Deep Water

Damn you!

Wed, 03 May 2006 03:44:06 GMT

... Marion, snailbones, luna_61, and admiralandrea. What kind of forbidden magic are you using? Last night when I first saw your comments I laughed and thought "Yeah, right", but today the Evil Muse struck.

So this is my revenge:

Around four years after Deep Water, Blair is about to finish his MA in Anthropology (Jim had convinced him to continue after his BA) and he's riding with Jim as an observer while awaiting acceptance for the Police Academy. All Jim and Blair's plans get thrown for a loop when Blair is offered a position on an expedition to Borneo - which he finds seriously tempting, in spite of his intention of becoming a cop. Jim is further upset when he discovers that Eli Stoddard is not a grandfatherly elder statesman of Anthropology but surprisingly hot (in a scruffy Anthropologist way) and a few years younger than himself. To make matters worse, Blair's involvement in a serial killer case puts him in serious danger.

Unfortunately, I have another story (or ten) that I'm working on and I'm not starting anything new until I finish at least one, maybe two of them. Besides, I'll need to let the ideas percolate for a while before I try to write anything.

Thank you :)

Tue, 02 May 2006 07:10:11 GMT

Now that it's finally over, I just wanted to thank you all for joining me in this little experiment. I hope you've all enjoyed it - not just the story, but the way I've presented it in this LJ. I also particularly want to thank the people who've provided feedback. It has helped me improve the story, as you will see if you read it again when it's posted to 852 Prospect and my website. That will be in a couple of weeks time, so if you have any further comments, please feel free to leave them.

Part 27 - Saturday May 2nd 1992

Tue, 02 May 2006 07:01:55 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim goes to visit Blair in hospital

The look of surprise and relief on Blair's face when he walked in was enough to make Jim wince. He should have made time to see Blair, but the last few days had been so grim he hadn't wanted to inflict his bad mood on the kid. Now that it was all over he could set about making things right with him.

“You're looking a lot better.” He leaned over and kissed Blair on the mouth. “How's the leg?”

“It's good.” Blair sat up and started pulling at the hospital gown, dragging it over his head. “Hand me my clothes, will you, Jim? Then we can get out of here.”

“I thought you were staying at least another couple of days?” He scanned Blair up and down but the kid seemed okay. Still, he knew that a two-week stay in hospital for a dislocated hip wasn't unusual and Blair hadn't even been in a whole week. “You're not in any pain?”

Blair shook his head emphatically. “No, man. I'm fine.”

“Okay. You get dressed and I'll go see the doctor.” Jim passed Blair the backpack containing his clothes. “Shouldn't take long.”

He noticed the wary look on Blair's face, so it didn't surprise Jim too much to find that none of the nurses knew anything about Blair being discharged and neither did the duty doctor, when they tracked him down.

When Jim got back to Blair's room, it was to see a pale flash of ass as Blair pulled his jeans up. He was leaning over the bed for support and carefully not putting weight on his injured leg. “I'm pretty sure I put some underwear in there somewhere.”

Blair grinned and lowered himself into a chair. “It's just easier. Lighten up, Jim.”

He sighed, knowing he was in for a fight. “So it'll be easier getting them off again. Did you really think I wouldn't check? You're not cleared to leave, not for at least another couple of days, maybe longer.”

“I'm leaving.” Blair glared at him. “If I have to get a cab back to the loft, then that's what I'll do.”

Jim crossed his arms over his chest and stood firm. “You realise that you start moving around on that leg before it's healed and you run the risk of dislocating it. You really want to go through that again?”

“It's my damn leg.” Blair's face set in sulky, mutinous lines that Jim hadn't seen in a long while, then melted into pathetic misery. “Please, Jim, I'll be careful. Just get me out of here. I hate it in here. The nurses treat me like shit since they found out I used to be on drugs.”

He wasn't immune to those pleading looks, but still Jim hesitated. “Babe, I just don't want to take the risk.”

“I'll do whatever it takes, okay? All I have to do is lie on the couch and be careful to use my crutches. And I promise… I promise… I won't be any trouble.”

Blair was obviously desperate to get out, and realistically, Jim knew that complaining about the nurses' treatment of Blair was only going to make things worse. He weighed that against the danger of Blair dislocating his hip or knee again and decided that he'd just have to make extra sure that the kid didn't do anything stupid.

“All right. But you wait here till I get a wheelchair, okay?” He grinned as Blair's face became wreathed in smiles.

“Sure.” Then he gestured to his bare feet. “Just help me with my sneakers, okay? I don't think I can bend that far.”

***

By the time they reached the loft, Blair was heartily regretting that he'd only had jeans to wear. They were too tight against his still tender hip, and too stiff to be easy to move around in. He accepted Jim's help out of the truck reluctantly, collected his crutches and made his way painfully to the door leading into the building.

Thank god the elevator was working, otherwise Jim would probably have had to carry him up three flights of stairs in a fireman's hold, and that would have hurt like hell. As well – Blair realised belatedly – it would have put pressure on his bladder that would have been unwise right now. Hidden under the dull ache of his hip and knee, he hadn't noticed until it was getting serious how badly he needed to pee.

By the time the elevator creaked its way to the third floor – about as long as it would take to walk – Blair was starting to sweat. He pressed his lips together and fought back the urge. No way was he going to tell Jim. He'd had enough of being helpless; he was out of the hospital now and he'd look after himself.

Jim went ahead to open the loft and Blair hobbled after as fast as he could, not very fast with one foot held warily off the ground and crutches that felt awkward and heavy, that he hadn't had much chance to practice with. Jim stood aside to allow Blair to go first, and he managed to manoeuvre through the doorway without too much trouble, then head for the sanctuary of the bathroom.

“I'll make you some tea, okay?” Jim called after him, but Blair didn't bother to answer. He was far too focused on reaching his goal.

Almost there… but between balancing on the crutches and struggling with the stiff buttons of his jeans, it was too late. He felt the first, tiny spurt and cursed miserably, trying to hold back, but he couldn't. As his fingers tugged uselessly at his fly, Blair felt the wet heat as his jeans soaked up the urine.

Fuck, he was useless! No good for anything. No wonder Jim… but that was too painful a thought and Blair bit back a sob, too immersed in his own misery to do anything but stand in front of the toilet and shake.

“Are you all…” Jim's voice, behind him, broke off as he took in the scene. “Chief?”

The gentle tone in Jim's voice was the last straw. Blair sobbed once, then bit his lip. “I'm sorry. I'll clean it up in a minute, okay?”

“No you won't.” Large hands cupped his shoulders almost tenderly. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

He leaned back into the embrace, blinking away tears that threatened to overflow, and submitted almost apathetically to Jim's ministrations. In less than a minute he was sitting on the toilet seat, his jeans around his knees while Jim worked patiently at removing his sneakers.

It could have been a lot worse. His jeans had soaked up most of the liquid and there was very little on the floor. Jim tossed his clothes into a corner and soaked a washcloth in warm water. “Here, wipe yourself down.”

While Blair did that, Jim disappeared, returning moments later with a mop to clean away the last traces of urine. He came over to the toilet, cupped one hand against Blair's cheek and kissed the top of his head. “I'll get you something to wear.”

Once again Jim left the bathroom and Blair heard him moving around upstairs. He wouldn't be able to manage the stairs, Blair realised, not even with crutches. It would almost have been better to be killed by the damn car than have to deal with this. He was vaguely aware that his reaction was out of all proportion to the reality of his situation, but right now, he could give a damn.

He was leaning into the cool tiled wall, crying silently, when Jim came back.

“It's okay.” Jim stroked his arm gently. “Come on, Blair. Let's get these on you and then you can have that tea I promised.”

“I'm all right. I can…” But it felt good, for a moment, to let Jim take control, especially since he didn't think he could actually bend over far enough to ease the sweatpants Jim had brought over his throbbing leg.

He accepted Jim's help in standing too and then had to bite back a squawk of surprise when Jim carefully lifted him into his arms and carried him out of the bathroom. He retained enough presence of mind to fling his arm around Jim's neck for stability as they headed for the living area.

“If you prefer, I can put you on the bed in your old room.”

“No. The couch is fine.” Blair bit his lip as he was lowered carefully, but the expected pain never came. Jim released him long enough to tuck the throw rug across his legs, then crouched beside him.

“You okay?” Jim's fingers brushed his cheek. “You're running a fever.”

“I'm all right.” The gentleness of his touch was disconcerting. Blair closed his eyes miserably. It ought to make him feel better, but somehow it didn't.

“Well… it's an hour till you can have your next pain meds. How about I make some tea and a sandwich or something then? You need to take them with food.”

He nodded apathetically. “Yeah, that'll be fine. I'm not real hungry right now.”

After a moment he heard Jim move away, and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a mistake to lie to the doctor so he could be released early. Sure, he'd hated the hospital, but he hadn't realised how much it would take out of him just to be back at the loft. Jim would have to help him with just about everything, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Even now, he could hear Jim moving around, mopping the floor in the bathroom again, then taking the laundry hamper downstairs. He'd fucked everything up, Jim didn't want him any more, and he hurt all over. Biting his lip to keep from sobbing aloud, he turned his face to the back of the couch.

***

Blair was silent when Jim came back up from the basement. He glanced across at the still figure on the couch, pleased that he was dozing a little. He went to the kitchen and started to gather the makings for a couple of hearty roast beef and salad sandwiches. If he got it all ready in advance, he could slip downstairs again in time to move the clean clothes into the drier, then assemble the sandwiches when he got back.

For once, everything went according to plan. Blair still hadn't made a sound, but when Jim listened for his heartbeat it was fast and panicky. He must still be in a lot of pain, and Jim could only hope the pain meds would knock him out for a while. He put the food and mug of tea on a tray, added the pills to the plate the sandwich was sitting on and carried it all over to the couch.

The sight of tear tracks on Blair's face pulled him up short. His first thought was that Blair was in even more pain than he'd realised, and he almost dropped the tray on the coffee table before kneeling by the couch.

“Blair?” He barely touched the flushed cheeks of his lover with his fingertips. Blair was warm, but not overly feverish; still, the look Blair turned on him was one of abject misery. “Damn it, I knew this was a mistake. I'm taking you back to the hospital.”

“No! Please Jim…” Blair caught at his wrist and fresh tears filled his eyes. “Please don't make me go back there. I'll be all right. I won't be any trouble, I promise.”

Jim sighed. “It's not about…”

“I can manage on my own. Honestly.” Blair bit his lip and struggled into a sitting position before Jim could move to help. “Just let me stay a couple more weeks and then I'll find somewhere…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He caught hold of Blair's shoulder, remembering at the last moment to keep his grip gentle. “Blair…”

But Blair was babbling on, hardly aware it seemed, of Jim's reaction. “…it's okay, you know… detach with love, that's what Naomi always said and I can, Jim… really, I can. I'll get out and… and… we can still be friends, can't we?”

“Blair, stop it.” He spoke commandingly and Blair finally fell silent, his eyes searching Jim's face beseechingly. Jim took in a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart. “Now, tell me why you want to leave.”

“I don't want to… to leave… but…” Blair drew in a sobbing breath, “you don't want me any more, and that's okay. Like I said…”

“…detach with love. Right.” Did Blair really think for a moment that Jim was willing to do any such thing? “And what if I don't want to do that?”

Blair stared at him, stunned into silence, not even breathing as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. And then Jim replayed Blair's words in his mind. “Wait a minute. You think I want you to leave?”

“Don't you?” Blair's eyes dropped to his hands, clenched tightly together in his lap. “You keep pushing me away, you don't want to have sex with me, and you're… I never see you and when we are together we fight all the time and… and…”

Jim drew Blair into his arms, but the recital continued, muffled now against his shoulder. “…you didn't come see me in the hospital, except that once, so I know you don't love me any more. But I don't mind that…” a quiet sob belied the assertion, “…at least, not much. We can still be friends, can't we, Jim?”

He should have seen this coming. They'd had a rough – okay, very rough – couple of months. And, yeah, he'd treated Blair pretty badly a time or two, there was no denying that. But, god… the thought of losing Blair… and Blair was just a kid, nineteen years old and in his first serious relationship. Of course every little squabble or misunderstanding seemed like a mountain rather than the molehill it really was. And of course, with Naomi as his only role model for relationships, his first thought would be to leave.

Slowly, the jumble of words trailed off and Blair slumped exhaustedly against Jim's chest. Jim held him there, one hand rubbing his back soothingly, until he was sure Blair had nothing more to say. He kissed the dark tangle of hair just below his chin. “Blair, let's just get one thing straight. I don't want you to leave, okay?”

“But… you're ashamed of me.” Over Jim's wordless protest, he raised his voice. “You are, Jim. I thought… when you weren't telling me stuff that you were lying to me, but it wasn't that, was it? You just didn't want me to be part of your life.”

“Please, Blair, just listen to me for a minute.” He kissed the top of Blair's head again. “I'm sorry about all that stuff. I didn't realise how much I was hurting you – I was so caught up in the Brackley case and Jack disappearing that I lost sight of what was really important. I should have done something… said something to let you know… I love you, Chief. I don't want to lose you. When things get tough we've just got to keep on going, you know?”

After a moment's stillness, Blair slowly drew back. Tears still leaked from the corners of his eyes, but his face was calm and sober. “What are you saying, Jim? That this is what it's going to be like forever?”

“No. I'm saying that sometimes we'll fight and there'll be misunderstandings, but that doesn't mean we have to split up.” Jim smiled weakly, still shaken by how close they'd come to doing just that. “The last couple of months have been bad, really bad, but it's over now.”

“Is it?” Blair scrubbed his sleeve across his face, smearing the tear tracks but not eliminating them. He looked up at Jim and suddenly he didn't look like a scared kid any more. “Does that mean you're not going to go crazy the next time someone who… who knew me… turns up in an investigation? Are you going to trust me about that kind of stuff?”

“Yes.” Jim swallowed. It wasn't going to be easy; it would never be easy, but if losing Blair was the only other alternative, he'd find a way to deal with it. Hell, he'd even get counselling if he had to. “Blair, that was never about you, okay? It was about me, and I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Blair nodded silently. There was a long pause before he whispered, “Are you ashamed of me, Jim? Are you gonna keep on acting like we're not together? Because I don't think I can live with that.”

“I'm not ashamed of you.” Now was not the time to offer meaningless assurances. Much as Jim wanted to take Blair back into his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay, he knew that it wasn't what Blair needed to hear. “I won't pretend it's going to be easy. People are going to judge you for what you were, maybe for the rest of your life, and we may not ever be able to be completely open about our relationship. I can't see me coming out to the PD any time soon; and that isn't about you. It's about me staying alive, okay?”

“Sure. I understand that.” Blair still seemed unconvinced, however. He picked at the throw rug with trembling fingers, avoiding Jim's eyes and the silence stretched out until it seemed impossible that either of them could ever break it.

Finally, Jim heard a faint hitch in Blair's breathing. He dialled up his hearing a little and was almost deafened by the thunderous beat of Blair's heart. “What is it, Blair?”

“I… there's something…” He still couldn't see much of Blair's face but there was a sharp tang of tears and his heartbeat hitched up another notch.

“It's all right.” He stroked the flushed cheek gently. “You don't have to…”

“Yes, I do.” Blair looked up at last. “Only, I'm scared that after I tell you, you won't want me any more.”

Jim injected as much certainty as he possibly could into his voice. “Never gonna happen.”

“Maybe.” Blair smiled, but the corners of his mouth were quivering with unhappiness. “It's about… about Mom's boyfriends… you know, the ones that…”

He caught hold of Blair's restless hands. “Go on. It's okay, Blair.”

“It's not okay!” Blair's voice broke in an anguished sob. “It was my fault. I provoked them. I made them do it. I wanted them to do it.”

There was the tiniest fraction of a moment when Jim simply took in what Blair had just said at face value. Then he squeezed Blair's hands reassuringly. “Blair, you were just a kid. Whatever you did, it wasn't your fault.”

Blair shook his head, but didn't speak. Couldn't, probably.

“Listen. I know about this, okay? I've arrested a few of those scumbags in my time. They always blame the kids.” He tightened his grip as Blair tried to pull his hands free. “You didn't make them do anything. You can't make a normal man into a paedophile, Blair.”

“But… I wanted…” Blair's voice was barely audible.

“It's called grooming.” Jim kept his voice even, forcing down the sick horror he couldn't afford to feel right now. “They teach the kids to accept what they do, not to tell anyone. They want the kids to enjoy it so they can justify what they're doing. Blair, hasn't Laura told you all this?”

“Yes, but…”

But, obviously, Blair either hadn't believed her, or didn't think that Jim would feel the same way. He eased Blair into his arms and held him gently. “It's not your fault. It never was. This doesn't change anything between us. I promise you, it doesn't change anything.”

Slowly, the tension in Blair's body seeped away and he sagged heavily against Jim's chest. Eventually he began to tremble silently. There were no tears or sobs, no other outward sign of distress, and Jim lowered his head to rest his cheek against Blair's tumbled curls. “It's okay, babe. It's okay.”

“Is it, Jim?” The defeated tone in Blair's voice almost broke his heart. “I wish I could believe that.”

***

After Blair fell asleep, Jim dismantled the futon in Blair's old room and took the pieces down to the basement. That left enough room, barely, to fit their bed in, provided he could take that apart and bring it downstairs without help. He'd only just finished and dropped into the armchair when he heard the visitors coming up in the elevator. Stifling a groan, he rose to his feet and went over to check on Blair.

He was still asleep on the couch, his curls tangled, his cheeks flushed. He looked about fifteen years old. After all the emotional upheaval of the day, this was the last thing either of them needed, and for a moment Jim seriously considered meeting the two men in the hallway and telling them to go away. Then he sighed and went to rouse Blair with a gentle shake of his shoulder.

When the knock came on the door, Jim took a deep breath, glanced over at Blair and then went to open the door. In spite of the fact he'd recognised their voices, Jim still hesitated at the sight of his brother and father.

“Dad. Uh… come in. Stephen, good to see you.” He managed a smile, wishing Stephen had chosen a better day for this, though he'd known his brother was going to visit sometime. “Take a seat.”

Blair had managed to drag himself up into a sitting position, but was still taking up most of the space on the couch. Stephen took the loveseat and his father the armchair. Jim eased onto the end of the couch, careful not to jar Blair's legs.

“Sorry. Blair just got out of hospital today.” Jim shifted restlessly. “We're still in a bit of a mess.”

William Ellison's piercing gaze fastened on Blair's face. “You're the... uh… you were involved in that case last year. The drug case. I read about it in the newspaper.”

Jim tensed and glanced across at Blair's wary face. But Blair summoned up a smile. “That's right.”

“You're a… ah…”

“A student.” Blair spoke politely, but with some firmness. “Anthropology. At Rainier.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Ellison frowned slightly, obviously unsure of how to deal with someone who simply refused to acknowledge what was obvious to everybody in the room. “How are your studies going?”

“I'll make some coffee. Or would you prefer tea?” Jim stood hurriedly.

From the kitchen he could still hear the conversation, and even join in, but still keep a distance from the man he'd resented for most of his life. It was with some amusement that Jim realised that Blair was handling this whole situation much better than he was. If his dad wasn't exactly eating out of Blair's hand, he was certainly lapping up the charming act, while Stephen looked on, smothering a grin as best he could. And no wonder – neither of them had even managed to handle their father half as well.

By the time the coffee, and Blair's herbal tea, was ready, the elder Ellison was trying a few careful probes into the reason why Blair was still living with his son. But when he started with questions and comments about the Brackley case both Jim and Stephen squashed the subject as quickly as possible.

In the silence that followed Jim gulped his coffee too fast and nearly scalded his mouth. Even Blair and his dad seemed to have run out of things to talk about and Stephen hadn't had much to say for himself anyway. Jim cleared his throat and then, faced with everybody's immediate attention, couldn't think of a thing to say.

“Uh, Blair… maybe you should…” He stopped, transfixed by Blair's silent gaze. He thought about everything they'd spoken about earlier. Blair looked away, towards Jim's father as the old man asked yet another leading question. He had to do something – something to stop the interrogation, something to acknowledge Blair's place in his life – and he couldn't think of a damned thing. “Stephen, could you give me a hand? I need to move the bed downstairs.”

“Sure.” Stephen rose eagerly to his feet, no doubt glad of an excuse to escape. “Why?”

“Blair's going to have problems with the stairs for a while.” He ignored the indrawn breath from his father's direction and glanced quickly towards Blair. Who was looking at him with an expression of mingled shock and adoration. Stephen's face was completely blank, but he followed Jim upstairs without a word.

He listened for any sound from downstairs, but only heard Blair's heartbeat, a little fast, but okay. If his father made even one comment…

He didn't. After a while, Jim heard his father ask Blair another question about his studies. Relaxing a little, Jim helped Stephen move the mattress and they got down to the business of dismantling the bed.

They'd almost finished when Stephen put down his wrench and looked straight at him. “So this is why you went so crazy about… uh…”

“Yeah.” Jim set down his screwdriver. “I'm sorry about that. I was kinda freaked out.”

Stephen nodded with a faint smile. “I can understand that. He's a great kid. I mean…”

Jim squared his shoulders. He was going to have to get used to this kind of reaction when people found out about the two of them. “He's nineteen. He is a kid. But he loves me, and I love him.”

“Then you're a lucky man.” Stephen grinned and picked up the wrench. “Don't screw it up.”

It took them about thirty minutes to dismantle the bed, move it downstairs into Blair's old room and reassemble it. By that time, Blair was telling some tale about his childhood wanderings with his mother and his dad was commenting politely as though he'd never labelled women like Naomi Sandburg as hippies, communists, lesbians and any number of other – to him – derogatory terms.

When Stephen and Jim rejoined them, Blair fell silent. His eyes were too bright, and his cheeks had a hectic flush. Jim bent over him, carefully touching his cheek. “Are you okay, Chief? It's about time for your meds.”

As if it were a signal, both Stephen and their father exchanged a glance. “Well, I think it's time we were going, don't you, Stephen? Jimmy, I nearly forgot. Sally sends her love and said you should come visit some time.” William Ellison cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “And bring Blair too, of course.”

“Yeah, I'd like that.” Somewhat to his surprise, Jim realised it was true. “Maybe in a week or so, when Blair's a bit steadier on his feet.”

He followed his father and Stephen to the door, not noticing until it was too late, that Blair had somehow managed to get upright and gather his crutches from where they leaned against the end table. “Blair, you shouldn't be…”

“I'm okay, Jim. Really.”

He doubted that, but Blair was looking determined enough that there was no point in arguing. “Well… bye Steve, Dad. Uh, thanks… you know…” he thrust out his hand and his father took it in the appropriately manly grasp. Stephen thumped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Yeah, it was great to meet you, Stephen, Bill.” Blair's smile was completely genuine. All of the awkwardness that the other three men were feeling seemed to have totally passed him by.

William Ellison transferred his startled gaze from Blair to Jim and back again. Jim doubted that anyone under fifty had ever called his father by his first name before. “Well, it was a… a pleasure to meet you, young man.”

“Really?” Blair's face lit up. “I mean… thanks.” He passed one of his crutches to Jim, and before anyone had any idea of what he was about to do, leaned forward and hugged the older man.

The expression on William's face was beyond priceless. Jim didn't so much as glance at his brother, but he heard a faint choking sound. He couldn't recall ever having hugged his father, certainly not since he was ten. They just weren't that kind of family.

After a moment's frozen indecision, William patted Blair's back rather uncomfortably. “Yes, well, any friend of Jimmy's… I mean…”

“I think it's time you were lying down again.” Jim managed to detach Blair from his father and tuck his unsteady lover against his side. “You don't want to overdo things on your first day out of hospital.”

Stephen was grinning, his eyes shining with silent laughter, now they'd both gotten over the shock. William cleared his throat as his younger son helpfully opened the door. “Well, we'd better be going. Take good care of that young man, Jimmy.”

“Don't worry, Dad.” Jim smiled down at Blair for a moment before transferring his attention back to his father. “I intend to.”

The End

Part 26 - Thursday April 30th 1992

Sun, 30 Apr 2006 10:01:19 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim and Blair both get unexpected visitors

Jim was on his way back from the break room with Brown when he realised that he recognised the tall figure standing beside his desk. He stopped, almost spilling his coffee, and Brown looked at him in surprise.

Almost as if he was aware of Jim's reaction, Stephen Ellison turned and met his brother's eyes. Jim started walking again, wondering why Stevie would come here after the way Jim had behaved at their last meeting. He muttered an excuse to Brown and went over to his brother.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Stephen smiled uncertainly. “I… uh, I saw the news about your partner in the paper yesterday. I'm sorry. It must have been difficult for you.”

“Yeah.” Jim nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, it was.”

Stephen looked down at Jim's desk, brushed his fingertips over a file lying on it. “I didn't know Monique, but Landis… he seemed like a friend of Philip's. It's hard to believe he'd do such a thing.”

Jim cleared his throat. “You don't exactly see the best of people in this job.”

“I suppose not.” There was a long pause before Stephen's head came up and his eyes met Jim's. “Philip really did… I mean he… he used… street kids.”

“Yeah, he did.”

Stephen nodded again. They stood looking at each other, but not really looking, as the tension grew between them. In a moment, Stevie was going to walk away, and it could be another fifteen years before Jim saw him again.

“But that doesn't excuse… I mean…” Jim looked away, feeling that tell tale muscle twitching in his jaw. “I shouldn't have accused you like that. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” Stephen smiled tentatively. “You know that kid, don't you? The one in the photo? Was he… did Philip…”

“I don't know. Maybe.” Jim sought desperately for a way to change the subject. Anything to get it away from Blair's connection with Philip Brackley. “Look, now that…”

“I told Dad I'd seen you.” Stephen blurted out.

Jim froze. Whatever his issues with Stevie, he at least had the happier memories of his childhood to fall back on, but he had no good memories of his father.

“He's changed, Jim.” Stephen hesitated, then shrugged. “At least… he wants to see you again. To try to make up for the past.”

“No.”

“Please, Jim. Think about it. He's an old man. Lonely.” Stephen grasped his arm, a desperate expression on his face. “He keeps a scrapbook with clippings about your cases, for god's sake. He's really proud of you.”

“Stephen…” Jim shook his head. “It's too soon, okay? I'm still dealing with the fallout from the case. Blair's in hospital. And there's Jack's funeral tomorrow afternoon. I can't just…”

Stephen interrupted, his face wreathed in smiles. “Blair? Jim, are you… you're not married, are you?”

“Blair…” Jim gulped, but if he was going to stay in touch with Stevie – and he really hoped he would – then he'd have to introduce the two of them some day. “He's my room mate. He… that kid in the photo… that's Blair.”

Surprise flickered across Stephen's face, closely followed by curiosity. Then both faded to be replaced by a hint of wariness. “Oh, well… look, I'd really like to…”

“Yeah, me too.” They both smiled uncertainly. There were just too many old wounds to cast aside all caution immediately. “Let's get together sometime soon, okay?”

“Sure. We'll do that.” Stephen held out his hand. “It's good to see you again, Bro.”

He took his brother's hand and, after a brief hesitation, pulled Stephen into a quick hug before releasing him. “Yeah. It's good to see you too.”

***

Blair's lunch had been sitting on the tray for a couple of hours, and as a result looked even less appetising than it had when the orderly had delivered it. But now he was hungry enough to consider eating the crap. He sighed and reached for the tray only to discover that he'd pushed it away just a bit too hard and now couldn't reach it.

Fucking tray. Fucking hospital. Fucking, goddamned awful food.

He closed his eyes and silently cursed everything he could think of, including number one on his list – Jim fucking Ellison – who hadn't been to see him since the day after he got here. He'd dropped Blair's books and clothes off, like he'd promised, but Blair had been asleep – fucking drugs – and he hadn't come back since.

Maybe Jim was waiting for him to stop feeling pissed off about Jimmy, but if so, he was really going the wrong way about it. Because Blair was feeling more pissed off for every moment that Jim stayed away. Scared, too… because he couldn't help thinking that maybe Jim had decided that he'd had enough, that he didn't want to be around Blair any more – but he wouldn't just stay away, would he? Avoid Blair like he'd been avoiding everything else that had gone wrong between them the last few months? Blair swallowed the lump rising in his throat and concluded that it was exactly what Jim would do.

He'd never get out of here. And he was missing classes, too. He'd tried to read his books, but the drugs made him sleepy and he couldn't concentrate. He'd fail his courses and get kicked out of Rainier and have nowhere to live…

“Blair?” Laura's voice pulled him up on the verge of a panic attack like he hadn't had since he was a kid. His eyes flew open, hardly daring to believe his ears. “Oh, good. I'm glad you're awake.”

“Hi, Laura.”

She came over to the bed and put her hand on his arm. It was so comforting just to feel that touch that Blair came close to bursting into tears. “Jim told me about your accident. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, mostly.” He smiled, pleased just to have someone to talk to. “And bored.”

“Well…” She returned his smile warmly. “I've rescheduled my appointments so I could spend some time with you if you want to talk. But if you're not feeling up to it, that's okay.”

“No, I'm good.” He hitched himself up in the bed a little. “Just, the drugs are kinda making me sleepy.”

“That's all right. We can talk and if you feel tired I can go.” She pulled one of the chairs over and sat in it. “Now, is there anything you particularly want to talk about?”

He shook his head, and then thought again. “Yeah, there is something, I just… you won't tell anyone? I mean, I know you can't tell anyone stuff about me, but if I tell you something about Jim…”

Laura smiled. “I can't disclose any of our sessions, regardless of who we talk about.”

“Okay.” He frowned slightly, still not keen to tell Laura too much about what had happened, but he needed to talk to someone about it, and he didn't think he could talk to Jim. Not yet. “Jim… he… um, he did something he shouldn't. Or, at least, he didn't do something he should have done. He hid something. He says he was trying to protect me, but…”

When he didn't continue Laura prompted, “you don't believe him?”

“I don't know.” Blair shrugged. “It wouldn't have bothered me if he'd… you know, done what he should've. I just think he was freaked out.”

“All right. Go on, Blair.”

“So, a couple of people are dead, and… and… maybe they would've died anyway.” He dragged in a shaky breath and forced himself to continue. “But maybe they'd both still be alive. If he'd… you know. I guess we'll never know for sure.”

Laura patted his arm gently. “That must be very difficult for you.”

“I was so mad…” Tears sprang to his eyes and he wiped them away. “I still am, but… now I feel scared too. I don't know if I can forgive Jim for that, or for making me a part of it. And Jim… he's such a fucking Boy Scout… he's gonna feel so guilty about it, and maybe he'll end up hating me… because he did it for me… maybe he already hates me. I haven't seen him for a couple of days.”

“Blair, it's my experience that there are very few things that can't be worked out if both parties want to work it out.” Her hand was still resting on his arm, and now she squeezed it a little. “So, the first thing to establish is, do you want to forgive Jim?”

He nodded, wiping his eyes again.

“Then we can work on that.” She smiled reassuringly. “But there are other issues we need to consider. In our last session you told me that you hadn't talked to Jim about your memories of being abused. Have you talked to him since then?”

Immediately, his heart began to pound, and he knew he didn't need to answer. It must have been obvious from his face.

“Blair…” Laura sighed. “Things like this – things that remain unspoken – create a barrier to communication. Think of these issues as having a physical form and just picture those things standing between you and Jim. You can't get past them to touch Jim, or he you. If the barriers remain, then eventually one of you will give up. And every time something new happens that you can't talk about, it just adds to that barrier.”

“What if I talk to Jim and he can't handle it?” His voice was shaking and he hated the sound of it – weak, pathetic… he never used to be like that. He'd survived all the crap Naomi's boyfriends had dealt him. He'd lived on the street for three years and managed okay. Now he was snivelling like some helpless little kid.

“That will depend on Jim. All you can do is to work on your own issues. And trust Jim.” Laura smiled at his incredulous reaction. “You've said in recent sessions that you don't believe Jim trusts you, but how much do you trust him? Do you trust him to believe that you were just a frightened child trying to control a situation you couldn't possibly understand? Do you trust him to love you no matter what shameful things you might have done in the past?”

“I… I don't know any more.” Blair blinked back more tears. “I want to, but…”

“Then let me help you. And, Blair… if Jim does have a problem accepting some of your past, then I can help with that too. If you want to have sessions together with Jim, then I can arrange that.”

He couldn't help a watery laugh. “You don't know Jim. He hates that kind of stuff.”

Laura grinned. “I know. But he'll do it. For you.”

Next (and last) post: May 2^nd

Part 25 - Tuesday April 28th 1992

Fri, 28 Apr 2006 02:58:50 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim wraps up the case

“You're out of your mind.” Monique Brackley was wearing black this morning, and looked like she hadn't slept. Last night she'd gone to the hospital around three and hadn't left until nearly seven o'clock. It looked like she'd got the inheritance she wanted. Pity that she was about to lose it almost immediately.

“Really.” Jim leaned on the desk, his face carefully neutral. “Sanford Dent warned you that Pendergrast found out about the new will. So you had no choice but to get him out of the way.”

Monique shook her head; so completely calm that Jim could almost believe that she had a clear conscience. Or none at all. “No, you don't understand. That's not the way it was.”

“Then how was it?” He heard the rustle of clothes as Brown shifted uneasily behind him. Banks had insisted that he take the other cop as backup.

“Warren was a prudent man. He knew that he was dying. He was angry at Philip. He thought that he was... playing some kind of a prank.” Monique's eyes shifted from his, to Brown's, and back again. “Look, my husband just wanted to make sure that everything would be taken care of if he died.”

“And you were going to take care of it very well, weren't you? It's unfortunate you're going to have to lose it all.” He dangled a set of keys from his forefinger. “Dent's keys to his safety deposit box – they were in the briefcase. And in his box, there was a letter, kind of an insurance policy. In the event that he died. You see, I guess he suspected that you'd try to kill him.”

At last the calm facade slipped. “Look... maybe we could cut some kind of a deal.”

“Deal, huh?” Jim chuckled softly, glancing back at Brown. “For the murder of a cop? We hang people in this state for that.” He met her eyes calmly. “I'd pull the trap door release if I could.”

“Okay, well then, at least let me tell you what really happened!”

He had her now. Monique slipped out of the chair, pacing nervously as Jim turned to face her. “I'm all ears.”

“'Cause I didn't kill them. I mean, how could I have lifted a body into the trunk all by myself?” Her voice sharpened urgently. “You see, it was Art. He shot them both. We're… we were lovers. He's very ambitious. He came up from nothing. He had to have it all. My husband was very old and very sick. I was weak. I went along.”

She flinched as the door slammed open and Art Landis came into the office. “Bull! The kidnapping was her idea. So was killing Dent.”

Jim glanced at Brown, then turned his attention to Landis. “But you did the dirty work.”

“Yeah, I admit it.” Landis' surly expression hardened. “I did the job on Dent's car, but Monique set him up. Told him she'd up his stock options if he gave her the original wills. That's how she kept him quiet.”

“You're a lowlife.” Jim smiled at the sneer in Monique's voice. These two were hardly love's young dream.

“Yeah, well...if this lowlife's going down, he's taking you with him.” Without any warning, Landis reached behind him and pulled a gun out of his waistband. He brought it up immediately, ready to fire.

Jim grabbed Monique and dragged her to the floor as Landis fired. Brown was crouched beside the wall, his gun drawn, but Landis was already running out of the office.

“Keep an eye on her.” Jim hesitated long enough to get Brown's acknowledgement, and then went after Landis.

It wasn't difficult to follow his trail, but the wild shots that Landis took meant that Jim had to dive for cover several times. It wasn't so bad while they were in the lumberyard itself, but when they got close to the water it was a lot more open. Diving into the boardwalk to avoid more gunfire, Jim lost his gun.

There was no time to hesitate; Landis was heading, Jim now saw, for a jet boat moored at the end of a low jetty. He turned to fire once more, but the gun was out of ammo. Landis tossed it aside and reached for the mooring ropes. It gave Jim the time he needed to catch up and grab Landis' shoulder, pulling him away from the boat.

Not surprisingly, Landis wasn't about to surrender without a fight. He swung at Jim with more anger and determination than skill and although Jim blocked the blows easily enough Landis refused to give in. It was only when a roundhouse punch from Jim knocked Landis into the water that he finally accepted defeat.

***

Blair was sleeping when Jim came in. He'd dropped by a couple of times during the day, but Blair had been sleeping then, too, mostly due to the painkillers and anti-inflammatories, the nurses had told him. This time, Jim could afford to wait. Monique and Landis had each been eager to implicate the other as much as possible, and had told Jim all he needed to know. Dive teams were searching for Jack's car in the river. Other than that, the case was over, except for the paperwork, and he'd already told Banks that it could wait another day. Banks was too pleased about Jack being cleared to argue the point with him.

He relaxed a little, even in the uncomfortable hospital chair, tired but still strung out from the case and knowing that what he had to tell Blair about it would hit the kid hard. Until that was over, he couldn't truly put the whole thing behind him.

Jim watched Blair's still face, noticing the shadows under his eyes, the faint hollows in his cheeks clearly for the first time. He'd been so wrapped up in the case that he hadn't really been seeing Blair at all. It was obvious now that he'd been sliding backwards for a while – losing weight, probably not sleeping too well, as well as the changes in his behaviour that Jim had detected. He really ought to talk to Laura about it and see if she had any suggestions on how to remedy the damage to their relationship. He looked so goddamned young.

When Blair stirred and opened his eyes, Jim straightened in his chair, feeling like he was a condemned man on his way to the gallows. He returned Blair's sleepy smile with a forced curve of his lips. “Hey, Chief. How're you feeling?”

“Pretty sore.” Blair yawned widely. “They won't let me move around, but it hurts when I do, so I don't mind so much. I wish they'd let me use the toilet, though.”

Jim grinned sympathetically. “The bedpan routine, huh? Well, if you don't want to risk another dislocation, Chief, you need to let those muscles settle back into place. Want me to adjust the bed for you?”

“Oh yeah. Man, I am so sick of looking at the ceiling. Could you bring my books in? I'll write up a list of the ones I need.” Blair settled in his new position with a wince. “Did you find that guy? Dent?”

“Yeah.” Jim kissed him gently on the mouth and got an enthusiastic response. “He ran off the road and was killed, but he had papers in his briefcase that told me all I needed to know.” He paused, steeling himself to tell Blair the rest of the story. “The case is closed.”

Blair stilled, his eyes searching Jim's face. “Jack? Is he… dead?”

“Yeah. His car was dumped in the river. We've got dive teams searching for the bodies now – Jack's and Philip Brackley's.” He took hold of Blair's hand as his lover blinked a couple of times, forcing back the moisture in his eyes. “It was Brackley's wife, and Art Landis – they were having an affair. They wanted to get rid of Philip so Monique would inherit everything when Brackley died.”

“Trouble was, Brackley made a new Will after Philip disappeared leaving everything to Monique, but only if Philip didn't turn up for seven years. Dent figured it out and told Monique about Jack's visit and she and Landis cooked up the plan to get rid of Jack and Philip.”

“Have they confessed?” Blair's fingers twisted in his, tangling together in mutual comfort. “Is it over?”

“Yeah.” Jim shrugged. “They'll both probably change their tune, but we've got them on record. Blair, there's more… I don't know how to tell you this…”

“What?” Blair's eyes widened and his tongue brushed nervously across his lips. Jim could hear his heartbeat accelerate.

“Landis knew about Philip's thing for street kids. On a hunch I took a photo of Landis down to the kids where you used to hang out.” Jim tightened his grip on Blair's hand. “I talked to that kid you told me about.”

“Rico?”

“Yeah, Rico… Chief, I'm sorry… he identified Landis as the man he saw Jimmy with the day he disappeared. I think Landis must have followed me there and decided that maybe Jimmy knew something. They grabbed Philip on his way down there; maybe they thought Jimmy was the kid he was going to meet.”

He watched helplessly as Blair closed his eyes and turned his face away. His fingers tightened painfully on Jim's, but he didn't speak. He knew what Blair must be thinking – if he'd only followed procedure and told Jack what he'd known about Philip Brackley, both Jack and Jimmy might still be alive. Or maybe not, but he'd never know, now. “Blair…”

“Don't! Don't say it, Jim.” Blair pulled his hand away. “Fuck, I can't… can't get my head around it. Not yet.”

“All right.” Jim forced himself out of the chair. “I'll let you rest, okay? I'll bring in your clothes and books tomorrow.”

Blair nodded listlessly. “Yeah, thanks.”

Jim thought about kissing Blair goodbye, but he didn't think Blair would want that right now. He cleared his throat uneasily. “I'm going to be busy as hell for the next few days… I might not be able to get in here to see you very much.”

Immediately, Blair's eyes turned to meet his. He stared at Jim for several seconds, his face studiously blank. Then he nodded, lowering his eyes. “Okay.”

He hated this awkwardness, but didn't know how to break through it. He hesitated beside the bed a moment longer, then bent over to cup the side of Blair's head with one hand and kiss him lightly on the temple. “Take it easy, Blair. You need to rest.”

“Don't really have much choice,” Blair grumbled. “Can you call Laura and tell her I won't be in on Thursday?”

“Sure.” He leaned over again and this time kissed Blair lightly on the mouth.

Next post: April 30^th

Part 24 - Monday April 27th 1992

Thu, 27 Apr 2006 06:48:54 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim and Blair go to visit Sanford Dent

Jim parked his truck on the street outside Dent's house, still not entirely sure that bringing Blair along was a good idea. There wasn't any reason why he should have to use his senses, but Blair had insisted and after last week's problems, Jim had reluctantly agreed.

But when Blair hopped out of the passenger side, obviously intent on coming inside with him, Jim frowned. “Stay here. I shouldn't be long.”

“Aw, Jim…” But Blair stopped when Jim held his hand up.

“Look, I don't have a lot to go on here. I need to get Dent's confidence and I need everything to be watertight, okay? Having a civilian around could jeopardise it all.”

Blair shrugged unhappily, but turned back towards the truck. With a faint grin, Jim started up the long driveway. He'd make it up to Blair tonight. He owed the kid big time, after all.

As he rounded the curve of the driveway, Jim saw Dent opening the door of his car and picked up his pace. “Mr Dent! Can I have a word with you, sir?”

A look of panic flashed across the fleshy features and Dent bundled himself hurriedly into the car. Jim picked up his pace, but it was too late. Dent's dark red sedan swerved past him and, as Jim was debating whether he'd be justified in pulling his weapon, the car seemed to leap ahead as it reached the end of the driveway.

It all happened so fast after that. Jim saw the car swerve again, saw Blair's figure go flying to land hard on the pavement, and heard the squeal of tyres as the car disappeared onto Roberts Road.

Before Blair had hit the ground Jim was already running, yelling his name. The next few seconds were among the longest of his life. Blair was lying on his side, looking stunned. As Jim reached his side, he rolled onto his back and screamed. And kept on screaming.

“Blair!” Jim dropped to his knees, holding the writhing body by the shoulders. A quick glance down Blair's body showed no blood, but the unnatural angle of his left leg told him all he needed to know. “Blair, you have to keep still.”

His lover screamed again, then dragged in a sobbing breath. “Ah god, Jim, it hurts! Jim… Jim, it hurts...” Tears flooded out the corners of his eyes and he grabbed at Jim's arm with desperate clutching fingers. “Make it stop… oh god…”

“Shh… try to keep still. Your hip's dislocated, okay? You need to lie still.” He looked back towards the house where a woman – Dent's wife? His housekeeper? – was standing in the open doorway. He called to her, his voice hoarse and shaking. “Call an ambulance!”

She disappeared back into the house, leaving the door open. Please god, let her be doing as he'd asked. He looked down again at Blair, feeling the tension shimmering in his body. His face was sickly white and it looked like he was going into shock. Jim placed one hand firmly over the hammering beat of Blair's heart, and fought for control. “Take it easy there, Chief. I've got you now.”

Blair moaned in agony. “Jim, you can fix it can't you? Oh god… I can't…”

“There's nothing I can do. Blair, you have to keep still, okay?” Jim leaned over his lover and stroked back a loose strand of hair from his face. “It's still going to hurt, but it'll help if you don't move.” He pulled off his jacket and laid it over Blair's torso. “I'm right here with you, and there's an ambulance coming.” He could hear it now, still too far away, but at least it was on its way.

“Jim…” Blair tried to sit up, reaching for him, and fell back with another agonised cry. It didn't seem as though much of what Jim had said was getting through to him. “Please… Jim, please…” his voice faded into weak sobs.

“Shh…” He leaned over Blair, slowly stroking his cheek. He could see his fingers trembling with the effort it took to stay calm and in control. He wanted to hold Blair, to ease the agony he knew his young lover was feeling, but there was nothing he could do except try to keep him still.

Unconsciously, he tracked the progress of the ambulance, willing it to go faster, but it seemed like an eternity before it finally pulled up.

Jim looked up as the first paramedic arrived. “It's a dislocated hip. We need to get him to the hospital.”

The paramedic hunkered down on Blair's other side, his eyes scanning the injury. “Okay. There's nothing we can do here. Steve! Bring over the gurney.”

“Jim?” It was weakness and shock rather than any lessening in the pain that had quietened Blair, but now he was looking up at Jim, frightened and tearful.

“It's okay, Blair.” He brushed his fingers over Blair's wet cheek. “We'll have you fixed up in no time. We just have to get you to the hospital first.”

The blue eyes widened in fear. He looked from Jim to the paramedic and then at the approaching Steve. “Jim… Jim, please… I don't want to…”

“Shh” He laid his fingertips across Blair's lips. “It'll be okay.”

But when the two men tried to lift him onto the gurney, Blair screamed again and began a panicked struggle. Jim tried to help, but it lasted only a moment before Blair went completely limp.

Steve shook his head. “Let's get this done before he comes round.”

It took only moments to lift Blair's unconscious body onto the gurney, strap him securely and stow him away inside the ambulance. Jim watched helplessly as the doors were shut and the ambulance moved away. Then he ran for the truck and followed as closely as he could.

At the hospital it was worse. Blair had come round and each tiny jolt or movement of the gurney made him cry out in pain. The last straw came when the ER nurses tried to lift Blair out of the gurney and on to an examining table. He started to struggle again, screaming, and they had to abandon the attempt.

“He needs to be sedated, dammit.” Jim caught Blair's tear streaked face between his hands. “Blair, listen to me. You have to lie still, you're only making this worse, okay?”

A shudder ran through Blair's body and he moaned in pain. “Jim…”

“I'm right here.” He brushed away tears from the pale cheeks. “Trust me, sweetheart. Just lie still.”

A doctor had arrived at last, and was talking quietly with one of the nurses. She nodded and left the cubicle. Jim straightened, meeting the doctor's eyes. “Detective Ellison? Are you this young man's guardian?”

“I'm his partner.” Jim frowned impatiently. “I'll sign whatever forms are necessary. Just get that leg back in place, okay?”

“We're working on it.” The doctor nodded coolly and stepped past him to examine Blair. “The anaesthetist is on his way. We'll also need x-rays. It'll take a while.”

“The longer it takes…”

“Det. Ellison, I know how to treat a dislocated hip.” The doctor looked up impatiently. “May I suggest you go fill out the admittance forms, and then get a coffee. This will take time.”

Jim glared at the older man, but reluctantly backed down. “You need to know that Blair is a recovering addict. He used heroin, but he's been clean for nearly a year now.”

“Thanks.” The doctor made a note on his chart. “Any other medical conditions?”

“No.” Jim touched Blair's hand one last time, squeezing it reassuringly. “It'll be okay, Chief. I'll just be outside.”

He went out to the nurse's station and began filling in the forms. It didn't take nearly long enough, and Jim couldn't keep from casting out his hearing to check on Blair's progress. He didn't dare push too far, knowing that Blair wouldn't be able to help him if he zoned or had another sensory spike, but he was able to listen in on the quiet instructions of the doctor, and to hear Blair's breathing and heartbeat settle as the pre-op medication released him from the pain.

It wasn't until he'd completed the forms and heard the orderlies wheel Blair down the hallway to the operating theatre that Jim realised he'd forgotten something crucial. Luckily, he had more than a passing acquaintance with the hospital and knew where to find the nearest public phone.

“Banks.”

“Sir, it's Ellison. I need an APB on Sanford Dent. Hit and run will do for now, but I'm pretty sure he's involved somehow in Jack's disappearance.” He gave the make and model of Dent's car and the partial license, which was all he'd had a chance to make out. “He turned left onto Roberts. That's the last I saw of him.”

He heard Banks scribbling the details down, then call out to McIlroy to get into his office, now. “And why aren't you on his tail?”

“He hit Blair with his car. Dislocated his knee and hip. I'm at the hospital now.”

“What the hell was that kid doing there?” Banks' voice was furious. “Didn't I tell you…”

“He was waiting out on the street, sir. Unfortunately, Dent took off when he saw me. And Blair…” he shivered slightly, remembering Blair's scream as initial shock wore off. “I don't think it's too serious, but he was in a lot of pain. I couldn't leave him.”

“No, I guess you couldn't.” He didn't need sentinel senses to hear Banks' sigh across the line. “Which hospital? I'd better come over.”

“Cascade General, sir, but you don't need to…”

Banks interrupted ruthlessly. “There's going to be hell to pay over this. The kid's a civilian for god's sakes. I'm damn sure going to make sure I know how deep in the shit this division's going to be.”

The call terminated with a decisive click, and Jim headed back towards the emergency room. He might not be able to stay with Blair, but he was damn well going to stay as close as he possibly could.

***

Banks found him still waiting for word on Blair's progress. He knew Blair would have had to been anaesthetised and treated with a muscle relaxant. The joints would have been packed with ice to stop the swelling, and x-rayed to check for bone damage and the position of the dislocation. It would take at least an hour, probably a lot more. Knowing that didn't make it any easier for him to wait.

The police captain strode down the hallway like a particularly tall, dark thundercloud, his coat billowing around his calves in the turbulence created by his determined gait. The scowl on his face promised an unpleasant interview, but Jim was too preoccupied with Blair's condition to really care about that prospect.

“How is he?”

Beneath the gruffness was a hint of concern. Jim wondered just how bad he looked. “Still in OR. It's standard procedure for this kind of dislocation.”

Banks relaxed a fraction. “There's no sign of Dent as yet. I've got half the cops in the city looking for him. Who is he and why were you after him?”

“I think he knows something about the Brackley case, sir.” Jim turned his head suddenly, as he heard the faint sound of Blair's heartbeat. “Sir, he's out…”

“Who? Brackley? Dent?” Then Banks' face stiffened as he realised Jim had to have been using his sentinel senses. “Oh.”

Jim was already heading towards the double doors when Banks' large hand caught hold of his arm. “I think you'd better wait here.”

“No, sir. I can't do that.” Without breaking stride, Jim pulled free just as the doors swung open to reveal Blair's doctor. He would have walked past the older man with no more than a glance, but a nurse came through behind him and together they blocked his passage.

“Detective, Blair's fine.” A hand pressed firmly against his chest made Jim pause for a moment. “He's still very drowsy and we're getting him into a bed before he comes too far out of the anaesthetic. Once he's settled you can see him.”

Relief hit him like a brick wall. Jim took a deep breath and let it out again, then nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” He still wanted to be at Blair's side right now, but he knew the doctor was only being reasonable. He gestured towards the window he'd been guarding for the last hour. “I'll be over there.”

Dr Giardino smiled and nodded. “It won't be long.” He continued on his way, heading in the direction of the waiting room, followed by the formidable looking nurse.

“So, Detective. Would you mind telling me why I've got half the force looking for this man?” Banks' voice was laced with irritation.

“Sir, Blair helped me…”

Banks flung up a hand. “Are you saying you've been passing details of a police investigation to a civilian?”

“No, sir. At least, no more than he already knew from being involved in the case.” Jim waited for Banks' face to calm before he continued. “He knew about Jack's call the night he disappeared. He helped me… you see, I was home when the call came, so he figured I must have heard it, even though I wasn't aware of it at the time, so…”

Banks looked resigned. “Is this another sentinel thing?”

“Yes, sir. Blair helped me to remember the message Jack left for me. He said he'd been to see Dent that morning… and I knew it must have something to do with the kidnapping. That's why we went to see Dent, and his behaviour… you've got to admit it's very suspicious. If nothing else, he was involved in a hit and run, sir.”

“Huh. Tread carefully, Jim. I got word over the weekend that Warren Brackley's in hospital and he's not expected to live much longer.” Banks thrust his fists into the pockets of his coat. “If this pans out… but you shouldn't have taken the kid with you. I know he's been helping you with this sentinel thing, but frankly, I think you should reconsider your situation here. There's the kid's past… his involvement with the victim of a crime we're investigating, and now this… I'm telling you I may not be able to protect you, or your secret, if too many questions get asked.”

“No.” It was pointless to argue, so Jim simply put every ounce of determination he possessed into that one word. He folded his arms over his chest for good measure.

Banks lips tightened. “Jim…”

“I won't do it.” Jim matched his captain's stony glare. Suddenly, he was sick of this argument; he had more important things on his mind – like finding Jack, and going to see Blair. It was time he put all this crap aside and concentrated on what really mattered. He took a deep breath and plunged on before he could think twice. “Blair's my lover. He's the most important person in my life and there's no way I'm dumping him for your convenience.”

“Your…” Banks' jaw dropped. Then he swallowed. “That kid? Jesus Christ, Ellison, you're old enough to be…”

“Oh, please… I'm not his father, and I certainly don't feel like one.” Jim smiled grimly. “Blair may be young, but you know his background. He grew up a long time ago, in all the things that matter.”

“You really love him?” The dark eyes scanned his face and Banks grunted. “D'you think he loves you? After all he's been through?”

“Blair's a survivor, sir. And, yes, I do believe he loves me.” He felt the rightness of it in his bones. He'd never been more certain of anything in his life.

“Well.” Banks shrugged irritatedly. “Don't think I'm accepting this, because I'm not. But if your mind's made up…”

“It is.”

“…then I'll back you up. It's not in my job description to provide relationship advice.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” Jim managed a faint smile. It appeared that the interview was over, because Banks turned away and left him there.

***

Dent was dead, killed when his car ran off the road. Banks had called Jim at the hospital to tell him the news, and by the time Jim had got to the scene, the paramedics had already left and the forensics team were swarming all over the place. He talked to the uniform who had called it in, and the lieutenant in charge of the scene, but it seemed likely that any information he could have hoped to get from Dent was now lost forever.

He was just about ready to give it up and return to the hospital – hopefully before Blair woke alone – when Carolyn Plummer came struggling up the bank from the crash site, unsteady even in her sensible, low-heeled shoes, with a briefcase in her hand. He stepped forward and held out a hand to help her up the last couple of steps over a crumbling ridge of disturbed earth.

“Thanks, Jim.” She smiled at him, easy in his company as always. They'd always worked well together, even after he'd had to make it clear to her that he wasn't interested in anything more than friendship. She'd accepted his excuse that he never dated on the job without comment and they'd continued to have coffee together occasionally. “Maybe there's something in here that can help with your case.”

“Are you allowed to give me this?” He raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Not that I'm not grateful, but…”

Carolyn shrugged. “This is a crime scene. The briefcase could contain relevant information.”

“Crime scene?” Automatically, he reached out and took the briefcase.

“Didn't anyone tell you?” She sighed sharply, impatient as always with any underling who failed to meet her exacting standards. “The brake lines were cut. Not right through, but just enough that the brake fluid would slowly drain out. This is officially a murder investigation.”

He looked down at the briefcase in his hands with grim satisfaction. Maybe something could be salvaged from this mess after all.

***

The light was fading when Blair woke, feeling groggy and sore. He turned his head toward the window in an instinctive attempt to find whatever daylight remained, and saw the outline of a man's head and shoulders silhouetted against the window.

“Jim?” his voice sounded as bad as he felt, and Blair swallowed thickly, trying to find whatever moisture he could to ease his throat.

“It's Banks.”

The gruff voice startled him for a moment, then a stab of fear had him pushing himself up onto his elbows, careless of the IV drip in the back of his hand. He gritted his teeth against the fierce pain that radiated from his hip and knee. “What's happened? Is Jim okay?”

Banks sat in the chair beside his bed, and it was just possible to make out his features. He didn't look happy, but then Blair had never seen him with any more positive an expression than grim determination. “He's fine. A call came in about the APB on Sanford Dent and he went to check it out.”

“Oh.” Blair lowered himself gingerly to rest against the pillows. The pain was easing to a throbbing ache, worse than the previous dull, nagging pain, but he could deal with it. He studied Banks, wondering what could have brought the man here. Not concern for his health, that was for sure. “So… what? You thought this would be a good time to talk me into leaving Jim?”

That didn't come out quite the way he'd intended, but still, Blair was pleased with the cool, angry tone of his voice.

Banks, however, just seemed surprised for a moment, then uncomfortable. “No.” He avoided meeting Blair's eyes. “Look, kid… Blair. It was never personal, all right? I never had anything against you, it's just… there's been a lot of talk in the department, about the two of you.”

“Jim is my friend.” A rush of anger mingled with the fear that maybe this would be the breaking point for Jim. “And you want him to kick me out of my home because people are talking about us? But then, why should you care about that, huh? I'm not your fucking problem.”

Banks leaned forward and put his hand firmly on Blair's arm. For a second, Blair froze, Banks was huge, and he was trapped in this bed, unable to move without pain. He heard Banks talking, but couldn't make out the words over the pounding of his heart.

“…you okay? Do you need a nurse?” Was that concern on Banks' face? Blair gulped down a breath and shook his head. Banks moved cautiously back to his chair. “Are you sure?”

“I'm okay.” He took another deep breath and forced his body to relax. “So why are you here?”

Banks began to look distinctly uncomfortable again. “Ellison told me you help him with these… abilities he has.”

“So, what do you want to know?” Banks seemed startled by his blunt question. “I mean, I don't have all the answers, but whatever I can tell you about Jim's abilities…” he shrugged. “Actually, I've been kinda worried about Jim. He needs someone with him who knows how to help with his senses.”

“Like Pendergrast?”

Blair nodded cautiously. Jim had never told him exactly what he'd said to Banks, and he didn't want any more trouble right now. “Jack could stop him from zoning. You know, when he was using his senses at a crime scene.”

Banks grunted irritably. “How good are these… abilities?”

“Honestly? I don't really know what his limits are.” Blair grinned weakly. “Jim doesn't exactly cooperate, you know? I ran some tests I found that are used for perfume makers and people like that, and he aced those. I'm gonna take more psych classes next semester, so maybe I'll be able to find new ways to test him.”

“This sentinel business really complicates things.” Banks glanced away towards the window, then back again. “The less I know about it the better. The less anyone knows about it…”

“You think I'm gonna go telling people?” Blair interrupted hotly. “I've known about this longer than anyone. Even Jack. I haven't told anyone.””

Banks shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I'm not implying…” he met Blair's frankly sceptical stare and cleared his throat. “Okay, so I might have been thinking it. I'm sorry. I know Jim trusts you and he's a good man. I trust his judgement. Most of the time.”

Blair laughed reluctantly. Seeing anything from Banks' perspective felt weird. “I know what you mean.”

***

Jim closed the last file and sighed. He had enough now to request an arrest warrant for Monique Brackley, but it was late and the chances of finding a willing judge at this time of the night were slim. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. It was unlikely that Monique would run, but he wouldn't rest easily until he had her in custody.

He glanced over at Banks' office, not surprised to see the lights still on. Stifling a groan at his stiffness, Jim dragged himself to his feet and walked over to the door, knocking briefly before opening it.

“Well?” Banks looked as tired as Jim felt. He knew that somehow Banks had managed to convince the Board that there was new evidence in the Brackley case that would take the heat off him, and that was the only reason he was still working the case. Banks had probably been wondering all day whether he'd risked his career for nothing.

Jim leaned against the doorframe. “Sir, I found some documents in Dent's briefcase. I know who killed Jack and I finally have the proof.”

Banks frown deepened. “What proof?”

“Warren Brackley's will – actually there's two of them.” Jin shook his head slightly, trying to string the facts into a coherent whole. “One was drawn up right after he married Monique, which left everything to his son Philip and practically nothing to her. And this newer one drawn up a couple days after Philip disappeared, which left everything to Monique. But there's one codicil. Philip had to remain missing for seven years for Monique to have full control of the assets.”

“So that's it.” Banks' face cleared magically, and he nodded.

“Jack had no idea he was walking into a trap but somehow he found out about the wills. That's why he went to see Sanford Dent that morning. Maybe asked too many questions.” Jim shrugged, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “So that night, Monique Brackley kills Jack and Philip Brackley, probably hides the bodies in Jack's car and dumps it somewhere.”

“She gets the ransom money, and the inheritance when Brackley dies.” Banks growled. “Well, with this information, we won't have any problem getting a warrant. Good work, Jim. Now go home and get some rest. We'll get a warrant first thing tomorrow morning.”

It was what Jim had expected, but he still didn't feel easy. “If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to stake out the Brackley house. I don't want to lose her now.”

Banks shook his head. “Go home, Jim. If you're that worried about it, I'll have an unmarked car keep the house under surveillance. It's going to be another long day tomorrow.”

Next post: April 28^th

Part 23 - Sunday April 26th

Wed, 26 Apr 2006 11:07:15 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Blair finds a way to help Jim.

Sunday morning Jim woke feeling better than he had in a long time. He'd slept a lot the day before, catching up on badly needed rest. In the afternoon, Blair had driven them both out to Hillsborough Park and they'd walked along some of the quieter paths, just relaxing. When they got home, he'd played some weird music that Naomi had left behind and tried to get Jim to do something he called a visualisation. Whatever it was, Jim felt better, and he'd slept soundly last night for the first time in weeks.

He felt calmer, clearer, and more importantly, more in control than he had in months. It shouldn't surprise him, he thought, as he showered; Blair had always been able to keep him on track, sentinel-wise, in a way Jack had never been able to come close to. Which was probably just as well. He couldn't see Jack being willing to cuddle up to him skin to skin. Or Banks, for that matter.

He said as much while he downed his coffee and toasted bagel, and received a brilliant grin from Blair. “Actually, I've been thinking about that, Jim. D'you think I could get into the Academy?”

“The Police Academy?” Jim put his bagel down half eaten and swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. He hadn't seen this coming.

Blair nodded. “If I was a cop, I'd be able to be your partner. Right?”

“Not for a long while. I was a beat cop for nearly a year, and I made detective in record time.” Jim bit off a morsel of bagel and chewed cautiously. “Blair, you're barely nineteen. You should at least finish your degree before you think about something like that.”

Blair put his coffee mug down. “You don't think they'd accept me.”

Avoiding his accusing stare by taking a long swig of coffee, Jim's mind reached desperately for the most tactful answer he could find. “I think… that you should be very clear about why you want to do this. It's not that I don't appreciate… you know you could have a brilliant career. Your course advisor told me that you could be Dr Sandburg if you wanted to be. Why would you want to be a cop?”

“You're kidding, right?” Blair looked at him as though he was an idiot. “Jim… man, you're maybe the only sentinel – the only active sentinel – in the country. Working with you, figuring out how to use your senses, instead of just stopping them from screwing up your life… Jim, how the fuck could teaching at a university compare with something like that?”

“I don't know.” Jim rubbed his forehead in frustration. He could see this was going to go badly if he wasn't careful, and he was growing weary of the arguments and bad feelings between them. “I still think you should finish your degree. After all the press you got last year – not to mention the mess we're in now – it'll give you time to establish some credibility.”

“And I don't have that now.” Blair scowled, but seemed more annoyed at the situation than at Jim.

“Realistically? No.” He reached across to take Blair's hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “It's just too soon. In a couple of years…”

“But what are you going to do for the next couple of years? You need backup, man.” Blair turned his hand under Jim's and grasped it. “You can't wait two years, and if I can't do it, then someone else is gonna have to.”

“I don't know. Banks isn't happy about this… I don't think he wants to believe it.” Jim rubbed his forehead, where a dull ache was starting up again. “I just wish there was someone I could trust like I trusted Jack.”

***

The light was slowly dimming, and it suddenly seemed painfully symbolic. If he'd hoped to find an answer to the mystery of Jack's disappearance sometime this weekend, then he was fast running out of time. Tomorrow sometime, Banks would be forced to pull him off the case, and probably suspend him pending an investigation. Even if he was cleared, it was unlikely he'd ever be allowed to work on the Brackley case again. Banks had given up. The case would remain open, but it wouldn't be followed up unless something was handed to them on a platter.

If he was to be brutally honest with himself, Jim had to admit that he was close to giving up too. He didn't want to – would never forgive himself for failing his friend – but he hadn't made any progress on the case in weeks. Unless something changed soon, he would have to give up.

He went out onto the balcony to enjoy the last rays of sunlight, with a beer in his hand, and stared out over the city and harbour. Sometimes, he loved this city, felt it in a way that was almost visceral, but today it was simply the site of one of his greatest failures. He sighed and ran a hand over his hair, trying to push aside the frustration and grasp the elusive strands that seemed always just outside of his reach. It was by far the most aggravating aspect of the whole case that he knew there was something he was missing, overlooking. Something that would blow this whole case wide open, if only he could see it.

Blair joined him after a while, shivering in his thin sweater as the sun dropped below the horizon and the breeze grew sharper. Jim pulled him against his side and rested his cheek against the top of Blair's head, breathing in the comforting scent. For the first time he felt ready to say the words aloud. “I don't think I can keep this going much longer.”

Immediately Blair tensed. “What do you mean?”

“The case. I'm getting nowhere and Banks has just about had enough. If I can't get a breakthrough soon, he's going to make me drop it.”

“Can he do that? Close the case?” Blair relaxed, turning into his embrace and pressing up against his chest. He looked up at Jim, his brow furrowed in concern.

“He can't close the case until it's solved, but he can make it a low priority; effectively shelve it.” Jim sighed and nuzzled Blair's temple, just below the hairline. “I can't help feeling that I've got some information that I just can't… can't access.”

Blair looked up at him curiously. “That's possible, I guess. In Psych classes last semester we did some labs on memory and how we can store information without realising it. That's how hypnosis works – accessing memories that we don't consciously remember.”

“Could you do that? Hypnotise me?” It was a measure of his desperation that Jim was even willing to ask.

Blair shook his head emphatically. “No way, Jim. You have to know what you're doing, and I don't.” He hesitated, then said hopefully, “We could try meditation. I've guided you in that before, and it's a bit like hypnosis – more like self-hypnosis, I guess.”

“Okay. Let's do it.” He smiled at Blair's obvious surprise. Usually, he was reluctant to try anything like this, but he was just about going crazy with frustration. He released Blair and turned him towards the windows and back inside. “So, should I sit on the couch?”

Blair stared at him blankly. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Jim Ellison?”

“It's me all right, Chief.” Jim smiled grimly. “Now what do I do?”

***

“Come on… you know how to do this, Jim.” Blair pushed the hair back off his face, almost ready to punch something out of sheer frustration. It was nearly eleven o'clock and they'd been at this for hours. He was almost as exhausted as Jim. “You have to focus.”

Jim shook his head frustratedly. “I'm trying, okay? It's just… every time I get close…” he flushed and looked away.

“What, Jim?” Blair leaned closer. “If you don't tell me, I can't help you, can I?”

“I see… us. That night.” Jim avoided his eyes. “And I see Jack, and I…”

“Feel guilty?” Blair swallowed heavily. Was this what was going on between them? Did Jim feel guilty that they'd been making love while Jack was being murdered? Did Jim hate him for it? Blame him? He shook his head, trying to think clearly. Maybe if he could help with the case, Jim might be able to forgive him. “Look, I know it's hard, but it's okay to remember that stuff. Just let it go and move on. Whatever it is you're trying to remember, it must be about that night.”

Jim sat upright, his face full of shock. “The phone call. What else could it be?”

“Right! Oh man, how could we have missed that?” Blair started pacing, too excited to keep still. “You're a sentinel, for god's sake. Even if you weren't consciously aware of it, you could have easily heard the phone and Jack's message. Jim, you have to concentrate!”

Frowning, Jim leaned back into the couch and Blair perched on the arm, one hand on his shoulder. “Okay, just relax and listen for the sound of the phone. It's like any other time you want to hear something, you filter out everything else and listen for Jack's message. Just let it happen, Jim.”

Jim started taking slow, deep breaths, and the furrows in his forehead smoothed out a little. Blair could see his eyes moving beneath the closed lids, and feel the sudden tension. “It's okay to remember, Jim. Listen for Jack's voice. He wanted you to have that message. You need to hear it.”

Suddenly Jim's breathing stopped, then started again as Jim's eyes flew open. “Dent! Sanford Dent… my god…”

“Who?”

Jim grinned up at him, his face alight with relief. “Brackley's lawyer. We interviewed him, but he wasn't any help. But in the message, Jack said he'd seen Dent again that morning, and that he'd found something. That must be it.” He surged up out of the couch. “Tomorrow morning I'm going to have a talk with Mr Dent.”

Next post: April 27^th

Part 22 - Friday April 24th 1992

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 09:53:27 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim has trouble with his senses.

There was a message on his desk when Jim came back from lunch. He read it, and balled the paper in his fist with a sigh before tossing it in the trashcan. Then he walked over and knocked on Banks' door.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Come on in.” Simon motioned him to a chair. “Call came through an hour ago. The Board convenes again on Monday and they'll give their final recommendation then.”

“So… what? They're gonna hang me out to dry?” Jim gripped the arms of his chair tightly, too angry to say more.

“Honestly? I don't know.” Banks pulled a cigar out of his desk drawer and chomped down on the end but, thankfully, didn't light it. “I don't get it. Why don't you let her know where the fifty grand came from? That's one less thing she can hit you with.”

Jim turned his head away from Banks' stare. He wasn't sure whether Banks believed in him or not. “It wouldn't help, 'cause there's no record of the payment.”

“Why not?” Banks barked. “Look, Jim, there's something you're not telling me here! I need to hear it!”

“The money was...” Jim sighed, shifting restlessly. Even with the cigar unlit, the smell of it was making him nauseous. “The money was military back pay from when I was in Peru. It finally came through this month. I used it to pay off the mortgage.”

“So, what's the big secret?”

He supposed he had to trust somebody. Whether Banks could or would help him was debatable, but he had nothing left to lose. “I was involved with covert ops, you know, sworn to secrecy. The military would deny any knowledge of my involvement and there's no proof. All the records have been sealed and possibly destroyed, for all I know.”

Banks sighed, carefully putting away his cigar in the breast pocket of his jacket. “There's no way to prove where you got the money from?”

Jim nodded wearily. “That's right.” He endured Banks' long stare. Fuck, he could even taste that damned cigar now – like a metallic slime coating his tongue. He forced himself not to gag and swallowed heavily.

“Look, Jim, I'll protect you as much as possible. The money looks bad, even if they can't prove it came from Brackley's ransom.” He pushed back his chair and stood, and Jim scrambled to his feet, ignoring a wave of dizziness. It reminded him of the time his father had caught him with a cigarette and forced him to smoke the whole pack. He'd been sick for two days afterwards. “But there's a limit to… are you okay?”

Jim realised that the room was canting sideways, and maybe rotating at the same time. His mind couldn't make sense of it, and he looked to Banks, puzzled by the way the man's face seemed to shimmer. Then he felt his knees buckle.

He resurfaced to a painful cacophony of voices – Banks' deep, nasal bellow and Rhonda's usually soft tones, plus what seemed like a dozen others he couldn't immediately recognise. Jim opened his eyes and saw… the ceiling? Okay… he was lying on the floor.

“Simon.” Rhonda's voice cut across Banks'. “Jim's awake now.”

Jim pushed himself upright and the room swayed around him then settled, more or less. There was still a queasy rolling at the periphery of his vision. “Sorry, sir… I guess I…”

“Passed out?” Banks interjected caustically. He gestured with the phone receiver in his left hand. “Do you need an ambulance?”

“No, sir.” That was the last thing he needed.

Banks looked over at the doorway where several detectives were gathered and smiled sarcastically. “Thanks. You can go now.” The doorway cleared hurriedly.

Jim staggered to his feet and held onto the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. “I'm just a bit under the weath… sir, could you maybe put that cigar back in your drawer?” He clutched the chair back tighter, and struggled to hold back the nausea. “The smell…”

Rhonda was still half supporting him, and he smiled his thanks as he eased back into the chair. She patted his shoulder. “I'll get you a cup of water.”

“Thanks.” He met Banks' thunderous stare, relieved to see the cigar was gone. “I'm fine, really.”

“Right.” Banks' voice was laced with scepticism. “You're ten feet away and the smell of an unlit cigar is enough to make you pass out. Pull the other one, Jim.”

“I… uh, I… have a sensitive nose.” Jim glanced away uncomfortably. “You know, like the people who work for perfume companies?”

“This isn't the first time I've seen you acting strangely, Ellison. If you're taking drugs, tell me now and I'll help you.” Banks leaned across the desk. “But so help me, if you don't come clean and I find out later… I'll be first in the queue to kick your ass down six flights of stairs to the lobby. You understand me?”

“I understand, sir, and I'm not taking drugs.” He fell silent as Rhonda appeared in the doorway with the promised water. “Thanks, Rhonda.”

She smiled as she handed over the paper cup. “I've got aspirin in my desk, if you need any.”

“I'm fine, thanks.” He waited until she left, then turned back to Banks. The interruption had given him the chance for some quick thinking and he realised he was going to have to do what Blair had suggested a few weeks back – tell Banks about his senses, and hope his boss didn't think he was crazy, or lying. “You remember how I had to take time off last year, when I was in Vice, and none of the doctors could figure out what was wrong with me?”

“I remember.” Banks frowned. “You're getting sick again?”

“No, no… not at all.” Jim almost laughed in relief. “It's all perfectly natural. I just have these… hyperactive senses. But sometimes they backfire on me, like they were then. Blair figured things out – what was happening, why I was getting sick, and he helped me to get control over it all. Jack knew about them too, kind of helped me on the job. Since he's been gone, it's been a lot more difficult.”

“So that's why you let the kid hang around.” Banks nodded to himself as though that was the only part of the story that made sense. He shot a doubtful look at Jim. “Just how hyperactive are we talking here?”

“To be honest, sir, I really don't know. I can tell you what the two clerks who are out there waiting for the elevator are saying. When Schneider attacked Blair, I heard him yelling from the fourth floor.” Jim shrugged. “Sometimes it can get a bit overwhelming. I have to be careful with drugs too – just after Christmas I took some cold medicine and...”

“Okay.” Banks held his hand up. “I think that's all I want to hear right now. This is something we should keep under wraps for the time being.”

“I agree, sir.” Maybe Blair had been right after all. Or maybe Banks simply didn't believe him. At the moment he didn't really care, and if IA had their way, it probably wouldn't matter. He pushed himself out of the chair and staggered, still a little woozy. He was lucky not to spill the cup of water all over himself.

“Okay, I think you'd better take the rest of the day off.” Banks frowned as Jim opened his mouth to protest. “No argument, Jim, and don't come in over the weekend. We'll talk again on Monday.”

Jim nodded reluctantly. “All right, sir. I'll see you on Monday.” He walked unsteadily to the door, and closed it behind him. He was halfway to his desk when he heard Banks muttering, “hyperactive senses… what the hell next?”

His head whipped round, and he met Banks' startled eyes through the window

***

“Blair,” Dr Logan appeared in the doorway of the lab. “Your room mate's on the phone. He says it's urgent.”

“Thanks.” He almost dropped the stone spearhead he'd been labelling, in his haste to get to the phone. “Jim? Are you okay?”

“Blair?” Jim's voice sounded slurred, and Blair's heart began to race. “…senses… they're spiking…”

“Where are you?” Blair's fingers tightened on the receiver. “Jim, where are you?”

“Home. Blair… need help…”

“I'm on my way. Just lie down, okay? I won't be long.” He looked up to see Dr Logan's concerned face. “I've gotta go. It's an emergency.”

He heard Jim's voice whisper “Hurry, Chief…” and a sharp gasp before the connection was cut. Blair put the phone down and was shrugging out of his lab coat as he left the office. “I'm sorry. I'll make up the time later.”

“That's fine, Blair.” She touched his arm briefly as he passed. “I hope everything will be okay.”

“So do I.” He grabbed his backpack and jacket and headed for the door, too intent on getting home as fast as possible to care much about politeness. Out in the hallway, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and ran.

Five minutes to get to where he'd parked the Corvair. Another thirty to drive home, as office workers making an early start to the weekend clogged the roads. Blair cursed the fact that he'd driven to the university this morning – it would have been faster riding his bike. He found a park almost outside the loft and ran inside, leaving his backpack and everything behind in his haste. Took the stairs, two at a time – faster than the elevator would be – and burst through the door, gasping for breath.

Jim was sprawled on the couch, face down, one arm hanging over the edge. Blair couldn't see his face, but the tension of his body and the tiny shudders that shook him were signs enough that it was just as bad as he'd feared.

He went over, dropping to his knees beside the couch. “Jim?” He pitched his voice low and a soft as he could make it, but still Jim flinched. “I'm going to touch you now. Just try to get your dials low, okay?”

It seemed like Jim's head moved in a brief, affirmative nod, but he couldn't be sure. Carefully, Blair laid his hand on Jim's shoulder. When that didn't cause any obvious problem, he moved to the back of Jim's neck, laying his fingertips lightly on the sweat-slick skin. Jim always seemed to tolerate touch much more easily than any of the other senses, especially when they went out of control. Today was no exception. He moaned once then was silent.

“Jim, can you hear me?” Blair waited but there was no response. He swore under his breath. Jim hadn't been this far gone in a long time. It was always easier if he could follow instructions. Blair stroked the damp hair lightly for a few more seconds, then went to the closet and brought out one of the sheets.

“Okay, Jim, I'm going to turn you.” He laid the sheet over Jim and started to ease him onto his back. Luckily, something must have been getting through because Jim moaned again then tried to help. It was no easy matter to move someone as heavy as Jim when he was in this state, but together they managed to roll him onto his back with the sheet mostly under him.

He began to strip off Jim's clothes, pausing whenever Jim flinched or sounded like he was in pain. It took a long time, and Blair had to talk constantly, trying to focus Jim's attention on his voice. When it was finally done, Blair undressed himself and lay down beside Jim.

“Here. It's okay now, Jim. I'm right here.” He curled up against Jim's side, trying to get as much contact with him as possible. He turned Jim's face towards him, stroking the tense cheek. “You can smell me, right? Just shut out everything else; all that you can feel or hear is me. It's all right. Everything's going to be fine.”

Slowly, Jim began to turn towards him and Blair encouraged him, pulling him around until, eventually, Jim was lying on his side, his hand lying over Blair's heart, his face pressed into the side of Blair's throat. “Can you feel my heartbeat, Jim? Can you hear me? It's okay, man. Just let everything else go.”

Eventually Jim relaxed into sleep, breathing easily and with no sign of being in pain. Blair waited a few minutes longer, then eased away from him. He pulled the sheet around Jim's body and laid the throw rug over it, then sat on the edge of the couch watching for a while. When Jim showed no sign of distress, he pulled his shirt and jeans back on and went into the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

About half an hour later, Jim woke, looking tired but no longer in pain. Blair smiled. “Hey. Want some coffee? I could use another one.”

Jim pushed himself up on one elbow, confusion giving way to resignation as he registered his naked state. “I think I could use a strong coffee around now.”

Blair grinned and went into the kitchen. While the coffee was brewing he glanced across to the couch to see Jim pulling on his shirt. He was moving slowly and with a bit of hesitation, but seemed to be okay. “You know what set this off? You haven't had trouble like this in… well, ages.”

There was a distinct pause before Jim spoke. “It looks like I'm going to be on suspension from Monday. Banks called me into his office to tell me, and one of his damned cigars just about made me sick. I blacked out in his office.”

“What? You never said you had a problem with them before.” He brought the two mugs over to the couch and sat on it with his legs crossed, facing Jim. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Jim sipped the coffee and sighed. “I don't know. It was almost… it felt like I'd had too much nicotine. Kind of buzzed… like I was high. Then I was on the floor.”

“Huh. Maybe your body was reacting to the cigars… only magnified, like, a hundred times.” Blair frowned, wondering if that was even possible. He wished that Burton's monologue had more actual, useful information on how to look after a sentinel.

Jim shrugged. “Could be. Anyway, when I came out of it, I told him,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “About the sentinel thing.”

Blair blinked; that was the last thing he'd expected to hear. “You told him? Did he freak out?”

“I'm not sure that he believed me.” Jim shrugged and took another swallow of coffee. “He thought I was taking drugs.”

“You?” He grinned. “Mr Boy Scout?”

“Hey, I'll have you know I was considered a pretty mean son of a bitch when I was in Vice.” Jim grinned too, looking more relaxed than he had in a long time. “But I think I convinced him.”

“You think he'll help you?”

“Maybe. He wasn't too happy about it.” Jim looked away, towards the windows and Blair saw a muscle jump in his jaw. “After Monday, it probably won't matter, anyway.”

“Jim, you're not gonna give up, are you?” He was beginning to see what might have caused Jim's collapse. He didn't deal too well with failure – the cases he and Jack hadn't solved were the ones that haunted him, and being taken off the case would have to be a big deal to Jim.

“Come Monday, I'm not gonna have much of a choice, Chief.” Jim turned his head away, a telltale muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he yawned. “I'm going upstairs. Make an early night of it.”

Significantly, he didn't invite Blair to join him, and Blair watched in silence as Jim rose to his feet, stretched and walked away.

Next post: April 26^th

Part 21 - Tuesday April 21st 1992

Fri, 21 Apr 2006 12:17:18 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Blair becomes involved in the investigation

“We really appreciate your cooperation on this, Blair. Especially at such short notice.” Sheila Irwin smiled unconvincingly. “Please, take a seat.”

Blair dropped into the uncomfortable wooden chair and shrugged as casually as he could. The call from Irwin had taken him by surprise and he'd had no chance to talk to Jim about why IA would want to interview him about the Brackley case. The brief glimpse he'd had of Jim in the hallway had done little to help his nervousness.

He suspected Jim would be watching the proceedings from the observation room, and took care not to glance at the two-way mirror. “There isn't a whole lot I can tell you. Jim doesn't exactly discuss his cases with me.”

Her smile didn't waver. “You'd met Jack Pendergrast, though, hadn't you?”

“Sure. A few times.” He knew, from his experience in the witness stand, that they were easing into this, trying to make him think it was all going to be sweetness and light. After the last time he was here, he wondered why they were even bothering. Did they think he'd have forgotten the way they'd treated him? Blair shared his smile between Irwin and the guy who sat beside her – Aldiss, his name was, like the writer. “He's been to Jim's place a few times. I met him then.”

“You didn't socialise with him apart from that?”

Blair shook his head. “We didn't exactly have a lot in common.”

“Not like you and Ellison.”

So Aldiss was going to be the bad cop. Blair carefully didn't react to the snide remark. “Jim lets me live with him so I don't have to spend my grants on rent. Besides, there's a lot more to Jim than meets the eye.”

“Really?” Irwin exchanged a look with Aldiss. “In what way?”

Blair launched happily into an exposition on Jim's many interesting points. It would have been fun to give them the uncensored version, but Jim would kill him. “…and, of course, he spent that time in Peru. I'm studying anthropology, so…” he stopped as Irwin held up a hand.

“Have you ever seen Jim Ellison or Jack Pendergrast take a bribe?”

“What? No!” Blair shook his head vehemently. “Never.”

“Did Ellison ever discuss the Brackley kidnapping with you?” Aldiss snapped the question out. They were deliberately trying to rattle him now.

“Not really. He mentioned it once or twice, but he never gave me any details.” Blair looked down at his hands and up again. He looked straight at Sheila Irwin. “Jim's a good cop. He hasn't done anything wrong. Neither has Jack.”

Her lips tightened in annoyance. “Then how would you explain the fact that Ellison paid off his fifty thousand dollar mortgage less than two weeks ago?”

“He did what?” Blair stared at her in bewilderment. Where the hell had that come from?

“You didn't know about it?” She pushed a photocopied document over to him.

Blair stared down at the paper in stunned disbelief. Jim had said nothing to him about it. Fifty thousand dollars, and he hadn't even known it existed. He could feel his forehead furrowing as he tried to think of something to say, or find some reason why Jim would have decided not to tell him about it.

“Blair?” There was poorly concealed triumph in her voice. She must be thinking she'd found the weak point in Jim's defences.

Blair pressed his lips together and stared past her into the mirror. When he spoke, it was to Jim the words were directed. “Why should he tell me about it? I'm just his roommate.”

They were both clearly confused by the tone of his response. Aldiss scowled. “You don't know how he got the money?”

“It's none of my business. Why should I know?” Determinedly, he met her gaze. He wasn't going to back down for her, no matter how pissed he was at Jim.

“All right.” Irwin scribbled something on her notepad. “Can you account for Ellison's actions on the night of March nineteenth? The night Jack Pendergrast disappeared?”

“It was the night before my birthday. Jim took me to dinner to celebrate.” Blair had no trouble keeping a reminiscent smile off his face. He could feel his anger at Irwin's revelation simmering under the surface of his calm façade. “Afterwards we went home. That's about it.”

“Did you hear the phone ring a few minutes before ten?”

“No. I wish I had.” He felt the guilt again, that if Jim hadn't been making love to him, he would have answered the phone and Jack might still be alive. “I liked Jack. If we'd – Jim or I – heard the phone maybe Jack would still be alive.”

Irwin's eyes sharpened. “What makes you think he's dead, Blair? Did you help Ellison dispose of the body? He was asking about a body found in the river. Was that Pendergrast?”

“No! You've got it all wrong.” Blair stared at her in shock. They must have been investigating Jim for a lot longer than he'd realised. “He was trying to find out what happened to a kid I knew on the street. It was Jimmy's body that was found in the river. I just know that if Jack were alive, he'd never have stayed away so long. He would have been here.”

“You don't think a million bucks is a good enough reason to go into hiding?” Aldiss smirked. “What would you do if you'd had the chance?”

“I wouldn't leave Jim to take all this shit from you, and neither would Jack.” Blair stood up, nearly toppling his chair in the process. “If you don't have any worthwhile questions, I'm gonna leave now.”

“You'll leave when…” Aldiss stopped when Irwin put her hand on his arm.

“Thank you for your time, Blair.” Her smile was no more convincing than before. “We may want to talk to you again later.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Throwing a quick glance in the direction of the two-way mirror, Blair left.

***

By the time Jim intercepted Blair he'd already reached the elevator. The kid threw him a fulminating glance, but said nothing as the doors opened and two women stepped out, too busy chatting to notice the tension between them.

As Blair reached for the Lobby button, Jim caught his hand briefly. “I'll walk you to your car.”

“You don't have to.”

“I want to talk to you.”

That earned him a smouldering glance. “Why? You got something you want to tell me?”

“Look… Blair, I just…” he ran a hand over his hair, fighting the frustration that rose all too easily these days, “I've got a lot on my mind, you know that.”

Blair didn't reply, and then the doors were opening onto the lobby and there were at least five people within earshot. Jim sighed and followed Blair across the lobby to the outside doors. “Where are you parked?”

“That way.” Blair inclined his chin to the left. “Just around the corner.”

They turned in the direction indicated, and Jim brushed his hand over Blair's back, letting it come to rest in the curve of his lower back. Blair shot him an annoyed glance, but didn't move away or openly object.

There were still far too many people around to be able to talk with any hope of privacy, so when they reached Blair's Corvair, Jim moved to the passenger door. Blair stared at him across the roof of the car. “I have to get to the university, man. Can't this wait?”

It was a tempting prospect. Jim certainly wasn't spoiling for a fight, even if Blair so obviously was. He shook his head. “Give me your best shot.”

“Why should I?” Blair shrugged irritatedly. “Like I said, it's none of my business. It's your money.”

“So why are you pissed at me, Chief?” Jim's reasonable tone, as he knew it would, only fanned the flames, but at least it might get Blair talking. Blair shot him a furious look and clambered into the car, then leaned across to unlock the passenger door. Jim settled himself before turning his head to inspect his lover. “I should have told you about it. I'm sorry. I got a call about it the day I found out about Jimmy, and it just slipped my mind.”

Blair's face went blank for a moment, and Jim felt a surge of regret. He knew Blair was still feeling guilty over Jimmy's death; but Blair recovered quickly, his sensual mouth tightening. “It must have slipped a long way, then. That was ten days ago.”

“I forgot about it.” Jim offered the excuse, knowing how weak this sounded. The fact was, he'd pushed it to the back of his mind deliberately; he hadn't liked the manner of his caller and would rather not have to remember the reason he was owed the back pay. “When the money went into my bank account, I just thought the best thing to do with it was to pay off the mortgage. It isn't exactly a good time to go flashing money around.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” Blair's voice was unusually dry. “You could have told me. Dammit, Jim, you heard what went down in there. You could have warned me. What were you afraid of? Did you think I'd expect you to give me some of it?”

“No! I mean… fuck!” Jim punched the dashboard in frustration. “It wasn't like that. God, you know… you must know that – the money – isn't important. I just… I should have told you. If I'd known you were going to be questioned… and they never mentioned it in my interview. I guess they must have only found out about it in the last couple of days.”

It wasn't the kind of answer that Blair was going to accept, and he knew it. Blair had every right to be angry with him, and he couldn't explain, even to himself, how he could have been so stupid.

The silence stretched out between them, full of unspoken anger. Finally Blair stirred and looked across at Jim. “It doesn't matter, though. Right? I mean, you can tell them where you got the money.”

“No. I can't.” Jim cursed under his breath as Blair's eyes narrowed. “The back pay was from the time I spent in Peru. I can't tell IA about it. Even if I did, there'd be nobody in the military who'd back up my story.”

“Jim, everybody knows about your time in Peru. You were on the cover of a magazine, for fuck's sake!” Blair shook his head incredulously. “Stop lying to me, man.”

“I mean it. That story was… sanitised, okay? Sure, everyone knows I was stationed in Peru, but the covert ops side of it… that's classified, okay?” Jim caught hold of Blair's shoulder, his fingers squeezing urgently. More than anything, he needed Blair to believe in him. “That article… the Army wanted a 'hero of the week' story to make them look good. The stuff I was really involved in… nobody's going to back me up here.”

“So all that stuff you told me about Peru was just bullshit?”

“No. I never lied to you, Chief, I swear it. I may have left some things out, but…”

Blair looked away. “You're good at that, aren't you? Like you left out the little detail about your brother living in Cascade.” He sighed, and Jim had never heard such a defeated sound from Blair before. “How many other things have you left out, Jim? Sometimes I wonder if I know you at all.”

“Look, Blair… if I don't tell you things, it's because they're not important.”

“Like your brother?” Blair's laugh was sharp with anger. “That's not important?”

“I told you. I hadn't seen Stephen, or my father, in years…”

Blair's head snapped round. “Your father? Don't tell me he's in Cascade too.”

“I grew up here. Of course he is.” Too late, Jim realised he was only getting himself deeper in the shit. “Blair…”

The blue eyes were clenched shut. When Blair spoke it was in tones of deliberate calm. “Get out, Jim. I have to go to class, and I'm going to be late.”

It would probably do them both good to cool off a little, Jim decided. He opened the door. “We can talk about this tonight, okay? I'll tell you whatever I can, but some things are classified.”

Blair nodded and started the engine. The moment Jim had closed the door behind him the Corvair took off. Jim rubbed the back of his head tiredly as he turned back towards the PD.

***

Jim had fully intended to keep his word to Blair, but by late afternoon he'd been dragged into a drug bust gone wrong, and the fallout from that lasted well into the evening. He'd called and left a message for Blair during one of the few brief respites between interviews and interrogations. Even so, he hadn't expected to be arriving home at a quarter of midnight.

He didn't bother to turn any lights on until he reached the bathroom. Stripping off his clothes, he showered quickly and headed upstairs to join Blair. He hated the fights and misunderstandings that had become more common of late, and resolved that, come the morning, he'd talk to Blair. Maybe find time to take him out to dinner, or have a night in watching TV and eating take out. Just hanging together.

Meanwhile, Jim was more than happy to curl up against Blair and relax to the rhythmic beating of his heart. That beat, half heard, half felt, worked its usual magic, and Jim slowly relaxed. His cock tingled agreeably, nestled between the smooth cheeks of Blair's ass. Jim smiled and nuzzled the back of Blair's neck.

“Mmn… Jim?” Blair shifted sleepily, responding almost unconsciously to the pressure of Jim's erection.

“Sorry I was late.” Jim kissed his shoulder softly. “Want me to make it up to you?”

Blair turned in his arms, drawing back a little to look at him curiously. “You're in a good mood. Something happen?”

“Nope.” He inspected Blair's drowsy face, eyes squinting sleepily, hair sticking out all over the place. “Look, I'm sorry about today. But we hardly see each other for days at a time, and when we do…” when they did, they usually ended up arguing, but he didn't want to say that. “Anyway, I don't blame you for being pissed at me.”

“Okay.” Blair nodded. It wasn't exactly a wholehearted acceptance of his apology, but at least it signalled a truce, of sorts. “So… you're feeling horny, huh?” he reached for Jim's cock and palmed it briskly. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

Jim laughed breathlessly, relieved that the promise of sex could always put Blair in a better mood. Suddenly, heat poured through him, banishing the dejected weariness that had been dogging him for weeks, at least for the moment. It seemed Blair wasn't the only one whose temper could be improved that way. He pulled Blair urgently into his arms and nuzzled down the side of his throat, nipping and licking at the beard-roughened skin.

“Hey, man, don't mark me, okay?” Blair grinned lewdly. “I don't need any more smart ass comments at school.” He stroked Jim's cock with nimble fingers, coaxing it to aching hardness in a matter of seconds. “Yeah, you really want this. Want me to fuck you? Yeah, I thought so…”

It was Blair's complete assurance that turned him on as much as anything. Jim nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and pulled him down for a long kiss. But Blair pulled back far too soon. “On your back, Jim.”

He obeyed, heart already beating fast, sweat breaking out on his skin in anticipation. Blair's face was calm, almost serious as he pulled back the covers and stared down at his hand on Jim's erection. He lifted his eyes after a moment and met Jim's. “I'm gonna fuck you so hard, man.”

“Do it, Chief.” His cock twitched painfully in Blair's grasp. There was something almost predatory about Blair's expression and it sent apprehensive shivers through every muscle in his body.

Blair's eyes slid sideways and he leaned across Jim to the nightstand, retrieving the lube they kept there. His cock was just as hard as Jim's although neither of them had so much as touched it. He squeezed out a minimal amount and spread it over his cock. “No lube for you, man. I want you to feel it.”

Suiting his actions to the words, Blair moved swiftly to kneel between Jim's thighs, nudging them wider. He tossed the lube aside and grabbed a pillow to put under Jim's hips. “Every time you sit down tomorrow…” He pushed inside, kept pushing until Jim had taken the entire length of his cock. “…every time you move…” Slow, slow withdrawal, then he slammed back in. “every time you think of moving, you're gonna feel this.”

Jim groaned and lifted his hips to push into Blair's thrusts. His ass was already burning, and later he was going to really be feeling it, just as Blair had said. But right now the friction only added to his pleasure, creating something raw and primal between them that left him breathless; helpless in Blair's hands.

“You want this. You want me.” Blair leaned over him, sweating and intense, cock plunging into his body, with implacable precision. “Nobody else is ever gonna give you this, nobody… say it.”

“Nobody.” It was more a gasp than a word. “Only you, Blair.”

“Don't ever forget it.” Blair smiled. Not a pleasant smile, but one of triumph, of possession. Finally, he reached down and jerked Jim's cock with ruthless efficiency – once, twice – and Jim was coming with a howl, the relief so great he blacked out for a moment.

He faded back into consciousness, vaguely aware of Blair's body lying beside him, but it took a while to realise what Blair was doing. When he did, he rolled himself groggily onto his side and brushed his fingers along Blair's flexing bicep. “Want some help with that?”

Blair barely hesitated. “I think I can handle it.”

Nevertheless, Jim ran his hand lightly down Blair's ribs and over his hip. He carefully avoided Blair's hand and cupped his fingers lightly around the balls, hot and tight in their sac. “Sure about that?”

He noted with some satisfaction the hitch in Blair's breathing and leaned over to kiss his lower lip, swollen where Blair had been biting it. He licked across Blair's mouth and then slid his tongue inside as his fingers teased deftly behind Blair's balls. A little moan escaped Blair, and then he shuddered as the climax hit him.

Relaxing a little, Jim curled against Blair, wrapping his arms around him until he began to stir languorously. Then he pulled Blair against his chest, buried his face in the soft curls and just held him close, slowly caressing his back. He hadn't seen this side of Blair in months – nearly a year, in fact. The cool efficiency, the clinical, knowing touch… that was the hustler he'd taken off the streets, not his lover.

But, looking back over the last few weeks, he realised he should have noticed sooner. The hints had been there, just not as obviously as today; and it had started after Schneider's attack. Last year, he'd gone to Laura for advice, and it held true as much now as it had then. It would do no good to talk to Blair about this. Blair had long ago learned not to trust words. All he could do was to demonstrate that Blair was still loved, still safe. And hope that it would be enough.

Next post: April 24^th

Mon, 17 Apr 2006 09:43:51 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Internal Affairs gets involved in Jack's disappearance.

It was just his luck that Sheila Irwin was conducting this investigation too. Jim had got offside with her when she'd still been in Major Crime and he was the new kid on the block. Okay, so some of it – most of it, really – had been his fault, but she sure knew how to hold onto a grudge.

She smiled complacently, leaning against the wall of the interview room. “Where's Jack Pendergrast?”

Jim looked up at her, his face wiped clean of all expression. “I have no idea.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance. “Why are you protecting him?”

“I've had enough of this.” Jim pushed the chair back and stood. IA or not, she wasn't going to make Jack out to be rotten, not in front of him.

“Sit down, Detective!”

He eyed the DA's assistant, taking notes in the corner and hesitated. If he walked out, he'd only have to do this again some other time, and it wouldn't help clear Jack's name if he caught trouble for not co-operating. He dropped back into the chair and folded his arms across his chest.

Irwin glanced down at her notes. “On the evening of March 19th, Warren Brackley received a call from someone identifying himself as one of his son's kidnappers. During that call, he was told to be at a phone booth downtown at Sixth and Howard at ten o'clock with the money. They would call with instructions. Am I on track?”

Jim nodded. “I guess.”

“Good, good. We finally agree on something.” She smirked annoyingly before continuing. “Jack Pendergrast was with Warren Brackley at the time the call came in and agreed to deliver the money himself or with you. But according to Monique Brackley, you were impossible to locate that night. Pendergrast instructed the Brackleys to have you contact him by radio in his car if they should hear from you. Phone company records also show he tried to contact you from that phone booth at Sixth and Howard. The same records also show that he did manage to get through. You spoke for twenty-two seconds.”

He answered the accusation in her voice. “My answering machine wasn't working properly. Perhaps he left a message, but I never got it.”

“Never got it.” There was open scepticism in her voice.

“That's right.”

“Or perhaps you did. Then the two of you waited for the kidnappers and you killed them and Philip Brackley. Pendergrast left Cascade, but you stayed behind.”

“If I were guilty, why would I stay?” Jim tilted his chin challengingly. “I'd leave Cascade – disappear, like Jack has. You're not making any sense.”

“You have ties here. You have your apartment, your family…” she paused, disconcerted by his abrupt laugh.

“I haven't seen my family in years. I certainly wouldn't stay in Cascade because of them. And I could always sell the loft.” He allowed the contempt he felt to show. “Face it, you've got nothing on me, or Jack. There is nothing.”

Her frustration was all the confirmation he needed, and he watched her fume for a moment with grim satisfaction. “Are we done here?”

“For the moment.” She eyed him angrily. “But if you want to salvage your career...I suggest you start giving us something other than attitude.”

He threw her a sketchy, sarcastic salute as he left the interview room.

***

After the interview, Jim was too wired to settle down to wading through the piles of work on his desk. He had half a dozen open cases demanding his attention now, but only one he was interested in. The noise in the bullpen became increasingly irritating, and finally after snapping at Brown, completely unnecessarily, he muttered an apology and left.

Driving out of town seemed like a good idea, and he ended up at a beach where he'd surfed as a kid. Today it was deserted – too cold and not enough of a wave to tempt even the most optimistic surfers – and he walked for an hour or so, breathing in the freshness of the ozone and salt laden air with relief. The only sounds were the soft lapping of wavelets and the occasional cry of a seagull.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, he drove back to the loft and found Blair already home. For once, both of them were in a mellow enough mood to enjoy each other's company, and they moved through the routines of making and eating dinner, cleaning up afterwards in easy harmony. For a while it was possible to forget all his troubles.

They settled in front of the TV, with the sound turned low. Blair read for a while, making notes occasionally, then put the book aside and turned to Jim with a smile.

He knew that smile, was even relieved to see it – the last time they'd had sex had been the morning he'd told Blair about Jimmy, and that was something that still haunted him. But tonight he simply wasn't interested in making love, wasn't even sure he could. He took Blair into his arms all the same, and they kissed slowly, easily, until Blair made the expected move on him. He caught Blair's hand in a gentle but inescapable grip. “How about I do this, huh?”

Blair grinned. “Okay.”

Keeping it simple, he unbuttoned Blair's shirt and pushed up the t-shirt beneath to tease at his nipples, kissing and biting gently until they were rosy and swollen. Blair's breath was coming quickly, his chest rising and falling sharply. Jim smiled secretively and began to unbutton Blair's jeans, his fingers stroking lightly over the erection beneath the thick denim as he released the buttons with excruciating slowness.

By the time he'd finished his task, Blair was squirming with arousal and his cock leapt against Jim's hand, burning hot through the thin cotton of his boxers. Jim lowered his head and mouthed the thick shaft through the cloth, rubbing his face against it with real pleasure. Even if he wasn't in the mood himself, it always gave him satisfaction to see Blair's uninhibited response.

Jim slipped his hand into Blair's boxers and drew his cock out, already liberally anointed with precum, and with more beads of moisture gathering in the slit. He licked them away, slowly, carefully, probing the swollen slit with his tongue. Above his head, Blair sobbed, and his hips jerked involuntarily, bumping his cockhead against Jim's mouth.

Obligingly, he took it in, just the tip, and sucked delicately, knowing that Blair wanted more than that, wanted to thrust and come, to push against his tongue and the back of his throat. And he would… but not just yet.

He pulled back, grinning at Blair's disappointed groan. “Patience, Chief.” He wrapped his fingers lightly around the shaft and stroked it teasingly. “It's supposed to be a virtue.”

“Fuck virtue” Blair mumbled roughly. “Fuck… Jim… come on, man.”

Jim laughed and blew softly on the wet skin then, taking pity on his lover, took his cock deeply into his mouth. Above his head, Blair yelled with mingled pleasure and relief, and thrust upwards. This time Jim let him, relaxing his throat to take the whole length, but only for a couple of quick, jerky thrusts. Then he drew back, letting Blair's cock slip from between his lips.

Blair grumbled impatiently as he paused to unfasten his shorts and push the cloth down, but the complaints ceased when Jim licked slowly from his balls to the tip of his cock. And then did it again. Blair squirmed and muttered incoherently, but Jim ignored him. He sucked gently on the fragile sac and took first one ball into his mouth, then the other. Then both together, humming softly as he sucked. Blair sobbed, his untouched cock beating wetly against his belly.

When he felt he'd teased his lover sufficiently, Jim moved back to Blair's cock, finally taking it deep and allowing Blair to thrust to his heart's content. Blair grabbed his head, heedlessly fucking his mouth, but Jim made no attempt to control the pace. Instead, he gathered all his senses under the most rigid control and allowed Blair to do as he wished.

The slim hips bucked wildly between his hands while Blair groaned and sobbed, reaching for that one perfect moment… and suddenly found it, his cum filling Jim's throat. Then his body relaxed into total inertia – from sixty to zero in less than a second. Jim wiped his mouth with a careless hand, grinning.

***

It was a couple of minutes before Blair stirred, then he grinned at Jim, who was still fully dressed, hardly even mussed. “Man, that was great. What do you want me to do?”

He was already reaching for Jim, but once again, Jim caught hold of his hands. “I'm fine. It's been… a rough day. I'll pass for now, Chief.”

The smile abruptly left his face. It had been days, and Jim hardly ever made the first move any more. He was starting to wonder if Jim just wasn't interested any more. “What's wrong, Jim?”

Jim shook his head and the tired lines on his face deepened. “I had an interview with IA today. It was pretty aggressive. They've already made up their minds that Jack's run off with the ransom money.”

“Jack wouldn't do that.” Blair stared at Jim in dismay. “He wouldn't, Jim.”

“I know.” Another rare smile warmed Jim's face briefly. “But he's not here, and he's a convenient scapegoat. The trouble is… I am here and I'm Jack's partner, so…”

“They can't…” Blair stared at Jim, aghast. “Jim, they can't possibly think that you would steal a million dollars.”

“Can't they?” Jim laughed bitterly. “I'm not even sure Banks believes I didn't have anything to do with it. He sure as hell doesn't believe Jack's innocent.”

“Shit.” He sat up and started putting his clothes to rights. “Is this going to cause problems for you, Jim?”

“Maybe.” Jim shrugged. “They don't have any hard evidence to connect either me or Jack to the missing money. Hell, if there was evidence that Jack was dirty, I'm damn sure I would have found it.”

“So, you're okay.” He noticed that Jim didn't look as though he shared his relief.

“People get convicted on circumstantial evidence all the time.” Jim smiled wryly. “But they haven't got enough of that either. Not yet, at least.”

Blair finished buttoning his jeans and slid across the couch to lean against Jim. “They won't. You haven't done anything wrong.”

He wished he could believe it himself. But he'd heard too many stories from Naomi about the 'tyranny of the pigs' to be really sure.

Next post: April 21^st

Part 19 - Thursday April 16th 1992

Sun, 16 Apr 2006 09:23:00 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim gets a warning

It was never a good day that started with being called into Simon Banks' office. Not even when he offered a cup of his good coffee, the blend that only he got to drink. Jim sipped from his mug calmly and waited for the axe to fall.

Obviously, Banks had expected him to ask what was wrong. When no query was forthcoming, he frowned irritably. “I don't suppose you've made any progress on the Brackley case?”

“No, Sir.” It grated painfully to have to admit it, but he'd gotten nowhere in the last two weeks. Both Brackley and Jack could have disappeared off the face of the earth, so comprehensively had they disappeared.

Banks grunted. “Apparently IA have made their minds up about this case. They believe Jack absconded with the ransom money, and it seems you…” he stabbed an accusatory finger in Jim's direction, “are first in line for the role of chief accomplice.”

Jim lifted his chin stubbornly. The news about IA didn't really surprise him; he'd heard rumours for the last week that this was going to happen. What angered him was Banks' apparent willingness to believe that Jack could have been involved. “I didn't think you'd be so ready to toss Jack to the wolves, sir.”

Banks shook his head. “I never should have hooked you two up together. You never wanted to see the great Jack Pendergrast for the way he is.”

“Jack taught me a lot. I thought he was a great man.” Jim stared levelly at Banks, silently daring him to argue. “I really don't care how other people perceived him.”

“Jack has a ton of bad debts. You know he has a gambling problem.” Banks' lips tightened. “He would look the other way if a hood slipped him a fifty.”

It was an old scandal, and Jim had heard all about it from several so-called friends of Jack's since he disappeared. “Come on, sir, that was never proven.”

“Nobody had to prove it, Jim. Look at the way he dresses. Look how much money he pours into his car. I'll tell you right now -- I lay you even odds that he is sitting on a beach with a blonde on his arm and a million bucks tucked away in a bank.”

“Look, even if that were true, there's still a big difference between taking a few bucks to look the other way and stealing a million dollars.” Jim could almost feel the proverbial wall against his back, but he wasn't going to budge on this. He'd worked with Jack for eight months. You couldn't spend that much time together and not get to know the workings of a man's mind. “He wouldn't do that, Captain.”

Banks sighed impatiently. “Whether he did or he didn't, IA are going to be looking to pin this on somebody, and Jack isn't here to take the heat. I'm telling you, Jim, be careful.”

Next post: April 17^th

Part 18 - Tuesday April 13th 1992

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 07:16:26 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Blair has another therapy session

“I wanted to make him angry… to make him lose control.” Blair glanced up at Laura, but saw no reaction in her face. “I wanted him to see me how I really am.”

“Is that how you see yourself, Blair? As a drug addict and prostitute?”

He swallowed hard. “I… it's what I was. What I could be again.”

“Possibly,” Laura smiled noncommittally, “but somehow I don't think you really see yourself that way.”

“Why not? Everybody else does. Even Jim, if he was honest about it.” The words escaped before he'd even been aware they were in his mind. Blair took in a deep, calming breath. It didn't help much. “He says he trusts me, admires me, but underneath, it's got to drive him crazy to know I had sex with all those guys for money.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Blair barely refrained from rolling his eyes. How many times had Laura asked him that question during their sessions? And what did it matter how he felt about it, anyway? His feelings weren't going to change anything. “It's not my problem.”

Laura smiled faintly. “All right. What happened next?”

He thought about telling her they'd had the best sex of his life, and blushed. Except that, really, the sex hadn't been that great – intense, scary, but not what he'd call good. Not any more. “I… kinda freaked out.”

“Tell me about it, Blair.”

“I remembered something.” His chest felt unaccountably tight. Why had he said that? He didn't want to talk about that. Not now, not ever. His leg twitched and he realised that he wanted to pull his knees up to his chest in a defensive curl. He forced his feet to stay on the floor where they belonged, forced himself to breathe slowly, evenly. It was a while before he was able to look up at Laura again.

She was watching him, face calmly compassionate. “You know you can say anything, Blair. I'm not going to judge you.”

Easy for her to say. Blair swallowed. “I guess you hear some pretty sick shit.”

The corner of her mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. “That would be making a judgement.”

“Yeah, I guess it would.” Somehow, he managed a weak grin. “Remember how I told you once I always knew if one of Naomi's boyfriends wanted me?”

Laura nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

“Sometimes… when I got older, and I knew… I'd kinda… push a little bit.” He wiped sweaty palms against his thighs. He felt cold and shaky and too warm all at the same time. “I'd touch them… you know, hug them, or sit real close on the couch. I'd walk around in my underwear, let them see me in the bathroom. Stuff like that. And I'd watch them, and sooner or later I'd see it in their eyes and I'd know they were going to do it.”

“You remembered this when you were fighting with Jim?”

Blair nodded miserably. “I remembered… how it felt when I saw that look. The feeling of power… of being in control… and I felt that same way when I made Jim angry. It felt good.”

“And that frightened you.” Laura tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Blair, you've been studying psychology at Rainier, haven't you?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you heard of the Stockholm Syndrome?”

He shook his head. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he had no idea what it meant.

“In simple terms, it refers to the phenomenon where someone who has been abused identifies so strongly with their abuser that they will cooperate in, and even defend the abuse and the abuser.” Laura smiled a little. “You see where I'm going with this.”

Blair nodded, his mouth too dry for him to speak.

She folded her hands on her lap, and shifted smoothly into lecturing mode. “There are several theories about why this happens – the instinct for survival is so strong that the victim is forced to identify with the abuser. Another, that by provoking the abuse, the victim regains some measure of control over their life. It's also been suggested that the victim may be so desperate not to perceive him or herself as a victim that he excuses the behaviour or actively participates in it.”

“But…” he'd wanted it. Wanted it.

“Blair, what you're experiencing is not uncommon. It's a well documented condition.” Laura's voice seemed unnaturally calm to Blair. Couldn't she hear the thundering of his heart? “We can work on this.”

“No!” He blinked, startled by his own vehemence. “I don't… I can't…”

He couldn't go there, couldn't look at this. Who knew what would come out? He scrambled out of his chair and almost doubled over with nausea. It took every ounce of self-control not to spew into the trashcan by Laura's desk. “I don't want to do this.”

“Blair.” Laura's voice was soft and very close. Her hand touched his arm lightly, offering support, and he shied away.

“I'm sorry.” He scrubbed at his face, smearing unexpected wetness across his cheekbones. “I can't do this. Not now.”

“That's all right.” She took his arm again, and this time he allowed her to lead him back to the chair. “We don't have to do anything right now. Would you like some water?”

“Yeah.” He drank cautiously when the water arrived but couldn't raise his eyes to look at her. “Laura, I…”

“Perhaps we should finish here.” The quiet calm of her voice helped a little. “We're almost out of time, anyway. I've got a couple of appointments to arrange with Anna, so just sit here for a few minutes. Okay?”

He nodded, ashamed now of his outburst. “Okay. Thanks.”

“I want to see you again soon, Blair. I'm going to arrange another session on Friday.” She touched his shoulder briefly. “You will come?”

He would have promised anything at that moment, to be left alone. “Yeah, I'll come.”

“All right.” The carpet muffled the sound of her footsteps, but Blair heard the quiet click of the door closing.

The shakes started almost immediately. He'd been through some pretty tough stuff with Laura, but this was the worst. He'd never felt so destroyed inside, or so afraid. He'd wanted those guys to touch him, to fuck him. What if he'd been wrong and they hadn't been interested in him like that? What if he'd made them do it? If Jim ever found out… fuck… just thinking about it made him feel sick with fear. Jim freaked out enough about the johns he'd fucked; how would he feel about this?

Next post: April 16^th

Part 17 - Sunday April 11th 1992

Tue, 11 Apr 2006 08:02:36 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Blair has an unnerving experience

Blair wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and stared at his reflection, brow crinkling. For just a moment it had seemed like a stranger's face looking back at him, eyes secretive and unreadable, fine strands of hair clinging to his damp face. No. Not a stranger… someone uncomfortably familiar – the strung out, angry street kid of a year ago.

He shook his head and turned away, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around his hips. He didn't usually bother to cover up, but the weird sensation of sharing the room with some kind of freaky look-alike made him feel intensely uncomfortable. He turned back to the mirror, needing to shave, but reluctant to look too closely. This time, it was himself he saw and he relaxed fractionally.

Still… he lifted a hand to his face, rubbing over the bristly surface of his jaw and felt reassured by its solid reality. He shook his head and reached for the razor. Jim was still upstairs, asleep, after coming in late last night but he wouldn't sleep much longer and when he woke he'd want the bathroom to himself.

Once he'd finished shaving and rinsed his face, Blair felt better. Maybe he could convince Jim to stay home today – he couldn't remember when Jim had last had a real day off. Even when he wasn't on duty, Jim would still go in to the station to go over the Brackley case for at least a few hours, sometimes the whole day. They ate breakfast together if he was lucky, but he rarely saw Jim in the evenings.

He met the eyes in the mirror and some remnant of that earlier illusion tickled the back of his brain. His eyes dropped slightly, focusing on the patch of hair on his chest. Jim was so weird about that. He fingered the dark thatch idly, considering shaving it off, like he had when he was on the street. It was much thicker now, and spread across most of his chest. It would be a hassle, but…

“You okay, Chief?”

He jumped, too engrossed in his thoughts to have noticed Jim's arrival. Jim's hands steadied him, resting lightly on his shoulders, and Blair stared at their reflections in the mirror almost expecting something weird, but it was just the two of them – Jim and Blair. Completely ordinary.

“I was just thinking…” his voice trailed off as he wondered how he could explain what had happened to Jim without sounding like he was high.

Jim bent his head slightly and nibbled the curve of Blair's ear. “Dangerous.”

Blair swallowed, his throat aching. “…maybe I should shave this off.”

The nibbling stopped and though Jim didn't move, Blair felt his retreat. Their eyes met again in the mirror. “Why would you do that?”

He shrugged. “Just thinking, man. Doesn't mean I'm gonna.”

Jim's face was unreadable. After a moment, he lifted aside Blair's hair and began to kiss the side of his neck. “I guess you know what my vote's likely to be.”

“Yeah.” Blair laughed uncomfortably. “But I didn't say you got a vote.”

His hand, still rubbing vaguely over the centre of his chest, was covered by Jim's a moment later. He stared, mesmerised, at the sight of their joined hands then dropped his while Jim continued to fondle the coarse hairs. “There's a lot more of it than there used to be. You'd have one hell of a job keeping it smooth.” Blair felt him smile against his neck. “Maybe you should wax.”

Warned by the smooth mischief in Jim's voice, Blair didn't flinch as one of the hairs was plucked, but he said “Ow!” in an aggrieved tone.

Jim chuckled, breath gusting hot against his ear. “That's nothing, compared to waxing.”

“I'm not gonna wax.” Blair grumbled. “Pain is not my thing.”

“I'd noticed that.” Jim's hand crept down his chest, over his belly. Just before it reached the towel, it hesitated. “Are you sure everything's okay?”

He looked in the mirror again and for a moment saw himself, smooth-chested, younger – a skinny kid again. He saw the empty eyes, watching as a hand – not Jim's hand – touched him, pleasured him. Heard the rough voice – was it Jerry's? Yes. Jerry… the last of Naomi's lovers that he'd allowed to touch him that way. Heard Jerry's voice, “Don't ever grow up, Blair. You're so beautiful, so alive. You should stay this way forever.”

“Blair? Are you okay?” Jim's voice scattered the memories and Blair shivered. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?” Jim's hand had moved away from the towel, and his arms tightened a little, holding Blair securely.

Blair leaned back against the warmth of his body, his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the face in the mirror any more. “I'm fine, Jim. Just a bit tired. I've had all those classes to catch up on and I got behind in my assignments too.”

It was a lie and both of them knew it, but Jim simply kissed his neck again and released him. “How about you go get dressed. I'll spot you breakfast. Somewhere nice.”

“Okay.” He turned, smiled at Jim hopefully. “Does that mean you're not working today?”

But Jim shook his head. “I've got some more files to go through. Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours, though. We could do something later this afternoon, if you like.”

Blair knew that in all likelihood Jim wouldn't be home until late, but he didn't feel like arguing. “That's okay. I've got some books I need to read.”

Next post: April 13^th

Part 16 - Thursday April 9th 1992

Sun, 09 Apr 2006 07:49:10 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Two phone calls create problems for Jim and Blair

The phone rang shrilly, sending a spike of pain through Jim's head. Although it was only eight fifteen, he'd already been at the station nearly two hours, working on a couple of cases that Banks had assigned him. He grabbed the receiver angrily. Whoever was calling had better have a good reason. “Ellison.”

“James Ellison, ODA731?”

“Who is this?” Something about the voice made Jim grip the phone even tighter. “How did you get my serial number?”

The caller's voice was imperturbable. “Official business, Captain. I have some good news for you.”

Somehow, he doubted that. “Tell me what this is about or I'm hanging up now.”

He'd begun to lower the receiver when he heard an exasperated sigh. “You have some back pay due. It will go into your bank account on April 13th. We'd really prefer it if there were no questions raised about the payment, hence this phone call.”

“I've already been paid out of the military.” It had helped finance him through the Academy and make a small deposit on the loft. Jim glared at a uniformed officer who seemed to be taking an interest in the conversation and the man hurriedly moved away. “What's this about? If Oliver's trying something…”

“Colonel Oliver is not involved in this. It's purely a payroll issue, Ellison.” The voice at the other end of the phone line was sounding more and more irritable. “The back pay relates to a certain covert operations assignment. I'm sure I don't need to go into details. You should have received this payment when you resigned your commission, however it was… shall we say… overlooked?”

“Fine. Whatever.” He shifted the receiver to his other ear. “Just put the money in my bank account, okay?” Barely waiting for the other man's assent, he put the receiver down sharply.

People were starting to drift in, exchanging morning pleasantries that grated on Jim's suddenly sensitive hearing. Maybe now would be a good time for that third cup of coffee. He was halfway out of his chair when the phone rang again.

“What?!”

“Jim? It's Serena Chang.” Serena's voice was quiet, and with a sombre note that Jim recognised all too well. “I think we've found that runaway of yours. Can you come down to the morgue?”

His visit to the morgue was brief, and extremely unpleasant. The body had been found in the river, and had obviously been there for days, making it almost unidentifiable. But the hair was the same, and the gap between the front teeth. Added to that was the height and weight and age, the signs of drug use, and it all pointed to the obvious conclusion – that the body was Jimmy's. Serena had already started a search of the federal database of fingerprints in the hope of locating his family.

Blair wouldn't have left yet for Rainier, since his first class today would be at eleven. Jim grabbed his jacket from the bullpen and headed for home.

***

Blair was just about to leave when the loft door opened and Jim walked in. Like most days now, Jim had left for work before Blair was even awake. He smiled cheerfully. “Hey, Jim. Did you forget something?”

“No.” Jim's face was grim, his voice grimmer. “Blair… there's no easy way to tell you this, but… it looks like we've found Jimmy's body.”

The backpack dropped from Blair's fingers, his hand felt numb suddenly and he glanced at it, half expecting to see some visible difference. He frowned and shifted his gaze to the bag at his feet. After a couple of audible, shaky breaths, he looked up again. “You're not sure?” He knew what that could mean, and none of the possibilities were pleasant. His mouth twisted, “what… what happened to him?”

“The body's been in the river. That makes a definite ID difficult, but I'm pretty sure.” The quiet certainty was all Blair needed to hear. If Jim was sure, then it was Jimmy's body he'd seen. “It looks like he was beaten, but the cause of death isn't certain yet.”

“Oh god…” Blair raised the back of his hand to press against his mouth. “I should have helped him, Jim. I should have been there for him…”

“Blair… sweetheart…” Hurriedly, Jim crossed the floor to his side and wrapped his arms around Blair. “Don't blame yourself, okay? You couldn't have helped him if he didn't want it.”

“I should have tried!” Blair leaned against him, shaking. “I never even went back to see him.”

He could feel Jim stroking his hair with gentle fingers. “Look, I don't want to sound callous here, but maybe it's better that you stayed away. Jimmy didn't want to get out of that life; he might have pulled you back into the drugs and the sex. You needed to think of yourself first.”

“But…” Blair shook his head helplessly; the numbness was creeping from his fingers up his arms and into his body. He could feel too much, and nothing at all. Why couldn't he feel anything other than this sick sensation of having failed someone who should have meant more to him?

“I mean it, Chief.” Jim caught his shoulders as Blair began to pull away. “The odds against you were so high… I was afraid every minute I wasn't with you…”

“Really?” Anger, sudden and pure, blazed through him, though tears filled his eyes, blurring his sight. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.”

“That's not what I meant.” Jim reached for him, but Blair evaded his fingers. “Blair what you did… keeping off the drugs, starting school… everything… It was incredible. You were incredible. You just don't understand how much…”

“No.” Blair backed away, shaking his head. He held onto his anger like a lifeline, feeding it with the fears and uncertainties that had been plaguing him for weeks “You don't understand, Jim. I'm no different from the others. You have no idea how easy it would be for me to go back, to start using again. Every day I want it. Don't keep making me into something I'm not just because you can't handle knowing what I really am.”

Jim's lips tightened. “You're my lover. You're a student, a good one. You're…”

“…a drug addict.” Blair's voice rose above Jim's. “I am, Jim. I always will be. Heroin feels so good… did you know that? Nothing compares with that rush. Nothing. Not even the best sex you've ever had. D'you think I'll ever stop missing that?”

He saw the fear in Jim's eyes, ruthlessly suppressed; and pushed a little harder. “Did you know that sometimes I just want to go out on the streets and pick up some john, take his money, and bend over for him? Did you know that, Jim? There's just something about it, you know? Maybe it's the freedom, knowing that you don't owe them anything. You don't have to live up to some ideal. All they want from you is sex, and that's just so fucking easy.”

His hands were caught in an iron grip. “You won't do that. You haven't. I'd know if you had.”

“Are you sure?” He winced as Jim's fingers tightened around his wrists. A muscle twitched visibly in Jim's cheek, and Blair felt a nasty, excited sense of satisfaction. He'd wanted to provoke Jim, to make him react, and it had worked. The sweet, sickening rush of power made his head swim for a moment, and then memories flooded in… the last time he'd felt that way, and why, and with who. His stomach roiled dangerously, and as Jim's grip slackened, he wrenched his arms free and flung them around Jim's neck. “No! Jim, I…”

He kissed Jim's parted lips, the anger-fuelled adrenaline high transmuting into a hunger no less fierce. Tightening his arms, he pulled himself closer as Jim responded blindly; his mouth ravaged Jim's and he ground himself up against the solid strength of his lover's body.

Jim gasped his name, but Blair ignored everything except the demands of his own need. When Jim's arms tightened around him, he inched himself higher and wrapped his legs around Jim's hips, rocking insistently into Jim's belly.

“Upstairs!” To his relief, Jim didn't question him, and he held on tightly as Jim walked them both up the staircase to their bedroom.

They fell on the bed together, hands scrabbling to remove clothing. Jim was breathing in low, deep groans. It had been a long time for them both; too much lost, too much denied in the last few weeks, and now desire spilled over, out of control. He heard the sound of ripping cloth as they struggled out of their clothes and didn't even bother to look.

Typically, though, when they were both satisfactorily naked, Jim hesitated. “Blair, are you sure about this?”

He didn't bother to answer. Jim was half on top of him, but pushed up on his elbows so their chests barely touched; he grabbed Jim's shoulders and tumbled him over, moving quickly to straddle him even as his mouth covered Jim's to silence any further attempts at interrogation.

By his own inclination, and because of the differences in their sizes, Blair rarely took such overt control of their lovemaking. But today it was what he needed to do, and Jim obviously recognised it. Pushed down onto his back, arms pinioned above his head, he resisted just enough to fuel Blair's hunger.

Rough, needy kisses turned to fierce sucking bites as Blair reached Jim's throat. He knew he was leaving marks, but that was what he wanted… needed to do. Drawn along with him, Jim groaned and arched his back, rubbing eagerly against Blair's body, silently demanding more. Their cocks collided with an audible thwack and Blair swore, a stream of curses tumbling from his lips like they were words of love.

He ground his hips against Jim's belly, increasing the friction on his cock until it was unbearable. Jim's head was thrown back, his eyes were closed and he looked like he was desperately trying to hold back his orgasm. With the small part of him that was watching with clinical detachment, Blair decided that the time was exactly right. He released Jim's wrists and threw himself down beside the other man, his legs spread wide.

“God, Blair…” Jim's hoarse, shaking voice filled Blair with satisfaction. He wanted his lover feeling, not thinking. He didn't want either of them thinking right now.

Or talking. He turned his head and snarled wordless hunger at Jim. Who leaned up onto his elbow and ran a possessive hand down Blair's spine and between his legs. When Jim started to move, Blair pushed up onto his knees, lifting his ass demandingly. Jim reached between his legs again, but Blair pushed his hand away. He didn't want to be touched, just fucked into oblivion.

Jim got the message loud and clear. With the barest minimum of preparation, Jim pressed inside him, his cock seeming huge after so long. The heat of it scalded him, but he welcomed the pain of it, wanted more dammit, but even now, Jim was being too careful for his liking. He rocked back into the hands that framed his hips, the cock that plunged deep inside him and howled for more.

Incredibly, he got more. He was burning up from the inside and aching with the need to breathe, but Jim was faltering now, his thrusts becoming jerky and irregular. But, to his own surprise, it was Blair who failed first. His cock was barely half hard, but he felt the warning tingle and with a shout of surprise, came all over the bedding. Jim made an indescribable sound as Blair's ass tightened around his cock and then he was coming too.

By then, Blair didn't care. It was only Jim's hands that were holding him up. When they slipped on his sweaty skin, Blair collapsed face first into the pillows with a moan. Jim landed beside him with a solid thump that shook the bed less than a second later.

***

Blair was lying still, not sleeping, when Jim stirred. His body was spooned in against Jim's chest, his breathing slow and even, but he couldn't hide the minute flinch when Jim touched his arm, or the way his heartbeat quickened.

“Are you okay, Blair?” He kept his voice low and even, though his own heartbeat had begun to race. Had he hurt Blair? It had been so intense, and so completely unlike their usual lovemaking. Blair had been… not like Blair at all. Only yesterday he'd barely been able to ask Jim to suck him, and today… today, he'd been wild, almost uncontrolled, except that Jim had the feeling that Blair had been totally in control of them both. “Chief, I know you're awake. Did I hurt you?”

A tiny shake of the unruly mop of curls gave him little reassurance, but Jim decided not to press the point. He kissed the smooth skin of Blair's shoulder and untangled himself from his lover. “I have to get back to work. We can talk tonight.”

“Okay.”

The subdued voice was barely recognisable, and Jim hesitated. “Are you sure? If you need me to…”

“I'm fine!” Still Blair didn't turn to face him. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“All right.” He brushed his fingertips over the top of Blair's head. “Tonight.” He went downstairs to wash up, his clothes over his arm. He should never have allowed things to go so far, not after a fight like that. He didn't know any more what was going on in Blair's head.

Maybe he never had – but he couldn't allow himself to believe that. They would work things out. If necessary, he would go to counselling sessions with Blair. He'd mention it tonight; see how Blair reacted.

***

The day seemed to last an eternity. Jim knew he was barely giving a tenth of his attention to the case, but it was the best he could do right now. He suspected that Banks was aware of it too. His boss seemed to be taking a personal interest in all his cases lately, and Jim was pretty sure that this couldn't be a good thing.

All the same, his instincts seemed to be unimpaired. By late afternoon, he'd all but closed the case. All he needed were the results of a couple of forensics tests, and a certain Aaron Smithfield would be going away for a very long time. Cheered by the prospect, he returned home, later than he'd hoped, but still earlier than usual. Blair was sitting at the table, books and notepaper strewn around him, busily writing on yet more paper. He glanced up absently as Jim hung up his coat, then returned to his work.

“Hey.” Jim crossed to his side and dropped a kiss on top of the bent head. “Another assignment? What is it this time?”

“It's an outline of kinship patterns among the Yanomamo.” Blair didn't even look up this time. “I have to get it in tomorrow afternoon. I forgot it was due so soon.”

He patted Blair's shoulder. “Have you eaten?”

Blair's head came up, vague surprise on his face. “I guess I forgot. What time is it?”

“Not too late. I'll cook something quick, okay? You just carry on.” That talk he'd been planning on would have to wait.

A basic pasta would have to do. Jim got to work in the kitchen, but his eyes kept being drawn back to Blair's slim body, hunched over his work. There was a tension in the slim shoulders that gave the lie to Blair's apparent unconcern.

When the pasta was nearly ready, Jim laid out the silverware and plates at the other end of the table. “Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes, Chief. How about you wash up?”

Blair went off with only a sideways glance at Jim and when he returned the food was on the table. He shovelled in a couple of mouthfuls with more speed than grace, then looked up at Jim. “Thanks. I guess I was kinda hungry.”

“No kidding.” Jim smiled, amused and relieved by the return of the carefree kid that lurked inside Blair. He could have been an entirely different person from the angry hellion who'd confronted him this morning. “It's been a rough day.”

That earned him a wary glance before Blair returned all his attention to the meal. Jim waited patiently until they'd both taken second helpings, but after a single mouthful, he sighed and laid down his fork. “Blair, we have to talk.”

“What about?” Blair barely raised his head, and all Jim could see was a curtain of dark curls and the occasional glimpse of cheek.

“About this morning.” He saw Blair's body tighten. “I just need to know that you're okay. It was pretty… intense. Did I hurt you?”

“I told you I'm fine. You think nobody's ever been rough with me before?” His voice was hard, deliberately baiting him.

Jim hesitated a moment, determined not to react. “That's not the point. I've never been that rough with you before.”

“Don't stress it, Jim.” Blair looked up at him finally, though his face was more shuttered than Jim had seen in a long time. “I wanted it that way.” He shrugged dismissively. “I guess I kinda freaked out… you know, about…”

“Jimmy.” Jim laid his hand over Blair's. “I'm sorry. I know he was your friend.”

“But he wasn't. Not really.” Blair's expression became almost pleading. “I didn't even like him that much, but he was so fucking hopeless… I guess I just felt like I oughta do something, you know?”

“I get it.” He rubbed his thumb lightly over Blair's knuckles. “Look, we all go through this. I'm a cop, I've been in the army. There are things I wish I'd done differently. If I had, maybe some people I cared about might still be alive. You can't blame yourself, though. You did the best you could at the time, didn't you?”

“I guess.”

He didn't sound very convinced, but Jim smiled and kissed his temple. “So, don't beat yourself up over it.”

Blair rolled his eyes. “Okay”

“And we're okay? About this morning?” He felt Blair's fingers tighten under his. “Blair, I need to know if I did anything to hurt you. Physically or otherwise.”

“No. You didn't do anything.” Blair met his eyes, but Jim had the feeling that there was something he was holding back. Before he could speak, Blair continued, “Jim, please. It wasn't you. I just… it was me, okay? It was all my stuff, not anything you did.”

He wanted, desperately, to ask. But he'd agreed with Blair long ago to respect his need for privacy. So he smiled and tried to hide his reaction. “You'll talk to Laura about it?”

Blair nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. I promise.”

The reassurance didn't help as much as he'd hoped. “When's your next session?” Jim realised he'd made a mistake when Blair's face closed down again.

“Tuesday.” Blair pulled his hand away and started eating the rapidly congealing pasta. “You can call and ask her if you like.”

“I'm not going to check up on you, Blair.” Jim touched his arm fleetingly, knowing that to do more would only annoy Blair further. “I'm just worried about you.”

“You don't need to be.” Blair's voice was still curt, but there was a hint of resignation there too. “I survived on my own for three years.”

It was time to stop while he was – marginally – ahead. “I know. I just can't help myself sometimes.”

Next post: April 11^th

Part 15 - Wednesday April 8th 1992

Sat, 08 Apr 2006 07:55:31 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Porn. Completely gratuitous. Enjoy :)

Jim woke as Blair slid out of the bed. Blair never woke before he did, usually; but since Schneider's attempted rape, he'd woken first every morning and slipped away to have his shower. Jim turned his head to watch as Blair padded quietly across the bedroom. He tugged his shorts down and tossed them in the general direction of the laundry basket, missing by inches. A faint sigh drifted to Jim's ear and he grinned. It seemed like some of his house rules were gradually sinking in.

It caught him by surprise though, the thrill of pleasure he felt as Blair bent over to retrieve the shorts. Something about the sight of those pale ass cheeks and the way the muscles tightened… it had been nearly two weeks now, and Blair was still sleeping in shorts and undershirt, silently signalling that he had no desire for sex. He'd never known Blair to go more than a few days without sex of some kind, even if it was just mutual jerking off.

He'd known it might be a while before Blair was ready for intimacy again, but deep down he hadn't really expected it to take very long. He'd wait, of course. For as long as Blair needed. But it was surprisingly difficult. He'd got used to having a lover who could never get enough of him, and now that lover didn't want to be touched.

He must have made a sound, because Blair tensed, then turned to face him, still wearing the loose grey undershirt he'd 'borrowed' from Jim. It barely reached the top of his thighs, and beneath it Jim could see the dark fluff of pubic hair and the drooping tip of his cock nestled against dusky balls. Busted. Jim sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, yawning.

“Hey.” Blair's voice was hesitant. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

Suddenly, Jim was glad he'd followed Blair's lead as far as wearing shorts to bed. He didn't want to put any kind of pressure on his lover. Hell, he wanted desperately to help, but he didn't have a clue how to handle a Blair who was undeniably skittish in the bedroom these days.

“I'm a Sentinel.” Jim shrugged casually. “It kinda goes with the territory.”

Blair's eyes narrowed. “You wake every morning, don't you?”

“Yeah.” Jim met the slightly accusing stare. “I just figured I'd let you… I just wanted you to be comfortable, you know?”

“Oh.” There was surprise in that sound, and gratitude. Blair took a couple of steps towards him, then stopped. “I'm really sorry, man. I don't know why…”

Jim reached out and caught one slender wrist in a gentle grasp. “It's okay. You don't have to explain anything, all right? I want to help. We're in this together.”

The wide shoulders relaxed a little. Dark lashes swept down to brush Blair's cheekbones for a moment before lifting again, revealing a hint of tears in the smoky blue eyes. Blair took one more step, close enough now for Jim to feel his body heat. “I wish…”

Jim shivered at the quiet yearning in Blair's voice, but his heart felt lighter than it had in days. Blair still wanted him. Blair didn't hate him for what Schneider had tried to do. For what he had done to hurt Blair. He slid his hand up Blair's arm, drawing him closer, until he had to look up into Blair's face. He touched Blair's cheek lightly, and Blair took the hint, stooping so they could kiss.

The first kiss was brief, a testing of the waters. Blair sighed, and Jim took that as a sign of acquiescence. He closed the tiny gap again, and this time their lips clung softly, tenderly. Blair trembled against him, his heart beating fast, but there was no scent of fear, and only the faintest hint of arousal. Kissing would have to be enough, for now. Jim drew back reluctantly and Blair swayed towards him, not yet ready, it seemed, for this intimacy to end.

It was intimacy he wanted, Jim thought, not sex. He sighed and smiled up at Blair, then leaned his forehead against Blair's chest. If he concentrated just a little, he could feel Blair's chest hair through the thin cloth. He slid his arms loosely around Blair's waist and gently stroked one hand up and down Blair's back. A soft breathy moan indicated acceptance and pleasure.

Sitting here like this, with Blair standing between his knees, holding him close for the first time in a week, Jim wanted to do nothing more than immerse himself in his lover. He rubbed his face against the firm body, inhaling Blair with each breath, listening to his breathing, his heartbeat. Touching him. It was close to heaven. It was heaven, when Blair cupped one hand around the back of Jim's head and rested the other on his bare shoulder, fingers caressing.

Through the cloth Jim felt the point of a hardened nipple brush his cheek and caught his breath. He heard the sound echo over his head and that was enough reassurance for him to mouth it gently, wetting the undershirt until it clung. Blair's breath was coming faster, and he whimpered faintly, but didn't move away.

Jim looked up into the young face, once again wondering just how far Blair wanted this to go. Blair whispered his name just before they kissed and the sound was one of pleasure and need. He slid one hand down to Blair's hip, then wriggled it under the bottom of the undershirt and upwards again. As their lips moved against each other, parting to allow access then closing again, pressing and sucking, tongues teasing, licking, Jim's hand continued its exploration of Blair's belly and chest.

Another moan from Blair, a sway of his hips and Jim was made painfully aware of Blair's arousal. Not complete by any means, but the darkly flushed cock was swelling, lifting between them, almost close enough to brush Jim's chest. He looked down, looked up to see Blair watching him uncertainly.

No. What he wanted was not going to happen. Not yet. But he smiled; reassuringly, he hoped. “Would you like me to suck you?”

The blue eyes flared with desire, but Blair nodded almost shyly. It wasn't an emotion Jim was used to seeing on that expressive face, and he felt a surge of tenderness flood through him. He eased the undershirt up so he could plant a series of little butterfly kisses over Blair's belly, gradually trailing downwards. The scent of arousal sharpened suddenly and Blair groaned as his cock lifted, brushing against Jim's cheek.

It took all Jim's self control not to take Blair's cock into his mouth and suck the orgasm right out of him. His own cock was aching fiercely. Hell, even his nipples were so tight it hurt. But he wanted, above all, for Blair to feel safe, loved, cherished. All the things he'd thought a bright, self-reliant nineteen year old would neither want nor need. Blair needed all of those things right now.

Instead, he turned his head so his lips slid along the side of Blair's cock, kissing, suckling, until he reached the cockhead. Then he did it again, reversing his course. He took his time, lavishing the heated skin with long licks and gentle sucks, covering as much as he could while Blair shuddered and moaned and his fingers dug into Jim's shoulders for balance.

Finally, he closed his lips around the cockhead, feeling the throb of Blair's pounding heart against his tongue. When Blair would have thrust, Jim held him still with hands firm on the slim hips and continued to suckle until Blair was sobbing for breath. Then, at last, he relented and allowed Blair to do as he wished. The sturdy cock slid along his tongue and Blair's hips undulated in his loosened grasp. Not deep, but a sweet, ragged motion between his lips that allowed Jim to taste the pre-cum spilling from the swollen slit. He moved his left hand from Blair' hip to fondle the swaying sac, gently rolling the tight, hard balls and teasing behind them with a delicate fingertip.

“Jim… oh, man, I'm gonna…” Blair's voice cracked and he sobbed, his body tensing as his cock pulsed, twitching and jerking in Jim's mouth like a wild thing. The thick semen gushed over Jim's tongue and he did his best to hold it in his mouth, to fully savour the taste. Blair slumped over him, whispering Jim's name over and over.

Allowing the slowly softening cock to slide from his mouth, Jim eased the equally limp body down into his arms and manoeuvred Blair onto the bed. He snuggled against Jim's side for the first time in a week and they lay quietly while Blair's rapid breathing eased.

Next post: April 9^th

Part 14 - Monday April 6th 1992

Thu, 06 Apr 2006 08:34:46 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Blair has an unexpected encounter

“Okay, that's it for today.” Prof Bennett raised his voice to be heard over the babble of students' voices and the sounds of notebooks slamming closed. “Don't forget that Thursday's class will be a test, closed book. Anyone more than two minutes late won't be admitted.”

Blair slipped his notes into his backpack and stood, shrugging on his jacket before slinging the backpack over one shoulder. It was the last class of the day and he had some errands to run on the way home, so he didn't hang around the hallway chatting like some of the other students, but headed for the nearest exit.

He pulled up short, though, when he saw a vaguely familiar, tall outline up ahead. What the hell was Simon Banks doing here? He started walking again, but slowly, assuming it was just some weird coincidence.

Apparently, it wasn't. As he got closer, Banks moved towards him and Blair stopped. “Kid, we need to talk.”

“Why?” Blair asked bluntly. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again. From now on, the only cop he was prepared to trust was Jim.

Banks frowned and glanced around at the other students. There weren't many left now, but some were looking at them curiously. The message was clear enough. Blair started walking again, past Banks and towards the main doors. Whatever Banks wanted to say to him, he could do it out in public.

He stopped when he got to the nearest park bench and lowered his backpack onto it. “What do you want from me?” He didn't even try to hide his irritation.

Banks' face grew thunderous, but Blair was too annoyed himself to back down. “I want you to leave Jim Ellison alone. He may be a pain in the ass, but he's a damn good cop and I don't want his career being ruined because of you.”

“Oh, that's just fucking beautiful, man! One of your cops tries to rape me and I'm somehow ruining Jim's career?” Blair snatched up his backpack and turned away. “Just stay the fuck away from me.”

His arm was caught in an unmovable grip and for a moment Blair panicked. Banks was taller and stronger than Schneider, and the crowd of students had thinned to a mere scattering. “Let go of me.”

“Not until I've said what I need to.” The grip on his arm loosened, but not enough for him to escape. Banks looked down at him – a long way down, and Blair felt every inch of the difference in their heights. “Listen, Sandburg, I get that you didn't have a fair deal over Schneider's attack, and I don't blame you for being angry about it, but inciting Jim to take matters into his own hands is not the way to deal with this.”

“I didn't…” Blair blinked and paused as the sense of Banks' words sank in. “Jim did what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Banks' face creased into a sceptical frown. “Are you telling me you don't know?”

“I'm not telling you anything.” Blair stared up at him belligerently. “I'm asking you what the fuck you're talking about.”

Blair's arm was abruptly released. Banks wiped a hand over his face, looking harassed. “On Friday, Jim did something to Schneider. Schneider won't talk about it, and Jim's not saying anything, but everyone in the station knows. He already had a name for being a hard assed bastard when he came to Major Crime. This is not doing his reputation any good.”

Stunned, Blair dropped onto the bench, staring down at the ground. Jim had done something to Schneider? A confused mix of emotions flared through him – satisfaction that someone had taught that fat pig a lesson, pleasure that Jim cared enough about him to get even, and anger that Jim hadn't thought to warn him about the possible fallout were uppermost.

Banks sat beside him with a loud sigh. “He didn't tell you.”

“No.” Blair shook his head emphatically. “Jesus, what was he thinking?” He knew what Banks had been thinking, though – blame everything on the 'fag hooker'. Anger flooded through him again, sharpening his voice. “So are we done here? No grounds to prosecute me?”

“Look, kid…” Banks cleared his throat awkwardly, “you can see why I…”

“Oh yeah. I know exactly why you blamed me for it.” Blair smiled sarcastically. “I've got stuff to do. Are we done?” He stood, for once looking down on Banks.

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Yeah. We're done.”

Blair walked away and didn't look back.

***

By the time he'd got home, Blair had worked up a good head of steam, and luckily he didn't have long to wait to let it all out. He'd barely dumped his backpack in the study and put away the stores he'd bought when he heard Jim's key in the lock. He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest and watched as Jim came in and dropped his keys in the basket.

“You're home early.” He saw Jim register the antagonism in his voice and smiled. “You should've told me, man. How am I supposed to thank you properly when I don't even know what a fucking incredible hero you really are?”

Jim frowned, his whole body tensing. “Blair…”

“Save it for someone who gives a shit.” He whirled and stalked into the study, slamming the door behind him.

Usually, Jim respected his need for privacy when he went in there, but this time Jim came after him. “Would you mind telling me what the fuck I've done now?”

He faced Jim, too angry to back down. “I had a visit from Banks today. Got any idea why Banks would want to talk to me? Because I had no fucking clue.”

“Banks wanted to talk to you?” Jim's surprise was obvious. “What the hell…”

“He thinks I'm a bad influence. On you.” Blair laughed angrily. “Fuck, if he only knew, man.”

“Jesus.” Jim shook his head disbelievingly. “He told you about Schneider? Blair, I'm sorry. It never occurred to me that he'd blame you for that.”

“Well, maybe it should have.”

“Maybe it should.” Jim moved closer. He put a hand lightly on Blair's shoulder, hesitating before pulling him into a loose hug. “I'm sorry you got dragged into this, but I'm not sorry for what I did.”

Slowly, the anger drained out of Blair, and he leaned into Jim, sliding his arms around the trim waist. “I was scared, Jim, when I saw him there. I thought… I couldn't help thinking that maybe he was going to… like Schneider…”

Jim's arms tightened and he rubbed Blair's back soothingly. “He's an irritable son of a bitch, but Banks is okay. He wouldn't do that.”

“Yeah. I kinda realise that. I just couldn't help it.” Blair closed his eyes, concentrating on the thud of Jim's heart beating against his cheek. “Sometimes I think I can see Schneider – in weird places, like school and in the supermarket, the drug store. It's freaking me out.”

“You won't see Schneider again. I can promise you that.” Jim rubbed his cheek against Blair's temple. “He knows what'll happen to him if he ever comes anywhere near you.”

“Yeah?” Blair pulled back so he could look up into Jim's face. He grinned, suddenly feeling a lot better. “So, what did you do to him?”

Next post: April 8^th

Revised posting date

Tue, 04 Apr 2006 03:53:06 GMT

I've added some scenes to the story, and as a result the next post will be 6^th April, a day earlier than scheduled.

Part 13 - Friday April 3rd 1992

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 08:42:25 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim takes action

“Man, are you sure you want to do this?” Henri Brown's uneasiness was plainly evident.

Jim studied the new detective and decided to offer him an out. “I'm doing it. You can walk away if you want, but you'd better do it now. This isn't your fight.”

Brown scowled. “The bastard deserves to go down. Everybody knows he did it, but with Zimmerman backing him up, nobody's gonna call him on it.”

“That's because it's up to me, now. Blair's my friend. You don't have to be involved.”

“He can't get away with what he did to Hairboy.” Brown's lips set in a mulish line. “I'm in.”

“Hairboy? Wait till I tell Blair that one.” Jim grinned, relieved to be feeling something other than hurt and grim determination for the first time in days. Then he got down to business. “He'll be heading this way soon. Apparently, he's well known for his eleven o'clock toilet break. Half his squad thinks he does drugs. All you have to do is make sure nobody goes into the men's room except him. I'll take care of the rest.”

“No problem.” Brown grinned. “I've got me this handy little sign.” He produced a repair sign from the folder he'd been carrying.

“Good man.” Jim nodded and walked around the corner to the men's room. There was only one occupant and he didn't linger after Jim turned a scowl in his direction. Nobody else came in, and when he heard heavy footsteps approaching, Jim backed into one of the stalls, leaving the door only slightly open.

It was Schneider. The big man made his way to one of the urinals, hands fumbling with his pants. When Jim walked up to stand beside him, Schneider simply smirked.

Schneider was a much bigger man than Jim, but he was unprepared for the body slam that smashed him up against the wall. Or for the gun muzzle that dug into the tender flesh of his genitals. Jim leaned on the arm that pressed against Schneider's throat and lowered his voice to a menacing growl.

“I'm an ex-Army Ranger, did you know that? I know more ways of killing a man with my bare hands than you've ever imagined.” He watched Schneider's face grow increasingly purple as he gasped for breath. The Homicide detective didn't even try to struggle, but he wouldn't have succeeded in freeing himself if he had. Most of that weight was flab rather than muscle, and he could only have pulled off his attack with an untrained kid half his size – a kid like Blair.

The knowledge made Jim even angrier, and he ground the gun into Schneider's balls with a force that might, if he was lucky, ruin the other man's chances of fathering a child forever. A choked whimper escaped from between Schneider's lips and his hands, clutching uselessly at Jim's shirtfront, twitched.

“Let me make one thing very clear. If I ever see you near Blair again,” he shoved with the gun, “if I even find out you've been on the same floor of this building as Blair,” another shove, “I will personally see to it that you have to sit down to take a leak for the rest of your life.” One more shove, and now Schneider's face was a pasty white. “Do you understand me?”

Schneider nodded hastily.

“Good.” He released the fat man, who began gasping in lung-wrenching breaths of air. “And I will find out. Don't ever doubt that.”

Jim turned away, holstering his gun. He washed his hands and grabbed a couple of paper towels, ignoring Schneider completely. Daring him to make a move. As he reached the door, the sudden sharp scent of urine brought a vicious smile to his face. He closed the door quietly behind him.

Brown took a hurried step backwards when Jim rounded the corner. “Fuck, man, what did you do?”

“I didn't leave a mark, I promise you.” Jim patted his shoulder reassuringly. “He won't say a word. Come on, I'll spring for a coffee.”

Brown looked back over his shoulder as they walked away. “Uh… what about Schneider?”

“Oh, he'll be a while. He had a bit of an accident.” Jim smiled. “I think he's got a prostate problem.”

***

By mid afternoon, the news was all over the station. Schneider hadn't said a word, as Jim predicted, but everybody knew something had happened, and everybody knew Jim had to have been behind it. It didn't surprise him that several of Schneider's colleagues, as well as his own, had aimed sly grins in his direction, or dropped a low-voiced congratulation in his vicinity. The man was a bully and a coward, and he had to have made a lot of enemies.

When Banks called Jim into his office, Jim went without a care in the world. Banks stared at him grimly. “Look, Jim, I know you're under a hell of a lot of pressure with the Brackley case, and I won't say the bastard didn't have it coming, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll personally bust you back to traffic duty. You hear me?”

“What stunt, sir?” Jim kept his face calm and slightly innocent. “Has anyone made a complaint against me?”

“You know damn well nobody has.” Banks' lips thinned to an angry line. “I won't have vigilantism among my own men. You got a problem with that, you know where the door is. If you don't, I can show you.”

Jim nodded. Banks could be an annoying bastard, but he was as straight as they came. He could respect Banks' point of view. Hell, he shared it – most of the time. “You don't have anything to worry about.”

“I wish.” Banks took a cigar out of his humidor and rolled it between his fingers. In Jim's experience, that usually meant trouble. “I don't want the kid coming into the station again, Jim. I won't have you 'protecting' him at the expense of other officers.”

“With all due respect, sir, that 'other officer' tried to rape Blair.”

Banks held up his hand. “A situation that wouldn't have occurred if the kid hadn't been here in the first place. And…” he sighed and replaced the cigar in the humidor. “Frankly, there are rumours about the two of you that I'd rather not have circulating about one of my men. I know you're fond of the kid, but I really think you should cut him loose, like I suggested.”

“It's not going to happen, sir.” Jim shifted his stance, widening his legs and folding his arms over his chest in the classic pose of determined resistance. “Blair's pretty badly shaken up over this. There's no way I'm leaving him to deal with it on his own. And, quite frankly, I don't give a shit what people are saying. I certainly didn't think you'd be homophobic.”

“It's not about homophobia.” Banks slammed his hand down onto his desktop and half rose from his chair, before easing back into it. “Sandburg's a hustler, Jim, a drug addict…”

“An ex-hustler. Ex-drug addict.” Jim spoke sharply. “He's clean, he's attending university, and doing damned well, by the way.”

“He's… how old?” Banks stared at him stubbornly and Jim looked away.

“Nineteen.”

“Not much more than half your age.” Banks sighed. “It doesn't look good, Jim, and believe me, right now looking good is pretty damn important. I've just got word that IA are gonna be investigating the Brackley case. There's going to be trouble enough, without adding fuel to the rumours about you and that kid. Whatever you did to Schneider, he deserved it; but all this talk isn't going to help. You don't want IA's attention on you any more than necessary.”

“All right.” Jim held up his hands in reluctant surrender. He'd already had some run-ins with IA during his days in Vice. He didn't need a repeat of that, especially now. “I'll be careful, okay? But Blair is not negotiable.”

Banks nodded and looked down at his desk for a long moment. Just as Jim was about to ask if the interview was over, he picked up a folder and held it out. “I want you onto this.”

Frowning, Jim took the folder and flipped it open. It contained a case file, and he didn't even bother to look through it before snapping the folder shut again. “Sir, I don't have time…”

“I want you on this, Ellison.” Banks glared up at him. “Unless you have any new leads on the Brackley case?”

Jim shook his head. They both knew he'd been going over and over the same ground and getting nowhere. Nobody had seen Jack's car the night he'd disappeared. Nobody had seen Jack that night, or since. He'd interviewed all of Brackley's friends and family again, with the exception of his brother. He'd investigated Brackley Senior's lumber company and it was financially sound. There was no evidence pointing to any kind of set up that Jack might have walked into.

“Give it a rest, Jim.” Banks' face softened a little. “Look into this case. It shouldn't take more than a couple of days. Maybe you'll have a fresh perspective when you come back to the Brackley case.

That wasn't bad advice, but he felt like he was somehow betraying Jack by accepting this case. He looked down at the folder and sighed. It was the thin end of the wedge and they both knew it. After this case, there'd be others. More of them, coming closer together until he was forced to abandon the Brackley case, put it on the backburner and eventually forget about it. His fingers clenched, crumpling the folder a little, but he nodded curtly at Banks and left the office with it still in his hand.

***

It was becoming a depressingly regular occurrence to see Jim come through the door, his face grim. Blair felt his heart sink, knowing he'd contributed to that look, knowing he was in no shape to help lighten Jim's mood.

Surprisingly, though, Jim smiled when he noticed Blair sprawling on the couch. “Hey, Chief.”

“Hi.” Blair sat a little straighter, leaving room for Jim to sit at the other end. He smiled as Jim took the offered seat and leaned back into the couch, his face lifted to the ceiling.

They sat in silence, something that had been happening a lot the last couple of days. Jim's hand rubbed absently up and down Blair's shin, and slowly his face relaxed into the weary lines that were becoming more common all the time. Blair hated that; he hated even more knowing that he'd put a lot of those lines on Jim's face. It didn't stop him from resenting Jim for making him feel guilty, even though he knew that Jim was doing everything in his power to make him feel safe. It was a fucking mess and he didn't know how to change it.

After a while Jim sighed and rolled his head to smile at him. “Sorry. I just got word that IA are looking into the Brackley case.”

He couldn't help flinching at the name, but raised a smile with an effort. “Isn't that good? I mean…”

“No, it's not good!” Jim bit off his irritable response. He rubbed his forehead wearily. “I'm sorry. It's not good, because…” he favoured Blair with a long, worried look and somehow Blair didn't think it was himself Jim was worried about. Then Jim sighed and changed tack. “Banks has given me another case to work on. And… he's told me you can't come into the station any more. I tried to talk him out of it, but he's not budging.”

“That really sucks, Jim. I know he doesn't like me, but…” he looked Jim in the eye, feeling his indignation give way to sick comprehension. “He believes Schneider, doesn't he?” oh, god… “What about you? Do you think I…”

“No! No, Blair, for god's sake…” Jim shifted to sit on the couch beside him and pulled Blair into his arms. “I never imagined that for a moment, and to be fair, I don't think Banks does either.”

Blair slumped against Jim's solid body, his heart pounding. It took all his self-control to stop himself from bursting into tears, but he'd done enough of that in the last few days to last a lifetime. “I'm sorry. I'm so tired of feeling like this.”

Jim brushed back his hair gently and touched his lips to Blair's temple. “It takes time, sweetheart, don't stress it, okay?”

“Okay.” He released himself from Jim's embrace. He could tell that Jim was holding something back, and he felt a sharp pang of fear. “There's more, isn't there?”

“He's putting pressure on me again to cut you loose... I nearly told him where he could shove it.” Jim smiled reassuringly and Blair relaxed fractionally.

For a moment, he'd actually believed Jim might do what Banks had ordered. It frightened Blair that he could doubt Jim that way. All the more so, because it was a sign that he no longer felt certain of his place in Jim's life. He examined Jim's tired, frowning face, wondering if Jim could see the doubt in his eyes. “Why does he hate me so much? I've never done anything to him.”

“I don't think he hates you.” Jim rolled his head a little, stretching his neck muscles. He shifted back to the end of the couch, relaxing into the corner. “He just doesn't appreciate having trouble dropped in his lap.”

Blair stiffened indignantly. “And I'm trouble?”

“No. That's not what I'm saying.” Jim spoke impatiently, then grimaced. “Sorry. I've got one hell of a headache… there's been rumours, gossip around the station about us for a while. I've just ignored them, but…”

“He… Schneider thought we were… he said…” Blair swallowed and couldn't continue. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of Jim's hand stroking his leg.

“Yeah, well, Banks isn't too happy about it.” There was a slight hesitation in Jim's voice. “He thinks…”

When Jim didn't finish, Blair opened his eyes again. Jim was staring at the coffee table as if it held the answer to all their problems, if only he could understand it. The fear was back, now, cold and nestled against his heart. “What, Jim?”

Jim turned his head and looked directly into Blair's eyes. “The difference in our ages… it… it worries him.” He laughed sourly. “And he's not even sure if we really are sleeping together.”

“Do you think it's a problem?” Blair barely recognised his own voice. It sounded calm and cool, and as if it belonged to someone else. His heart was pounding again, but it was obvious that Jim wasn't listening.

“I… no, I…” Jim shook his head in frustration. “It bothers me sometimes. That's all.”

It was almost like a nightmare; the kind where he knew he was dreaming but it was all so real – and then he would realise he couldn't move, couldn't do anything to escape the terror that he knew was about to happen. Blair shivered. For the first time since he'd learned to love Jim he could see a future where he and Jim would not be together.

He'd never imagined that this would happen. The only other person he'd ever loved, heart and soul, was Naomi, and he'd never doubted for a moment that she would always love him, and he would always love her. It had never occurred to him that things might be different with Jim.

Jim was leaning his head back, his brows still drawn together in a frown. Surely, he should be able to hear the pounding of Blair's heart, or smell the tears that he couldn't quite keep from filling his eyes. Was it just that he didn't really care any more? But just a few minutes ago, Jim had held him so tenderly. It hadn't felt, then, as though Jim didn't care.

Blair watched as his lover swallowed heavily, still frowning. He looked tired as well as stressed, and had done for days, even before Schneider's attack. It must be tough for him, with Jack's disappearance, and… Blair sat up abruptly as a lot of pieces suddenly fell into place. “Jim? Are you having trouble with your senses?”

He knew, even before Jim answered, that he'd struck a nerve. Jim opened his eyes but didn't move otherwise.

“I've been keeping them dialled down as much as possible.” Jim's admission sounded rather sheepish. “I'm just grateful I heard you calling out the other day.”

“So am I.” Blair shuddered at the thought of Schneider actually succeeding in his assault. “But, Jim, you should have told me. We need to work on this.”

“I just… there's so much going on, and you've got finals coming up…” Jim sighed. “At first I hoped that Jack would come back, but now… he's dead. He has to be.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Blair acknowledged the sense of Jim's conclusion reluctantly. “You're gonna have to tell someone about your senses, Jim. You can't go into dangerous situations without someone to help you.”

“There isn't anyone, okay?” Jim sounded resigned and so tired it made Blair ache in sympathy. “Nobody I'd trust with this.”

“What about Banks?” Blair smiled faintly as Jim stared at him in astonishment. “You always say he's a good guy. Why not?”

“Because he's the captain.” Jim rubbed his forehead wearily, “if he finds out about this, he'll have to do something… make a report, suspend me maybe.”

“But why, Jim? I mean, you're a huge asset to the police. The things you can do…”

“Jesus, Blair, are you insane?” Jim's eyes flashed with irritation. “I'm not telling him. I'm not telling anyone. The best thing I can do is to keep everything dialled down to normal. Just leave it alone, will you?”

“Okay!” Blair flung himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. It was pretty damn obvious who'd be cooking dinner tonight, with the mood Jim was in. “Excuse me for trying to help.”

He half expected Jim to come after him, or at least to say something to smooth things over. Since Schneider had tried to rape him, Jim had been more than usually protective and considerate of his feelings, even though he was still inclined to snap at times. But Jim simply stayed on the couch, his head turned to stare out the windows.

Next post: April 7^th

Sun, 02 Apr 2006 08:29:58 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Blair has a therapy session

The silence was starting to get on Blair's nerves. Of course, he was the one who was supposed to be doing the talking here, but today he wasn't in the mood. He should have cancelled his appointment, or at least rescheduled it until after the bruises on his face and throat had completely faded.

When he glanced up, Laura was watching him; her face was professionally neutral, but her eyes showed her concern. The expression in them reminded Blair of the way Jim had been looking at him for the last few days and it made him uncomfortable. He'd spent the first ten minutes or so telling her about what had happened with Schneider, and the last twenty sitting in silence, mostly staring down at the floor.

“So, I…” His voice came out all wrong and he cleared his throat and tried again. “So, I guess I should say something.”

Laura stirred slightly in her chair and looked at him calmly. “You don't have to if you don't want to. Our sessions are about what works for you.”

Perversely, that made him more determined to talk. “I… I want to, it's just…” he hugged himself, resisting the urge to draw his knees up to his chest in a defensive huddle. “I told Jim I wished I was still a hustler.” That was better. He'd managed to get that out in an almost conversational tone. As though it didn't really matter.

“And do you?”

He shook his head as his throat tightened again. “I just… it was easier before. It didn't really matter that much. I was… I was so scared… he was so big, and I couldn't…” he bit his lip, trying to reach inside himself and find something to hold on to. Failing.

“What was different, Blair?” Laura leaned forward, her eyes intent. “Can you tell me?”

“I don't… I guess…” he frowned, and as he diverted his attention to her question, a faint measure of detachment came over him. “I never fought them before. It was like… like a deal; if I didn't fight, then they wouldn't hurt me too bad. Usually, they didn't. But this time… I tried not to fight, but I couldn't help it. I knew what he was going to do and I had to stop him. I couldn't just let him… Jim would…” he broke off with a ragged gasp as his gut twisted painfully.

A small, feminine hand passed him a wad of tissues. “Jim would what, Blair?”

“He'd know…” Blair blew his nose sharply and dragged in a shaking breath. “He'd know that I hadn't tried. Maybe… maybe he'd think that I didn't care.” He looked up at her almost pleadingly.

“I think you're underestimating both Jim and yourself, Blair.” She smiled sympathetically.

“Yeah.” He knew she was right. Jim would never think that… would he? Things had been pretty rough between them lately, and Jim wasn't talking much. After that fight over Jim's brother and Philip Brackley, he wasn't so sure any more of how Jim felt about that part of his life. Blair looked at Laura hopefully. “He trusts me. I mean, he doesn't make me have blood tests anymore… and we don't even…”

His breath caught as he realised how close he'd come to losing something precious. “Oh god… Schneider… he wasn't… he didn't have a condom. If he'd done it… if he'd raped me, then Jim and I…”

Would he have been able to insist that Schneider have a blood test? If not, then what would have happened? Would he and Jim have had to start using condoms again? And that… every time they made love it was a promise to each other that there was nobody else. A tangible sign that Jim trusted him. If he'd lost that, how could he ever be sure? A low moan forced its way up through the bruised muscles of his throat and he began to rock in his chair fighting the panic that sent icy tendrils through his body.

“Blair! Blair…” Warm soft arms came around his shoulders and he breathed deeply, drawing in the light, vaguely floral scent Laura always wore. The fluttering in his chest steadied a little, allowing him to lift his head and stare into Laura's face through the tears that flooded his eyes. She smiled at him. “Better?”

“Thanks.” He knuckled his eyes and accepted a handful of tissues. He didn't need proof of Jim's love. He already had all the proof he'd ever need. This whole thing with Schneider was just messing with his head. “I'm okay now.”

“Are you?” She patted his shoulder gently. “I'm afraid our time is nearly up. I'd like to increase our sessions for a while. Can you come twice a week? Just until we've worked through this.”

It was the last thing he wanted. But then he remembered that he'd intended to talk to her about what was happening between him and Jim, and he hadn't had a chance. He didn't want to wait another week. So he agreed and managed a smile for her as he left.

Next post: April 3^rd

Part 11 - Monday March 30th 1992

Thu, 30 Mar 2006 08:34:42 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim is warned of trouble ahead.

“Ellison, come into my office, please.” Banks' voice sounded abnormally subdued, and Jim found that more worrying than his usual irascibility.

He rose and made his way to the captain's office, ignoring the curious glances of the other detectives. Brown, grinned at him sympathetically. Jim ignored him and poked his head through open doorway. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“I want to know what progress you're making on the Brackley case.” Banks stared at him belligerently.

He walked in, shutting the door behind him and dropped, uninvited, into a chair with a sigh. Apart from a slight tightening of Banks' lips, he made no other sign of displeasure. “I'm not getting anywhere, sir. I've interviewed all of the people on the list Mrs Brackley sent us, but none of them saw Philip Brackley after about eleven on the night he disappeared. Since he wasn't reported missing until the following Monday, that leaves a lot of time we'd need an alibi for, if we want to look at it as an inside job.”

Banks grunted noncommittally. “What's your feeling on that?”

“I don't know.” Jim ran a hand over his hair, his gut tightening with frustration. This whole line of enquiry was far too close to Blair for comfort. He knew he should tell Banks about it but now, after the close call he'd had with the Brackleys, he was even more reluctant than before. Blair had suffered enough, without being dragged into the Brackley case for no good reason. “He had some unsavoury habits, according to Landis, Brackley's part time minder. Used to hang out in some seedy joints, had a few friends he couldn't exactly take home to meet daddy. He might have run into somebody a bit more dangerous than he was used to handling.”

“Hm. You're following up on that?”

“I've got the names of some of the places where he used to hang out.” Jim shrugged, his gut instinct telling him he wouldn't find anything there. “Is there a reason you're asking?”

Banks stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “There's talk IA will get involved soon, if we don't get a result. I don't have to tell you that isn't going to look good for this division.”

“Frankly, sir, I don't give a rat's ass about how it looks. My partner is missing, and the only reason I'm sticking with this case is because whoever kidnapped Brackley is behind Jack's disappearance as well.” Jim pushed himself up out of his chair. “Is that all?”

“No. It isn't.” Banks snapped, “Sit down.”

He sank back into the chair, but stared belligerently at his captain.

“I'll tell you why you should give a rat's ass, detective.” Banks lips thinned angrily for a moment. “IA are gonna go over this case with a fine toothed comb, and one of the first things they're gonna ask is where were you the night this all went down. They'll have their eyes on that million dollars and you can bet your next year's salary, they're gonna want to interview everyone who saw you that night. Including your room mate.”

Jim turned his head away slightly. Of course. He did his best to keep his face neutral, but suspected Banks saw through it. “Blair's got nothing to do with this.”

“And IA are just going to take your word for that?” Banks shook his head. “Cut the kid loose, Jim. He's better off out of it anyway.”

“You want me to kick him out?” He almost laughed it was so crazy. “Just because the rat squad is investigating Jack's disappearance? The answer's no.”

“He's a weakness, Jim.” Dark eyes assessed him critically. “But have it your way. Just don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Are we finished here?” Jim angled his head challengingly.

Banks nodded. “You can go now.”

Jim was still coldly furious when he got back to his desk. He noticed, almost objectively, that his hands were shaking. Banks had no right to tell him to get rid of Blair. The fact that Banks thought they were only room mates was beside the point. He ignored, for as long as he could, that the advice was probably well meant, and, under different circumstances, not unreasonable. This case was turning into one godawful mess.

In need of a distraction, he picked up the phone. Every few days, he checked for unidentified bodies, in case one might turn out to be Jack's. Then he swore under his breath. He'd offered to look into Jimmy's disappearance for Blair five days ago, but had forgotten. He might as well do it now, starting with the most likely and least encouraging possibility.

“Coroner's office.” The melodious voice belonged to Serena Chang, and Jim let out a sigh of relief. If anyone could help him on this, it would be her.

“Serena, it's Jim Ellison, Major Crime. I'm looking for a missing kid. About fourteen. Caucasian, male, sandy hair; stands about five eight, five nine, maybe a hundred pounds.”

“Hold on.” He heard the rustling of papers. “When was he last seen, Jim?”

“I saw him March eighteenth. He probably disappeared that day, or the day after.” Unconsciously, his fingers tightened on the phone. For all that the kid was most likely to be dead, that wasn't the result he wanted to take back to Blair.

“No. There's nobody matching that description in the timeframe.” She sounded relieved. “Is he someone you know?”

Jim sighed. “Not really. He's a street kid I've met a couple of times. Let me know if anything turns up.”

“Sure, Jim. Good luck.”

There were a few Vice cops he could ask to keep an eye out for the kid. If he told them it was for Blair, they'd be willing to help. Blair had earned himself a few favours with his testimony in the Gonzales case. He began mentally drawing up a list of beat cops who might be working that area.

***

Brown came over to Jim's desk shortly after noon and settled into the chair beside it. Jim looked at him curiously and the other man slid his eyes sideways towards the door. Without a word, both men stood and walked out of the bullpen.

The break room was empty, and Jim leaned his hip against the counter while Brown made himself a coffee. “Any luck?”

“I've got a name.” Brown moved away and Jim snagged a coffee mug and filled it from the pot. “She was a friend of one of Schneider's victims. She might know some more of them.”

“Okay.” Jim held out his hand, expecting a slip of paper, but Brown shook his head.

“I'll take you to see her. That's the deal.”

He would much rather have done this alone, but if that was the only way, Jim knew he didn't have a choice. “What are we waiting for?”

Brown flashed him a brief grin and led the way out of the bullpen.

***

Claudia Molina was a small, slender woman, with glossy, dark hair and skin the colour of heavy cream. Faced by her beauty, most people wouldn't even have noticed the size of her hands and feet. Nobody – except a sentinel – would have noticed the fine scar on her throat where her adam's apple had been reduced in size. Even though Jim did notice, it didn't matter. She was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met.

She watched him with a mixture of admiration and suspicion as Brown introduced them, then turned her head and smiled sweetly at Brown. “H, sweetie, you can wait outside now. I want to talk to Detective Ellison alone.”

Brown sent a doubtful look in his direction, and Jim smiled dismissively. If that's what Molina wanted, that's what she got. Whatever it took to get the information he needed.

“My, you are a big one.” Her voice was typically soft and husky, but with an undertone that felt like warm molasses. “Why don't you sit here” she patted the seat beside hers, “and we can talk about our mutual friend.”

“I wouldn't exactly call him a friend.” Jim sat obediently, and still felt like he was towering over her. Which begged the question why he felt that he was not the person controlling this conversation. “Brown said you know something about him. That he'd raped, or tried to rape someone you know.”

“Honey, I know three people that fat bastard raped.” She tapped a long fingernail on his arm. “Why do you want to know?”

Jim swallowed. It still galled him unbearably to think about Blair and how he'd looked in that dusty little room. “He tried to rape a friend of mine. We caught him doing it, but his captain's shielding him. I figured if I could get statements from other victims, IA would have to open the investigation again.”

Molina shook her head. “I can't help you. I'm sorry.”

“He'll keep on doing it, if we don't stop him. I've done everything I can on this case, but if there are others…” she was looking unconvinced and Jim leaned towards her, his face intent. “He's preying on street kids who won't be believed if they complain. But if enough of them…”

“I understand, Detective, but I can't help.” Molina was as calm as ever. “One of the people I know about is dead, the second has disappeared. Gone back home, I hope, but I don't know where her home is.”

“And the third?”

She smiled faintly. “The third can't help you.”

He was starting to get annoyed. “Tell me who it is. I just want to speak to her.”

“Him, Detective. And he doesn't exist any more.” Molina's left eyebrow lifted into an elegant angle. She waited expectantly.

It only took a moment for him to realise. “Don't you want to make him pay for what he did to you?”

“What he did, he did to Carlos Molina. I'm not that person any more.” She took a deep breath and shook back her curls. “I can't be that person any more. What I'd gain from testifying against that pig – if I gained anything – would not be enough to make up for what I'd lose.”

He could have argued, but it wouldn't have done any good. It was obvious that she wasn't going to change her mind, and in his heart he couldn't blame her. He nodded. “If you ever change your mind…”

“I won't.” She smiled. “Good luck, Detective Ellison.”

Next post: April 2^nd

Sun, 26 Mar 2006 08:43:16 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Life continues and so do Jim and Blair's problems

Blair shouldered his backpack, wincing as the weight of it tweaked sore shoulder and neck muscles. “I'll be back early today” he called up to Jim. “Want me to cook again tonight?”

Jim's head appeared over the edge of the loft bedroom, frowning. “Wait up a minute.” A moment later he trotted downstairs, almost silent even in his shoes. It never failed to amaze Blair that he could do that. “You're going to classes today?”

“Yeah, why not?” he asked defensively. He knew, of course, what Jim was thinking. “I'm working in the lab today anyway. I might as well go to classes too.”

“I just thought…” Jim's hand lifted to his face, not quite touching the bruises.

Blair shrugged irrritably. “It's going to take a week for these bruises to fade. I can't afford to miss that many classes.”

“As long as you're sure.” Jim leaned in and kissed him slowly and thoroughly. “Just take things easy, okay?”

“Sure, Mom.” Blair rolled his eyes and grinned as Jim mock-scowled.

“Now there's an image. Maybe you should talk to Laura about your Oedipal tendencies.”

“Thanks, man. Like I really need more shit to tell her.” Feeling a little more cheerful all the same, Blair picked up his keys from the table. “Just call me if you're gonna be late.”

***

There were plenty of stares as Blair walked from the student car park to Hargrove Hall, but since none of the people he knew were around, they were easy enough to ignore. It still felt a little strange, though. The kids he'd known on the streets wouldn't even bother to notice another's bruises any more than they would the track marks or other signs of drug abuse.

He made it to the Anthro Lab without encountering anyone and slipped inside with a sense of relief. Once, he wouldn't have thought anything of being seen with a bruised face. The only annoyance would have been that he couldn't pick up johns. Living with Jim was making him soft. Hell, before meeting Jim, he would never have fallen for Schneider's line of bullshit. He ruthlessly repressed that thought as he shrugged off his backpack and hung his jacket on the hook, exchanging it for his lab coat.

“Blair, is that you?” Dr Logan's voice drifted out from her tiny office. “I've got some pottery shards I want you to…” She appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening as she took in Blair's marked face. “Oh, my God. Blair, what happened?”

For a moment, Blair's brain completely seized up. He should have realised that she'd react like this. He could tell her the truth, he supposed, but then she'd be even more shocked, and fucked if he wanted to deal with that. There'd already been way too much fuss over the whole thing anyway, and he was more than ready to move on. “Oh… it was just some guy… he, er… was kinda pissed that I only had five dollars, and…”

“You were mugged? Where?” She came closer, her eyes running over the bruises on his face and throat. “Did you call the police?”

“Yeah, but it was dark and I didn't get a good look at him.” Blair shrugged. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Are you sure? You don't need to stay if you're not up to it.”

“I'm fine.” A hint of irritation crept into his voice, despite his best efforts, and he saw Dr Logan register it. She'd been one of the few people at Rainier who hadn't flipped out when his testimony at the de Silva trial had been in the news, and he owed her for that. He shrugged and forced an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It's just, if I go home I'm not going to feel any better, so I'd rather be doing something, you know?”

She smiled sympathetically. “Of course, but if you start to feel worse, you don't have to stay. All right?”

“Sure.” He dredged up a smile. “Now, what do you want me to do?”

Absorbed in the various tasks, Blair hardly noticed the soreness of his throat or the occasional twinges of pain when he moved incautiously. He completed the classification of the pottery shards – an easy job since Inuvialuit pottery was unlike any other pots made by North American tribes. The time passed without him noticing too, as it usually did, and it wasn't until Dr Logan reminded him that he realised it was time for his Psych tutorial.

“Thanks.” He grinned at her, feeling almost normal for the first time in days as he hastily hung up his lab coat and reached for his backpack. “I'll come back later if I have time.”

“Well, you just take it easy, Blair.” Her sympathetic smile reminded him of her reaction earlier and he felt his stomach sink a little. What was the chance that the other students in his tutorial wouldn't make a big thing of it too?

Sure enough, there was a collective gasp when he went into the study room, and then a babble of exclamations and concerned questions. He heard, and assumed he was supposed to, one of the jocks who'd hassled him at the beginning of the semester commenting snidely that he'd probably hit on the wrong mark while trying to earn a few bucks. He ignored it, feeling more harassed by the way the others were fussing about his face. It was a relief when their tutor arrived and the class got under way.

He spent the whole hour distracted and quietly seething, aware of all the furtive glances that were sent his way. Last semester, he'd had to put up with a whole lot of bullshit about the de Silva trial, but a lot of the people in his classes this semester were different. Sure, some of them had known, and probably told others, but by then it had been old news and there hadn't been much hassling. Now it was all going to be dragged out again. He could handle it – shit, he'd handled far worse on the street – but it was annoying, and he was feeling really weird about the whole thing.

Usually he was an enthusiastic participant in the discussions that occurred, but today he could barely bring himself to speak. The few times he did say something, everybody's eyes turned to his face. No, not his face, his bruises. When the tutorial was over, he hurried away, deciding to cut his next two classes. He'd have to come back tomorrow, but maybe by then he'd be able to get a grip on his emotions.

***

It was only a few days since Jim had last seen Warren Brackley, but he seemed to have aged ten years. Obviously, his son's disappearance, and now probable death, had taken a severe toll. Landis and Monique Brackley were with him in the office, both of them glaring at Jim with obvious suspicion.

“I take it you haven't come to tell me you've found Philip?” Brackley was abrupt, but at least marginally polite. “Or that partner of yours?”

“No, sir.” Jim sank into a chair, uninvited. “However we're still doing everything in our power to find both your son and my partner.”

Monique laughed sharply. “That detective – what was his name? Prendergast? He's taken the ransom, it's so blindingly obvious. If Philip's…” she glanced at her husband, “if he's dead, it'll be all his fault!”

“Pendergrast.” Jim leaned forward, forcing himself to remain seated. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

“”What?” Monique's head turned from Brackley, to Landis and then to Jim.

Jim spoke coldly, enunciating clearly. “My partner's name is Pendergrast, not Prendergast.” He waited a moment, then added, “I can assure you we are following every lead we can find.”

“But you haven't found either of them.” Landis spoke sneeringly. “So what have you found?”

Something inside Jim snapped. “Well, for starters, I've discovered that Philip Brackley liked to hang around street corners where under-aged boys sell themselves for sex. You weren't kidding when you said he liked dives. Did you get him out of some tight spots there, too?”

Brackley and Monique both cried out, and the old man clutched his chest. Immediately, Monique moved to support him, but Landis took a couple of steps towards Jim, then stopped. There was something off about his reaction – Jim wasn't sure what, exactly, but he was certain that the news hadn't come as a surprise.

“Get out! How dare you say that?” Monique glared at him as she eased Brackley into his chair. “Art, get some water for Warren, would you? And you… you think you can just come in here and ride roughshod over us all? I'll be calling your captain to complain about this behaviour.”

“Philip would never…” Brackley's voice broke on a breathless wheeze.

Jim shook his head, feeling sympathy for the old man, if not for his wife. “I have witnesses who saw him there. I'm sorry.”

Brackley met his eyes. “Did you find anything? Anything useful?”

“No. It doesn't seem like he went there the night of his disappearance.” Jim stood, finally, though he'd been aching to get out of the stiflingly hot office since the moment he'd arrived. “I'm not giving up on this case. You can be sure of that, sir.”

Brackley groaned in pain and it was Monique who spoke. “Just get out.”

Jim left, passing Brackley's lawyer just outside the office. He sat in the truck in a daze, his heart pounding, and his hands shaking on the steering wheel; he was aghast at his loss of control. What in hell had possessed him to say those things? It was unlikely that the Brackleys would link Blair back to that street corner, but if Monique followed through on her threat to complain to Banks, then it was entirely possible that he would put two and two together.

But when he eventually returned to Major Crime, and the dressing down that awaited him, Banks made no mention of Blair or street hustlers. Monique, apparently, had only accused him of arrogance and insensitivity, an accusation that Banks obviously had no difficulty in accepting.

***

Blair was in the kitchen, cooking, when Jim arrived home. From the fulminating glance Blair threw him, he gathered that his classes had not gone well. Just what he needed after the day he'd endured. He winced as an unnecessarily loud clatter of pans assaulted his eardrums. “Hey, you want to go easy there, Chief?”

“Sure, Jim. Whatever you say.” Blair dropped the pan he was holding onto the bench and stalked into the bathroom.

He came out a few seconds later, still looking pretty pissed off, but not quite so thunderous. “Sorry, man. I had a bad day.”

Jim walked over, his eyes automatically scanning Blair's posture for signs that he was in pain. It was possible, though not likely, that he might have some minor internal bleeding. “Do you need to see a doctor?” His hand hovered for a moment, before he decided it was safe to touch him. He rubbed a soothing circle over the curve of Blair's lower back.

Blair heaved a sigh. “No, it's not that.” He glanced up at Jim uncertainly. “It's just… everyone was staring at me. Like they'd never seen anyone with a bruised face before. I told them I was only mugged, but it didn't help.”

Jim smiled, sympathetically, he hoped. “I've got news for you, Junior. Most people haven't seen anyone who's been beaten up.”

“No shit,” Blair grumbled irritably, moving away from Jim, but hesitating at the edge of the kitchen area. “I felt like I was some kind of freak. I never felt like that before.”

“It's only natural, Blair.” Cautiously, he decided not to try to get nearer. Experience told him Blair had yet to really let loose, so he leaned against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. “You've been through a lot of changes in the last year. It stands to reason you're going to react differently to some things.”

“Well, I don't like it!” Blair's eyes flashed with anger. “I don't want to feel this way. It never mattered before you made me believe... God, I wish I'd never met you!” Blair pushed the hair back from his face with an angry gesture. “A year ago I never would have fought him. And it sure didn't do me any good… you're the one who made me believe I had a choice, but I don't, Jim. I should've just taken the damn money.”

“You don't mean that.” Jim felt his face drain of all colour. He took a step forward and stopped when Blair flung out a hand.

“I do mean it. Don't tell me what I mean. You don't know anything.” Blair's ragged breathing was the only sound in the room.

What the hell could he say? From Blair's point of view, he was right. It had been a pointless struggle that had seriously damaged Blair's view of himself. But the thought of a Blair who would apathetically allow himself to be raped because there was no other alternative was something that horrified him even more. He didn't know who that Blair was.

Talking was obviously getting him nowhere, so when Blair's shoulders began to tremble, and his breathing turned shaky, Jim simply stepped forward and enveloped him in a loose hug. He resisted for a moment, then slumped against Jim's chest. A few choked sobs escaped, and Jim could easily hear, and feel, the panicked pounding of his heart. He tightened his arms around Blair, murmuring reassurances that Blair couldn't possibly hear, but which made him feel like he was at least doing something to help.

It wasn't long before Blair began trying to ease away from Jim. He simply tightened his grip a fraction. Not enough to trap him, just to indicate he wanted Blair to stay close.

“Blair, whatever you need from me, you just have to tell me, okay?” He brushed a fingertip over the nape of Blair's neck. “We'll get though this together.”

“Together?” A faint snort of unhappy laughter accompanied the lifting of tired, dead-looking eyes. “I don't feel much togetherness here, Jim.”

Swallowing his pain, Jim nodded. “I understand that, but I am here for you. Just remember that, okay?”

Blair stared at him for a moment, and Jim forced himself to keep a steady, non-confrontational expression on his face. Then Blair lowered his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

Next post: March 30^th

Wednesday March 25th 1992

Sat, 25 Mar 2006 09:13:21 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

Jim and Blair deal with the fallout

Jim was waiting for him in the lobby of the Police station looking nervous and angry. A combination of emotions that sent Blair's pulse even higher than it already was. “What's happening?”

“I told them I wanted to sit in on the interview, but they won't allow it.” Jim put his hand lightly between Blair's shoulder blades, guiding him towards the elevator and offering comfort at the same time. “Since I'm also a witness. At least I got them to agree to interview you on the seventh floor.”

“Oh.” Blair's heart sank. He'd been counting on Jim's support to get through this.

“I'll be right outside. You can be damn sure I'll hear everything and if I don't like what's happening, I'm coming in.”

“Jim, you can't do that.” A new anxiety replaced the more personal one. They didn't need any more trouble than they already had. He stopped in the middle of the lobby. They couldn't discuss this in the elevator and he wasn't going anywhere until they'd come to some kind of agreement. A quick glance around told him there was nobody paying attention to them, but still he lowered his voice. “It's not worth the risk of anyone suspecting…”

“What are they going to suspect?” Jim frowned, his face setting into a determined mask. “Just that I've got better than average hearing.”

“Oh, man…” when would Jim ever get it? One minute paranoid about secrecy, the next taking dumb-ass risks. “You can't take the chance.” Before Jim could object, he caught hold of Jim's shirtsleeve. It was a signal they'd worked out long ago, and Jim remained silent, though with obvious reluctance. “Look, how about this… if I don't like what's going on, I'll start yelling, and then you can come in and get me out of there.”

“Okay.” Jim still sounded unhappy, but at least it was a plan they could both work with. They started walking towards the elevators again. “If you like, I can ask Banks to sit in with you. Or maybe Brown… no, dammit, he was there when we found you with Schneider.”

“No!” Blair gulped back hasty words and took a deep breath. “I don't want anybody else. Besides, I don't think Banks likes me too much.”

He knew he was right when Jim looked away slightly. “He's still someone you can trust not to let them push you around.”

“I'll be fine, Jim.” The elevator doors opened then, and the conversation was effectively over.

It was only when a couple of uniforms got in on the second floor that Blair realised how people were reacting to him. He'd pulled his hair back again – cops tended to react better to the ponytail than they did when his hair was loose – and the bruising on his face and neck were very noticeable. Jim noticed their reactions too, of course, and moved a little closer.

Another cop joined them on the fourth floor and two clerks on the fifth. All of them stared at his face for a moment before pointedly looking away. Blair gritted his teeth and sent Jim a warning glance. It was a relief to get out on the seventh floor.

“This way.”

He followed Jim to a small hallway, very like the one Schneider had taken him to yesterday. He couldn't help shivering at the memories evoked, and moved closer to Jim.

“You don't have to do this.” Jim took hold of his shoulders and turned him so they faced each other directly. “Look… there isn't much of a chance…”

“I know that, Jim.” Blair pulled away angrily, but couldn't bring himself to entirely reject the comfort Jim was offering. “If I don't do this, then Schneider's won, and I'm not gonna make it easy for him.”

Jim smiled faintly, and lifted his hand to cup his unbruised cheek gently. “You don't make anything easy, do you?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, luxuriating in the warmth and comfort of that hand on his cheek. Then Jim tensed and moved away. “Here they come, Chief.”

***

The interviewing officer was Sheila Irwin, and it seemed like she and Jim had some weird vibe between them. It didn't do much for Blair's confidence to watch the way they eyed each other before Irwin opened the interview room door and ushered him in. There was another cop there too, but Blair missed his name, and it was obvious that he was just there to watch.

Blair and Irwin sat either side of a small desk while the man stood near the door. Blair tried not to think about Schneider standing in much that same position, blocking his escape. He clasped his hands tightly in his lap and tried to breathe slowly, the way Naomi had taught him to when he'd had panic attacks as a kid.

“Well… Blair. You don't mind if I call you Blair?” Irwin's smile seemed friendly enough, but Blair wasn't entirely convinced. He nodded silently. “Good. Blair, you've made some very serious accusations against Detective Schneider. You realise that should we come to the conclusion that your accusations are justified, this officer will not only lose his job, but quite possibly face criminal charges?”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Attempted rape is a serious offence.” Irwin examined his face, eyes lingering over the bruising. “While I understand that you may have good reasons for wanting Det. Schneider to suffer, he shouldn't be punished for any wrongdoing he didn't commit. Don't you agree?”

Blair swallowed down his anger and shrugged. “I guess that's fair.”

“With that in mind, is there anything in your statement that you'd like to change?” She slid the paper over to him. “We realise that in the heat of the moment, you may have not been entirely accurate in your deposition. You were understandably upset.”

“Yes, I was.” Blair looked down at the neatly typed statement with his signature at the bottom. The words blurred, impossible to read, but he kept staring at the page long enough to give the impression he'd read the whole thing. “There isn't anything I want to change.” He pushed the paper back to her side of the table.

The good humour drained from Irwin's expression and her voice became noticeably colder. “Detective Schneider has given a very different report of your encounter with him.”

He bit back the words he wanted to say. This was a lot like the time he'd been a witness in court, and he knew he'd have to keep his cool. “That's what he told me he'd do. He said nobody would believe me because I used to be a hooker.” He eyed her challengingly.

“So you accept that it's a case of your word against his?” Irwin nodded decisively. “All right. I'd like to go over your version of events. Exactly where did you first meet Detective Schneider?”

As the questioning progressed, Blair realised he'd been wrong. This was nothing like the aggressive interrogation he'd endured during de Silva's trial. Each time he answered one of Irwin's queries, she made brief notes on a sheet of paper, but rarely asked for further information. It was obvious to him that she didn't really care too much about his answers. Schneider was going to get away with it, just like he'd said he would.

In spite of that, Blair decided to be as cooperative as he could. He wasn't going to do anything that would let Schneider off the hook. Eventually, it seemed, the interrogation was over. Irwin was still scribbling something, and the silence drew out. Blair waited.

“Thank you, Blair.” Irwin looked up eventually, her face impassive. “I don't think we need anything more from you.”

“Are you going to charge him?” Blair watched as Irwin's eyes slid aside from his. The professor in his Psych class had talked about that, and he had no reason to doubt that she was going to lie to him.

“That's not my decision to make.” She gathered up the papers and stood.

Blair pushed back his chair, angrily facing off against her. “Even if you can't get him on attempted rape, what about assault?” he gestured to his swollen, bruised face and throat. “Or do you think I did this to myself?” His voice rose, cracking as his throat protested. “There are witnesses who saw that. You don't have to take my word for it.”

He hadn't heard Jim come into the room, wasn't even aware of him until an arm came around his shoulders. He fought it for a moment, until he realised that it was Jim holding him. “You saw it. Tell her, Jim.”

His voice broke again and he cursed at the sympathetic expression on Jim's face. “Fucking pigs… Naomi was right about you. All of you. You don't give a fuck about real people.” He wrenched himself away from Jim and rushed out into the hallway, breathing hard.

“Blair.” Jim's voice came from just behind him. Blair could feel the warmth of him at his back, Jim was that close to him. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

He shook his head, too angry and choked up to reply, but didn't resist when Jim's hand came down on his shoulder and turned him into a loose embrace. All the fight went out of him and he leaned against Jim's chest, exhausted. He could hear Irwin and the other cop walking away and was glad Jim's body shielded him from their eyes.

“I'm sorry, man. About that pigs thing…”

Jim's hand was stroking gently up and down his back. “It's okay.”

He sighed and pulled back. “It wasn't fair. I know you're not… or Jack… not like that.”

“I know.” Jim stared down at him, a frown still tweaking his eyebrows. “Don't sweat it, Blair. I've heard a lot worse for a lot less reason. Ready to go now?”

“Yeah.” Blair shrugged dejectedly. “No point in staying, is there?”

They walked toward the elevator in silence. Several people passed them, all looking curiously at Blair's bruised face. He wondered how many of them knew about him and Schneider. Most, probably.

The elevator arrived and Jim stepped in first. There was only one occupant, a clerk clutching a clipboard, whose eyes widened at the sight of Blair. Blair gritted his teeth and turned away from her. He'd never felt self-conscious about this kind of thing before, it was just an accepted hazard of street life. Now, with the way people were staring at him, he felt almost like he'd done something wrong.

Just as the doors were closing, there was a yell of “hold the door”. Jim obliged, and Henri Brown joined them, carrying a stack of folders. He grinned at Blair and nodded thanks to Jim.

On the third floor the clerk got out and nobody else got in. Brown glanced quickly at Jim and pressed the stop button. “I'm guessing that IA aren't too interested in getting that fat bastard?”

Blair shrugged helplessly and Jim frowned but didn't speak.

“Man, that's just not right.” Brown's normally genial face was creased with concern. “I heard it's not the first time he's done that kind of shit. He always picks street kids, 'cause they won't report him.”

“You used to work in Robbery; that's the same floor as Homicide.” Jim was looking interested. “Do you know anything, or is it all rumour?”

Brown smiled sneakily. “I don't know, but I can get some names for you.”

Jim grunted noncommittally. “You do that.”

***

Henri left them on the second floor and they were alone as the elevator descended to the basement. Jim was still trying to find something to say that would help Blair when the doors opened on the parking garage. A couple of maintenance crew were waiting to go up but otherwise the area was temporarily deserted.

“Where did you park?” He couldn't see Blair's Corvair, but it would probably be in one of the visitor's spaces, at the back of the elevator shaft. He followed Blair around the corner and into a darkened area, watching the way his lover moved. There was a tension in his shoulders and a lack of animation in the way he walked that, while understandable, set alarms off in Jim's mind.

They'd almost reached the car when Blair stopped, a few steps ahead of Jim, and turned. “Jim, you don't think…” Blair's voice trailed off, and he stood staring at him with an expression that Jim couldn't interpret.

“Think what?” He took a step forward, but Blair backed up a step, maintaining the distance between them. “Think what, Blair?”

He half turned away then turned back to face him with a shrug. “That I was going to take the money from Schneider.”

“You really have to ask that?” The tension in the air between them was like a physical object, making Jim's skin crawl unpleasantly. He sought for a way to diffuse it, and chuckled unconvincingly. “Chief, if you were going to take the money, it would have to be a lot more than sixty bucks.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he was already cringing. What the hell was he thinking? “Blair, I'm sorry… I didn't mean…”

All the colour had drained from Blair's face, leaving the bruises showing starkly, accusingly against his skin. He stared at Jim, his whole body unnaturally still. “Didn't you?”

“No. I was just trying…” Jim hesitated, aware that there wasn't really any way to explain why he'd said something he couldn't believe he'd said. “Look, I promise you, I never for one moment thought that you'd agreed to… to…”

“Let that fat pig fuck me? Why not? A year ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it.”

The sneering tone was something he hadn't heard from Blair in a long time. Jim swallowed, trying to choose his words carefully. He couldn't fuck up again. “A lot of things have changed since those days. I trust you, Blair. I know you'd never do anything like that now.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.”

Jim winced at the heavily ironic tone. “I'm sorry. It was a joke… a stupid joke in unbelievably bad taste. I didn't mean it, I was just trying to lighten things up.”

“Lighten…” Blair's face was a study in confused anger. “Fuck you, Jim.” He turned and began walking, fast, toward the car, fumbling to get his keys ready for the lock.

“Blair! Blair, please…” Jim caught hold of his arm, pulling him around roughly, careless in his urgency. His heart was pounding, his head swimming with exhaustion. “I'm sorry. God, I'm so on edge these days, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Or saying. I'm so sorry.”

He still held Blair's arm, but when it relaxed slightly in his grip, he released his lover and leaned back against the nearest car, taking long slow breaths and trying to still the sudden tremors in his muscles. He rubbed his face absently, completely unable, for the moment, to think of a single thing to say.

“Jim. Are you okay?” Blair's hand on his arm and low voice brought him back from the edge of what might have been a zone. “You look like shit, man.”

He shook his head, holding up a hand to stop any further questions. “I'll be okay. Just give me a minute.”

“If you're sick…”

“I'm not sick,” Jim interrupted brusquely. “I just… I haven't been sleeping well lately, that's all.” He didn't want to add to Blair's problems by reminding him that he no longer had Jack to back him up. He'd had to be a lot more careful about using his senses since Jack's disappearance, and that was taking its toll on him too. “I'll be fine.”

Blair looked him over critically. “You know, I've hardly seen you in the last week. You've always left before I wake up and you come home late. When did you last have a day off? Maybe you should cut back a bit.”

His temper snapped. “Jack's missing. What do you want from me? I owe it to him to do everything I can to find out what happened.”

“And you aren't going to do that if you're too tired to think straight,” Blair snapped back at him, his cheeks flushing with anger again. “Use your common sense, for fuck's sake.”

In another moment, Jim knew, he would say something he'd regret. Blair didn't deserve this; he already had too much to deal with right now. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. I'll come home early tonight, and I'll start at my normal time for a couple of days.”

He endured another long stare from Blair, and then his lover seemed to relax a little. “Okay. I'll cook something.”

It might not be much of a peace offering, but it was more of one than Blair usually provided. Too relieved for words, Jim smiled tentatively. “So, are we okay?”

Blair shrugged gracelessly. It wasn't very convincing. “Yeah. We're okay. I'll see you tonight.”

He didn't want Blair to leave like this, but there wasn't much he could do about it. They'd been lucky to get this much privacy in the parking garage, and it would be crazy to push it any further. He closed the gap between them and put his hand on Blair's shoulder to guide him the short distance to his car. Before releasing him, he squeezed gently. “I'll be home by seven. Okay?”

“Okay.” Though Blair sounded more than a little uncertain, at least the hostility was gone. “Later, Jim.”

He waited while Blair started up the car and drove out of the garage. And thought that maybe he should call Laura for advice on how to handle this.

***

The light was starting to fade when Blair reached the street corner that had been his old stomping grounds. He'd driven around for a couple of hours, thinking about the things Jim had said. Maybe it had just been a joke, but would Jim have even thought of it if he hadn't had some doubts? Maybe he was just overreacting. Or maybe Jim was right. Maybe he hadn't changed as much as he thought he had. Could he really go back to the life he'd led on the streets?

Finally, he'd decided the best way to find out was to go back there. He wasn't crazy enough to take even his old car to that area, so he'd parked in a halfway decent area and walked the couple of blocks necessary.

About a dozen boys were gathered there, few of whom he actually recognised. It had only been ten months since he'd been one of them, but faces came and went, living on the street. Some kids went running back home when they realised what street life was really like. Others just drifted off, or died of an overdose or at the hands of a john.

He wasn't sure why he'd come here, what he'd hoped to accomplish. He didn't feel any kinship with these boys, and would certainly not pass for one of them. Not any more. When a boy, maybe fourteen and obviously inexperienced, sidled hopefully up to him, Blair shook his head and smiled faintly. “I'm not looking for action.”

The kid wandered off, and Blair thought about Jim and the times he'd come here. Had he looked as pathetic to Jim's eyes as these kids did to his? He turned away and would have left, but someone called his name and he turned back, more startled than anything.

It took a moment to recognise the boy. He was maybe a year or two younger than Blair and holding desperately to the last vestiges of boyhood. Soon, he'd be too old to appeal to the johns who came around this part of town. “Hey, Rico. How's it going?”

“Good, man. How about you? Who did the number on your face?”

Blair shrugged, falling into the offhanded way of the streets more easily than was strictly comfortable. “Just a guy. Cop.”

“Assholes.” Rico smiled with his mouth but his eyes were weary. He had the look of someone needing a fix sometime very soon. He looked Blair up and down assessing the flannel shirt and loose jeans. “What you doing these days? It sure ain't the game, not the way you're dressing.”

Blair shrugged uncomfortably. “I'm at school. Got a couple of grants.”

“School, huh?” Rico was obviously unimpressed. “I guess you don't got no money then. What you come round here for?”

“I dunno.” It had been stupid to come back. He didn't belong here. “I guess I thought I'd catch up. You know. See a few friends.”

“Man, there ain't no friends here, or have you forgotten that?” Rico gave him a look of benign contempt. “Any one of us'd slit your throat for a fix.” Then he grinned. “Just kiddin', man. You got anything?”

Blair shook his head. “I'm clean. I gotta have blood tests every week. It's one of the conditions.” The lie came easily; he hadn't had a blood test since he and Jim became lovers.

“Man, that sucks.” Rico shifted from foot to foot, increasingly jittery. “Well, I ain't gonna get my next fix talkin' to you. Be seeing ya.”

“Sure.” They both knew he wouldn't be coming back here again. And then Blair remembered the one kid he'd really like to see. “Hey, Rico… is Jimmy still hanging out round here?”

“Jimmy?” Rico turned slowly. “That boy's so ugly he had to pay the johns, man. He ain't been around lately.”

“Maybe he went home.” Blair's heart began to beat faster. God, not Jimmy… he should have come back sooner. Tried to help the kid. Rico was right, there were no friends of his here, but Jimmy had been the closest thing to a friend he'd had. He'd tried to protect Jimmy while he'd been on the streets, but hadn't even thought about the other boy after Jim had rescued him.

“Not him. He said he'd never go home.” Rico shrugged. “He went off with a mean looking john 'bout a week ago. Ain't nobody seen him since. I figure he's out of the game now, man.”

***

Jim glanced over at his lover, curled up on the couch, ostensibly reading. He hadn't turned a page in over five minutes. Blair's face, bent over the book, was sombre and it was obvious he wasn't even trying to read it. As they had last night, his eyes stared blankly at the open pages.

When he'd called Laura this afternoon she'd advised him to let Blair set the pace, but the drawn out silence worried him. “Are you okay, Blair? You've been pretty quiet.”

Blair stirred, and shrugged. Then he seemed to come to a decision and closed his book. “I went back to the old area. You know, where I used to hang out?”

Jim blinked in surprise. That was one response he'd never have expected. “Why?”

“To see what it was like.” Blair smiled faintly at his reaction. “I mean… everything's changed so much in my life. I've changed so much. I wanted to see… I guess I don't really know what I thought it was going to be like.”

He reached out a hand and shook Blair's knee gently. “Well, it's probably a good thing, y'know, to take a look back. Shows how far you've come.”

“Yeah.” His voice was so despondent that Jim wondered what had happened. “There was hardly anybody I knew there. They all looked so young. And so… hopeless.”

“I'm just glad I got you out of there.” Jim shifted over and pulled Blair into a loose embrace.

“You saved me, Jim.” Blair leaned into him. “I don't know what would have happened to me once I got too old.”

“And you saved me, when my senses came online.” He kissed the top of Blair's head, and then his mouth as he looked up. “So I guess that makes us even.”

“Uh huh.”

Jim got the impression that Blair was searching for words, not something that happened very often. His suspicion was confirmed when Blair fiddled awkwardly with his shirtfront.

“Jim… you remember that kid I used to look out for?”

“Jimmy.” Jim sighed. “Yeah. I saw him not so long ago.”

Blair tensed. “When?”

That was easy enough. It had been the day after he and Jack had been assigned the Brackley case. “Tuesday of last week. I thought maybe Brackley had gone down there the night he was kidnapped. Jimmy hadn't seen him.”

“He's disappeared. I asked about him and Rico said he'd gone off with a john and nobody's seen him since. It must have been not long after you saw him.”

“Damn.” Jim tightened his arm a little. “I tried to offer him help, but he wasn't interested.”

“Jim…” Blair's voice was unusually hesitant, “I know you're busy with the case, and Jack and everything, but…”

He knew what was coming. “I'll ask around. Maybe some of my contacts in Vice will know something.”

“Thanks, Jim.” All the reward he needed was in Blair's smile.

Next post: March 26^th

question

Fri, 24 Mar 2006 21:19:47 GMT

I told you there'd be tests, didn't I? <g>

I was pretty sure this question would arise when I posted the last installment. Is it credible that a cop would try to rape Blair in the station? This also came up when I was writing the story - some people have a problem with it and some don't. Because only a few people have seen the story up to now, there's been no way to find out how much of a problem this is going to be.

So, now I need to know... do you think it's credible or not? Just a yes or no is fine, but if you want to elaborate, then I'd love to hear your thoughts.

part 8 - Tuesday March 24th 1992

Fri, 24 Mar 2006 07:34:15 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

And things just keep on getting worse...

Standing in the hallway, Blair could see that Jim wasn't at his desk in Major Crime, and he hesitated, reluctant to go in there alone. It was the first time he'd been to the station since Jack disappeared. Jim had told him to stay away until things had settled down, but this morning he'd woken to find Jim gone, and now that he'd calmed down a bit… well, he just wanted to put things right. They'd never had a fight like that before, never anything worse than the occasional irritable exchange.

“Looking for someone?” Blair turned to see a tall, massively built man in a crumpled suit watching him. There was something about him that seemed… off; but then cops often seemed suspicious of him. Maybe it was no more than that.

“I wanted to talk to Jim Ellison, but he's not at his desk.” He spoke evenly, knowing he had every right to be there, but feeling uncomfortable all the same. “You wouldn't know where he is, Detective…?”

“Schneider. Homicide.” Schneider nodded warily; then doubt gave way to curiosity. “You're that kid. Ellison's kid.”

“He's not my father.” Annoyance made his voice sharp, and Blair smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn't mean...”

Schneider waved off the apology, inspecting him with an interest that made Blair's skin crawl. “If you want Ellison, he's down on four, with a suspect. Burglary brought him in, but Ellison thought he might have information about that kidnapping case.”

“That's good news.” Blair smiled, genuinely pleased. “I'll… I guess I can wait at his desk.”

“I can take you down there if you like.” Schneider waved a hand back towards the lift. “Probably better not to go alone unless people down there know you. I'm headed that way anyway.”

“Thanks…” On the verge of refusing the offer, Blair glanced around, saw Banks coming out of his office, and decided it would be a good idea to get out of there. He could wait for Jim outside the interview room.

Schneider nodded and turned towards the lift. Blair followed. On the fourth floor they walked in silence, though Blair was aware of the sideways glances the big detective threw his way occasionally. It made his skin crawl a bit, but he pushed the feeling aside. It wasn't like last night. He was in a police station, for god's sake – he could hardly be anywhere safer. They turned down a side corridor that was narrower and less well used and stopped outside a door. There was no sign on the door to indicate it was an interview room and Blair glanced up at Schneider curiously.

“This is it?” He couldn't hear anything from inside.

“It's the observation room.” Schneider put a hand on the doorknob, then turned to face Blair, his bulk all but blocking the corridor. “He took you off the streets is what I heard.”

“Yeah, he did.” Blair held onto his temper. He knew Jim had taken a lot of ribbing, not all of it good-natured, because of him. He wasn't going to make things more difficult for him. “Last year. I'm at Rainier now.”

Schneider nodded thoughtfully. “That must cost a bit. You still turn tricks?”

The question took him by surprise. And it hurt, dammit. “I have grants.”

“But you put out for Ellison, right?”

Suddenly, he knew that Jim wasn't in the next room. Schneider would never have dared ask those questions anywhere that Jim might have heard him. He tightened his fingers around his backpack, prepared to use it as a weapon and cursing himself for his own stupidity. “Why don't you ask Jim that?”

Schneider's face creased into an unattractive smile. “Hey, I'm just offering to help out with your education.”

“I don't need any help. Thanks all the same.” He sidestepped to move around Schneider, but the big man moved into the middle of the corridor, effectively blocking him. “Let me pass.”

“How much do you charge, kid? Forty? Fifty?” Schneider reached for him and Blair swung the backpack. It hit Schneider in the side, but barely made an impression. He grinned. “Feisty, huh? I'll give you sixty.”

“I don't want your money.” Blair got the words out between gritted teeth. It was still possible that all Schneider wanted was to humiliate him. Or possibly Jim. He had a sickening feeling that it wasn't all he wanted. “Let me pass!”

He tried again, and this time Schneider grabbed him with one meaty fist and turned the doorknob with the other. Before Blair had a chance to do anything, Schneider had thrown him into the room and followed, closing the door behind him.

There wasn't a hope in hell of getting past Schneider now. The detective completely blocked the doorway. Desperately, Blair looked around the room, but it must be some kind of storage area, because there was nothing he could use, just a desk and a filing cabinet shoved up against the wall, leaving very little free space.

“You won't get away with this.” Blair backed up against the desk, eyes still searching for something, anything he could use. “You think I won't lay a complaint? You're wrong.”

“I know you won't. It'll be your word against mine, kid. Who do you think they'll believe?” Schneider smiled mockingly. “Make it good and I'll give you that sixty.”

“Fuck you.” Blair threw the backpack directly at Schneider's face, then tried again to duck around him. He failed, as he'd feared he would. One massive arm wrapped around his chest, squeezing painfully and Blair used the last of his breath to scream Jim's name. If Jim was in the building surely he'd hear.

“Don't waste your breath. Your boyfriend's not gonna hear you. Nobody's gonna hear you.” Schneider's grip tightened until pain threatened to make him black out, then he was lifted bodily and thrown against the wall.

Since there was nothing left to lose, Blair flung himself against the solid mass of Schneider's body, fingers clawing, feet kicking; he used every dirty trick he'd ever learnt. Even when the blows landed, they made not the slightest impression. He staggered back, panting, trying to get a little distance. Schneider laughed, and backhanded him into the desk.

Pain flared up and down his side, and Blair gasped. For a moment he thought he might black out and that truly terrified him. He dropped to the floor and tried to roll under the desk, but Schneider grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him back out. A moment later his fingers closed around Blair's throat, digging cruelly into the tender flesh, hoisting Blair to his feet. Still choking in that vicious grasp, Blair was turned and bent over the desk. He writhed, fighting as best he could and kicked out backwards, but then Schneider slammed his head against the desktop, and everything greyed out for a while.

His face was mashed into the unyielding surface of the desk by a heavy hand on the back of his neck, and somehow his jeans and shorts were around his knees. Blair moaned, too dazed to struggle yet. He could feel the hot brand of a thick cock pressing between his ass cheeks and he managed to clench his muscles as a rough finger explored him, seeking an opening.

“Who'd have thought a whore would have such a tight ass?” Schneider made the observation almost negligently. “Open up, boy, or I'm gonna have to hurt you.”

A stream of invective was the only answer Blair had left to give. The pressure on the back of his neck eased a little, then his head was slammed down again. He wasn't sure what happened next, but it could only have been moments later that he was on the floor and the room was full of men, struggling and shouting. Jim's voice was amongst them, and Blair sobbed in relief.

***

“What do you mean, you can't do anything?” Jim turned his attention from Blair, sitting in Banks office with a young female patrol officer, to his captain's dark, angry face. He kept his voice low with an effort, all too aware of the interested glances from the others in the bullpen. “We caught him in the act of attempted rape, for Christ's sake.”

“Schneider's claiming he paid for it. His captain's backing him up. They go back a long way, Jim. Schneider was best man at Zimmerman's wedding, and Zimmerman's a close friend of the head of IA.” Banks' irritation was palpable, but he wasn't budging. “He'll get a severe reprimand. It'll go on his record. That's it.”

“You saw what he did to Blair.” Jim clenched his fists, fighting the temptation to yell. The last thing he needed was for Blair to hear this and in spite of his anger he was glad that Banks had brought him out here to break the news. “Look at him, dammit!”

“Things got a bit out of hand. That's what Schneider's claiming.” Banks spread his hands. “I don't buy it, not for a minute. IA will investigate, but between Zimmerman pulling strings and the kid's reputation, nothing's likely to come of it. Dammit, Jim, I told you to keep him away from here.”

“So, now it's my fault? Next you'll be blaming Blair.” Jim turned away. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Blair, bare from the hips down, bent over that desk, his hair escaping messily from his ponytail, his eyes half closed and blood trickling from his nose. “I want Schneider. He's not going to get away with this.”

“He already has.” Banks sighed, and Jim felt a large hand come down on his shoulder. “Take the kid home and clean him up. Look after him, okay?”

“This isn't over.” He met Banks' eyes, grim determination sparking from his own. “Not by a long way.”

He went into Banks' office and signalled to the young woman to leave. She patted Blair's shoulder gently and smiled at him. “You take care now, Blair.”

“Thanks.” Blair smiled wanly. Then he stared up at Jim.

“Come on, Chief. Let's get you home.” He felt awkward. All he really wanted to do was to take Blair in his arms, hold him, and never let go again. He couldn't do that here and didn't know what else he could do. He put a hand on Blair's arm and steadied him as Blair rose to his feet.

Walking through the bullpen was like running the gauntlet. Blair kept his eyes on the ground, concentrating on getting one foot in front of the other. Jim could feel the effort it took in the tension of the slim body. Hardened detectives avoided looking at the pair of them, and Jim had no idea whether it was out of pity or contempt. He didn't know which would be worse.

One pair of eyes followed them. Henri Brown, the newest arrival in Major Crime, nodded respectfully, his face grim. Jim knew Brown liked Blair; he inclined his head in acknowledgement as they passed. He led Blair to the lift foyer and they were waiting for the lift when Banks arrived, carrying Blair's backpack.

“You left this behind.” He held it out, and Blair took it, looking at it as though he'd never seen one in his life before. “I'm sorry, kid. We're doing everything we can.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Blair glanced up at Jim, but then the elevator arrived, mercifully empty, and Jim led him in. “What did he mean, Jim?”

“Later, okay?” He was saved from having to explain when two clerks got into the elevator on the fifth floor; after that they weren't alone again until they got into Jim's truck. He looked at Blair's determined face and sighed.

“Schneider's claiming he offered you money for sex and you accepted.” Jim ground the words out, feeling the anger rising in him anew. “He says things got 'a bit out of hand', and his captain's backing him up. He won't let us interview Schneider and he's treating it as a matter of internal discipline. IA will look into it, but they'll probably take the same line.”

“But…” shock turned to bewilderment in Blair's expressive face. “I can file charges, can't I? They'd have to arrest him.”

“It would never get to court.” Jim took his hand off the steering wheel and put it gently on Blair's thigh. “The DA's office isn't going to proceed when it's a matter of your word against his.”

“That's what he told me. He really didn't believe I'd report him, you know?” Blair's voice sounded hollow and faint. “Jim…”

“There's nothing I can do.” With a savage twist, Jim turned the key in the ignition and fired up the engine. “Let's go home.”

***

By the time they reached the loft the shock was wearing off, and Blair felt shaky and a little sick. It wasn't anything he hadn't experienced before, so he pushed the feelings aside and walked as steadily as he could to the elevator. Jim was trying to watch him without it being obvious and failing miserably. For some reason, that bugged the hell out of him.

Once inside their apartment, Jim drew him gently into his arms and lowered his head till their cheeks touched. “God, Blair. I'm so sorry.”

“Don't…” Blair pulled away, irritated even more by Jim's open sympathy. “It's not like it hasn't happened before, man. I'm fine. I've been hurt worse than this.”

Jim's face went suddenly still. “That doesn't make it okay, Blair. Schneider…”

“Has got away with it, just like he said he would. It's over, Jim. Let it go.” He turned towards the bathroom, aware that his hair hung in ratty tangles around his face, smelling of dust from that room. His body was already starting to stiffen up and his throat ached. “I'm going to take a shower.”

“Blair…”

He closed the door on Jim's concern and started the shower running. Slowly, Blair peeled off his clothes, dropping them on the floor in blatant defiance of Jim's rules. When he was naked, he surveyed as much of the damage as he could in the mirror. His throat was bruised and starting to colour up, as was his face. There was some dried blood around his nostrils, but his nose had stopped bleeding a while ago. From what he could see in the mirror, there were a number of bruises over his torso, and he could feel sore spots on his buttocks where Schneider's fingers had dug into his ass. Those would bruise too.

It could have been worse. Had been sometimes, before he came to live with Jim. He'd thought those days were over, but they weren't. Schneider had known that. So had those guys at the club last night. He'd always be a whore, and nothing would change that.

He stepped into the shower. Time to wash the dirt, and Schneider's stink, off his body. If he could smell it, then Jim certainly would.

***

In a remarkably short time, for Blair, the shower was turned off. A couple of minutes later, he appeared in the short hallway wearing the sweatpants, thick socks and warm sweater Jim had left by the door for him. He had a towel slung around his neck to catch the remaining moisture from his damp hair.

“Take a seat.” Jim poured soup into a large bowl. He hadn't prepared toast, expecting that Blair's throat wouldn't appreciate the scratchiness of it, so all that sat on the plate beside the bowl were a couple of Tylenol.

Blair looked up at him questioningly.

“You should take them, okay? They'll help with the soreness.” Jim sat opposite him and began to eat his soup. After a brief hesitation, Blair did likewise. The meal was eaten in an uncomfortable silence, until Blair dropped his spoon with a clatter.

Jim reached across the table to touch his hand. “Go sit on the couch. I'll clean up.” He contented himself with rinsing the bowls before stacking them to be washed properly later. When he turned towards the couch, he saw that Blair had chosen the armchair instead, and was sitting in it with his knees drawn up to his chest.

He sat on the couch, respecting Blair's unspoken need for distance. “Blair, listen… I'm not going to let Schneider get away with this.”

Blair shrugged dismissively.

“I mean it. I'll find a way to…”

“I don't want you to do anything, Jim. Just leave it be, okay?”

“It's not as simple as that.” Blair's face turned towards him, wary and shuttered. “You'll have to talk to IA tomorrow.”

Blair's lips thinned with barely suppressed anger. “What if I refuse?”

“Then Schneider won't even get a black mark on his record. Is that what you want? Do you really want him to get away with it altogether?” He met Blair's eyes challengingly. “How would you feel if you found out he raped some other kid later? Even if we can't bring him down for this, we can at least try to make it too risky for him to do it again.”

He knew he'd won when Blair looked away but there was no sense of satisfaction, just a sick feeling of guilt. “I'll be with you, okay? Every step of the way.”

One shoulder lifted slightly in response. “I'm gonna do some reading. There's a test on Monday.”

Jim settled on the couch while Blair went in search of his textbook, and was relieved when he returned and sat at the far end. There was still a considerable distance between them, and not just physically, but it was a slight improvement. He channel surfed restlessly, with the sound turned well down so Blair wouldn't be disturbed.

It was impossible to concentrate on what was on the screen. Every few seconds, Jim's eyes would be drawn to the still, hunched figure at the end of the couch. Blair didn't seem any more absorbed in the book than Jim was on the TV. His eyes were unfocused most of the time and he rarely turned a page. It was a relief when the late news ended and Jim could reasonably turn off the TV and get ready for bed.

He paused by Blair's arm. “Why don't you go up? I'll check up down here.”

Blair tossed the book aside and yawned, stretching a little before wincing slightly. “Yeah, okay. I'm not getting much done here.”

Jim lingered downstairs for a while, unnecessarily checking the windows and doors, and ensuring everything was turned off or put away. There was nothing out of place, and he hadn't expected there would be. Still, when he went upstairs, Blair was only just stripping off his shorts, moving slowly and with caution.

There were fingertip bruises on his buttocks, and other more random bruises over his back and arms. Jim's breath hitched as fury washed through him, but he managed to hide it as Blair straightened and turned. Another bruise, a dark blurry line across Blair's belly caught his eye. It must have been caused by the edge of the desk, and bore mute witness to the violence of the attack Getting angry wasn't going to help either of them, so he pushed it down, into that place where there was only a cold determination to make Schneider pay.

If Blair noticed any of this, he didn't say. He slipped into the bed while Jim undressed, seemingly uninterested in the view tonight. When Jim joined him, he moved willingly enough to lie against Jim's side, and didn't pull away when Jim turned and gathered him into his arms.

They lay in silence for a few seconds, then Blair lifted his face to Jim in mute invitation. Jim kissed him carefully, mindful of the bruises, now brutally dark against his pallor. Blair sighed quietly, his hand lifting to rest against Jim's bicep in a strangely innocent gesture.

Jim didn't know what it was that Blair wanted. Sex seemed to be unlikely – surely he would be too sore for that – but what if he did want it? One thing Jim had quickly learned about Blair was that he rarely behaved the way Jim thought he would. The best thing would be to let Blair set the pace, and be ready to back off if necessary.

In fact, it happened sooner than expected. As Blair snuggled closer, his thigh brushed against Jim's half-hard cock and for a moment he tensed. Then he was drawing away, looking confused and a little frightened.

“Uh… Jim, I…” he kept his eyes fixed firmly on Jim's shoulder.

“It's okay, babe. You're tired and hurting.” Jim brushed back a strand of hair and kissed his temple lightly. “I don't feel that great myself, so why don't we call it a night?”

“Yeah, okay.” Blair mumbled. After another couple of seconds he turned on his side facing away from Jim. Even from the back, he looked miserable. Jim kissed his shoulder and then lay on his back, one hand just brushing against Blair's skin.

Next post: March 25^th

Part 7 - Monday March 23rd 1992

Thu, 23 Mar 2006 08:04:12 GMT

Warnings, etc in part 0

New information makes the case even more personal for Jim.

The lines of typed print, already blurry, went out of focus altogether and Jim blinked, then rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept much in the last few days and it was catching up with him. He'd hardly seen Blair, since he was arriving home late and leaving early. Naomi had left on Saturday, and he hadn't even known until Blair told him.

It was nearly eight o'clock and he'd been at his desk for an hour and a half… time for another coffee, maybe some food. His stomach rumbled agreement. He hadn't been eating any too regularly either. It was a measure of his distraction that he didn't hear anyone approaching until a folded newspaper landed on the desk with a muted thud.

He looked up into Simon Banks' annoyed stare. “Read the front page.”

Missing Cop Absconds With Ransom? Shit! They'd been trying to keep the whole thing under wraps, especially since there was still no sign of Philip Brackley. “Nice of them to put a question mark at the end. I take it there's still no word from the kidnappers?”

“No, and somehow I don't think there's going to be.” Banks let out a long sigh. “There's no point in pussyfooting around any longer. I want you to investigate this as a possible double homicide.”

Ironically, it was the best news he'd had in days. At every turn of the investigation, Jim had been hamstrung by the risk of spooking the kidnappers into killing their victim. He'd already acknowledged the likelihood that Jack was dead, so now all that remained was to track down his killers.

“I'll get right onto it, Sir.” He was reaching for the phone as he spoke. He'd already asked the Brackleys and Art Landis to assemble a list of Philip's associates; maybe one of them had some idea of where he'd been that Saturday night.

Ten minutes later he was staring down at a faxed list of names, addresses and phone numbers in stunned disbelief. Just over two thirds of the way down the list was a name he hadn't thought about in years. Stephen Ellison. His brother.

***

Since he'd already interviewed the people who'd been with Brackley the night he'd disappeared, Jim skipped them and worked methodically through the remaining names on the list. By mid-afternoon he still had three more people to interview before he reached his brother. So far, he'd drawn nothing but blanks, and that name had been burning into his brain all day. If he continued this way, he probably wouldn't get to Stephen that day, and he knew it was going to drive him crazy if he had to wait until tomorrow.

His brother was working at the Lastings Park racetrack; apparently he was some kind of business executive. No surprise there – Stevie had always tried to live up to their father's expectations, while Jim had rebelled against them. Jim drove out there, and then spent ten minutes sitting in his truck, trying to get himself together enough to go inside.

Stephen's face lit up in a smile, damn him, when Jim was ushered into his office. “Jim! My god, what brings you here?”

“Police business.” He held up his ID, which Stephen waved aside. He sat in a chair facing Stephen's desk. “You're a friend of Philip Brackley.”

“Yeah.” Stephen sobered fast. “I just read about it in the paper this morning. Do you really think he's dead?”

“I can't answer that.” Jim watched his brother's face, but saw no signs of nervousness or guilt. “When was the last time you saw Philip Brackley?”

“I'm not sure.” Stephen frowned. He looked down at his desk thoughtfully. “It's been a while, a couple of weeks at least. The paper said he was kidnapped a week ago Saturday. I certainly didn't see him that weekend.”

“Can you tell me what you were doing that Saturday night?” Tension was coiling in his gut. His voice came out far harsher than he intended.

“You don't seriously think…” Stephen's face hardened. “For god's sake, Jim!”

“What? You think you're exempt from suspicion because you're my brother? Wake up, Stevie.” Anger came too easily. Stevie wasn't the little brother he'd protected all those years ago. Little brother was hanging out with some characters who had some very questionable hobbies, like picking up underage boys on the streets. “Brackley isn't the only one involved here. There's a cop, my partner, who's missing too.”

“And, of course he's more important than your own brother. Thanks a heap, Bro.”

He ignored Stephen's angry response, but his voice was shaking when he forced out his next question. He'd avoided this with all the other people he'd interviewed, but this one time, he had to know. “Did you know Brackley liked to have sex with kids? Underage boys?”

“What?” Stephen went white. “No! How can you… I don't believe it.”

“I have evidence that he did.” Jim spoke coldly. Now that he'd taken the plunge, he was able to control the sick churning of his stomach. This was business, suddenly. He could handle business; what he couldn't bear was the personal implications. “How about you? You ever take a walk on the wild side, Stevie?”

“Get out.” Stephen was on his feet, his expression thunderous. “I don't have to listen to this.”

Jim ignored him and reached inside his jacket for a photo. He tossed it face up, onto the desk. Blair's face smiled up at him and he turned his eyes away. “Have you ever had sex with this kid?”

Stephen didn't look at it. “Fuck you.”

“That would be incest, little brother. Answer the question.”

“I haven't had sex with him, or any other kid.” Stephen's eyes, burning with fury, met his and held them. “I'm not interested in boys. Now arrest me or get out.”

He left. Halfway down the corridor he realised he'd left Blair's photo behind, but nothing on earth would induce him to go back. He could always get another print; he still had the negative somewhere.

His stomach twisted suddenly, and Jim knew he wasn't going to make it outside. There was a small side corridor ahead, and he'd noticed the men's room sign as he came in. He barely made it in time, but all his retching achieved was a thin, acid tasting bile, reminding him he hadn't eaten at all today. He rinsed his mouth with tap water and wiped his face.

When he thought he could walk without staggering, Jim left the restroom and went out to his truck. His head was pounding and he felt dizzy; he'd have to be crazy to imagine he could do any more today. A glance at his watch told him it was after four. Time to take a break, get something to eat. Go home.

***

The truck was parked in its usual spot when Blair cautiously eased his Corvair into a space nearby. His pleasure was tempered by the knowledge that Jim had been working impossible hours for the last five days. It could mean that Jim had come to his senses and taken some time off, or – more likely – that he'd been forced to stop by illness or stress.

Not knowing what he would find wasn't going to deter him from getting to Jim as fast as possible, though. He flew up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and stopped to catch his breath outside the door of the loft. Jim would know he was there, unless he was really sick, so he didn't hesitate long. Blair slid the key into the lock and turned it as quietly as possible, then eased the door open.

Jim was lying on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes, but as Blair stepped inside, he turned his head towards the door.

Blair swallowed nervously. This was bad. Very bad. Almost as bad as last year when Jim's senses had come online. “Jim? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” Jim swung his legs around and sat up, moving slowly and awkwardly, like an old man. His face was strained and his eyes were cold and empty.

“What's happened? Have you found…?”

Jim shook his head. “I've been interviewing Philip Brackley's friends all day. They haven't been able to tell me anything I didn't already know.”

Blair dropped his backpack on the floor and went to sit on the coffee table facing Jim. There were a couple of photos lying on it and he glanced at them curiously.

“Do you recognise either of them?” Jim's voice sounded far too calm and reasonable for the look in his eyes.

“That one's Brackley, right? It was in the paper.” Blair watched Jim's face. It didn't change at all. “I dunno about the other one. He seems familiar somehow.”

Jim picked it up. “Take a good look. This is important.”

Blair studied it for a while, but if he knew the man, he didn't know how he'd met him. “I don't know, Jim. Who is he?”

“He's my brother. Stephen Ellison.”

Jim was watching him like a hawk, but all Blair could feel was shock and a hint of bewilderment. Jim had never mentioned that his brother lived in Cascade. He stared at the picture some more. Now that he knew, he could see the similarities between Jim and his brother. “I guess there's a family resemblance. Maybe that's why I thought…”

“Have you ever had sex with him?” The words burst out of Jim as though he couldn't contain them any longer. “Was he one of your 'customers'?”

“What? Jim… No!” Blair stared at him open-mouthed in shock. In all the time that Jim had known him, even after they'd become lovers, Jim had never asked for any details about what he'd done on the streets. He'd always assumed that meant Jim was okay with his past, but that had obviously been a mistake. Then honesty compelled him to add, “I don't know. I don't remember him, but…”

“Try,” Jim dropped the photo, grabbed him by the arms and shook him slightly. “Dammit, try!”

“Jim, let go of me.” Blair held perfectly still, but his heart was pounding. Jim had never manhandled him like this before and it was unnerving to be so hopelessly outmatched physically. He wasn't really afraid that Jim would hurt him, but the old instincts that had kept him alive on the streets were screaming at him to pull free and run like hell. “I don't remember. How many men do you think fucked me? I don't remember most of them, all right?”

Jim's grip tightened painfully. “How about Brackley? Do you remember him?”

“No.” Blair spoke bluntly, his patience with Jim rapidly fading. “As far as I know I've never met him.”

“I saw you with him.” Jim's eyes went from cold to blazing in one second flat. “Don't lie to me, Blair.”

“I'm not lying.” He'd had enough of this. Anger flooded through him, bringing a rush of adrenaline. Blair tore himself free of Jim's hands and stood. “Maybe I did have sex with him. I don't remember. Why should I? A john, he… he's just another dick to suck, to put up my ass. Hell, Jim, most of the time I wasn't exactly facing them. So you tell me why I should remember any of their faces.”

The stricken look on Jim's face was enough to quell his anger a little. Blair shrugged helplessly. “What the fuck do you want from me, Jim? I've never lied to you about my past. I've never pretended to be something I'm not. I thought you were okay with it.”

“How am I supposed to be okay with you and my brother…” his voice choked up and Jim got up from the couch and walked away to stare out the windows, his back turned to Blair.

“Did… did he say he fucked me?” It seemed like an eternity before Jim shook his head slightly. Blair clenched his shaking hands into fists. “Then what the fuck is your problem? He's your brother, Jim. Just take his word for it if you won't believe me.”

Jim turned to face him, but his face was in shadow and unreadable. “I hardly know him. I haven't seen him in nearly fifteen years.”

“Then you can obsess over it forever, because I can't give you an answer.” Blair laughed angrily. “At least not one you're ever gonna believe. Or you can believe your brother. What's it going to be Jim?”

“I can't stop thinking about it.” Jim looked away from him. “I can't help wondering how many other ex-customers of yours are going to turn up in my cases in the future.”

“How the fuck should I know?” The last shreds of Blair's temper disintegrated. “I didn't plan on this happening, Jim, but at least I've never lied to you.”

“What are you saying?” Jim's eyes narrowed. “That I did?”

“You didn't just find out about this today.” Blair pointed to Brackley's photo. “You must've known about him from the start, but you've never said anything. You never told me your brother lived in Cascade. Why not, Jim? Were you afraid I'd want to meet him?”

“I told you I haven't seen him in years. There was nothing to tell.” Jim's voice was rising, becoming harsh. “And I was trying to protect you by not saying anything about Brackley. Do you realise I should have told Jack, not to mention Banks, about this?”

“So why didn't you?” he shot the question back at Jim, in no way mollified. “Because you're ashamed to be fucking someone like me?” he mimed an exaggerated double take. “Oh, I forgot. They don't know you're fucking me, do they? Guess that answers my question.”

“Blair!” Jim's shout stopped him halfway to the door. “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

“Where ever I fucking well want.” He grabbed his backpack and continued on his way, half expecting Jim to try to stop him. “Don't wait up.”

At the bottom of the stairs, Blair hesitated. He'd needed to get away from Jim, from the suffocating sensation that Jim's distrust had roused in him, but he had no idea where he wanted to go. Well, he didn't have to decide right away, and besides, Jim might be listening. If he didn't leave, Jim might come after him and he wasn't ready either to continue the fight or to make up. He shouldered his way out through the glass door of the tiny lobby and headed for his car. The car Jim had given him.

Fuck! Wasn't there anything in his life that he didn't owe to Jim? Far from making him want to sort things out with Jim, the thought induced a serious desire to just get the hell away from everything that reminded him of that fact. He wrenched open the door of the Corvair and shoved the key impatiently into the ignition. He'd start driving and then make up his mind.

The sky was overcast and the light fading fast. Blair headed instinctively for the university, but when he realised, he pulled over and cut the engine. The way he was feeling right now, there was absolutely no point in trying to study. He supposed he could hang out at one of the cafes that catered for students, but the prospect didn't really appeal to him. There were still a few people around who remembered the news surrounding his testimony against de Silva. If he ran into some of them, there could be trouble and he'd taken enough crap today.

After thinking for a few minutes, Blair started up the engine and drove into the downtown area. He stopped on the fringe, where the fees in the parking lots were still more or less reasonable, and began to walk.

Full dark had fallen by the time he found himself outside Club Doom. It was still early, but he went inside. The place was only half full and he knew the bartender wouldn't card him, so he ordered a beer and took it to a corner of the room where he could watch what was going on and listen to the taped music in peace while the band was setting up.

When the band started their first set, Blair joined in the dancing, trying to lose himself in the music. A couple of girls danced with him for a while, but moved on when his lack of interest in them became obvious. After an hour or so, he left, bored by the music and the people and knowing that he wouldn't get what he wanted there. He went back to the Corvair and drove to Sixth, where the strip joints were. Then sat in the car for about ten minutes, his heart beating fast. Finally, he stripped off his shirt and Henley, leaving just a white t-shirt and jeans, then got out of the car and hurried into the club.

He hadn't been here in months. Not since he and Jim had become lovers. It was one of several gay clubs he'd visited frequently back then, where the music was loud and had the kind of driving beat that made it impossible to think about anything else. The place stank of testosterone and beer. Jim would have zoned out in seconds.

Again, he lingered on the sidelines, not bothering to buy a drink, since he'd probably be carded here. His whole body was tingling with reaction to the atmosphere and the knowledge that he could do anything he wanted. There were rooms upstairs, and lots of alcoves and dark, narrow corridors where a quick, anonymous fuck or blowjob could be had. He wasn't going to do that, he wasn't that stupid or that pissed off with Jim, but knowing that he could… he shivered suddenly, his cock hardening.

Apparently out of thin air, an arm came heavily around his shoulders, and Blair almost leapt out of his skin. He looked up at the guy – tall, beefy, not bad looking, about thirty – the kind of guy he would have gone for once. He tried to move away and the arm tightened. “Hey, Princess. Buy you a beer?”

He twisted, ducked, and backed up a step, turning to face the guy. “Keep your fucking hands off me.”

The guy laughed. “Feisty. Come here, Princess…” he was reaching for Blair when a hand came out of nowhere and gripped his wrist. Blair could see the flesh whitening with the pressure of those fingers. He glanced at his would-be rescuer curiously – average height and build, average looks – but something told him this guy was anything but average.

“Why don't you just move along, mate?” The accent was strange, maybe Aussie, Blair thought. “The kid's not interested.”

At first it seemed like the other guy was going to argue, but then he winced and broke eye contact. Blair's rescuer smiled faintly and released the thick wrist, and the bigger man moved off. He turned to look down at Blair, his gaze level and assessing.

Blair forced a smile. “Thanks, but I can look after myself.”

“Yeah, I bet you can.” He signalled the bartender and a moment later, a bottle of Corona was delivered to him. He handed it to Blair, and laid an arm across his shoulder. “Drink this up, then leave.”

Blair took a cautious sip – just a few drops. He hadn't seen the bartender open the bottle and he wasn't going to take stupid risks. “What if I don't want to leave?”

“It wasn't a suggestion, kiddo.” The man smiled gently. “It's my job to make sure there isn't any trouble here. Bad for business.”

“Then make him leave.” Blair tilted his chin stubbornly.

“What about those guys over there?” He indicated a group of leather-clad skinheads with a slant of his eyes. “Or them?” A couple of sleek, well muscled men who were eyeing Blair with interest. “Or half the bloody club? Fresh meat like you coming in here… you either piss or get off the pot. I don't want to spend half the night dragging people off your pretty arse, Sweetcheeks.”

Blair sighed and handed the beer back. “Okay, I get it.”

“That's 'cause you're a smart kid.” He walked beside Blair to the door, nodding to the bouncer as they passed. “Come back when you're ready to party.”

He hurried back to the Corvair before the chill night cut through the heat of the club and hastily pulled on his extra layers. Then he drove home. But that only raised a whole new bunch of problems.

The loft was in darkness when he unlocked the door. It wasn't that late, and for a moment Blair wondered whether Jim had gone out looking for him. Then he heard a soft snore from upstairs.

He hesitated, still standing by the door. Should he just go to bed like nothing had happened? He didn't feel comfortable about that, but what was the alternative? Sleep in his old room, maybe. He wondered how Jim would react if he did.

Maybe he should go up and wake Jim, talk to him, though he had no idea what to say. They'd never had a real fight, and Naomi's way of dealing with that kind of shit was to pack up and leave. At least he knew he didn't want to do that.

First, though, he'd better have a shower. He didn't want Jim smelling the smoke – and probably those guys too – on him. He headed for the bathroom, pulling his shirts off over his head. Just a quick shower, then bed.

But when he got there, Jim didn't even stir. Blair would have expected, now that he thought of it, that Jim would have woken as soon as he came in. The explanation was sitting in plain sight, once Blair thought to look for it – a bottle of aspirin. He knew from experience that even a couple of aspirin would put Jim out for hours. So it looked like there would be no talking tonight. He slid into bed, trying hard not to feel relieved

Next post: March 24^th