Rough Road

"The two of you need to stop doing that," Banks said irritably, closing the door to his office and stopping just short of enough force for Blair to say it was slammed.

Looking up from the crime scene photo they were studying and feeling Jim tense behind him, Blair shifted in his seat, flashing a wary smile defensively. "Hey, the coffee pot was empty when we got in here; we're not the ones who finished it off."

Ignoring the attempt at humor, Simon took a picture from those spread over the table and stared at it, though Blair had the feeling he wasn't seeing it at all. "I know that when Jim uses his senses, he keeps a hand on you to give him a reference point, and that because of his sight, both of you look at the same picture at the same time to cover all the bases, but damn it, you could be more discreet, especially with rumors about the pair of you floating around again. People see him bent over you like that and get the wrong idea."

Banks said the last with a wealth of disgust and aggravation that sent prickles of alarm over Blair's skin, and Jim straightened, his spine all but snapping into a taut line. "Rumors?" he asked blandly, but Blair knew his true reaction from the fingers tightening on his shoulder.

"The ones about you being a couple. You have to have heard them." Banks tossed the picture down. "We're still under the microscope here from that whole dissertation mess. The last thing I need to be doing is wasting my time explaining away that gay garbage while dodging the whole senses thing."

Blair looked up at his partner, catching his gaze instantly. At a slow nod from him, he turned his attention back to their captain, mentally bracing himself as best he could. "We'll be more careful, I promise; it's just that kind of contact is next to instinctive for us, I guess."

Choosing his words very carefully, he added, "One thing though, Simon - we are a couple." He laughed a little uneasily. "Thought you knew that, man."

"WHAT!"

Not flinching from the roar, Blair said levelly, "Those rumors have been floating around ever since I started riding with Jim, especially when I moved in with him. It's a cultural perception, or maybe I should say misconception, though it wasn't that long ago bachelors sharing a place wouldn't have been worth a second thought from even the dirtiest mind, down side of the whole gay liberation movement...."

Planting his fists on the table and leaning on them, Simon cut Blair's nervous explanation short with a threatening scowl, and he hastily finished, "We ignore them or laugh it off if someone gets in our face about it, but we don't hide from our friends." He put a gentle, pleading emphasis on the last word, trying to remind him that he was more than that to them.

Face slowly filling with shock, Simon sank down onto the chair farthest from them, staring blankly into the distance. For long, painful moments he didn't even blink, then he abruptly focused on Jim. "You lied to me?"

Shifting so that he was almost, but not quite pressed against Blair, the hand on him clenching, Jim said levelly, "You know me better than that. And I know you well enough to believe that you had done some checking on your own before you agreed to interview me for my transfer to Major Crimes. I told you the truth then, but things change."

Blair wanted to ask what they were talking about, but before he could, Simon transferred his glare to him, and he recoiled from the fury and revulsion in it. "How could you do this to Jim?" Simon demanded coldly. "After everything you've gone through together, how can you ruin his career like this?"

"What?" Jim barked, and Blair wanted to echo him, but his voice caught in a throat that was suddenly too small for air, let alone words.

Taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, Banks said, "There's no way another department will take a transfer from Sandburg, not after what it took to get him the badge in the first place. You'll have to be the one to go, and, no matter how good my recommendation is, it's a move downward. At the very least you'll delay getting your captaincy for years, and that's assuming you can stay in the closet well enough to convince the brass to take a chance on you."

Each word hit Blair like a fist to the gut, driving what little air he'd been able to suck in back out in a faint, protesting no.

"No one's transferring," Jim said so emotionlessly that the words were nearly threatening.

"You're not riding without a partner again," Simon snapped. "And no one in Major Crimes can put up with you for more than a temporary fill-in."

"I have a partner."

Fighting to take a deep breath, Blair tried to offer his own protest, but his lungs wouldn't work, and when he tried to at least shape the words, his lips wouldn't either. It was as if the enormous pain exploding in his heart was taking physical form, filling his body for its own uses. Helplessly, he waited for Jim to calm Simon, find out why he was reacting so badly, what was wrong with him that he could destroy their partnership like this, but the next words wiped out any chance of that.

Banks stood, all stern authority and implacable certainty. "One that you're fucking. Which means you both ride with someone else as of now."

"Like hell we will." Without another word Jim bodily lifted Blair to his feet and prodded him toward the door.

"Ellison! Sandburg!"

Jim ignored the shout and hustled Blair out of Banks' office, through the bullpen and to the stairs, never releasing his grip on his elbow. That was a good thing, because without that support Blair wouldn't have been able to walk on his own. Agony had full control of him, taking command of his mind, making it impossible to think or move.

From a great distance away, he watched as Jim got them to their lockers, taking out the small duffle bags that held emergency changes of clothes along with other supplies, then to the truck, all the while refusing to acknowledge any comment or question sent their way. In what seemed like a very short time, they were on the road, though Blair didn't have a clue as to where they were going or why, and couldn't find the will to ask. He sat passively, watching without any real interest as Jim went to several ATM machines, accumulating a stack of bills, and stared sightlessly out the passenger window while he drove to a part of Cascade that Blair wasn't very familiar with.

Even when they pulled into a long-term storage facility, Blair couldn't wrestle enough wit from the overwhelming thing owning him to wonder why or ask what was going on with his partner. Jim pulled up to a large unit at the very back of the lot, opened the overhead door, then drove the Ford inside, barely fitting it into the small space that had been left amid the clutter filling the room. It wasn't until Jim took the tarp off the motorcycle that Blair recognized they were where Mike Hurley's sister had stored his things after his death until she had the time and heart to deal with them.

The information was remote, almost beyond his reach, and while Blair had a flash of empathy for a woman, who had lost so much she still hadn't healed after so long, it didn't last. Nothing could penetrate the overwhelming pain, and he had no choice but to drift within it, letting Jim guide his body where he would. In very short order he had Blair on the back of the bike, helmet in place with the visor down over his face, and they were on their way out of the city.

Oddly, the strobing of light and shadow, of brightness and gloom, as the landscape bled past soothed him, letting him lose himself in its ever-changing kaleidoscope. For a while nothing was real except that and the man he clung to, arms tight around his waist. He had no sense of time, though when the bike finally stopped at a motel, the vibration from it echoed in his bones as if he'd ridden for hours.

Literally towing Blair with him, Jim checked in, moved the bike to a cabin at the very back of the motel, and let them into it. Blair would have simply stood in the middle of the cool dimness until pure exhaustion dropped him where he was, but Jim tugged him to the bed, efficiently undressing him before pushing him down onto it. Stripping, he climbed in after Blair, wrapping them both in the blankets and holding him so tightly that under any other circumstances, he would have been protesting that he couldn't breathe.

As if the security and warmth Jim had created for him was what he had been waiting for, Blair dropped into the welcome refuge of sleep, not even dreaming. In the coldest, emptiest hours of the night, he woke with sharp snap, completely alert and in charge of himself again. Face against Jim's chest, safe in the shelter of his arms, he took a long, sipping breath, finally filling his lungs, and forced himself to face Simon's attack on them.

He didn't want to call their conversation that, but that was how it felt and part of why it had been so devastating. It had also been completely unexpected, as was the depth of Simon's obvious revulsion and anger. He was the last person that Blair would have ever dreamed of not being able to accept him and Jim being together, no matter what public opinion had to say. Of all their friends and co-workers, Blair would have sworn that he was the one who would be able to see past rules and regulations to who he and Jim were and what they meant to each other.

Simon's extreme reaction just didn't seem right to him, but when he tried to push aside his own emotions to look at those few minutes in Simon's office objectively, the hurt hit him all over again. Despite that, all he wanted was to find a way to reach out to their friend and give him the comfort Blair somehow sensed that Simon needed badly. Not that it was likely Simon would ever again trust him enough to let him get that close.

That was the worst part of all, and Blair fought tears with everything he had, not realizing he had lost the battle until a large, calloused palm cupped his cheek, smudging away the dampness there. Turning a sob into a long, nearly silent sigh, he leaned into Jim's touch, letting him support the weight of his head and hiding his face in Jim's hand. The fingers of Jim's free hand wove into the hair at the back of Blair's neck, the tips petting gently, and some part of him took that as encouragement to give into his grief.

Slowly sorrow ebbed, and without ever consciously deciding to, Blair kissed the palm cradling his face, intending only to communicate his gratitude for Jim's silent support. Jim made a small noise and swept a thumb over the tear tracks to dry them, kissing Blair's forehead as he did. It was unbelievably sweet comfort, and Blair pressed another kiss into Jim's palm, followed it with another to the heel of his hand, and yet a third to the hollow of his wrist.

The pulse there beat against his lips, tempting him into tasting the heat of that vulnerable spot. He loved the flavor of it, but knew that it would be stronger, better, elsewhere and lifted his head as Jim brought his mouth down to cover Blair's. There was no passion in the innocent mating of tongues, just a nurturing empathy that Blair nursed at until temporarily sated. He drew back enough to look into Jim's face, making a valiant effort to smile at him reassuringly.

The silvery night surrounding them was no barrier to meeting each other's eyes, and the love lighting Jim's was enough to make Blair's smile genuine, easing the ache in his heart to a level he could live with. Without pain taking all of his attention, other parts of Blair reported in, and he discovered that he had an erection that was already leaking with need. Jim was as aroused, and at Blair's murmur of appreciation for the hard-on pressed against his belly, rolled them until Blair was under him, his solid mass more than welcome. Blair shoved up as Jim rocked down, and together they set up a fluid rhythm that had no purpose but intimacy and connection.

A part of Blair - his wounded spirit and heart - wanted the languid loving to never end, but the body couldn't be denied. Eventually the desire rising between them became irresistible, and of one mind they began to seriously work toward climax, urging each other on with wordless cries of delight and hunger. Perhaps because he had taken so long to surrender to lust, his finish eluded Blair. The friction between them was oh-so-good, but just not enough.

He wrapped his arms and legs tightly around Jim, for the first time truly understanding why his lover was thinking of turning over for him, and why the thought of doing the same had begun to haunt him. It was a way to be closer than skin would allow; a way to become a part of each other, if only for a short while, and be truly connected. The image his imagination conjured of Jim panting desperately, staring down with lust and awe at where their bodies were joined, was the tiny bit Blair needed to find his release.

With a drawn out 'oh' that sounded as if it were breathed through pure heaven, even to his ears, Blair spilled his seed between them, the wash of slippery heat making the last jolts of relief unexpectedly good. Whimpering Blair's name, Jim buried his face in the curve of Blair's shoulder and added his own essence, only violent trembling betraying how powerful it was for him.

They stayed locked together until they were breathing normally, the slickness on their bodies turning cold and sticky. With an obvious reluctance that was flattering, Jim finally pulled away, fingers lingering on Blair's skin until the last possible second as he got out of bed. He made a short trip to the bathroom and came back with a warm, damp cloth, and washed their mixed sperm from Blair's abdomen, touching him almost reverently.

There was something in how Jim moved, how he looked at him that was vulnerable, strangely fragile, and Blair captured his wrist in a loose hold, thumbs caressing the pulse point that had lured him into love-making in the first place. "What?" he questioned softly.

For once not bothering to protest that he was fine, Jim said equally quiet, "This is the first time you've let me be there for you. It bothers me how low you had to be brought before you would."

"I..." Blair turned his head away, not wanting to see the uncertainty he had caused in his lover. "I guess I'm just so used to taking care of myself, it never occurs to me to turn to someone else."

"If anyone can understand that, I can," Jim said. "But you're the one who taught me that it's better to let someone else share the burdens of life, not carry them all by myself."

"And it's not fair of me not to let you feel needed, too," Blair agreed. Sighing deeply, he turned back and ran the fingers of his free hand over Jim's jaw. "I do need you. I'll get better at leaning on that shoulder you've always got ready for me, I promise."

Jim caught and kissed the fingers caressing him. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"Actually, right now, that's all I really need."

"Done." Jim laid aside the cloth and curled up behind him, arm over his waist to keep him close.

It was exactly what Blair needed to put to rest the last of his demons, at least temporarily, and he sighed deeply, at peace at last. As if sensing that, Jim slipped into deep sleep with a speed that made Blair think that he had stayed awake keeping watch over him while he had rested. He lay next to him long enough to be sure he wouldn't disturb him, then slid out of bed, stealing the top blanket against the evening's chill.

Settling down on the rug in front of the fireplace, he stirred up the embers of a fire he couldn't remember seeing Jim build, and watched the flames dance, calming his mind so he could meditate. Expecting his inner turmoil to make it difficult, if not impossible, he was vaguely startled when he went under quickly, finally able to stand back and dispassionately look at the day's events, seeing them clearly for the first time.

The cabin was bright with morning sunshine when a gentle warmth and gentler touch called him back from the depths of his own psyche, and he blinked open his eyes to meet Jim's worried ones. Without saying a word, Jim finished adjusting the blanket that had fallen off Blair's cold shoulders so that he was covered, and turned to tend to the fire. For a moment Blair just watched him, drinking in his grace and precision as he worked, then lovingly put aside his feelings for him to deal with the problem at hand.

"Simon's reaction was too over the top," Blair said bluntly. "And so was yours." Jim shot him a hard look, but didn't argue, though he stood and bent his head so Blair couldn't see his face. Undeterred by his stoic stance, Blair went on. "This is the motel near the facility where your mother stays, and that's about the only part of your life that Simon knows nothing about. You used cash to get here, and ditched your truck, borrowing Mike's bike like his sister said you could and it's not registered in your name, the helmets for the ride guaranteed that no one would recognize us. In other words, you've made sure Simon can't find us, like he's an enemy that you're expecting to come hunting for us."

"He hurt you," Jim said shortly.

"And betrayed us," Blair obliquely agreed. Jim glared at him, but again didn't argue. "We need to know why," he went on, refusing to let Jim's banked wrath dissuade him from getting to the bottom of what was going on. "Not just Simon, but you, too."

"He hurt you," Jim repeated stubbornly, as if his reasoning was self-evident.

Exasperated, he started to point out that it was hardly the first time Simon had done that, however inadvertently, when Blair realized that it was the first time since they had become lovers. From Jim's point of view, Simon's attack hadn't been on his partner, who could stand up for himself against their captain and had on more than one occasion. It had been on Jim's other half, who had been defenseless against Simon's betrayal for the simple reason that he had never had anyone close turn on him before. With a quiver of nausea, he admitted it had also been to the most vulnerable part of his heart - the fear that the transition from straight to gay was somehow damaging his sentinel.

"Simon really is an enemy to you now, isn't he?" Blair asked slowly, thinking it through.

Shrugging irritably, Jim said, "I don't know if I'd go that far, but he can't be trusted any more, and until we have some idea of how far he'll go in this mini-hate campaign of his, I'd rather be out of his reach. Given who he is, his arm is pretty long."

"Jim, there's no way you can work with him if you feel like that."

Hesitating, but only for a moment, Jim came over and sat cross-legged in front of him. "Maybe it's time to rethink the whole cop thing." At Blair's amazement he said a bit defensively, "I can't stop being a sentinel, not any more. I made the choice and can't go back. But without Simon - or someone like him - working with us at the department to run interference, to understand what I can do and give me the leeway to do it, I can't do the job right. I might not be able to walk away from being a sentinel, but I can walk away from the badge if I have to."

"It's the best place for you," Blair murmured almost automatically, mind reeling from Jim's suggestion. "Your instincts led you to the profession because it's best suited for who you are in your society."

"Maybe the best, but not the only way." Jim manufactured a wry smile. "I told you once I'd thought about being an EMT for the fire department - they're a little less restrictive about spouses riding together, if you think you could handle it."

"You can't give up being a cop because of me."

This time the smile was real and very, very gentle. Brushing the backs of his fingers over Blair's cheek, Jim said, "Not because of you - for you. And before you have a chance to come up with the idea on your own, going back to being on my own again isn't an option either, Chief. I think giving you up now would do me more damage than giving up the senses."

For the briefest, mercifully the very briefest of instants, Blair envisioned a life on his own, without Jim, without the purpose and meaning he'd found in being his guide and partner, without the love and intimacy he had come to crave. The overpowering agony of that glimpse easily outstripped the pain he'd felt at Simon's assault, much the same way a broken leg can make a shaving cut look inconsequential. Letting out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding, he nodded his acceptance of the incontrovertible fact that whatever happened, they stayed together.

Despite that, and the little nugget of panic that was trying to take root, Blair said evenly, "I know your usual MO is to turn your back on the people who let you down and walk away from them, but I think we've got too much invested in Simon and the department to do that. I mean, we haven't had a problem with anybody else so far, especially in Major Crimes; most of them have found ways to let us know they're behind us without coming right out and saying it was time we got serious with each other."

Jim looked doubtful, almost ready to argue and Blair finished hurriedly, "Not to mention that Simon is a good man and has been a better friend to us; he deserves a second chance. I'm telling you, his reaction is just wrong for who he is."

Scrubbing at his face, Jim admitted reluctantly, "Yeah, he really was the last person I expected to take it so bad." His jaw tightened, the muscle in it beginning to throb. "He only gets the one chance; he sets the tone for everybody at the station, not just our little niche. He gets on us, every redneck, bigot, and jerk with an axe to grind will be after us, sure we won't get any support from upstairs."

That was all too true, and Blair stared at nothing in particular, brain working at full speed. "I think," he said slowly, "That we should play it another way. If we go back to the department, it'll give him a chance to hide behind rules and regulations, so we don't. He's made it clear he won't be our captain; let's see if he can explain to us why he can't be our friend."

"Take him on in his own home?" Jim said consideringly.

"Last thing he'd be expecting, right?"

With a small smile that had a feral edge to it, Jim nodded. "Blindside him and see how he likes it."

"Hey," Blair said, nudging him sharply with his knee. "The idea here is to see if we can find a way to work things out, not get back some of our own. The last thing we need is for this to turn into a pecker contest between the two of you."

"That's up to him, but I'm not going to stand there and take it this time; not if we're off duty and off the clock." Jim said with a blandness that didn't hide the hostility Blair could read simmering under his composure.

Not for the first time, Blair stifled the urge to reason with his partner, sure that it would be a waste of time, at least for the moment. In Jim's mind he had every right to be furious with Simon, and until he learned otherwise, he would hang onto his anger, using it as protection against his own hurt. On some level, he knew that was what he was doing, and Blair couldn't really fault him for it, even on those occasions when it had been directed at him. For Jim, that particular defense mechanism had too often meant the difference between life and death.

Instead of debating the point, Blair stood, luxuriously stretching to ease the kinks from being motionless for so long. Jim eyed him appreciatively as he did, a glint of very male interest shining in his gaze. Ridiculously, Blair felt like blushing - and like grinning lasciviously at him. It was still so odd to catch Jim looking at him like that, coming as a surprise every time, and sending a weird little pang through him, low in the belly. He liked it, liked it a lot, but didn't have a clue how to react. Yet anyway.

Mercifully, his stomach announced loud and clear that if he didn't know what he wanted right at the moment, it certainly did. Laughing, Jim stood as well. "Breakfast, visit my mother, then maybe take a long walk in the woods while we wait for it to get late enough to catch Simon at home?"

"More than works for me," Blair said cheerfully, deliberately pushing away everything but the simple pleasure of free time with Jim. There would be far too much time for grief, later.

* * *

Jim parked the bike a few blocks away from Simon's place and left the helmets locked to it, clearly not sure they wouldn't need to make a clean getaway in very short order. Honestly hoping that he was erring on the side of being too cautious, Blair didn't say anything, but followed after him, rehearsing possible opening lines and dumping them almost as fast as he thought of them. By unspoken consent, he and Jim hadn't discussed the upcoming confrontation with Simon, but he knew that it might be up to him to do all the talking. If for no other reason than because his partner had his jaw clenched so tightly that forming intelligible words had to be next to physically impossible.

Blair rang the doorbell, all too aware of Jim's presence behind him, subtly menacing and giving off vibes of barely restrained ferocity. They both heard footsteps and Simon's bellow of 'Coming,' but the door didn't open, though there were no footsteps away. "He saw us through the peephole," Jim said so softly that Blair wasn't sure he heard him. "Heart's pounding, but he's standing completely still."

"What if he doesn't answer?" Blair whispered.

Voice hard and uncompromising, Jim said, "Then we leave and don't look back."

Blair let silence be his agreement; if Simon had cut them out cold, to the point he wouldn't even talk to them, nothing they had to say would make a difference anyway. Regardless, he rang the bell again, silently chanting, "Please, please, please."

Just as he thought that Jim's limited patience would give, the door creaked open and Simon barked, "You got anything to say to me, save it until you get to work tomorrow."

"You don't talk to us now," Jim said expressionlessly, "And the only thing we'll have to say will be in our letters of resignation waiting for you on your desk, along with our badges and guns."

They glared at each other over Blair's head, deadlocked in matching stubbornness and anger, then Jim spun on his heel to leave. Taking a desperate gamble, Blair barely touched Simon's forearm to get him to focus on him. "If Daryl asks, tell him we had to go bail my mother out of trouble in Nepal. He knows that's where she is right now, and by the time he gets around to worrying about us being gone so long, he'll be busy enough at school to let it slide."

Blair ducked away to catch up with Jim, who wasn't so far away that it would take more than a few steps to do so. Catching him by the sleeve of his jacket, Simon growled, "Wait." Jim didn't, but Blair looked back over his shoulder, surprised to see pain and confusion on Simon's face for a split second before it cleared to neutral blandness. Wordlessly, Simon let the door swing open wide and moved away from it, apparently the closest he could come to inviting them inside.

Scooting in before Simon could reconsider, Blair waited until Jim was beside him and followed Simon to the living room. The square room with its picture window looking out on the back yard was tidier than usual, which was saying something since Simon barely used the room in the first place, spending most of his free time in the den - as had he and Jim until now. Blair had always thought of the tastefully, almost professionally, decorated living room as the formal, for company, part of the house and the den where friends hung out. It was a not-so-subtle hint of their change in status with him, but Blair refused to let the pang of hurt from that distract him.

Trying to put him more at ease, Blair sat on the edge of the chair closest to the door, not surprised when Simon sat on the opposite side of the room, lolling back as if he were entirely in command of himself and the situation. Typically, Jim chose to stand at Blair's shoulder, almost at parade rest, his attitude and Simon's all but screaming that there was an invisible line in the sand that both of them were waiting for the other to cross. The only good part about it all, as far as Blair could see, was that neither seemed to be willing to be the one to go over it.

He kept his head down, studying Simon from the corner of his eye, wanting to speak, but the morass of emotions from the day before welled up again without warning, leaving his chest too tight to utter a word. Either sensing it, or needing to get the first shot in, Jim unexpectedly said, "One thing we need to get straight right now. I don't want a desk job. From day one I intended to work the streets as long as I was physically able, then leave the department and move onto something else when I wasn't. While I appreciate your concern for my career, Captain, it's misplaced."

Jim put a sarcastic emphasis on the last sentence that was a dare in and of itself, and before Simon could rise to it, Blair said earnestly, "The field is the best place for him to make use of his abilities; he'd be wasted behind a desk. Homicide or Vice, it doesn't matter, but Major Crimes is where he's needed most because they get the hardest cases that impact the most people."

When Simon didn't say anything, Blair pressed on. "And the simple fact of the matter is that he needs me with him to be able to do the job as only he can. That's the only reason I took the badge in the first place, which you already know, or should. If we're not working together, there's no reason for me to be a cop."

Grudgingly, almost unwillingly, Simon said, "You're good at it, Sandburg, and Ellison doesn't need you to be a good one, either. He did just fine before you and when he's had to ride with someone else."

"No, sir, you're dead wrong on that."

Before Simon could hurl the barbed words he could see him forming, Blair hurriedly put in, "Check the records. Almost every serious mistake Jim's made in the past year and half of his recordable injuries, have happened when he was either alone or working with someone besides me. Like the Arnold case - the guy who had no sense of smell and was harassing the city officials by doing things like tossing a stink bomb into a council meeting? Conner went with Jim to question him when he first became a suspect, while I was giving a disposition, and the guy had a trap laid."

"It wasn't Conner's fault he got away," Jim put in. "She's a good cop, doing her own thing while I did mine. I smelled the trap, was trying to figure it out, but she didn't see that I was working with the senses and wait to see what I came up with or try to translate my reactions. She was totally focused on the perp, like she was trained. When that load of garbage dropped on us, she just pushed on through, trying to get to him. It never crossed her mind that the stink and feel of it hitting me out of the blue like that would temporarily incapacitate me, so I couldn't back her up.

"Three days later, when Arnold led Sandburg and me into that waste treatment plant, Blair had children's menthol throat lozenges in his pocket to give me as we went in, to cancel out my sense of smell. Hell, he was the one who figured out Arnold couldn't smell in the first place."

Simon's expression hadn't changed once, but Blair doggedly took up where Jim left off. "Conner, Rafe, any of them, they work well beside Jim for the short term; I work with him. From somewhere he produced what he hoped was a genuine looking smile. "You might say I see the world through a sentinel-colored filter."

They weren't getting through to him, he realized miserably, and desperately turned to the one thing that Simon might listen to, though Jim was going be for than a little irate for deliberately revealing a weakness to a man he no longer had any confidence in. "Thing is, as far as the department is concerned, we're only two-thirds of the sentinel equation; you're the remaining third."

Simon sat up straight, grimly shaking his head. "I don't have thing to do with Jim's gifts."

"No, but you have everything to do with how effectively he can use them." Wanting badly to take a long, cleansing breath to steady himself, Blair said, "Look, remember six weeks or so back when I.A. was dead set on getting Jim kicked off the force for what they claimed was an unjustified shooting? The Rossman case?"

Mercifully, Simon snorted. "We had all kinds of evidence the man wasn't who he claimed he was, and those assholes still insisted that Jim had drawn his piece first - that the woman's death was caused by Rossman trying to defend himself against an unknown gunman."

"We knew from what Jim overheard that he'd been abusing her," Blair said, "but because we couldn't identify her - her purse was missing - we couldn't find any confirmation of it. Since Rossman's motive for pulling the gun was to kill the woman for trying to get away from him, a common pattern for abusers, we couldn't prove Jim had a reason to draw his. Remember how we found that purse?"

Obviously not wanting to answer the question, Simon said, "You talked me into doing a walk through of the shooting, with Jim as Rossman, you as the woman, and me as Jim. When he sat in the booth, he could see that Rossman would have been able to see her reaching for the mace in her purse, which meant he would have taken measures to stop her from using it, before taking out his gun."

"Not to mention Jim could still smell the mace despite how long it had been since the incident. The scent led him to the base of the booth; it was hollow and if you rocked forward a little, it moved far enough away from the wall that you could put something inside. That's where Rossman put the purse after yanking it away from his victim. The waitress testified that he was a frequent customer and preferred that seat; he must have discovered the hollow base early on."

Blair couldn't stop himself from taking a deep breath before going on. "Before the Switchman case, would you have even believed Jim, if he had told you what he overheard from the other side of the restaurant? Let alone take the risk of letting him go back and search for evidence to clear himself when no one else had turned anything up?"

"I..." Simon stopped himself, frowning and clearly thinking fast and hard.

"Would anybody who hadn't seen him do his thing, up close and personal the way you have, have believed him? You trust him and his abilities because of the history you share, if nothing else. Just as importantly, we trust you to back us up, running interference so we can work without constantly explaining or justifying. It's not your favorite part of the job, we know, but up until now it seemed you thought the results were worth it."

Somewhere, somehow, in his last comments, Blair had lost Simon. Fury as pure as any he'd ever seen in him washed over Simon's features, and he sprang up from his seat, pacing in the small space between the chair and picture window. "Trust! Trust! If you two have so much trust in me, why lie to me all these years? Why put me through the never-ending hassle of defending you to the brass, to the press, to who ever the hell it was asking if the rumors were true! You made me look like a fool every time I denied that either of you were gay, let alone fucking each other. How in the hell am I supposed to run my department with people laughing at me behind my back, undermining the respect and authority I need to do my real job?"

Astounded, Blair blurted, "I had no idea you were getting that much flack about us."

"You might have tried telling us," Jim added in the next second. "Let us deal with it. And we never lied to you about being gay or being together."

"Hiding it from me is the same as and don't give me that bullshit that you thought I already knew," Simon snarled. "I bought into all the dates and girlfriends, just like I was supposed to. I had no reason to think that you were together like that."

Intuition lit a bright spark in Blair's brain, and he repeated Simon's words thoughtfully. "All these years... Just how long do you think Jim and I have been together, anyway?"

Irritably, Simon said, "How am I supposed to know when you started this whole sordid thing? For all I know, you seduced him the first week you met him."

Dropping his face into his hands and scrubbing at his eyes with the heels, Blair said, "Man, oh, man." Dropping his hands to clasp them loosely between his knees and leaning forward, he did his best to project total sincerity. "Like Jim, I'm going to have to get something on the record here. I am not gay, despite being with him now, any more than he is. We're not into it for the sex. Damn it, we haven't gone much beyond heavy petting, not that I'd consider that any of your business if we didn't need you to understand what's going on. I'm in love with the man; so much that I can't bear the thought of having to share him with a wife or family."

Quietly, Jim said, "It's not that long since he came clean to me about it - not even six months. Since I was pretty much in the same boat, we decided to see where it would take us."

Grinding to a halt, Simon studied both of them in turn before sinking down into his chair. "Jim, that's just wrong," he said in such a grave and sad voice that Blair's heart sank to the pit of his stomach in dejection.

Instead of taking offense, Jim sat too, on the arm of Blair's seat, as if he needed the proximity to get through the rest of the conversation. "Why? I'm not looking for a knee-jerk answer here, either. Why is it wrong for me to love a man who's saved my life and sanity a dozen times over? To want to devote myself to him the way he devotes himself to me? Why should I try to fit women into a life that already offers me everything I need, except physical relief?"

Simon tried to wave off the questions, saying almost automatically, "It's not natural."

"Wrong answer to give an anthropologist," Blair said, dead serious. "Homosexuality is very common in nature, especially among pack or social animals, including humanity's nearest kin, primates."

The baleful glower Simon aimed his way was so normal, so much like how they usually worked together, that Blair was able to return it evenly, almost willing him to do as Jim asked and really think about why he thought they were wrong. Finally, Simon looked away, bending his head and rubbing at the back of his neck. "You're right; I just said what was on the top of my head because I don't want to be having this conversation."

"Can't say as I blame you for that, sir," Jim said tiredly. "Needs to be done, though."

Somehow the threat of leaving hiding underneath his bland words was all the more real for how drained Jim sounded, and Simon fixed his gaze on some point only he could see. Slowly, he said, "Humans are animals, but we're supposed to rise above that. That's part of what makes us men, why we call ourselves civilized. I've heard that research suggests that gay men are born that way, that it's 'natural' for them to want sex with other men, but I've heard the same argument from psychopaths that it's nature's way for predators to kill anything that gets in the way. That may be the case, but the thing to do is be better than our base nature."

"Killing takes lives away from those who love them, causing pain and depriving society of valuable members." Blair said as persuasively as he knew how. "You can't honestly put homosexuality on the same level as that."

"I can't?" Simon said, truly meaning it. "Gay lifestyles kill families, Sandburg. It perpetuates the philosophy that sex for sex's sake is okay, that scratching an itch is more important than having children, more rewarding than taking a spouse and building a life with them that spreads your beliefs and values through family and community.

"Besides that, I'm not a big one for religion, but this is one thing where I agree with the pastors. The Good Book has rules in it designed to do the best for the most. If the people who first decided thou shalt not kill also thought that a man should not lie with a man, they had good reasons for it that should be respected."

"Where does your philosophy leave a couple who can't have children, or a woman who just hasn't had the luck to find a mate worthy of her?" Jim asked. "Flotsam that isn't worth society's consideration? Or what about those rules that don't fit into the world as it is now - divorce laws, for instance?"

"Or circumstances where it's permissible to break them?" Blair added softly, though he could see that they were wasting their breath. "Soldiers aren't considered murderers."

"No set of laws is perfect," Simon said, thoughts still far away. "No society can fill everyone's needs. For the unfortunate, there are ways to sublimate, bypass, rework a handicap into something useful. Childless women become teachers and caregivers, necessary for our world, for instance. The key is the greater good, I guess."

Without warning Simon pinned Jim with a sharp gaze. "I can't believe you would choose to live that life, Jim. You know how hard and dangerous it is, better than anyone."

Blair turned questioningly to Jim, this time determined to get to the bottom of whatever history it was that Simon was alluding to. Giving him a small, reassuring smile meant just for him, Jim said, "While I was in Vice one of the other detectives was working a case where he had to be in close contact with the gay community. One of the uniforms, who should have had the words 'muscle-bound bigot' tattooed on his forehead as fair warning to the rest of humanity, started giving him a hard time about it. Started out as barbed comments and very quickly degenerated into out-and-out harassment. Finally, the idiot got physical in the locker room, and I stepped in, letting him know he was out of line. I wasn't the only one, but I was the only one who took it to the captain, so said idiot tried to tar me with the same bush."

Jim's smile turned into a nasty grin. "Backfired on him, big time. People started wondering why he was so concerned with other people's sex lives, like maybe he was trying to hide something about his own."

"I haven't run into anybody that extreme," Blair said thoughtfully, trying to pinpoint who it was.

"So-called gentleman is long gone," Simon said blandly. "Tried to hide behind his badge after a gay bashing charge, and made the mistake of claiming that Jim and the other officers who stood up to him in the locker room were a homosexual cadre conspiring to get him thrown off the force."

"The very people he was counting on to back him up, rolled on him," Jim added. "Partly because of you, Simon. Why would you do that if you think gays are abnormal, un-natural?"

"Because discrimination is against the law and it's my job to uphold the law," Simon snapped. "Regardless of my opinion."

Not reacting to his tone, and taking his cue from Jim, Blair waited patiently for a moment, and Simon added in a mutter, "Fine, fine - I admit discrimination in any form is wrong." Voice gaining strength, he added, "Which doesn't mean I think homosexuality's right any more than I think adultery is right; just that it shouldn't be legislated or used as a basis for deciding who has to sit in the back of the bus."

"Or who wears a badge?" Blair asked very, very gently.

Not giving Simon a chance to defend his position again, Jim stood, bringing Blair with him with an offered hand. "Look, it's not like Sandburg and I jumped into bed together with no thought for the consequences, or have our heads in the clouds like a couple of love-struck teenagers. We went into this with our eyes open, after thinking about it long and hard. That, if nothing else, should tell you that maybe this isn't the normal, run of the mill, partner's getting too personally involved with each other kind of thing."

Taking up where Jim left off, Blair said, "We've laid it out for you, Simon. Maybe it's not fair of us to dump it all on you, but you're the one who turned it into a command issue in the first place. We'll be at work tomorrow morning, as if nothing happened. You still think then that we have no business riding as partners, just say so then."

Gruffly Jim added, "We'll leave for 'personal reasons' to keep the heat upstairs off you."

"Why?" Simon asked in what seemed like honest bewilderment.

Not deigning to answer, Jim turned away, but Blair said quietly, "Because he's still the same James Ellison who was your friend two days ago. That hasn't changed; he hasn't changed. Goes for me, too, Simon, though it might not count for much in your book."

He chased after Jim, literally running, the single glimpse of painfully mixed emotions on Simon's face enough to break his resolve to imitate his partner's dignity and control. It was all too close to the mad jumble he had been dealing with himself, reawakening every doubt and insecurity he had ever had about his place in Jim's life, and the transformation in it he had asked him to make. Blindly trailing after him, he fought against the bite of tears, absolutely unwilling to give into them and add to Jim's misery.

With a muttered curse, Jim stepped into deeply shadowed nook created by a tall tree and high garden wall overgrown with vines, snagging Blair by the arm to tug him in with him. In the relative privacy of the darkness, he hugged him close, laying his cheek against his. Almost pulling away to make a joke and get them moving again so he could deal with his turmoil privately, Blair relented, abruptly recalling how calming it had been for Jim to comfort him. Blair clung tightly to the front of Jim's jacket, for once not able to say a word.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jim soothed. "We knew there would be some rough road once in a while; this just hit closer to home than we expected, that's all. Simon's a good man. Once he's had time to think, to really look at the situation, he'll do what's right."

There was more optimism in the words than Blair thought was possible, but he nodded his agreement. "That's the worst part, isn't it? He is a good man, trying to do the right thing. Oh, god, this is why you cut people cold out of your life, isn't it? Why Naomi runs at the first sign of trouble? Because now I'm hurting as much for him as I am for us. It's easier to be angry or detach with love."

"But not necessarily right." Restlessly Jim petted Blair's face and throat, trying to use touch to say more than words could. "No matter what, now, we did our best to be the friends that Simon deserves. It's not much, but it'll let him - and us - heal clean; no scar that never stops hurting."

"It's just that it sucks..."

"The big hairy one," Jim said with him in unison. It jolted a laugh free, and though it was soggy around the edges, it was real. With a last squeeze, he drew Blair out of their hiding place. "Just in case, you should be thinking about what you want to do next. EMT? Search and Rescue?"

With a flash of very real enthusiasm, Blair said, "Hey, have you ever thought about studying forensic science? There's a real demand for forensic anthropologists, too. We could go the consultant route."

"I'd rather help them before they're dead," Jim said dryly, hand at the small of Blair's back to guide him toward the bike.

"Putting the bad guy away is putting the bad guy away - doesn't that count, too?" he countered.

"Someone has to stand for the dead," Jim agreed, then gave him a light pinch. "But I'm thinking you might not want a career this time where you have to look at dead bodies all the time."

"Ugh. There is that. Though not necessarily, you know. Chemistry and evidence gathering techniques is really where the trace evidence is these days - fibers...." He stopped himself mid-flow and mid-step, mildly surprised that he had been able to be diverted so quickly from all that had happened. Turning enough to look Jim in the eye, he said wonderingly, "We're going to make it, aren't we? We're really going to make it."

Smoothing a fingertip along Blair's jaw, Jim said, "As long as we keep moving together, yeah, Chief, I think we will."

"Still a kiss at a time?"

"And always getting a touch closer," Jim affirmed.

Aware that he was beaming like a searchlight, Blair said, "Cool." Draping his arm around Jim's waist, he started walking again, not particularly caring where they went or how long it took them to get there.


finis