"Jim, even *you* can't be sure of that."

"Simon, I'm telling you, nobody who wasn't supposed to be in that building had been there. Look, the owner told us the place had been closed for several weeks before the vandalism. He was on vacation, and a buying trip. Even the stuff shipped was at a warehouse.

"That's more than enough time for most scents to fade to me. When Sandburg and I went back, I could pick up the owner's scent, what I've come to identify as several of the artists, the cops who were there - most of which I already knew and I've already checked out those I don't -, Sandburg and myself. Nobody else, Simon. Nobody."

Captain Banks ran his hand over his face. Much as he had come to trust Ellison's perceptions, they didn't do too well in a court of law. "OK, Jim. That means it's an insurance scam, right?"

Ellison straightened from where he had been leaning on the captain's desk and ran a frustrated hand over his hair. "That's what I thought, too, but it didn't check out. Insurance companies are reluctant to do non-mainstream stuff. Places like The Comstock are just targets as far as they're concerned."

From behind his perch on a table, Blair joined in with, "Well, that eliminates hate, fear, and greed as motives. That leaves jealousy, right?"

Turning to face his partner, Ellison shook his head. "No, I checked the inventory list. Nobody's work was more targeted than anyone else’s, and the value assigned was about the same."

"Oh, well maybe there wasn't really a motive, you know, like maybe somebody just sniffed or ate the wrong thing?"

Ellison leaned back against Simon's desk, and stretched out long legs. He studied Blair for a moment, knowing Simon couldn't see the expression on his face, and spared a moment from the case to enjoy the sight of Blair.

It had been nearly a week since he had been lured from his bed by the thought of a naked Blair standing in moonlight. He hadn't deliberately listened for the younger man to leave his attempts at sleep. Hadn't consciously considered the fact that he had heard Blair undress, but not put anything back on. And he certainly hadn't intended to be seen, himself.

But seeing him there, looking like part of that beautiful sculpture from the gallery... and seeing the sadness and confusion, he had stepped out of the dark and taken a chance.

He stifled a sigh. He still wasn't sure if it had paid off. Blair's quip about a sixth sense had made both of them laugh, and they had been comfortable with each other as they got up and cleaned off. But Blair had chosen to go back to his own room, and though he seemed the same as always, he hadn't referred to what happened. Or made any move that would let Jim feel free to act again.

Promises were something he kept. Period. He had sworn that friendship would be enough, if that was all Blair could give. One silvered night was more than he had had, was enough to keep him going. It simply had to be. But sometimes, sometimes when Blair was flirting with another woman in his seemingly limitless entourage, or when he looked in on the sleeping man, just checking that he was ok, just checking, sometimes the rage he felt at the unfairness of it was almost more than he could handle.

Knowing that it was irrational didn't help. Knowing that it was all in him didn't help. It wasn't Blair's fault he loved him. It couldn't be helped if Blair couldn't return his feelings.

The rage came anyway.

"Jim," His Guide's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he focused back on the smaller man.

"Detective Ellison, if you're not going to participate in this conversation...."

"Rage." Ellison interrupted, swinging back to look at his captain.

Concern caused Banks to sit back in his chair, but before he could voice it, Ellison continued.

"Rage could be the motive. Somebody angry enough at another artist that he destroyed everyone's, just to make sure he got his target. Maybe rage at the owner. A failing artist?"

Banks grew thoughtful. "That could fit. Lord knows the place looked like an angry mob had been through it." He considered for a moment more, the nodded. "Any ideas on following up on that?"
 
 

Little of the damage was left to be seen at the gallery. Walls had already been patched or painted over, the debris cleaned up, new exhibits were already in place and nearly ready for the re-opening. Blair wandered around, while Jim talked with the receptionist, admiring the clean open spaces and the way each piece was situated so that it seemed to be in it's own private space.

He saw the photograph he had noticed the last time, and several other pieces by the same person, some of them eerily beautiful while being very explicit.

It was odd to think of himself in that context. No, it was *way* past odd. It was also undeniable. He did it, he loved it, and the only thing stopping him from crawling into Jim's bed and seeing if he could do it again and again was how much he knew Jim loved him.

And he was terrified of it. Blair shook his head at himself in disgust. Being loved like that should have put him over the moon, made him feel like a million, anything, *anything*, but make him feel as though he were waiting for the world to blow up.
 
 

Behind him, the receptionist motioned for Ellison to go into the back, and waited for the detective to call his partner over. Instead the big man moved quickly in the direction she indicated. Just as she opened her mouth to tell the other one, Sandburg turned and simply followed in the same direction. The receptionist's jaw dropped a little lower - boy, those guys must have partners for a *long* time.

Sandburg had been expecting to see a typical office, but the corridor Jim led him down opened into a large, sunny studio. At one of the tables, a tall, slim older man was working on one of the damaged pieces from the gallery. "Excuse me, we were looking for Evan Daniels?"

"Yes, what can I do for you, officers?" Daniels didn't look up from the careful attention he was giving his work.

Giving a low whistle, Sandburg moved around to where he could see the sculpture better. The last time he had seen it, he couldn't even tell what it was supposed to be. Now it was easy to see it was flames, reaching to arch around and frame a pair of clasped hands. "Whoa, terrific irony, there. Permanent flames from wood."

For the first time Daniels looked up, and Blair almost staggered from the impact of the man's face. Oh, he was only fair looking -well worn face, hair more salt than pepper, - but the eyes were the truest shade of green he had ever seen in a face, and they were filled with a serenity and power that couldn't help but hit hard.

Ellison moved to stand beside him, and mildly asked, "You're one of the artists here, too?"

Daniels looked back down, "Yes, though I don't have time to do much any more. I inherited the gallery from my partner last year, and, well, he did most of the business end of it until then." Sandburg noticed that Daniels had a small piece of sandpaper, and the fingers that held it were covered with thin leather gloves. He would smooth a bit with the paper, then use his other hand to feel over where he had just worked. This man had to have a Sentinel's touch.

He caught Ellison's eye, briefly, and saw Jim had noticed. Casually the cop reached out and ran a finger over one flame. "I can hardly tell where the repairs were made. Maybe you should think of hiring yourself a business manager."

Daniels looked up again, and this time smiled, forcing Blair to re-evaluate his opinion of the man's looks. "Thank you. But we don't really do well enough for that." Like Ellison, he gave the statue a casual touch. "This was the worse of them, that could be salvaged. The rest were either completely destroyed or not hurt nearly as bad." He moved down and uncovered two others, one of which was the work that had caused Ellison to zone.

Sandburg felt his heart move into his throat, and schooled himself not to show the force of his reaction to seeing it again. Beside him, he felt Jim turning to stone. Stupid, stupid, he should have thought about how he was going to handle this.

Fortunately, Daniels seemed oblivious. "This one only has a few scratches."

"Yeah, I can see them down near the ankle of the smaller man." Somehow, Ellison's voice sounded normal.

Daniels shot the big cop a puzzled look, then picked the statue up. "Remarkable. I've always heard cops picked up details... "

"Does that have a name?" Sandburg wasn't quite as successful at keeping his voice steady as Ellison.

"Yes. 'Necessary.' It's not for sale...." the rest of what the artist had been about to say faded as Sandburg ran out of the room as fast as he could.

Outside in the truck, Blair banged his head on the dashboard, hoping the pain would help him feel less like an idiot. How was he going to explain decamping like that? Or more accurately, how was *Jim* going to explain, and how much would he have to grovel to make up to him for having to do it?

Back in the studio, Ellison looked after his fleeing friend, and fought the urge to run after him. Clamping down on it so hard the muscle in his jaw started to ache, he turned back to Daniels. "Guess that statue hit a nerve," he managed.

Daniels looked at the cop, back to the exit where Sandburg had just vanished, then back at the cop. "Not the one I had hoped to hit when I did it," he said dryly.

Ellison snorted in laughter, the reached out to take the piece from the owner. "Not for sale... what was it doing in the gallery, then?"

The sadness that came pouring off the elder man was nearly overwhelming, and Ellison could have sworn he virtually collapsed in on himself, though he still stood straight and proud in front of him. "I did this for my partner, my lover, when we first came together, almost twenty years ago. I ... I just couldn't bear to have it in the house anymore, and I couldn't stand the thought of packing it away somewhere. It's just about the best thing I've ever done."

Nodding, Jim stroked the wood, trying not to compare it with the feel of Blair's skin, or the curves of his body. "Necessary" He understood.

With more force of will than he would have thought needed, he made himself put it down, and get back to business. "Mr. Daniels, can you tell me something about the other artists who show here? How well they get along, if there are any rivalries?"

Daniels eyes widened slightly, and Ellison heard his heartbeat pickup. But when he answered, his voice was calm. "You don't think it was a 'gay bash' thing?"

"Just checking out all the angles, sir."
 
 

When Jim started back to the truck, Blair made himself sit up straight and face him. Inside, he sighed in relief. Jim didn't look mad. In fact, for the first time in a while, Blair *really* looked at his partner, and saw that how Jim looked was tired. The big man moved with his usual grace and surety, but there was something missing, too. There was a smile on his face - meant to be reassuring to Sandburg, that he wasn't too mad - but it didn't reach his eyes.

When Jim made his promise about not touching or hinting, Blair had taken it for granted. If Jim said that was what he was going to do, that was what he did. Why hadn't he asked himself what price Jim would have to pay for that restraint? Why was all he had thought about was how not to panic?

He wasn't the only one who had always thought of himself as straight. He had at least the background to consider the idea without any hang-ups. Jim was ex-military. The man was a cop, and you didn't have to be gay to know how well that played in any precinct. Yet Jim had had the courage reach out and ask for what he needed. And not complained when what he got wasn't all that he wanted.

Feeling small and ashamed, Blair resolved he could at least try to show as much courage as Jim did. Now if he just had clue as to what to do.

The truck door opened and Jim climbed in, settling behind the wheel. "Next time you take a powder, Sandburg, try to give some advanced warning. The sonic boom you left behind nearly deafened me."

"Look, man, I'm really sorry. I don't know why I reacted like that.. yes, I do, it's because I felt what happened between us was written all over my face, and I couldn't stand to have a stranger know."

"Is that what bothered you, Chief. That it was a stranger? Or was it that someone knew?" There was no censure in Jim's voice, just honest concern.

"I..." Blair looked out the window at Comstock's, then back at his partner. "Can you just take me home, please?"

Ellison waited a moment longer, then started the truck. The stop at the gallery had been the last thing on the agenda for the day, and the trip back to the loft was very quiet. Oddly, it was a comfortable silence between them. It wasn't until they were nearly there Blair thought to ask how the questioning went.

Shaking his head, Ellison recounted that most of the artists didn't even know each other that well, and none of them were exclusive to that gallery. Daniels hadn't seen any traces of rivalry, or much even in the way of professional jealousy.

"There was something, though," he finished as he parked the truck. "When I first asked, he reacted. Not much, but like the question bothered him. But he answered it honestly enough."

"Maybe you just brought up old memories." Sandburg returned, climbing out.

They continued on into the loft silently, until inside, then Jim turned to the smaller man. "And I'm sorry the trip brought up memories for you, Blair. I didn't think...."

Jim never got a chance to finish his apology. Blair simply stepped in close, stretched up on tip toe, gripping Jim's shirt for leverage, and covered Jim's mouth with his. He could feel Jim's shock, felt him stagger back, to lean on the door, and wrap both arms around Blair. He had caught Jim's mouth slightly open, and plunged in with his tongue, to find Jim's eagerly reaching out to duel. It was hot, too hot to keep still, and Blair broke away to catch a breath and come back from a different angle. Jim lifted a hand to the back of his head, spreading his fingers wide to hold it gently, and tried to crawl down Blair's throat.

Again Blair broke away, turning his head slightly to one side with the thought of catching his breath. Before he could turn back, Jim's tongue traveled down the line of Blair's jaw, to dart quickly around rim of an ear and down his neck. "Oh, god, oh god," Blair muttered, and worked a hand free from between to put on the back of Jim's head to hold him to the sensitive spot where his neck and shoulder met.

His knees started shaking, and when Jim started nibbling where his tongue had been, they gave out completely. Instead of holding him up, Jim slid down to the floor with him, still leaning on the door, letting Blair settle across his lap, Blair's knees to either side of Jim's hips.

Jim kissed, licked and nibbled his way to the little hollow of Blair's throat, then seemed intent on working his way down from there, moving Blair's shirt out of the way by sheer force of will. Finally he became frustrated enough to put a hand on either side of the collar and just pull. The shirt ripped, easily, but Jim just grunted and went back to tonguing and nipping every bit of flesh he could touch.

Blair didn't even notice the shirt going. All he could feel was Jim's mouth on him, the hard body under him, and his own hardness struggling against his clothes. Mindlessly he began to grind his hips into Jim, hissing at the sensation, wanting more.

The change in Blair's skin and taste registered dimly on Jim, and he pulled back ever so slightly to consider it. Heat, musk, skin, panting... a thread of control tightened, and he pulled back a little more. Floor, they were on the floor. Not again, not like last time.

"Chief," he said hoarsely. "Chief, wait, wait just a..."

Blair looked at him wild-eyed. "Don't stop. I don't want you to stop,"

"No, no. But, let me get us up from here..." Blair dove in for a kiss, making small noises in the back of his throat as he did, doing his best to get Jim's shirt out of the way so they could be skin to skin. Jim was lost again.

Finally Blair pulled away to *look* at what his hands were doing to get rid of that shirt. Jim took one look at him, panting, flushed, determined, and knew if he was going to get them to a bed it had to be now.

"Blair, Blair wrap your legs around my waist. Come on babe, I want to get you upstairs and naked in my bed."

"Naked is good. We can do that." and Blair went back to exploring the vast expanse of Jim's still covered chest. But he did lean forward, moving his legs around, while Jim bent his knees, then straightened from the hips, scooting himself up the door. By the time he was standing, he had his hands under Blair's bottom to support him, and Blair had his ankles locked behind Jim's back.

By now Jim had had a chance to get himself under control enough to get them safely up the stairs, moving carefully so he wouldn't drop his precious passenger or fall with him. He smiled down onto the top of the head nuzzling blindly at his chest - somehow, he doubted Blair had even noticed the trip.

It was fortunate that he had made it almost to the bed when Blair decided teeth might get that stupid shirt out of the way. Even insane with need, he remembered Sentinel sensitivity and used his teeth carefully, scraping at the fabric, catching the circle of a nipple as he did.

Pure fire hit Jim, and he stumbled forward, just managing to twist so that they landed side by side. The shirt came off much the same way Blair's had, and they could finally be skin to skin, mouths locked, hands working to get jeans out of the way. Jim managed to work a hand past the waistband of Blair's jeans so that he could cup the arousal there.

Blair tore his mouth away and pounded a fist on Jim's shoulder. "Do something, do something," he nearly sobbed.

Jim slipped over the side of the bed, to kneel on the floor, opening Blair's thighs as he went. He caught the waist of the jeans, and pulled them down enough to free Blair's erection. Quickly he slid back up to lay between Blair's legs, and bent to take him in his mouth. Blair pounded Jim's shoulders again, thrusting forward with his hips, and screaming wordlessly, came.

Jim drank, relishing the taste, the feel of the firmness in his mouth, the scent of Blair's masculinity - loving all of it. When Blair began to soften, he eased away, content to lie with his head on his lover's stomach, letting all of his senses fill with the man under him.

A long time later, Blair reached down and tugged on one of Jim's ears. "Hey, are you still with me?"

"Hmmm?" came back.

"Jim?" He risked tugging just a little harder. Reluctantly Jim stirred, tickling Blair's stomach as he rubbed his face against the skin there. "Jim!"

"Am I getting too heavy, babe?" Without waiting for an answer Jim picked himself up and moved to lay beside Blair, immediately snuggling in to get as close as possible. He brushed kisses over Blair's forehead and caught a lock of hair between his lips, sliding down its length before letting it go.

Lazily Blair lifted a hand to capture Jim's chin and lead it toward him for a kiss.

The End