's arm, his voice softer. "And you're so young and beautiful. I've wanted you since that first time I saw you in class, sitting there with your books, all wide-eyed and innocent. I couldn't take my eyes off you. You had to know that."

Blair pushed Eli's hand from his arm and shook his head. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't know."

"Don't give me that shit. You knew. You knew exactly how good you looked and you used it to get what you wanted."

Fuck you didn't fit in his mouth. Blair forced the anger away, made himself step back from his resentment toward a man he respected and admired. "Don't say anything else."

"Why? Too painful to hear the truth?"

"No. I just don't want to have to kick your ass."

"Like you could." Eli turned away, his face flushed. He steadied himself on the edge of the desk before he spoke again. "I'm sorry. I think you should leave."

Blair hesitated. "I don't want us to be enemies over this."

Still angry, Eli shook his head as he turned back around. "Don't want to burn your bridges, huh?"

"Friends are too damn hard to come by. Look, I'm sorry if I made you think that there could ever be anything more between us than that. I swear I didn't mean to."

"Just go."

"Sure." Blair hesitated, not wanting to leave yet, not wanting to leave something so valuable up in the air. "See you at the funeral?"

As he moved to go, Eli grabbed his arm. "I need to know something."

"What?"

"If I'd made a move on you two years ago when I first saw you, would I have had a chance?"

"Nobody had a chance but Jim."

Eli shook his head in sad amusement. "Man, kid, you've got it bad."

"You should try it." Blair paused, his eyes taking in the pain he saw in his friend's face. "If you don't want to be with Jason, tell him. Don't make him think he's got something he doesn't. Nothing hurts worse."

"You're only a kid. How the hell did you get so damn smart about this shit?"

"My mom."

"Your mom?"

"I saw her go through too many men, too many women. She was never satisfied with anyone for very long. That worked for her, but it hurt a lot of people. I love my mom, but I don't want that kind of life."

"So you've got Jim."

Blair nodded and smiled as he headed out. "Now you're catching on."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't care if we have to pay double. We promised the man back up surveillance and he's going to have it. Get the extra cameras out there and call me when they're installed and tested." Jim slammed the phone down, his head pounding, his temper barely in check.

"Bad time?" Simon Banks stood in the doorway, his coat over his arm.

"No more than usual. Come in. Have a seat."

"I can't stay long. I just wanted to drop by and let you know about Garvey."

"What about him?"

"He died early this morning. Both lungs collapsed and his heart gave out before they could do anything."

Jim stayed seated and closed his eyes briefly. "Seems fitting."

"Fitting because he deserved it?"

"Nobody deserves to die like that. I just meant fitting because Jasper's funeral is today."

Nodding in silent agreement, Simon stepped in, his face more serious than usual. "The DNA and prints matched Garvey's. The case is officially closed."

"That's good then."

"Yeah."

"Want some coffee?"

"I have to get back." Simon didn't move, just stood in the center of the room looking a little lost.

"So, is everything okay back at the station?"

Simon met his eyes and frowned. "Davis told you."

"Did you think he wouldn't? Question is, why didn't you tell me?"

"I'll handle it."

"I'm sure you will." Jim paused and sat back. "How much trouble are you in?"

"I don't know yet. Captain Raines isn't happy. I doubt if he'll back me if IAD decides to press it. They don't really have a good case, just supposition. Chances are, with a good lawyer, I can beat it."

"But in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I could end up walking a beat again."

"What's your wife think?"

Simon avoided his eyes. He dropped his coat on the back of the chair and walked over to the window. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and took a deep breath. "She won't understand, not about you and not about why I kept quiet."

"Have you told her what's going on?"

"No. I was hoping I wouldn't have to."

"You like being a cop?"

Simon shrugged. "It's what I'm good at."

"No question you're good at it. You're honest, too. And I trust you." Jim leaned forward and talked to Simon's back. "What would you say to working here?"

Turning, Simon's frown deepened. "Work for you?"

"I was thinking more like working with me. We've got more business than we can handle and I need a partner."

"What about Davis?"

"He's not interested in coming back."

"What would I do exactly?"

"What Tim did, talk to the new clients, help evaluate and train new employees. It's not all glamour and nightlife, though I can see that would be a big draw."

Simon smiled weakly and then rubbed the back of his head as he considered the proposition. "I don't have the money to invest in becoming a partner."

"I didn't figure you did. I thought the first year, you work for a salary with a small percentage of the profits. Next year, if we're both willing to keep working together, that would go to a bigger percentage of the business with a full partnership."

Simon sat down, his mind going over the possibilities. "How much money are we talking about here?"

"Let's just say that the first year you'll be making at least twice as much as what you're making as a cop, probably more, and have full benefits. After that, it depends. I reinvest a lot of what we make back into the business. That's how we got this building and all the improvements. It gives us a tax break, and I still make a decent profit."

"But how long will that last?"

"Right now everything looks good. Private security is a booming business. You said yourself I've got a good rep in the trade. I can't keep up with the demand. Blair's constantly bitching about my working too much. That's why I'm making the offer."

"Is that the only reason?"

Jim brought his hands together on the desk. "I won't lie to you. I don't want to see you punished for helping me out. Somebody else could've done a lot of damage to our lives. You saw the whole story, not just the surface details. I need someone who can read people and who's willing to stand up for what he believes in."

"We'd need a contract."

"We can do that."

Simon ran his tongue under his lower lip and then stood up. "I'll have to talk to my wife first, but I think you've got a deal."

Jim stood up, too, and extended a hand. "I hope so. Think about it and let me know whenever you can. I'll call the lawyer and start writing the contract as soon as you give the word."

As they shook hands, Simon asked, "What does Sandburg think about this?"

"I thought I'd ask you first. He likes you, Simon. He'll probably be glad to have you watching my back."

"More like keeping an eye on you."

Jim grinned at the assessment. "Yeah, that, too."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim hated funerals. He hated wakes even more. At least you weren't expected to chat at the graveside. Drinking the beers calmed him, but not as much as he hoped, not even close to what he wanted. Across the room Blair talked to Mrs. King, his whole body animated while he conversed. Selfishly, he wanted Blair to come back over to his side so they could finally go home.

"Hey, handsome. Don't you know it's bad manners to drink alone?"

"You're standing here and we're surrounded by people, so technically I'm not alone."

Leslie smiled, but the humor didn't reach her bloodshot eyes. "I don't know what to say anymore."

"About what?"

"About any of this. I never knew anyone who died who wasn't old. It's disconcerting. I haven't been able to sleep much since this happened. Cindy's being really supportive, but it's not the same. She didn't really know Jasper that well, not like we did. He was such a sweet guy." She emptied her beer glass and then stared off for a few minutes, her green eyes glassy and unfocused. "You ever wonder what it's like to be dead?"

Jim took the empty glass out of her hand and put it on the side table. "I think you've had enough for one day. Why don't I get Cindy to take you home?"

"I don't want to go home yet. You didn't answer the question, Jim. Don't you ever think about it? I mean, can you imagine a world where you don't exist, where people who knew you just go right on like the world's the same? How can it be the same if you're not there?" She touched her forehead and swayed a bit. "I don't feel so good."

Jim guided her to the nearest empty seat and waved to her partner, Cindy. The older woman came over, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Leslie's just a little tired. Why don't you get the car and I'll help her outside?"

Leslie waved them both off. "I'm fine. I can walk. I just miss Jasper."

Cindy's face reddened with sympathy as she patted her lover's shoulder. "We all do, baby." She helped Leslie up to take her to the back room to get her purse and jacket. "I'll take it from here, Jim. Thanks."

"You sure you don't need any help?"

She shook her head and led Leslie away, the younger woman crying again against her shoulder.

Unsettled, Jim finished his beer and picked up another. Eli Stoddard moved in beside him, his voice casual. "Jim."

"What do you want?"

"You think we can behave without making a spectacle of ourselves?"

Jim eyed him with disdain. "This isn't the time or place, Stoddard. I have a friend who's dead here. Frankly, I could give a fuck about you or how you behave."

Stoddard's tanned faced flushed even darker. "You're such a shit. I don't know what Blair sees in you. I really don't." When Jim didn't answer right away, Eli continued. "I'm only going to say one thing, Blair deserves better than you. I just hope he realizes that someday, the sooner the better."

Jim's eyes narrowed, a fist clenched at his side. He kept his voice low, but the menace and the message clear. "You need to go back to Jason. Hold his hand, suck his cock, whatever, but get the fuck away from me. Now."

Blair stepped up between them, his face worried. "What's going on, man?"

"Your friend was just leaving."

"Eli?"

"It's nothing. I've got a late meeting at school anyway."

As he walked away, Blair stared at Jim. "What was that all about?"

"Don't worry. I behaved. He's still breathing." He took a drink, half the bottle gone in one long swallow.

"Jesus, Jim."

"He started it."

"I'm not talking about Stoddard. He's a prick. Just slow down on the drinking. I'm not in the mood to carry your ass out of here."

Jim stubbornly finished the beer and picked up another. "Since when did St. Eli fall off his fucking pedestal?"

"I am so not having this conversation here." With deliberate care, Blair took the bottle from Jim's hand and put it back on the table.

"Hey."

"Hey, nothing. We're going home and I'm driving."

"I can drive."

"You could if you had the keys, but you don't. Besides, I want to drive to clear my head."

Blair's sad tone made him forget about his thirst and irritation. "You okay, Chief?"

"Not even close. Let's go."

Instead of arguing, Jim nodded and followed Blair to the coat rack and then out to the truck. He shivered in the cold, the buzz from the beer quickly disappearing. Climbing in beside Blair, fatigue hit him harder than he expected and he closed his eyes. He just wanted to be home and snuggled up with Blair.

When the engine didn't start right away, he glanced over. "What's wrong?"

"Did you ever want kids?"

Caught off guard by the question, Jim turned in his seat and stared at his partner. "What?"

"Kids? Didn't you ever think about being a dad?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never. Why? Do you want kids?"

"I guess not. I never really thought about it until I was talking to Mrs. King. Jasper was an only child and now she'll never have grandkids. She said it was bad enough to lose her son, but she's also lost her chance at more family. I felt really bad hearing her say that."

"She's grieving, Chief." Jim wrapped his arms around himself, the cold eating into him, the conversation even more chilling. "She's not thinking straight."

"I know. But it made me think."

"About kids?"

Meeting Jim's worried eyes, Blair nodded. "We just never really talked about it, that's all."

"Nothing to talk about. Unless you plan to get pregnant, I don't see kids in our future."

"I'm not kidding, Jim."

"Neither am I. I don't want kids, never did. If you do, well, then we might have a problem."

Blair tilted his head and stroked Jim's cheek lovingly. "No, man, no problem. I just thought we should talk about it."

"So you're not going to have my baby? Damn. Bet you'd be a hell of a hottie in a smock."

Sitting up, Blair patted his own belly and shook his head. "I just don't see it." Smiling, he teased Jim's stomach with his finger. He leaned over and nibbled his ear before he whispered, "Besides, based on the odds, you're the one most likely to get knocked up."

Jim chuckled and nodded. "Good point."

Blair started the engine, his expression suddenly more sober. "I'm sorry about Eli."

"It's not your fault he's an asshole."

"I know. I just wish the two of you weren't so competitive."

"We're not competitive." Jim touched Blair's shoulder, squeezing gently as the younger man pulled out of the driveway. "He's just a sore loser."

Blair revved the motor in agreement.

"By the way, I offered Simon a job."

"Yeah? What'd he say?"

"He'd think about it, but I'm pretty sure he's going to say yes."

Blair smiled. "Good. Maybe you won't work so late all the time."

"My thinking, exactly."

"Great minds, man."

"Horny minds, more like."

Blair didn't disagree and drove faster.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jim settled on the sofa, his head back, his eyes closed. Blair hung up the coats and called from the kitchen. "You want coffee?"

"No, but a beer would be nice."

"Get it yourself."

Surprised by the hostile tone, Jim sat up and studied his partner. "What's eating you?"

"You're drinking too much. I don't like it." Blair didn't meet his eyes as he filled the coffee maker with water.

"I'm not drunk."

"I didn't say you were." Clicking the on switch, Blair moved to the post in the middle of the room, his arms crossed as he leaned against it. "But you do drink too much when you're upset. You either turn into an asshole and then have to say you're sorry twenty times or you cut yourself off. Either way, it's not healthy."

Jim snorted, not really pissed, but resenting the interference. "You think I've got a problem?"

"I think you've got a lot of problems, Jim. I just don't want you to add one more to the list if you don't have to."

"You're off base here, Chief. I went to a funeral today. I'm entitled to a few beers."

Blair moved and sat on the opposite end of the sofa, his body turned toward Jim's. "I just want to know if I need to be worried or not."

Jim studied the somber face and then shook his head. "It's under control."

"Is it?"

Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Jim protested. "Give me a break here, Chief. I'm doing the best I can."

Blair shifted closer and stroked his arm. "I know." As soon as Jim sat back, Blair snuggled in closer, his arms around Jim's middle. "How did the session go?"

"Don't you ever let up?"

"I'm just curious."

"Tell me something I don't know." Instead of being angry, Jim just shrugged. "It was okay. Carson eased up a little today. He's still pushing for that damn journal though. Wanted me to write down my feelings about the funeral, like that would be a huge revelation."

Blair pulled away. "Wait here. I've got something for you."

"What?"

"You'll see." Jim smiled at his lover's enthusiasm as the younger man went into his downstairs office and came out holding a package. "Here."

Turning it over in his hands, Jim shook it. "Well, it's not a bomb." He fingered the plain, brown wrapper. "A dirty book, maybe?"

Blair sat back down on the sofa beside him, chewing on his thumbnail. "Come on, man. Open it."

Carefully, Jim slipped his fingers under the tape and undid the paper to find a black, leather-bound journal. On the cover a hand-tooled, black panther stared back at him. He ran his hand over the curves and grooves, the smooth edges. He almost expected the jungle cat to start growling.

"You like it?"

"It's beautiful."

Pleased, Blair grinned. "I saw it and couldn't resist. It reminds me of you."

Words choked in his throat. "Thank you." He embraced Blair and then kissed him before pulling away. "So, is this your way of being supportive?"

"I just thought that if you had something so cool to write in, it might make it easier."

Jim flipped through the empty pages. "Almost seems a shame to spoil it."

Punching him in the shoulder playfully, Blair settled in beside him. "Use it or not, it's up to you."

Jim drew Blair close and hugged him, nuzzling his neck, speaking softly. "I love you so much, Chief."

"I know. Same here."

Sucking the pulse point in Blair's neck, Jim moaned, his cock urging him to move to a better position. "Let's go upstairs."

Blair turned in his arms, his dark blue eyes focused on Jim's. "Tell you what. You do a page in your journal and I'll be upstairs waiting when you're finished."

"That's blackmail."

"It's called behavior modification."

"How's that?"

"You do something good and I reward you."

Jim laughed, too horny to say no as he reached for the journal and pen. "You'll pay for this, you little shit."

Heading up the stairs, a mischievous grin on his face, Blair unzipped his pants. "Not so little and write fast or I'll get started without you."

As Jim held the pen above the first page, he listened to Blair slowly strip in the space above him. Groaning to himself, he wrote his first words with absolute clarity and conviction. "God, how I love this man."



THE END