Title: Cop Games 3: Q and A
Author: Grey
Email: Grey853@aol.com
Rating: NC-17, SEE WARNING
Pairing: J/B
Status: New, complete
Date: January 3, 1999
Archive: Yes
Series/Sequel: Yes, last of the "Cop Games" series
Category: Drama
Website: http://grey.ravenshadow.net

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, but they sure have moved into Grey's mental attic.

Summary: In the third of the "Cop Games" series, Jim worries that Blair is in serious emotional trouble and tries to help him work through some tough personal issues.

Author's Notes and WARNING: No mush. No sex. Lots of hurt and some comfort. There is also disturbing content about Blair's sexual assault discussed with explicit language.

Cop Games 3: Q & A
by Grey
Grey853@aol.com

Jim rolled over into the cold, empty space, his hand grasping nothing but air. "Blair?"

Opening his eyes, he lay there a moment stretching his senses to hear his partner's heartbeat downstairs. Glancing at the clock, he took a deep breath and grumbled into the pillow. "Four thirty in the morning. Damn."

Sitting up slowly, he looked over the edge of the platform into the unlighted room and saw Blair leaning against the wall, his arms folded, staring out their window. "Hey, Chief. What's going on?"

Shaking his head and not looking up, Blair's voice barely whispered, "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. Your absence did."

"Go back to sleep."

"Blair, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Then come back to bed."

For the first time Blair raised his head, his blue eyes bloodshot. "I can't. Not right now. Maybe in a little while."

"Bad dream?"

"Nothing I can't handle." His voice shook as he tightened his grip around his own middle, his hair falling down around his face, wild and uncombed.

Jim scooted off the edge of the bed, pulled on his robe, and headed downstairs. By the time he reached the first floor, his lover sat on the sofa with the lamp turned on. Blair braced his elbows on his knees, his head resting in his hands. Sitting beside him, Jim rubbed his back, the tension pushing back hard against his hand. "Why didn't you wake me when it happened?"

"Because you need to get some sleep. You have to go back to work today and neither one of us has been resting much this Christmas."

Smiling, Jim pulled his partner into his arms, the warmth like water to deep thirst. "I hear that. I have to admit, my body hasn't worked out so hard since boot camp."

Chuckling in spite of himself, Blair lazily parted Jim's robe to cradle his cock through the flannel boxers, the touch both intimate and arousing. "Hard being the operative word here, man. You are like on hyperdrive when it comes to sex, major touchie-feelie. Who the hell knew you could be so horny, so often? Wore my ass out."

Still running his hand along Blair's back, Jim relished the rubs to his crotch, dialing up to get an even better benefit. "God, that feels great. But if I'm not mistaken, you kept up your end without much problem."

"Guilty as charged." Relaxing and leaning in, Blair's tired voice sounded dreamy. "It was a great holiday, Jim. The best."

"So, what's wrong?"

"I just can't seem to sleep very well, that's all. When I do doze off, I keep having the same nightmare over and over."

"The one about Richards?"

"Yeah, and it's getting pretty damn old, too."

"You didn't scream this time."

"No. This time I just woke up in a cold sweat before he really got started."

"Got started?"

"I don't want to talk about this." Blair pushed away and leaned forward again, the fatigue shadowing his features. His hands moved as his words got faster. "There's no need for both of us to be up, Jim. I mean, everybody's going to think I'm a bad influence or something if you walk in all worn out and ragged. Why don't you go back upstairs and try to get a few more hours in? You're like so damn cranky when you're tired, man. I'm going to stay down here, maybe work on the list of programs I need to reinstall and upgrade in the computer at school, or maybe I'll...."

"Just talk until I forget what you really don't want to talk about."

"Jim, please."

"Please, what? Pretend it doesn't bother me that you can't sleep without dreaming of the mother fucker who hurt you, who kidnapped and almost murdered you before I could stop him? Please, what?"

Reaching his hand over, Blair rested his palm on Jim's chest. "Don't be pissed, man."

Taking his hand in his own, Jim shook his head in denial. "I'm not pissed at you, Blair. But this whole Richards business is so hard. I hate what he did to you and I hate that you seem determined to shut me out when it comes to trying to make it better."

"I don't shut you out. I just know that there's nothing you can do. I have to handle this myself."

"But why?" Jim lifted Blair's left hand and kissed the gold commitment ring and whispered, "I love you. Let me help."

Biting his lower lip as his eyes followed Jim's mouth, his face flushed as he spoke. "I love you, too, but don't ask me for that, not yet at least."

"I don't understand."

"I know. It's just I have to figure out how to get rid of this nasty feeling that sort of oozes all through me every time I think of being with Tim. I don't want that to ever get mixed up with what we have together."

"Oozes?"

"Yeah, sort of black and slimy like he left something dirty inside me. I can't explain it, but that's how it feels right now. Just give me some time to work it out."

Jim put his hand to the back of Blair's head, urging him forward against his chest before he spoke. His body ached to shoot the son of a bitch Richards over again. Instead, he softened his voice, made his words behave and redirected them to help comfort the man he loved. "You're not dirty, Chief. What he did, doesn't change who you are."

"I know that in my head, but my heart doesn't want to listen."

"God, I hate that you're feeling so shitty and there's nothing I can do about it."

"I know." Sighing, his hand lightly rubbed up and down Jim's belly. "But you do help. I swear, you just don't know how much I love you."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea. It's at least as much as I love you and that's as much as it gets."

"God, we're so damn mushy."

"Nothing wrong with mush, Sandburg, especially when I'm tired as hell and I can't go to sleep without you with me."

"You are like so spoiled already."

"Yeah, rotten, and it's all your fault." In a more serious tone, he spoke in a hush. "Come back upstairs and just rest. No computers or books or standing alone in the dark. Okay?"

His body more relaxed, Blair nodded. "Just don't hog all the covers this time."

"I don't do that."

"Yeah, you do. Big time."

"Okay, Chief, I'll hog you instead." He hugged Blair real close and playfully grunted and oinked in his left ear.

"Oh, man, Jim, give it a rest. I'm too tired for kinky."

"Nice watch, Jim. A present?"

Jim pulled back his arm and eyed the token on his wrist, smiling, the special words engraved on the other side still tingling his skin with pleasure. "Yeah. Blair's got good taste."

"Most times." Simon put the file on his desk and took a deep drink of coffee while Jim sat down to go through the reports from over the last two days. "By the way, my mom says hello. She missed you two on Christmas."

"Tell her hi back." Jim glanced at Simon and shook his head. "It's a good thing we've got a gym downstairs. That turkey and stuffing must have been extra hearty this year."

"Not as hearty as yours, I'm sure. Anyway, I'm glad you were able to take some time off for once."

"Yeah, it was really nice." Scanning through the files, he found it difficult to concentrate as the sensory images of his lover's touches and laughs traveled all over his body. Each play of whisper and warm breath, the scents of pine and Blair, the teasing stroke against his cock and cheek tightened his chest with an overwhelming need to be near his partner.

"So, where is the kid this morning? I figured with school being out, he'd be here." Simon's voice startled him, but brought the room back into focus.

"No, he's working on his computer. Richards crashed it when he trashed his office. It's going to take a lot of time to get things back to normal."

Leaning back, his face drawn and serious. "How's he doing with that whole Richards thing?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess."

"Details, Jim. Is he seeing anybody about it like I told him to?"

"Not yet. He's putting it off. Hell, he's putting me off when it comes to talking about it."

"But he's a consultant. It wouldn't cost him anything to see a department shrink."

Shaking his head, closing the folder, he suddenly sagged down from the strain of the last few weeks. "It's got nothing to do with cost, Simon."

"Then what does it have to do with then? I mean, it's standard procedure to see someone after this kind of situation. He got a double dose of trauma, the assault and the kidnapping. If he were a cop, his ass would already be there."

"But he's not a cop as we both keep pointing out on a regular basis. He wants to handle this mess on his own."

"I don't like it."

"Believe me, I feel the same way. Try convincing Sandburg." Leaning forward, he rubbed his mouth even harder as he tried to figure out how to put his fears into words. "Something else is going on with him. I know the Richards thing threw him."

"Hell, it would throw anybody."

"I know, but this is different. He's been in therapy lots of times, but this time he won't even consider it. And then there's the deal at school."

"The computer?"

"No, there's a professor Davis who was sexually harassing him and he didn't tell me about it."

"What? When did this happen?

"It's been going on for awhile, but I just found out about it a few hours before the benefit show. I told the guy either resign or face charges. That seemed to settle it, but why didn't he tell me? He played it off like it was no big deal, like it happened all the time."

Sighing, Simon turned and reheated his coffee by adding some more to his mug, his voice rougher than usual as he spoke. "Maybe it does. Maybe he played it off because he's used to getting hit on."

Sitting up straight, suddenly anger mixed with his frustration to push out his words. "So, I should just ignore it? Pretend like it doesn't matter that he's being told if he doesn't suck some old man's cock he'll lose his grant."

"Settle down. I didn't say it didn't matter or that you shouldn't be upset. I just meant that Blair's probably run across this problem a lot of times before. I mean, let's face it, Jim, a man who looks like Blair is going to get a lot of offers and demands from people you might not imagine."

The striking truth of the words, so close to home, forced him to sit back further in his chair. "You're talking about me, right?"

"I didn't mean it to sound like that, but now that you mention it, maybe. I would never have thought you would go for a guy until I saw you with Sandburg."

"It's not just how he looks, Simon. I won't lie and say I don't find him attractive. Hell, to me he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen, but that's not why I love him."

"You don't have to convince me of that. Hell, I think I knew it before you did. It's just that when people see him and see that energy he has, you can understand why they'd want a piece of him. Throw him in a situation like you said, where some guy has power, well, that could get really ugly. We hear about this kind of thing all the time in almost every profession."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jim shuddered at the thought of his lover dealing with such nasty situations all alone. "But, why wouldn't he tell me? Why keep it a secret?"

"You'd have to ask the kid, but I'd guess that maybe he thinks he's partly to blame. Plus, you know how he is about confrontation."

"But that's bullshit."

"Yeah, but so's feeling guilty about being assaulted. Doesn't change the fact that the person feels it. Blair strikes me as someone who thinks, for whatever reason, that he's partly to blame for whatever happens to him. You've seen that right here in my office."

"Damn it, Simon. This is all so fucking unfair."

"And complicated."

"Yeah, that, too." Standing, Jim picked up the folders and tapped the edges several times against the table to even them out. As he swallowed hard, he avoided his friend's eyes. "I'm kind of at a loss at what to do about any of this."

"Nothing to do, Jim, except keep letting him know you're there if he changes his mind."

"God, I hate this part."

"Yeah, me, too. Guess that's why I never remarried. That and I just haven't found the right person."

"You will someday."

"Maybe."

As he turned to leave, he stopped and added, "Thanks."

"Sure. Just part of the service."

"As captain?"

"As a friend. Now, go get some work done. There are three new homicide cases since Christmas eve and Brown could use some serious help on the Nally case."

"The domestic where the son killed the father?"

"Yeah."

"That's a rough one."

"Just more of the Cascade holiday spirit."

"Thanks, Jim. The Nally kid talked to you a lot easier than he did me."

"Yeah, well, maybe sometimes just a new face helps."

"And sometimes a change of color, too."

"Unfortunately, that's true." Jim stood at the break room coffee machine filling his cup and leaning against the counter. "A kid like that, well, I don't think prison's going to do much for him, do you?"

"No, but that probably won't happen. Depends on how they run it. I mean, he was protecting his mom from the guy. You can understand it."

"Yeah, but blowing your old man through the wall with a shotgun, that's pretty drastic. It doesn't help that there aren't any records of any domestic runs out to that address either."

"True, but at least it's pretty straight forward with the statement from the kid. The mother backs it up and has the bruises. I'm through except for the paper work, which is fine by me, man. I hate this kind of case. Creeps me out when families act like that."

"Most families don't." The grimness spread as he thought of his own estranged father and brother, his mother he couldn't even remember.

"I hear that. At any rate, I'm going to type up the forms and then head out." His friend hesitated and then asked quietly, "How about you, man? You and Blair planning on doing anything later?"

"Just supper. Why?"

Looking toward the door, sure they were alone, Brown stepped a little closer before he spoke. "Look, I didn't want to say anything, but Blair's been avoiding me since the whole deal with Richards."

"He's just been busy." Jim shifted, uneasy with the turn of conversation.

"Yeah? Did he tell you I tried to call three times and he never returned a single one?"

"No, but he's at the university right now. You could call there if it's something important."

"You don't get it, man. He still hasn't told you about that day has he?" The intense tone tightened his gut, the concern in Brown's face genuine.

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen, it's not my place to say. It's just that when Richards showed up, he did and said some things right in front of me, man, really ugly things that I still can't get out of my head and they weren't even aimed at me. The thing is, Blair just played it off, just went along with it to save my ass as well as Harris. Hairboy has some balls, man. I couldn't have handled it like he did, all nonchalant like a high five at a Jag's game." Brown raised his hand as he spoke. "I'm only telling you this because I know Blair. It's got to be eating him up inside and if he won't talk to me or you, then he's got to talk to somebody."

"What makes you think he won't talk to me?"

"Has he?"

Taking a deep breath, defeat heavy, he shook his head. "No, he hasn't." Wetting his lips, knowing he shouldn't ask, he asked anyway. "What did Richards do?"

"I can't say, Jim. Ask Blair."

"I intend to, but it would help if I didn't get my ass ambushed by not having any idea of what to expect."

"Expect to be pissed as hell and grateful the asshole's dead."

"Damn."

"Yeah. Catch you later. Got to go cross some mighty big T's on the Nally case file before I head out. Just tell Blair he knows where to find me if he wants to talk."

"I'll do that." Before he could process all the scary ideas running through his head, his cell phone rang. "Yeah. Ellison."

"Detective? This is Eric Perkins. You know, Blair's friend who works at Fancy's?"

"Yeah, I know who you are. How'd you get this number?"

"Blair gave it to me a while back for emergencies. Listen, I really didn't want to call, but I didn't know what else to do."

The anxious tone coupled with the background noises turned into a question. "What's going on, Eric? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No, not exactly, but Blair called me and he's like really upset and he's down here at the Red Lion, you know that awful neo-preppy place down by the campus? Well, anyway, he wanted to drive home but the roads are just such a mess and I was wondering if maybe you'd come down here, so I could give you his keys I sneaked out of his back pocket so he wouldn't do something like incredibly stupid?"

"Just keep him there. I'm on my way."

"If you can't find us, just check the rest room."

"Is he sick?"

"Not yet, Detective, but I'm afraid that putrid shade of green he's wearing doesn't bode too well for the near future. I mean, chartreuse is so not his color."

Shit.

"Hey, Jim. What you doin' here, man?" Blair raised his head as Jim walked up to the table, his blurry blue eyes even more out of focus behind his smeared glasses.

"I thought I'd ask you the same question, Sandburg."

"Oops. Sandburg. Bad scene coming our way." He turned to an embarrassed Eric and dropped his head on the nearby shoulder. "I'm in big trouble when he calls me that."

"Oh, hon, I think you'd be in big trouble without him, don't you? Now sit up and let the nice Detective take you home to a warm cozy bed, okay?" Eric patted Blair's hand as he pushed him back into a sitting position. Glancing up, he shrugged at Jim. "He's feeling a little better since he puked his gorgeous little guts out."

"Lovely." Jim frowned and shook his head. "Blair, what's going on here?"

"We're having a little party, man. Just me and Eric." He hugged his friend and then took a deep breath as he stared, suddenly entranced, by an empty space on the table.

"A party? What kind of party, Chief?" When he didn't respond right away, Jim asked again to get a reaction. "What kind of party?"

His words slurred and slipped around on his usually fluent tongue. "A ref, reaffirm, reaffirmation party, yeah, that's it." Waving his hands in the air, Blair motioned for Jim to move out of the way of the waitress passing by. "Sit down, man. You're too damn big to just be standing there. Have a drink or something. Stop being a party pooper."

"We're going home."

"But I'm not ready to go home yet."

"Yes, you are."

Eric pulled the Volvo's keys from his pocket and handed them to Jim before he scooted out from behind the table. "Listen, Blair, I'm going to leave you with Jim now. Call me tomorrow when you're feeling better, okay?"

"I'm feeling fine."

"Sure you are, hon." Turning back to Jim, he shook his head and patted his arm. "He's all yours, dear, and I'm telling you, he's really upset. Don't let that beautiful face fool you."

"You're so full of shit, Eric."

"Yes, dear, I know. Now go home with your big strong detective and I'm going to go back to see if I still have a job, okay?"

Blair grabbed his head, the reality sinking in. "Oh, man, you were on lunch? Why didn't you remind me? Shit."

"Don't worry. Sammy's a sucker for a good imported beer, sweet, mundane person that he is. I'll give him a nice six pack of some dark ale with a fancy label and I'll be fine. Now go home and feel better in the morning, okay?"

"You're a good friend, Eric."

"I know, dear." Before he turned to leave, the young man leaned in to whisper to Jim, his voice much lower and direct. "Just ask him about that prick Davis when he's sober."

As soon as Eric left, Jim sat down, watching Blair lower his head to the table. His friend rarely drank and this made the second time in less than a few days he saw his best friend totally wasted. It made for a very disturbing picture, one he preferred never to see again.

"We need to go home. You think you can walk out of here on your own power?"

"Oh, man, I hope so."

"Well, I think we should try it as soon as you're ready. The noise and stench of this place is giving me a headache."

"You and me both." As they stood up, he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. "Whoa."

"You okay?"

"Just a little wave action there. Give me a minute."

"Where's your back pack?"

"In my office."

"What about your coat?"

"Office." The answers came out gulpy between tiny swallowing sounds.

"Blair, what the hell's going on? You drove here without even putting on your coat? It's 20 degrees outside and your heater's not worth shit."

"I'll tell you about it later, Jim. Honest. But, right now, unless you want a big embarrassing mess, maybe you could help me find the men's room. They keep hiding it." Blair rocked a few times and then grabbed a sleeve before resting his heavy forehead on his arm.

Jim shook his head and agreed with Eric. Green was definitely not his guide's color.

Two nightmares and half the night in the bathroom later, Blair finally slept stretched out on his back. Sitting in the chair across from the couch, Jim watched his lover's slow breathing, the strong smell of stale wine and illness still lingering in the early morning air. The tangled mass of dark curls covered part of his face, a face slack but whiskered and shadowed in the low light. Memory of the earlier screams as his friend woke up, sick and shaking, brought an involuntary shudder as Jim finished his coffee.

By seven he got up and took a quick shower and made more coffee with toast. By eight, he picked up the phone and dialed a direct number.

"Banks."

"Simon, this is Jim. I'm coming in late today. I don't know when I'll be there."

"What's going on?" He heard his friend shift and turn down the background radio. "Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine. Blair's not feeling too well and I can't leave him alone until I know he's okay."

"This have anything to do with you tearing out of the station yesterday afternoon?"

"Look, I'll be in when I can, sir."

The sound of a striking match and several puffs came through the phone. "Tell him I hope he feels better soon, okay?"

"Thank you, sir."

"And, Jim, the clearance came down from the board on the Richards shooting as justified. Plus, IA signed off all further internal investigation. I thought you'd like to know the Richards case is over. Everything's finished."

"Not completely, Simon. Not as far as Blair's concerned."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I know he's going through a rough time. I just thought this might help."

"I appreciate it. I'll talk to you later today."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"You've got it."

When he put down the receiver, he turned to find swollen blue eyes open and watching. "Morning, Chief. I've got some fresh coffee made. Want some?"

"A couple of quick rounds to the head would probably work faster."

Standing absolutely still, his breathing stopped for several seconds. Finally he resumed taking in enough air to speak. "Don't even joke like that, do you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, man. I was only kidding. And don't yell. My head's killing me." He rolled on his side with a groan and pulled the blanket over his face.

Taking several long cleansing breaths, Jim struggled to stay calm. He poured two cups of coffee and brought them back to table in front of the sofa. As he spoke, each sentence grew more and more forceful. "Sit up and drink this. There's aspirin and water here, too. All that vomiting makes you dehydrated, makes your muscles cramp up. Pretty much makes you feel like shit, which is pretty much how I feel right now at this very moment. So, just get the hell up and drink the fucking coffee."

"God, you're pissed."

"No shit, Sandburg. What did you expect? A parade and another damn party?"

From under the cover the words muffled. "I'm sorry, man."

"Look, I need to know what's going on with you, but before I can listen, I need to know you're okay. Now, please, just get up and drink the water and coffee."

"Okay." Awkwardly, his eye and hand coordination still not working up to standard, Blair took the pills first. Without speaking, he tucked his legs under him and drank the coffee, tiny tremors in his hand moving the dark liquid in the cup.

Bringing dry toast in from the kitchen, Jim put it on the side table and then sat down at the end of the sofa, waiting, trying to be patient. After another five minutes of silence, he finally spoke. "Look, Blair, I'm sorry I yelled before."

"It's okay, man. I deserved it."

"No, you didn't deserve it."

"Sure I did. I'm a self-destructive schmuck who can't drink worth shit. I mean, I don't know what I was thinking. I never drink like that."

"Does Christmas eve sound familiar?"

Suddenly flushed, Blair put the cup down. "That's not fair, man. I was just happy then, having a good time. This was different."

"How was it different?"

Pushing the hair back behind his ear, Blair took a deep breath. "Man, please promise not to go completely ballistic when I tell you."

Jim gripped the chair arms and steeled himself, his jaw clenching so hard it hurt to talk. "Okay. I promise."

"Well, I went into the office and Davis sort of sneaked up on me."

"Excuse me? Sneaked up on you?"

"Yeah, caught me off guard." Glancing over, his eyes still not quite focused, Blair shrugged. "I mean, I thought after you almost choked him to death, he'd have enough sense to leave me alone and leave town, but the guy's like totally into getting a blow job for some reason, like it's some big deal to get sucked before he could leave so he wouldn't lose face or some such shit. The whole thing was so totally stupid."

Standing, his hand to his mouth, Jim wanted to rip the man's head off. "Son of a bitch. Did he touch you?"

"Well, yeah, which is why I was so screwed up yesterday. I mean, he didn't actually hurt me or anything, just grabbed me from behind and had me on my knees before I could punch him in his balls to get away."

"And nobody tried to stop the bastard?"

"Jim, nobody was there but us. Everybody's gone for the break. I guess that's why he came when he did, so there wouldn't be any witnesses."

"Shit, but you're okay. He didn't hurt you, right?"

"I'm fine, just a little shaky. I mean, what's the deal, man? Is it like open season for a piece of Sandburg or what?"

Jim stepped to the phone and started to dial. "Jim, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to have Davis arrested."

"No, way, man. Put the phone down."

"What are you talking about?"

"I said, no way. Davis is leaving town. I don't want to deal with anymore shit, Jim. I can't." His whole body shivered as he hugged himself, his legs drawn up tight to his chest.

Putting down the receiver, he shook his head. "He can't get away with this. Besides, how can you be so sure he's leaving town? He could come after you again."

"He won't. After I punched him, I told him if he ever touched me again, I'd file a report. I also told him that I had it on tape, which I do."

"What? You have it on tape?"

"Yeah, I was recording some notes when he came in, so I have the whole nasty thing loud and clear."

"But that would make it that much easier to prosecute."

"Which is what I told him, but I'm not going to do it unless I have to."

Sitting back down, Jim still pushed. "I don't get this. Why wouldn't you want this bastard put away? Why let him get away with this shit? You could've been hurt."

"But I wasn't. Davis doesn't have a record, so even if he got convicted, all he'd get would probably be a suspended sentence and some counseling. All I'd get would be even more unwanted publicity for me and the school. I don't need any more trouble."

"How do you know he doesn't have a record?

"Because I looked him up in the computer at the station."

"You don't have clearance for that, Chief."

"Yeah, but you do. I used your number. Look, I just got spooked yesterday which is why I ended up wasted at the Red Lion. It won't happen again, Jim. You know I don't usually drink that much."

"I still don't get this." The pounding in his head grew louder, the pressure building. "Why is it you seem to think it's okay for bastards like Davis and Richards to get away with this shit? It's like you think it's just easier to let it slide and then go around self-destructing by putting yourself down and drinking."

"Come on, man. Don't make a big deal out of this. It's over."

"It is a big deal. I love you and you're having some serious problems here."

"I'm just having a little trouble sleeping. And the drinking isn't even an issue, not really. I overindulged a couple of times. You're just like way over reacting."

Jim stood up and walked to the window, the tight knots in his stomach painful. "The biggest problem I see right now is that you don't see any of this as a problem, the nightmares, the anxiety, the putting yourself down, and now this drinking thing." He took a deep breath before he finished. "You're scaring me here, Chief. I've never seen you like this before."

Closing his eyes briefly, Blair swallowed several times before he could talk. "So, what are you trying to say, you want out?"

"What?"

"I mean, you're disappointed in me, right, so it's like this whole thing is over between us?"

"How the hell did you get that from me saying I'm worried about you?"

He ran both hands through his hair and then pulled the blanket back up around his shoulders. "I don't know, man. It's what I heard.'

"Well it's the exact opposite of what I said." Moving to sit back down, Jim edged in close before he spoke, his hand on Blair's shoulder. "I love you. Don't ever doubt that. I just hate seeing you hurt."

"I know. I understand that, which is one of the reasons I couldn't call you yesterday."

"But why call Eric instead of me?" He worked to keep the hurt out of his voice, but failed miserably.

Blair tilted his head and scooted closer, his thigh next to Jim's. "You're going to get pissed again."

"No, I won't."

"Eric's a good friend. I needed somebody, but I was afraid to call you."

"But why?"

"Because I was afraid of what you might do. Jim, you have no idea how scary you can be when you get really pissed. If you'd found Davis yesterday, I couldn't be sure I wouldn't be seeing you behind bars or something."

"You think I'd kill the son of a bitch?"

"Yeah, maybe."

He pulled Blair to his chest, the embrace hungry as the younger man wrapped his arms around his waist. "I'm sorry I scare you, Chief, but you have to know I'd do anything to protect you."

"I do know that. And that's why I called Eric. I just needed someone to talk to, not another dead body to dream about."

"Shit." Petting his hair back, Jim took a deep breath, his voice just a whisper. "It's not your fault Richards is dead."

"But he's still dead, man. I'm just tired of all the violence. You can handle it, but it's making me crazy."

"He's the one who put the game in motion and I'm the one who pulled the trigger, not you."

"But you did it to protect me."

"And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"I know. And that's what scares me."

Jim stood in the airport scanning the terminal until he locked on target. Walking up to the third seat, he sat down and leaned in, his voice even and very serious. "Dr. Davis."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just making sure you understand some basic principles of survival."

"Excuse me?"

Using one hand to brush down the lapel of his jacket, Jim's other patted his cheek. "That's a little hard to do, Davis, but I just wanted to let you know that if I ever see you in this town again, or if you come anywhere near my partner, a transcript of that tape he has will be in every newspaper around the country."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Yes, I would. You ever touch him again and you're a dead man. Clear?"

"Perfectly." Davis swallowed hard, pulled away, and stood up, his face pale. "I just want you to know that your partner isn't the innocent man you think he is."

"Your plane's leaving. You should get on it while both your legs work."

Straightening up, his courage more wind than real, Davis picked up his suitcase to leave. After a few steps to put distance between them, he courted danger by turning. "You're quite a pair, Ellison, a psychotic cop and a cocksucking Jew. All you need is a stage crew and a script and you could put on quite the production."

"And all you'll need is an urn if I ever see your face again."

"An urn?"

"For when I burn your ass to ashes."

"Jim, please tell me you've got your keys hidden in your pocket and you won't let the kid anywhere near the steering wheel anytime soon."

Looking over at Simon, Jim shrugged. "Yeah, well, he never drives the truck at night anyway."

"Just checking." Glancing back out at the floor, Simon shook his head. "I don't believe I've ever seen him act more crazy. I swear, if he gooses me again, I'm either going to have to punch him or kiss him. Sure dances good though, even when he's wasted."

"Is it midnight yet?" Jim nursed his one and only beer and prayed time would pass faster.

His captain glanced at his watch and then sat down beside his detective. "Nope, not for awhile yet."

"You know, Simon, they should really outlaw this New Year's eve shit."

"Now, Jim. Some folks are having a good time here."

"Yeah, too good." Glancing at his partner dancing and falling all over his fourth lady in less than an hour, prompted him to sip his beer again. The loud band playing golden oldies on an electronic sound board made the lights shimmer around him, the extra vibrations hard to control so that even his teeth ached.

"Every time he sits down, someone gives him another damn drink. I mean, I hate this. Can't they see he's had enough already?"

"I guess they're all just happy he's alive and they figure he'll stop when he's had enough. I mean, he always has in the past. What's going on? Something I should know about?"

"I'll let you know when I know."

Simon cleared his throat and drank his cola. "Jim, I hate to say this, but if you don't get that look off your face, I may have to arrest you before the night's over"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jim frowned at Simon briefly and then turned his full attention back to Blair.

"Murder's a crime and you look like you could kill every woman who's come near him."

"Funny, sir."

"I'm not kidding, Jim. Lighten up. He's just trying to celebrate a little. I mean, he deserves to have some fun. It hasn't exactly been the easiest couple of weeks. To be honest, it's good to hear him laugh again."

"That's easy for you to say, Simon. You're not the one who's going to be holding his head when he's up puking in the middle of the night."

"What?"

"You heard me. He's still having nightmares and the drinking doesn't help."

Simon scooted closer as he put down his soda. "What drinking are we talking about?"

"This isn't the first time he's been like this."

"And you're worried?"

"Wouldn't you be? This all started right after Richards was killed. Blair doesn't normally drink any more than a couple of beers at a Jags game but now it's like any excuse."

"So you're saying you think he has a problem?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's mixed in with a lot of other stuff I don't understand."

"Like what?"

Shaking his head, he blocked off what he wanted to say, the fear swimming up from his gut begging to be shared. "I don't think this is the right time or place, Simon. Besides, as much as I appreciate your concern, this is sort of private."

"I get that. Just know that if you do need a confidential ear, I'm here."

"I know." Before he could say anything else, Blair plopped down across from him, his face flushed and sweaty. All his exaggerated movements and bloodshot eyes helped Jim gauge his condition just short of taking a nap soon.

"Hey, man. You guys are like way too serious over here by yourself. Why aren't you dancing?"

"I don't dance, Chief. At least not in public."

"Yeah, I know." The regret slurred on his tongue, his eyes blinking several times to clear his vision. "We could change that though if you wanted. Shock the shit out of everybody, want to?"

"Not tonight. Besides, it's not like you don't have anyone else to dance with already." The jealousy behind the words didn't miss even a besotted partner.

"Oh, man, don't start, Jim. It's not the same and you know it. I just want to have a good time. Don't be a fuddy fuddy."

"A fuddy fuddy?"

"Yeah, you know, fuddy duddly." He closed his eyes and tried again. "Fuddy duddy. Damn tongue doesn't want to work right."

"Wonder why. Maybe it's hard to lift eight beers in a couple of hours and still talk straight."

"There you go again. Fuddy Duddy Jim all over." Standing back up, his legs unsteady, Blair leaned against the table. "Simon, make him behave while I'm gone. Tell him a joke or something."

Still frowning, but keeping his voice calm, he asked, "Where you going, Chief?"

"I gotta go find the rest room. Can't wait much longer."

"Need any help?"

Blair made a you've got to be kidding face and waved him off. "I'm fine, man. I'll be back before midnight."

"Midnight's not for an hour yet, Sandburg. Are you sure you're okay? You're starting to look a little peaked." Simon's voice boomed between them, the worry not lost on Blair.

"I'm fine, man. Just too much liquid, you know. Runs right through you when it's cold."

"It's not cold, Chief."

"It is to me, Mr. I can run around in my underwear in the middle of winter and never get a goosebump guy. Sometimes it takes 'til may to thaw my ass out. Later."

As he made his way to the other side of the room, Blair took the long way, keeping his hand close to the wall. Simon drank a few sips and then leaned in to speak as softly as he could and still be heard. "I think I see why you're worried. When he gets back, maybe you should just take him home."

"Maybe, but I don't think he wants to go yet."

"Just tell him you want to kiss at midnight and you can't do that here. That should get his attention."

"You mean lure him with my favors?" Jim smiled at the suggestion, his mind imagining his partner's lips pressed to his, the sensory flash of soft skin edged with whiskers warming to both his face and his groin.

"Whatever it takes, Jim. Besides, it's my guess he's not going to last much longer anyway."

The pleasure faded at the harsh reality of his captain's words. "Yeah, I know." He stood up, leaving his drink on the table. "Think I'll go down and see if I can convince him."

"And to see if he's okay, too, right?"

"You think you know me, sir." He didn't ask a question and tried to keep the irritation from his voice.

"You still surprise me from time to time, but yeah, pretty well."

"You think I'm being over-protective? That's what Blair's always complaining about."

Simon finished his soda and smiled as he rolled the empty glass between two large hands. "He might complain, but I think it's one of the attractions. I know the kid pretty well, too, and I'd say that if he complains, it's just because he doesn't want to admit he feels vulnerable sometimes."

"Nobody likes to admit that."

"Yeah, well, not everybody has Jim Ellison as a champion. Now, go find your partner and see if he's okay. He's way off kilter even for Sandburg."

"Thanks, sir. I think I'll do that."

"Happy New Year, Jim."

"I hope so, Simon. Same to you."

He wove his way through the crowded dance floor, the packed bodies more a hindrance than the low lighting. As he walked down the deserted hallway, he stopped several doors from the entrance to the men's restroom. The voices inside snagged his attention.

"I'm telling you, man. I can't get it out of my head."

"That's your problem, not mine. I mean, what's your deal anyway, H? It wasn't you with the gun down your throat."

"I know that, Blair, but I couldn't help you. You saved my life by letting him humiliate you like that. It just stays with me, man. The whole thing creeps me out just thinking about it."

"Just let it go, Henri. I have."

The sound of rushing water and paper towels rubbing against metal filled the air during the pause in conversation. "Have you, man? Is that why you look like shit? Is that why Jim still doesn't know all the details?"

"Just shut the fuck up." The anger pushed out the words soon followed by several long breaths and a much softer, much sadder voice. "Please, man. I can't talk about this. Just leave it alone. Please. I don't want Jim to know what happened."

"But why? He loves you, man. He can help you get through this."

"Get through what? I told you, I'm finished with it. I just want to forget it ever happened."

"Yeah, well, that explains trying to pickle your brain, man, but it doesn't last. You have to know that."

"Just stop ragging my ass, okay. You're worse than Jim, man. Just keep picking and picking. Just leave it the fuck alone before you piss me off."

"Get pissed off all you want, man, but it doesn't change the facts. You don't want to deal, it's going to gangbang your head into dust when you least expect it. Blow you into a million fucking pieces, man, and Jim's the one who's going to be caught in the blast. You want that?"

"No. I don't want that." Blair's voice barely whispered but it sounded like a cry to sentinel ears.

"Then tell him and then go see the counselor. I can't bury it until you do. I gotta know you're really okay, and so far, my friend, I really don't see that."

"Fuck you, Brown. I don't want to do this."

"I know, man, but you have to. Tough love, brother." The slap came before the last words. "Card's in your pocket. Call the man first thing in the morning. Love you and happy new year."

Another slap brought Henri Brown out of the restroom right into hallway with Jim standing there waiting. Motioning to the door, his friend whispered, "He needs you, Jim. I think he might be ready to talk now. Take him home, man."

Swallowing hard, still stunned by the implications of what he'd overheard, he nodded. "Thanks, H."

"Anything he needs, call me."

"I will."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"He's got balls, man. Later."

Resting his head back against the wall, Jim closed his eyes against the stinging. Before he could open them again, he heard his guide's voice. "You okay, Jim?"

"Yeah."

He turned his head and looked into sad blue eyes meeting his gaze. "You?"

"Not really. How long have you been standing here?"

"Long enough."

"Shit. Well, I guess we should go home then, huh?"

"I'd like that, Chief. I think we need to talk."

"You could say that, only first I need my coat. I'm freezing."

Pulling him close, his arms wrapping around his shoulders, Jim whispered. "I love you, Blair."

"I know." The younger man shook in his arms, the deep muscles shuddering. "God, I can't seem to get warm."

"Let's go home. I'll start a fire to bring in the new year."

"Now, that's a resolution I can handle." He reached between them and rubbed his palm in circles around Jim's heart several times before resting it there. "Let's go start one together."

"You sure you're okay? You don't look so good."

Blair raised his head up, his eyes still bloodshot and blurry. "I'm dizzy and embarrassed. Otherwise, I'm okay. Besides, if I'm not, it's nobody's fault but my own." He stretched out his legs and rested his head on the armrest, bringing the red wool cover up to his chin as he stared at the ceiling. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Nothing to be sorry about." Jim came over, lifted Blair's legs and sat down, the calves resting on his thighs. Slowly, he gently rubbed and massaged both shins as he spoke quietly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop earlier."

"I know, but in a way I'm glad you heard."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Saves me from trying to come up with some way of telling you about it. I mean, what am I supposed to say, hey, Jim, did I forget to mention that Tim pretty much forced me to give his gun a blowjob in front of Brown before he knocked him unconscious and then dragged me off to murder my ass?"

"Shit." His hands still, Jim struggled to keep the bile down. "Tell me what happened."

"Q and A time?"

"If it's easier."

"Okay." Before he spoke, Blair turned over on his side, pulling his legs up and out of Jim's reach, only his bare feet still against him. Words formed, but sounded detached, without feeling, like he spoke without listening to the meanings. "Harris came in first. Knocked at the door and told Brown that Simon sent him."

"And Brown let him in?"

"Yeah. Tim came in just as soon as Brown lowered his gun. Had it out of his hand and H on the floor in a matter of seconds. He had blood on his shirt."

"Who did?"

"Tim. I asked who's blood it was and he said the cop downstairs didn't need it."

Jim swallowed hard, the emotion like swelling flood water behind a dam plank right before bursting. "When did he shoot Harris?"

"Not until later. Harris was scared. I'd never seen him act that way around Tim. Anyway, first Tim had Harris cuff Brown and then gag him. Tim was really wired and that's when he shot Harris. The gun had a silencer and he raised it again, but I begged him not to shoot. I'd go with him without a fight if he'd just let them live." The words stayed even, no change of pitch or tone. Blair's hands hid down under the covers, his head propped up only slightly.

"So, is that when you two left?"

"No." He squeezed his eyes shut and started talking, the words eerie and quiet. "He asked how far I'd go, so I told him I'd do anything he wanted. He said anything and I told him yes. So, he told me to get on my knees, that he wanted me to do what I did before I tried to leave him. He made me take him out and hold him, but when I started to lean forward, he slapped me and shoved my head against the wall, called me a dumbfuck cocksucker. He cuffed my hands behind my back and then told me to open wider."

Jim held his breath, not wanting to say or hear anything more. When Blair's voice started again, so did his breathing.

"He shoved his gun in my mouth and told me to suck it, bitch, to make sure I did it right because we only had a few minutes. He'd pull the barrel almost out and then push it back in even further while he worked himself the same way, over and over. The gun was still hot from the shooting and oily, nasty like cleaner and I kept gagging. Finally he came, but I couldn't breathe very well, so by the time I realized he'd finished, he'd knocked out Brown and he was dragging me up by my hair, petting my face and telling me to hurry and that he loved me." He wet his lips and swallowed a few times, his eyes staring off at the fire.

Too stunned to speak, Jim shook his head waiting for his friend to look over in his direction. When he did, he whispered, "Why didn't you tell anybody?"

"Didn't see the point."

"Didn't see the point? My god, Blair, the man stuck his gun in your mouth and got off on it and you didn't see the fucking point?"

"His gun or his cock, what's the difference? He would've killed them."

"Jesus."

Pulling up his legs even further, removing all contact, Blair shook his head. "The thing is, he was dead when I woke up and the only person who knew everything that happened was Brown. I didn't want you to know because it's disgusting and I hate even thinking about it."

Emotion flared for the first time. "I really hated it, Jim, and I hated Richards for making me do it, and there's not a damn thing I can do to change it. So, no, I didn't see the fucking point of bringing it up."

Jim barely contacted his partner's foot through the covers only to have it jerked away, retreating to the back of the cushions. "Come here, Chief. Let me hold you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't. I don't want to be touched right now."

"Not even by me?"

"Jim, please. This whole thing makes me feel sick inside. How can you even stand to look at me much less want to touch me after what I just told you?"

"Blair, Richards abused your body, but not your soul. Nothing he ever did could reach that part unless you let it. Don't let it."

"I don't want to, but it's so hard sometimes to separate what happened before and what happened after."

"I don't understand. Before and after what?"

"Before he forced me and after I let him."

Jim turned sideways and leaned back against the armrest, one arm wrapped around his waist the other to his mouth, his anger against Richards a solid crushing pressure. His voice grated against the air, his words hard and raspy. "Blair, what you did of your own free will was a gift. You gave it in good faith thinking this guy was an honorable man."

"But he lied. He lied about everything."

"Yeah, he did, so when you told him to stop, he had no right to do what he did. Having sex before that wasn't anything to be ashamed about anymore than being forced later. It wasn't your fault the man was an asshole and a psychopath. That happened long before you came along."

Blair remained on his side, but brought his hands up to scrub his face hard several times before he spoke. "But I let him do things, Jim, and he hurt me."

"I know. But you're not the one dirty here, Chief. He was."

"I hate this. I feel like screaming but that doesn't help. I want to break something, but that's stupid. I don't know what the hell to do to get rid of this god awful anger." He gripped the edge of the blanket, both hands fists, his face tight and shadowed. "I'm just so pissed off."

"So hurting yourself is the answer? You can't pound on Richards, so you'll pound on yourself?"

"I'm not doing that."

"Yes, you are, every time you say you're stupid or take another drink too many. Every time you reject help, you hurt yourself and you hurt me, but certainly not Richards."

"I'm usually so good at dealing with this kind of shit, but I really don't know what to do, Jim, and that sucks big time."

"Get over here and let me hold you."

After several long moments, Blair sat up and scooted over, his body between Jim and the back of the couch, his chest pushed to Jim's side. Wrapping his arms around the shoulders and pulling his head under his chin, Jim drank in the heat of connection and waited. Slowly the younger man relaxed and sagged slightly, his solid weight a comfort. As more minutes passed and breathing evened out, a weak voice whispered. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"All the trouble."

"None of it's your fault."

"I'm still sorry."

"Go to sleep, Chief. We'll talk in the morning."

Jim stroked the curls and rocked gently as the man in his arms slowly calmed and gradually drifted to sleep. His own eyes closed, he struggled to push away his anger, to settle down the panic of his own insecurity. Questions and answers swarmed through his brain, buzzing an aftermath of weariness, stinging his eyes with doubts about his own path through the jungle terrors. Snuggling down closer, he imagined himself a warrior, a guard at the crossroads where his brave guide sat meditating, waiting for the return of his own clarity of vision. As sentinel he vowed to hold back the perilous creatures until his shaman divined their mutual passage through the hungry and hissing shadows.

"I wish you'd stop that."

"What?"

"Staring at me like that when you think I'm not looking. I'm fine."

Jim took another long drink of coffee and another bite of bagel and chewed awhile before he decided what to say. "You got any special plans today?"

"Why?" Blair finished pouring his algae shake in a glass and sat down, his features still pale under the unshaved whiskers. He pulled his flannel robe together and shivered before he bothered to look at the newspaper.

"Well, I have to work and I was thinking maybe you could come down around lunch time and we could talk."

"About?" The word came out wary and cautious.

"Oh, I don't know. I thought, maybe you could see that guy Brown mentioned. He's in the clinic near the station."

"What? You think you're going to walk me over to see a doctor on New Years day without an appointment? Yeah, that'll work."

"Holidays are the peak season for shrinks, Chief. I'll bet he'd see you if you called." The whole time he spoke, Jim scanned the sports page and sipped coffee, very casual. It didn't fool his partner one bit.

"You are like so smooth, man. You don't fool me. You've been thinking about this all night, right? Look, I'm fine. You know all the dirty little secrets, so now we can all just move on. I don't need to see anybody about this." He stood up and took his untouched drink to the counter, poured it out, and started rinsing out the blender with a vengeance.

Wiping his mouth, Jim folded his paper and sat back, his frustration building a long chain of knots through his gut. "Listen, this thing isn't going away if we just pretend nothing happened."

"We're not pretending. We're just moving on or at least I am."

"Are you?"

"If people will let me, yeah."

"And by people you mean me."

"Yeah, you and Brown and Eric." Blair pulled a towel off the rack and dried the parts of the blender as he talked, his eyes still bloodshot from the night before and his voice strained and husky. "Look, I've been screwing up and you're worried about me. I get that. I really do, man. It's just that I know everything a counselor's going to say. I mean, it's not like I've never been in therapy."

"Then why is it so hard to consider it this time?" Leaning forward, biting his lower lip before he spoke, Jim chose his words very carefully. "I have to admit that if something like what you described ever happened to me, I'm not sure how I'd handle it. In fact, I'm not sure how I'm going to handle knowing it happened to the man I love. You're not the only one pissed and confused here, Chief."

Turning around, Blair braced himself on the counter, his back to Jim, his breathing more labored. "I need to see if I can deal with this on my own for awhile. Give me a few weeks and if I'm still having problems, then I'll see somebody."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, well, I figure if I'm still waking up screaming in two weeks, we'll both need a doctor. Either that or a lawyer."

"A lawyer?"

"Well, I figure you go without sleep long enough, you're liable to throw my ass over the balcony. You're a cranky bastard sometimes when you're tired."

Jim stood up and moved in behind his lover, wrapping his arms around his waist, his groin to Blair's backside. Leaning in, he whispered, "If I throw your ass over anything, it won't be to get rid of it, Chief. More likely to fill it." Giving a little test grind with no resistance, he ground harder and then nibbled on his partner's ear.

"Oh, man, you already had breakfast."

"Wrong flavor. I like Sandburg in the morning." He rubbed his cheek against his neck and then licked down deep into the collar, the moans and shivers arousing. "You okay with this?"

"Don't I feel okay?" Blair's ass shoved back against him as his friend leaned a little more forward.

"Hell, yeah."

Still shifting his butt against Jim's erection, Blair asked, "So, why wouldn't I be okay?" His hands came back to Jim's thighs, pulling him even closer as their bodies rocked.

"I just don't want to do anything you don't want." His trail of kisses around the side of Blair's neck stopped when he realized his lover no longer moved back against him. "Chief?"

Sliding sideways, Blair stepped away, pulling his robe closed around him, his shoulders hunched. "You still don't trust me."

"What? What the hell are you talking about now?"

"What am I talking about NOW? That is like so patronizing, man. You think I don't know you think I'm fucked up?"

"Just settle down and tell me what's going on with you."

"What's going on is that I'm going to take a shower and you're going to work. I don't want to talk about what you think I can or can't handle right now, because I am like seriously pissed."

Both hands out to his side, Jim stood with his mouth open, completely baffled. "Come on, Chief. Give me a clue here. What the hell just happened?"

"You wanted to fuck me just then, right?"

Frowning, his erection aching from frustration and withering hope, he nodded, still confused. "Well, yeah, and for a minute there I thought for sure that's what you wanted, too, and then all of a sudden, you're pissed. What's going on?"

"I was fine until you brought up Tim."

"Tim? How the hell did I bring up Richards?"

"Jim, just go to work and just think about it. You're the fucking detective. You figure it out."

"Well, even a detective needs a clue, Chief."

Blair leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, his eyes squeezed shut. "Jim, you were right up against me. You could feel me react and then you asked me if I was okay with it."

"And?"

"Don't you get it?"

"Not one bit. Help me out here."

"You asked me that because of last night, right?"

"Well, yeah. You didn't want me to touch you at first. I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I went any further."

"So, why didn't you ask before you even started, before you came up behind me?"

"I don't know. I just reacted because I wanted to hold you, but then I thought about last night and I didn't want to spook you. It's not like I got a script or anything."

"And you think now that you know what happened, that you trying to fuck me is going to spook me?" The words came out fast and angry, charged with new energy.

Bewildered, hands in the air, Jim shook his head. "I give up, Chief. You want to fight about me caring about your feelings, fight with yourself, because I'm out of here. I'm getting dressed and going to work. Maybe by tonight when we've calmed down, we can talk about what just happened."

"You mean when I calm down."

"Whatever."

"Oh, that's great, Jim. Just walk away."

"Listen, I've got a headache and I'm tired. I'm not going to fight with you no matter how hard you push."

"I'm not pushing."

"Yes, you are. I don't know why, but you are. Now, the best thing for both of us right now is a break. You go shower and by the time you're out, I'll be gone."

"Go ahead then, leave."

"I plan to as soon as I'm dressed."

"Fuck." Blair slammed his fist down on the counter, the violence enough to shake the dishes and to force Jim into stepping closer.

"Just stop, Chief. That's enough."

"Get away from me and stop telling me what to do."

Before he could answer, Blair turned and stormed away, banging the bathroom door shut behind him. After a few moments, the water switched on, the spray not loud enough to hide from sentinel senses the sound of wet breathing and a single fist ramming hard into unyielding tile.

"Jim, I need the Blanton files." Still leaning his head on his upraised hand, the detective stared at his screen without answering. "Jim?"

Startled, he looked up at Simon and sat up straight. "Sorry, sir. What's going on?"

"I need the Blanton files. The DA wants all our records and notes. The defense turned down the deal and they're going to court."

"Bad move for the defense, Simon. We've got a really good case."

"Jim, are you okay? You've been distracted all day and you weren't even drinking last night."

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"Blair keep you awake all night?"

Shrugging, he stood up, checked his gun, and picked up a file. "I really don't want to talk about that here, Simon. Look, I'll go to records and pull some of the stuff we'll need. It'll be faster than calling down. I need to get out of here for awhile anyway."

"Then why don't you go to an early dinner and then go home? We're a little slow around here and Lord knows you've got the time coming."

"This really isn't a good time, captain."

"Why not? I'd think it was the perfect time."

"Perfect doesn't quite describe my life right now."

Shaking his head and stepping closer, Simon took his arm. "Come on. Let's take a walk."

"I thought you wanted the files."

"Don't be pissy with me. We'll walk toward records. Now, move it."

Frustration mixed in with fuming made walking harder, but he matched his paces to his captain's. "Look, I know what you're going to say."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're going to say, lighten up, Jim, let him work this out, give him space, be patient." His voice clipped the last few words as he hammered the edge of the file into his palm as he moved.

"Damn, I'm good. Sounds like good advice."

"This isn't funny, Simon."

The captain stopped and brought them both up short. "Listen to me, Jim. You knew this wasn't going to be easy even if none of this other shit ever happened."

"I know that."

"Then think for just a minute. Stop pissing in your own beer."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" As his voice carried down the hallway, two approaching secretaries halted and then turned around to go in the other direction.

"It means that you should stop being angry about whatever happened. You know you can be a pigheaded son of a bitch when you want to be. Just don't get in your way on this. The kid needs you."

"Then why is he pushing me away every chance he gets?" He turned around, his head down, not wanting the rush of crushing confusion blanking out any chance of clear thinking.

The hand on his shoulder vibrated with the warm voice. "Maybe because he's afraid of you pushing him away first, Jim. He's never been the most secure person, even before all this other nasty stuff happened. You know Blair."

"Not lately."

"All the more reason to hang in there. He's hurting. Everybody sees that no matter how fast he dances. You just get the close up and personal version, but he's worth it, right?"

The ache swelled as he neared the edge of wonder, knowing full well that life meant nothing without his friend. Blair filled all his empty spaces. "Oh, yeah."

"Then get me those files and leave early. You're off for the weekend. Take advantage of it."

"And if he shuts me out again?"

"Hell, Jim, you're the best cop I know at breaking down defenses."

"Blair's not some criminal I need to break, sir."

"Doesn't matter. It's the same game plan. Plus, you've got a couple of major playing cards. You know him almost better than himself. Use that. Don't let him close off. Most importantly, you love each other. Don't let him bluff you into thinking he doesn't want you around. I don't believe that. In your heart, I don't think you do either."

Grinding his teeth a few times, he nodded. "You're right."

"So, detective, go get the files and then move your ass on home."

"Yes, sir. I'll do that. Thanks." As he headed down the hallway, he made a mental checklist of what he needed to say, little speeches he could make to smooth over the roughness building up between them. Before he made it to the door, his cell phone rang and he answered. "Ellison."

"Detective?"

The sound of the familiar voice chilled him. "Eric. What's wrong?"

"I'm with Blair down at Cascade General."

"Is he okay?" Panic whirled his body back toward the elevator, hitting the button as he spoke.

"Well, they're checking that now. I mean, I think he's okay. God, I'm praying he's okay. It's just that he was so upset and then he hurt his leg when he fell in the water. It just took forever to get him out. God."

"Water? What water? It's below zero out."

"Yes, I know."

"Fuck. I'm on my way. ER, right?"

"Right. I'll be waiting."

Eric Perkins sat with his head bowed and his eyes closed as Jim entered the waiting room.

"Where is he?"

Suddenly alert, the younger man stood up and ran his hand back through his dark, straight hair, his green eyes swollen. "They won't really tell me much. The last time I checked with the nurse, she said they'd stopped the bleeding and they were warming him back up before he could go to X-ray."

The words wavered and Jim shook his head, the sounds around him like echoes. Several head shakes later, he spoke but even his own voice still wobbled. "Bleeding? What bleeding?"

"Well, when he fell, he must have cut his leg on a piece of the piling or the pier. It could have been something in the water. I don't know."

"What the hell was he doing down by the pier in this kind of weather?"

"Don't yell. Please." Eric rubbed his forehead several times and then sat down, his elbows and arms held in tight against his body. "I'll tell you, but I'm a little upset. I mean, Blair's my friend, too, you know."

Words settled and made sense. "I'm sorry. I know you're his friend." He took the seat beside the smaller man, his whole body on alert. "Just tell me."

"We're closed at Fancy's on New Year's Day, so Blair showed up at my door this morning."

"Upset?"

"Very. He said you two had a fight." Eric touched Jim's arm lightly as he spoke. "It's not you, hon. He's just been prickly as hell the last few weeks. He really cares about you." He pulled his hand away and then massaged the back of his neck. "Anyway, he showed up and started in on the wine and before I knew it he's talking about going down by the pier to look at the new boat Sammy just bought. He's out of town and gave me the key to watch it."

"Blair was drinking?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

When Eric didn't elaborated, he pushed again. "So, what happened at the pier?"

"Before I say anything, you have to believe I tried to stop him."

Dropping his head to his right hand, he squeezed his eyes shut, the throbbing in his temples bulging his skull. "Just tell me."

"It was really cold and slippery and I didn't want to go down any closer, but Blair wanted to see the cabin since I had the key. He's just so hard to say no to, and you know how stubborn he can be when he gets excited about something."

"Oh, yeah."

"Well, anyway, when we started to go aboard, he must have lost his balance, because the next thing I knew, he went right in." Covering his mouth with his right hand, Eric shook his head as he spoke. "God, it was horrible, that sound of him falling and yelling for help. I just can't get it out of my head."

The man's suffering touched him, gave him a connection to someone who cared about the same person he did. His voice softened as he spoke. "It's okay, Eric."

"Anyway, I tried using the pole to help get him out, but he was hurt and too heavy with all those wet clothes. Luckily there were enough people around to help get him out and to get the paramedics there. Still, it was so awful feeling helpless."

"I know."

Eric turned and tilted his head, studying him carefully before he spoke. "You really love him, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do."

"I'm so glad he's finally found somebody. I mean, let's face it, up until now, his love life has just been one awful train wreck after another." Taking out a tissue, he blew his nose several times before he leaned closer, his voice just a whisper. "You think he's really going to be okay? They won't really tell me anything."

"I'll find out."

As Jim stood, the younger man grabbed his arm to get his attention. "Oh, wait a minute."

"What?"

"Take this." Eric put Blair's gold ring in the middle of his palm and then closed it. "He told me to hold it for him. He didn't want to risk losing it in the hospital."

Air played hide and seek with his lungs as the circle pressed against his skin, the cool metal warming with his touch. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now go make like a pissed off pit bull and find out about our Blair."

"Actually, your partner got very lucky." The doctor sat in front of Jim and Eric smiling while he looked up from the chart.

Jaw clenching, his face tight, Jim asked, "How lucky?"

"He's stable and alert, his body temperature's almost normal again, and his leg's not broken. The ligaments and tendons around his knee are torn and the tissue bruised and swollen, but it's the deep cut and puncture we had to worry about. He's lost some blood and we're giving him fluids. We're going to keep him overnight for observation and start him on antibiotics. He aspirated quite a bit of ocean water and we don't want to risk pneumonia or infection in his leg."

Clearing his throat, his tongue resistant to speaking, he asked, "But, he's going to be okay?"

"He should be. If he doesn't have a fever or any other complications in the morning, he can probably go home. I'll give him a long list of things to do for his leg and what to be careful about. Otherwise, it's just a matter of healing and then some rehab."

"Rehab?"

"For the leg. That kind of damage is very tricky and painful. I'm afraid that he's going to need to do some work to get it back in shape again. And that brings me to the next question."

"Which is?"

The doctor lowered the chart and looked directly at Jim. "You said he's your partner."

"Yes."

"So, does that mean at work or not at work?"

"Both. We live together."

"That's good then. I was going to ask if there would be someone to help him move around until he's back on his feet. I mean, if we get lucky, he'll be able to use crutches in about a week, but for now, he's going to need to stay off that leg completely, and I mean completely. The vascular repair with all that swelling is nothing to fool with."

"You mean a wheelchair?"

"Yes. Is that going to be a problem?"

"That's not a problem." He had to bite his tongue not to ask if they came with heavy-duty restraints.

"Good. Then I guess you should go see your partner down the hall. I'll check back on him in a little while."

"Thanks." Jim stood as the doctor left and noticed Eric making no attempt to rise. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"No. Just tell him I'll come by later or call. You two need to talk."

Reaching out to shake hands, the younger man took it and squeezed, his face drained of its usual healthy color. "You're a good friend, Eric. Thank you."

"Blair's a good person, detective. He makes it easy."

"After all this, it's Jim. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

"I think I'll do that. I swear, Blair Sandburg owes me big time for this little drama." As he stood up and put on his coat, he kept talking as he walked out the door. "God, I'm just so glad he's alive."

Jim followed behind him, smiling and thankful for the same thing. As he walked toward his partner's door, he vowed to do everything in his sentinel powers to keep him that way even if it meant dealing out some serious grief in the process.

Jim watched his partner sleep, the mass of dark curls tied back, obviously dried without combing. The tangles clumped around the side of his face, the right side bruised and swollen with a long scrape up from the cheekbone to the temple. The IV in his left arm dripped, the regular plopping out of sync with the low, steady sounds of the monitor. A small groan and twitch alerted him and he stepped to lean on the rail, his hand pushing back a stray wisp of hair. Several long moments later, drug-dazed eyes opened and slowly focused before the lips twisted to speak. "Oh, man."

"Hey, Chief."

"Jim?" A shaky hand reached up and took his from the railing, the fingers wrapping over the top to pull it down to the bed. "I'm sorry about this morning."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." The words came out hoarse and breathy, the edges of the syllables cracking the air. "I was so afraid I wouldn't get a chance to see you again, to tell you." Eyes closed, the breathing labored, his whole body shook.

"Tell me what?"

"I love you, Jim. I hate when I act crazy."

"You're not crazy, Chief. A little weird maybe, but not crazy."

The small smile lifted the gloom just a little as Blair opened his eyes again. "I'm not really sure what happened this morning. I saw myself outside myself saying this stuff and I couldn't stop it."

"I've been there."

"Yeah, I know, but with you it was to catch Tommy Juno, to control your senses better. For me, I lost control. I don't know why."

Gently stroking the back of his hand up the undamaged side of Blair's face, he smiled. "Maybe it's time we found out."

"A shrink, right?"

"Not this minute, no. We have to get you out of here and home. But soon, Chief." Seeing his lover swallow hard, he whispered, "You know I'm right."

"I know." Blair nudged his face against Jim's caress and sighed. "I guess it's pretty much a done deal at this point anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Whenever I start swimming in winter, drunk and with my clothes on, I figure I've got a problem."

"God, you're smart." Jim leaned forward and kissed the forehead, the salt still strong on the skin. "Please don't scare me like this again. My heart just can't take shit like it used to."

"Believe me, man, falling into the ocean was so not the way I wanted to start the new year either." As he shifted just a little, his breath caught with a hiss. "Oh, man. I don't know what hurts worse, my leg or my chest. Why the hell does my chest hurt?"

The words formed hard on his tongue. "According to Eric, you weren't breathing when they first pulled you out."

"Shit. CPR right?"

"Right."

"Damn. God, poor Eric. I'll bet I scared the shit out of him."

"He's not the only one, but I sent him home as soon as we found out you were okay."

"I need to call him."

"He said he'd call later. He wanted us to talk."

Suddenly distracted, Blair touched his fingers to the tubing under his nose and asked, "Why am I wearing an ugly peanut on my face, man?"

Swatting his hand away, Jim smiled, glad Blair's voice sounded strong enough to complain. "It's an oxygen intensifier. They want to make sure your lungs get plenty of air after taking a break from breathing this afternoon."

He lifted his left arm up a few inches off the bed and dangled the IV. "Not my favorite accessory either." Looking up, his eyes pleading and scared, he asked, "Please tell me I'm going home tonight, man. I really hate this place."

"Tomorrow if you don't get a fever."

"A fever from what?"

He pointed to the heavily bandaged and elevated right limb. "You did a number on your leg, looks like."

"I know. It hurts, but they cleaned it up, so that shouldn't be a problem. I mean, just give me some crutches and we can get out of here before they can catch us. Hop in your truck and be gone in no time." The words spun out fast, like a kid wanting adventure.

"Sorry, Chief. No crutches, just wheels for awhile."

"Wheels? What the hell are you talking about, wheels?"

Taking his lover's hand, Jim kissed it, resting his forehead on the fingers, hating the words he had to say.

"Jim, you're scaring me here. What wheels? And you'd better not say what I think you're going to say."

"What do you think I'm going to say?"

"There is like no way I'm using a wheelchair except to roll my ass out of here."

He bit his lip and lowered Blair's hand back to the bed. "The doctor said it'll only be about a week."

"Come on, Jim, stop joking around. The leg's not that bad. It doesn't hurt as bad as when Quinn shot me."

"Well, it might when those pain killers get out your system. The point is, you're going to do what the doctor says and I'm taking this week off to see that you do."

His panic stopped as he turned his head towards Jim, his eyes suddenly hopeful. "The whole week?"

"Yeah. I've got the time and you're not going to be able to do much on your own. Besides, I thought it would give us time to just talk and rest up some."

Blair tilted his head to the side of the pillow and closed one eye as he watched Jim for an extra long moment.

"What are you doing?"

"Just trying to picture you in a cute little lab coat playing doctor."

"Well, knowing you, you'd know where to find one, or did you keep the one you ripped off the first time you sneaked in to find me."

A round of coughing caught him off guard before he could answer. By the time he finished, his labored breathing made it much harder to talk. "I'm okay, man."

"Yeah, I can see that." Petting his hair back, each strand shiny and warm, he whispered. "Just close your eyes and get some sleep, Chief. I'll be here when you wake up."

Blair shut his eyes, his face less tense, but his voice still strained and struggling. "You don't have to stay. I know you're tired."

"Sure I do. I want to. I've told you this before, but stubborn punkass that you are, you just don't listen."

"Jim?"

"Just listen." Leaning down, his head just above the rail, Jim still stroked the top of Blair's head with a steady rhythm. "I love you. I need you to believe that.

"I do believe that."

"You're sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. What's this about?"

"You were the one who said forever never ends. That meant a lot to me, hearing you say that."

"I meant it."

"Well, my forever starts each and every time I see you, every time I touch you, or hear your voice. I'm not leaving."

Sleepy blue eyes opened and met his, the doubt nearly faded into the deepest black. A hoarse, teasing voice pushed out the words. "Okay. I'll let you stay. Want to hide under the covers?"

"Go to sleep, Chief. The drugs are kicking in."

"If you promise to tell me a story. I love your voice, man."

Laughing deep down in his throat and chest, Jim pulled up a chair to settle by the bed. Holding his lover's hand through the railing, he spoke softly, the words like a lullaby. "There was once a sentinel who lived alone, a man who carried a jungle in his heart, a place where he could hide even from himself, but not from his fears. Thick vines and brush laced and covered his soul, choking away any joy that once tried to grow there. His very bones cracked from the weight of the hunger as chittering insects devoured his hope. Everything ached inside him, the blood scraping the veins, the air scratching at his very lungs when he tried to breathe deeper. The filtered moonlight burned through his eyelids and even water exploded on his tongue. His ears bled from the sound of his own crying."

"Jesus, Jim, stop."

"Just wait. It's got a happy ending." His voice dropped back into the cadence of the story before the interruption. "And then one day along came the one man who changed that, a beautiful and brave man who smiled and made a new path, a path wide enough for both men to travel. The guide led the warrior out of the darkness into the light, made him see a purpose to the pain, became his teacher. He gave him back his life."

"Oh, man." Blair squeezed his eyes shut, the wetness collecting at the edges and falling to the pillow.

"Go to sleep, Chief." He kissed his lover's hand and whispered the truth that shaped his life. "The sentinel never leaves the guide who rescues and fills his lost heart."

The end