Part 2 Love's Forebearance

[alyburns]

Part 2


When Blair entered the bullpen, he saw that Jim was already there. Fed up with what he increasingly felt was bullshit and being jerked around by a guy who couldn’t make up his mind about love or commitment or his own sexuality, he felt anger simmer under his frustration with the whole situation. Hands shoved in his pockets, he stopped in front of Jim’s desk and leaned forward to demand in a hoarse whisper, “What the hell was that about last night, huh?”

Jim looked up at him with guileless eyes. “You said you wanted me out of the closet. You said you were sick of hiding and that I had to deal with that or there was no hope for us,” he replied, his voice low but by no means a guarded whisper. “It goes against everything I’ve ever believed, Chief, about surviving ... about fitting in. But I’m trying here. I’m really trying to ... to get out of my own way. To be honest.”

“So you had to show up on my date to discuss homophobia or increasing tolerance in the Force?” Blair snorted and shook his head. “You sure you weren’t just trying to torpedo my chance with someone else?”

“Mickelson didn’t look like someone who would be scared off that easily,” Jim retorted, his gaze dropping away. “Why won’t you believe I’m trying?”

“I know you’re trying,” Blair sighed, turning away. “Very trying.”

Jim shot to his feet. “That’s not fair, Sandburg. I’m doing everything you’ve said I had to do to have any credibility with you. I’ve been in therapy for weeks, and last night I –”


“Okay, fine, you’re right,” Blair retorted, anger sparking. “But to what end, Jim? Huh? How does any of this prove that anything will really change? That you won’t pull the same damned thing again when you get bored?”

“Bored? You think it was about being bored?” Jim challenged, his voice rising.

Blair abruptly realized that everyone was listening, though their colleagues were doing a good job of trying to pretend they were oblivious. His gaze returning to Jim’s, he snapped, “I don’t think you really want to do this here.”

“No? Wanna bet?” Jim growled and, coming around his desk, he gripped Blair’s arm and drew him along to Simon’s office, where he rapped sharply on the open door and then hauled Blair inside. After closing the door, Jim turned to Simon and said, “Sir, I’m sorry to bust in like this, but I need to clarify something that’s important to my future, both personally and professionally. There’s well defined regulation that couples can’t be partnered; it’s just too risky, right? Both of them could be killed, which would devastate their families. Or under stress, they could lose their grip and break ranks to protect their significant other rather than the public.”

“Uh huh,” Simon drawled, watching them both warily. “That’s pretty much what the regs say and why.”

“Okay,” Jim allowed. He rubbed a palm over his head and kneaded the back of his neck. “Okay, well, you probably need to know that Sandburg and I were engaged in a ... a sexual relationship for the past year, and that things fell apart when he caught me with a woman.”

Simon winced and grimaced. “Is there a reason you feel obliged to tell me this now?”

“Yes, sir,” Jim replied. “My hope is that we’ll be able to reconcile, but I felt we needed to keep the relationship under wraps so we wouldn’t compromise our partnership here at work. But Sandburg thinks that because of the sentinel thing, and my need for his specialized support, that the regs wouldn’t apply. So, well, I need a ruling here. He’s not happy being in the closet and I can understand that. And he doesn’t trust that I care enough about him – about us – to challenge the situation here at work. Well, I do. Care enough. Enough that if we can’t remain partners if we reconcile that I’m prepared to resign.”

“Ah, hell,” Simon groaned. “Just how out of the closet do you want this to be?” he asked Blair, who was gaping at Jim and wondering if he’d fallen into some alternate or parallel reality where James Joseph Ellison was comfortable with his sexuality and didn’t feel that everything in his life had to be classified information.

“Huh, what?” Blair stammered, blinking as he turned to Simon.

“I asked you how far out of the closet do you want to be?” Simon reiterated, impatiently. “Do I have to take on the union who will protest special treatment, or is it enough that your immediate colleagues understand you’re a, uh, couple?”

“We’re not,” Blair said, frowning. “Not anymore.”


“But we could be again, right?” Jim insisted. “I made some monumentally stupid mistakes but surely to God we can work it out.”

Simon held up his hands. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this conversation. You two need to take this to a marriage counselor or – at least – somewhere private. Once you’ve figured out whether or not you are or aren’t a couple, let me know, and we can take it from there. Okay?”

“Seems reasonable, so long as you think there’s a way we can work it out,” Jim agreed. “Our relationship didn’t get in the way of doing our job for the whole of the past year and I think we can argue that I need his backup.”

“Jim, that would mean coming out about being a sentinel,” Blair exclaimed, tossing up his hands.

Jim sighed. “I think that horse is pretty much already out of the barn, Sandburg. There aren’t many in the PD who honestly believe you’re any kind of fraud.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my partner?” Blair demanded.

Jim met his gaze unflinchingly. “I want this to work, Chief. But we don’t have a chance if you’re never gonna trust me again, or you can’t believe that I can change.”

“This is all very interesting, and don’t get me wrong, I care about how it all works out,” Simon interjected. “You’re both my friends as well as my valued team members. But please, get the hell out of my office and deal with all this on your own time.”

Badly needing to wrap his head around the massive curves Jim was throwing at him, Blair was all too happy to agree. “Right,” he said, heading toward the door.

“We’ll keep you posted, Simon,” Jim assured, moving to follow him out.

“Riiight,” Simon drawled, and rolled his eyes. “You do that.”

Blair couldn’t stand it. Stopping dead in his tracks, he turned to Simon and demanded, “You’re seriously saying that you’re okay with it that Jim and I, that we ...” he gestured between the two of them, “and we might –”

Scowling heavily, Simon rumbled, “You’re not suggesting that I might harbor narrow-minded, discriminatory or prejudicial attitudes toward you because of your sexual orientation? Tell me you’re not suggesting that, Sandburg.”

Brought up short, Blair floundered and decided he was really losing it. “No, no, I wasn’t suggesting that,” he stammered. “I really wasn’t. I do know better, Simon. It’s just – we’ve buried it for so long – and now I don’t know –”

“I understand, Blair,” Simon cut in, his tone softer, even gentle, but there was a trace of sarcasm resonating on the edges. “It all sounds very confusing. I think we’ve all been confused enough for this morning and now I really want the two of you to get back to work.”


Deciding he should quit while he was behind, Blair just nodded and got the hell out of the office. When he heard Jim start to say something behind him, he raised his hands and shook his head. “Not now, man. Simon’s right. We have to get back to work. There are a bunch more shops we need to check out to see if we can get a lead on that cologne you smelled at the crime scenes.”

“Fine, then let’s go,” Jim agreed, lightly tugging his arm to turn him back toward the exit.

Tense, feeling the burn of acid in his belly, staggered by Jim’s recent behaviors, Blair felt as if the walls were closing in on him, trapping him. I want this to work, Chief. But we don’t have a chance if you’re never gonna trust me again, or you can’t believe that I can change. Jim’s words played over and over in his head, a seemingly endless loop, as they pounded down the stairs to the garage in the basement. His anxiety spiked, leaving him feeling more than a little nauseated. Jim was doing everything he’d said was necessary, so why did that only leave him feeling trapped? And why did he feel ready to lash out in furious anger? Didn’t he want to reconcile? Wasn’t that what he’d been hoping for?

Panting for breath, Blair climbed into the truck and clicked on the seatbelt. He shouldn’t feel this breathless after dashing down only seven flights of stairs. Forcing himself to slow and deepen his breathing, he also swallowed hard to dislodge the heaviness in the back of his throat.

Jim hadn’t cranked on the engine, and was half-turned in his seat, looking at him. “What’s wrong, Chief? Your heart is hammering like a freight train.”

Pressing his right hand against his chest, still fighting the urge to pant for air, Blair shook his head. “I don’t know. I feel like ... like everything is closing in on me, pushing me, like I can’t breathe.”

“I thought you’d be glad that I’m being upfront about us, no more hiding ...” Jim said, clearly at a loss.

Blair lifted his left hand, signaling Jim to wait, just wait, while he got his breathing under control. Jim left the truck and ran back inside the building, only to return less than a minute later with a bottle of water from the pop machine in the hall. Twisting off the cap, he handed it to Blair, who gratefully sipped at it, slowly, so as not to jar his twitchy stomach. “Okay,” he sighed after a minute. “Okay, I’m good now. God, I haven’t had one of those since I was a little kid.”

“Had what? What happened?”

“An anxiety attack,” Blair admitted, feeling sheepish. He took another long swallow of water, and then capped the bottle. Setting it aside, he scraped his face with his palms and shoved his hair back behind his ears. “You said something upstairs that hit me hard. About me not trusting you again, and not believing you can change. I see you, hear you, saying stuff that I never thought I’d ever hear you say, and it’s like I can’t believe it, can’t take it in.”

Flicking a look at Jim, lacerated by the vulnerability on Jim’s face and the confusion in his eyes, Blair felt the anxiety flare again as emotions warred within him. He wanted so badly to believe it all, to believe that everything was going to be fine and they’d have the textbook fairytale ending. But ... but he couldn’t, couldn’t ... couldn’t trust Jim not to hurt him again.

“I guess I don’t believe it,” he whispered hoarsely, feeling the burn of despair in the back of his eyes. “I know you’re trying,” he hastened to add, but he had to fight to keep the anger out of his voice. “It’s like you’ve got this checklist in your head of what you have to do, and if you do it then everything will be fine. Like ‘go to a gay bar and admit I’m bi’, and ‘tell Simon the truth and clear up this whole partners thing’, and ‘get therapy to deal with the trust stuff’. But, but Jim ... it’s like you’re just going through the motions, you know? How do I know, really know, that you won’t dump more crap on me in the future, tell me that our partnership isn’t working, or give me another song and dance about having to perpetuate the species, or whatever the next time you cheat on me? How do I trust you not to ... to treat me like shit the next time you’re feeling insecure or unworthy?”

“Chief, I can’t prove something won’t happen,” Jim replied helplessly. “I can only say I’ll do my best and that I swear I won’t cheat on you again.” Blair saw his jaw tighten, and recognized the characteristic sign of angry frustration ... and heard the barely tempered sarcasm in Jim’s voice when he went on irritably, “What’s it gonna take, huh? To convince you? Do you want to go to Canada and get married?”

“Dammit, Jim, I didn’t create this problem, okay? And you know, it might be nice if you actually talked to me about what you’re thinking about or planning instead of just blindsiding me every time I turn around lately!” Blair snapped, anger ripping loose in response to Jim’s impatient sarcasm. “If you think that sauntering into a gay club with an earring in your ear or grandstanding for Simon is all that it’s gonna take, you’re wrong. In the past nearly two months, you haven’t said one word to me about what you’re learning or dealing with in therapy or whether any of it is making any difference to you. Hell, I don’t even know if you’re keeping your appointments. So far as I can see, we aren’t communicating any better than we ever did, and I haven’t seen or heard anything that suggests that you won’t turn around and cheat on me again whenever you get the itch.”

Glaring at Jim, who wasn’t meeting his gaze, he slammed, “And you know what, it isn’t marriage that I want, it’s the ‘until death do us part’ commitment that I want. I’m not at all sure you’re capable of making that kind of commitment to anyone.”

Jim flinched but didn’t respond, just sat there, pale and tense, taking the abuse. Turning away from him, knowing that accelerating anger wouldn’t do either of them any good, Blair closed his eyes and forced himself to stop ranting. In fairness, he knew therapy, introspection, the exploration of emotion, and not being in control were all extremely difficult for Jim; the wonder was that his frustration with the process hadn’t boiled over more often in the past weeks. Blair was more concerned about the virulence of his own anger. Jim was doing everything he’d asked, so why wasn’t it enough, and why was he aching to punch something or someone? Someone? Hell, he wanted to slug Jim. So angry he could scarcely think, Blair struggled to order his muddled thoughts. Taking a breath, doing his best to sound calm and reasonable, he suggested, “Simon said we should get some joint counseling and I think he could be right about that. I think we need couples’ counseling.”

Jim rolled his eyes and sank back against his seat; shifting, he stared sightlessly out the window. “Fine. Whatever it takes,” he agreed, but he sounded worn out, defeated, as if he’d lost hope.

Blair hated the surge of guilt he felt, and that resentment just added fuel to the fire of his unreasoning anger. Dammit, this wasn’t his fault. Taking a breath, he shoved away his habitual inclination to capitulate and straightened his shoulders. “Okay, well, maybe ask your therapist if he or she is comfortable seeing both of us, or whether we need to make other arrangements.” He wondered what it said that after two months he didn’t know if it was a ‘he’ or a ‘she’. Snorting softly, he told himself it probably didn’t say anything good.

Jim nodded and twisted the ignition key, cranking the engine to life. “I’ll get us an appointment as soon as it can be arranged,” he said as he steered out of the garage.

Blair looked out at the street and thought about getting his own therapist. But he discarded the idea. Their issues were about communication and trust, and the essence, the very nature of love, and whether Jim was capable of making a commitment to one person for the rest of his life. Whatever he had to say to a counselor, he could say in front of Jim. Maybe, someday they wouldn’t need a third party to help them say what needed to be said, and to hear what needed to be heard.

**

Three days later, he was sitting with Jim in a remarkably sterile waiting room outside the therapist’s office, nervously anticipating their first joint session with Dr. Meadows. When the door to the inner sanctuary opened, Blair automatically stood to greet the counselor, and was staggered when a gorgeous, long-legged redhead who must’ve stood six feet in her heels strode out to meet them. From her flaming mane to the flashing emerald eyes, she was the epitome of everything Jim had ever seemed to want in a woman. Jim regarded her with something akin to rapture on his face and, though he didn’t like to judge anyone on appearances, Blair had a very bad feeling about being there. But then he was immediately contrite; if this is what it took to get Jim to see a therapist willingly, then fine. Whatever.

“Jim,” she greeted him, with a wide, warm smile, but she turned to him with a cooler look of assessment. “Mr. Sandburg. Won’t you both come in?”

“Blair, please,” he urged, holding out his hand.

“Blair,” she agreed, shaking his hand briefly before waving them into the office ahead of her.

The large rectangular room had the requisite couch, and Blair tried very hard not to imagine how it might have been used, and two well-stuffed armchairs in front of a massive desk of burnished mahogany. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and decorated with diplomas and modern artwork of bright colors splashed haphazardly on the canvases. A door in the corner looked like it led to a private washroom, and another door in the same wall as the wide windows led out to the back parking lot and green space. Like the waiting room, the place felt expensive but cold, and he wondered what kind of therapist she was. The couch suggested a Freudian analyst, but he didn’t think Jim would have the patience for that, even with a stunning redhead.

They took the chairs in front of the desk and she settled behind it. “Mr. Sand – Blair,” she began, “Jim has told me that you suggested joint counseling sessions, I presume with the hope of reconciliation. So what is it that you feel needs to happen before you and Jim can get back together?”

A little taken aback by her directness, and feeling distinctly on the spot, Blair unconsciously held up his hands to buy time. “Uh, yes, in the long run, maybe reconciliation is possible. But I think it’s a bit early to talk about specific terms. There’s a lot we have to work through, particularly around issues of trust and commitment, and our respective understanding of what those terms mean.”

“Really?” she returned, sitting back in her leather executive chair. “I was under the impression that you love Jim.”


“I do,” Blair replied. “But love isn’t necessarily enough to make a relationship work. It hasn’t been enough so far.”

She nodded and, picking up a pen, scribbled something on the pad of paper in front of her. Then, laying it down, she leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, her eyes drilling into his. “I’m pleased that you seem to understand that there is a lot of ground to cover here and that reconciliation may not be in either of your best interest.” Blair blinked at her tone and darted a quick glance at Jim, who was staring at her with surprise on his face. His gaze was drawn back to hers when she continued, “You seem to be presenting yourself as the wounded party here.”

Blair felt his mouth go dry with the realization that this was not going to go the way he’d imagined, not at all. “That’s right,” he confirmed, proud that he was keeping his tone steady. “I caught Jim cheating on me in our bed.”

She tapped the pen on the paper. “When relationships fail, the responsibility rarely rests with only one partner.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, trying not to feel defensive because she was right. “I feel I’ve been an enabler for some time in a dysfunctional relationship.”

“An enabler? You? Really? Jim took responsibility for you for four years while you hung around studying the police department, gave you a place to live, and stood by you, didn’t he, after you’d used his name in a fraudulent document? And he has continued to work with you for the past year despite the difficulties I’m sure that must have presented. I’m not sure who has been enabling whom. It’s clear to me that Jim cares for you a great deal, but I suspect you either enticed or somehow coerced him into an intimate relationship, which he is having difficulty sustaining. In my view, his loyalty to you seems excessive and misplaced. It’s not entirely surprising that he sought solace in another person’s arms. A woman’s arms.”

Blair felt he’d been sucker-punched. Almost everything she said was true and was certainly what most of the world believed, so there was nothing he could say in his own defense. But he hadn’t thought this was going to be about defending himself. He’d hoped for better; had thought Jim would be more open and honest in therapy, more fair about the balance in their relationship and friendship. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

Frozen, he stared past her at the diplomas on the wall, and wondered why Jim would do this, would set him up for this. He couldn’t seem to breathe and, humiliated, he felt his eyes burn. Under the lacerating hurt, fury was igniting. Struggling for control, he looked at Jim, who was gaping at her. “Is that what you told her? Huh? That I’m some kind of leech who is using you, sucking the life out of you, or a clinging vine who is strangling you?” he seethed. Shaking his head, turning away, he pushed himself up from the chair. “I think we’re done here.”

“No, Blair, wait!” Jim exclaimed, also coming to his feet and grabbing his arm, holding him in place. “Where do you get that crap?” he yelled at the therapist. “I told you he’s the best friend I ever had, that I love him and need him in my life. Why are you doing this? Trying to destroy us?”

“Jim,” she returned, her tone now warm and cajoling, “your loyalty does you credit. But of course I know what happened a year ago – who doesn’t?”

Blair was staring at Jim’s hand gripping his arm and, though he hated it, he knew Jim could feel him trembling. “Let me go,” he rasped.

“No,” Jim repeated. “I didn’t want it to go like this. I didn’t expect ... Blair, please. I want to work things out.”

Blair felt dead inside as he looked up into Jim’s eyes, cold and dead. He’d thought there was a chance that they might get back together; God, he’d hoped it would be possible. But they were still mired in the same old lies, still stuck in the some old closets. “Really?” he challenged. “Tell me you didn’t come on like the misunderstood, tragic hero who has only been doing his best. If you’re not the bad guy, then of course it must be me, right? Fuck this.” He yanked his arm but couldn’t free himself. “Let go of me!” he snarled.

“Dammit,” Jim cursed, retaining his grip. “Tell him! Tell him what I told you about why I was sleeping around. Tell him!”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You said he was too good for you. You said that you hoped he’d give it up and go after the life he deserved to have. But, of course, that’s nonsense. You’re simply assuming responsibility – which does you credit – but you clearly don’t owe him anything.”

Despite his icy fury, and the heated emotions raging inside, Blair heard her, as if from a distance. Blinking to bring himself back into the room, he asked, “What? What did you say?”

“Jim said you’ve always stuck by him, that you love him more than is good for you, that you didn’t have to hold that press conference and give up, what was it? Three million dollars? But it’s clear to me that you have some unhealthy hold over him. I’ve done the research and I know you were nothing more than a grad student tagging along behind him, riding on his glory. I believe you became an adrenaline junkie, and you wanted more of the same – and you wanted to own him. You appear to be a very manipulative individual, dangerously so, and it would be far better for Jim if you were to get out of his life completely.”

It was all so surreal. “You are so off-base. I did get out of his life completely. Twice,” Blair grated. “Nearly two years ago, when he threw me out and said we were done, I left him, I was gone. Hell, I was dead. But he called me back and I ... I came back because I thought he wanted me. And I was prepared to leave a year ago, after the press conference, but he wanted me to stay, to be his official partner. I’m not the one who has pushed to continue this relationship or whatever it is that we have. After I caught him cheating, I tried to work with another partner downtown, but Jim insisted that he wouldn’t or couldn’t work with anyone else. So don’t tell me that I’m the one clinging onto him.”

“Blair, please –” Jim implored, sounding strangled.

But cutting him off, Blair twisted his arm abruptly, breaking Jim’s grip. “And you,” he growled, whirling to face Jim. “Now you’re claiming that you wanted me to catch you because you don’t deserve me? For God’s sake, Jim, what is wrong with you? Why can’t you accept love? Why can’t you believe you’re deserving of it? I thought that’s what you were working on, that and your ability to trust and your capacity to commit to a lifelong relationship – and to maybe even feel good enough about us to come out of the closet. What the hell have you been doing here for the past two months? Repressing everything again? Did you tell her about your childhood? Or about what happened to you

in Peru or with that sleaze, Colonel Oliver? Huh? About losing your men? Have you talked about why it didn’t work with Carolyn?”

Panting, Blair broke off before he blurted out anything about Jim’s senses and, shaking his head, he turned away and closed his eyes to shut it all out. What a mess, what an unholy mess it had turned out to be. He didn’t know if Jim had slept with the good doctor yet, but it was pretty clear to him that she was hot to sleep with him. Where had he gotten the referral to this woman? Out of a crackerjack box?

“I came here because I need to know I can trust you if we’re ever going to have a future. I need to know you’re not going to willfully hurt me again,” he raged, but low and tight and cold. “And it’s all just the same old shit. Nothing’s changed.”

The brittle silence was broken when she began to clap. “Terrific performance; you’re quite the little drama queen, Blair,” she drawled. “I can see why you have Jim twisted around your little finger.”

“That’s enough!” Jim bellowed. “Detective Sandburg is the best man I’ve ever known, the best friend and partner and ... and lover I’ve ever had. I have no idea what’s wrong with you, lady, but you are way out of line here.”

Blair laughed hollowly. “Oh, come on,” he jeered, though Jim’s defense of him was cutting through his anger, creating a small patch of warmth in his chest. “You’d don’t know what’s wrong with her? She wants you for herself, that’s what’s wrong.” Aching with the hopeless love he felt, he added bitterly, “Can’t say I blame her.”

Meadows flushed. “Nonsense,” she protested. “I haven’t said anything that I suspect most of the people around you both are thinking. I’m simply addressing the situation in a rational manner, stripped of the emotions and the co-dependency that seems to exist between the two of you, to help Jim see reality for what it is.”

“Yeah, right,” Blair chuffed, but he looked away because, dammit, she wasn’t all that far off the mark about what people who didn’t know them well thought about him.

“Reality for what it is,” Jim echoed hoarsely. “Well, how’s this for a little reality? The only thing Blair lied about was that his thesis was a fraud, when it was nothing but the honest truth. I owe him everything. And I need him like I need air. But he owes me nothing, and if he’s smart, he’ll ditch me for good and get on with his life.”

Blair turned to look at Jim, surprised and, despite himself and the anger he tried to hold onto, deeply touched by the fierce passion in Jim’s voice. Jim again took his arm, this time more gently, and said, “Lady, we’re finished and if you send me a bill for this travesty, I’ll sue you. C’mon, Chief, let’s get out of here.”

Blair looked at Meadows and saw her astonishment as what Jim had just told her sank in. “And if you break the confidentiality of this session and tell anyone what Jim just told you, we’ll not only sue you, we’ll move heaven and earth to have you stripped of your license.” Nothing like having a common enemy to bring people together, he thought bemusedly, and that made him think he was missing something, as he let Jim usher him toward the door. But this really hasn’t solved any of our problems.


The door was locked. Jim thumped it and whirled to face her. “Open the damned door or I’ll break it down.”

“In a moment,” she replied, her tone much gentler, without the caustic edge. “I’m sorry for attacking you, Mr. Sandburg, but I felt it was necessary for both of us to know very clearly where Jim stands, and for you to hear it from him rather than from me. And you’re right; he hasn’t been the most forthcoming client, particularly about the role you play in his life, at least until now, or about the depth of his feelings for you. But Jim wasn’t the only one playing the avoidance game. You were also dodging the bullet when I asked what you needed from him at the beginning of the session. It’s now very clear that you need to know you can trust him and that he’s capable of a lifelong commitment, which you currently seem to doubt – not without some cause. It’s also clear that you’re harboring a great deal of anger. You came in here angry with him, and now you’re also angry with me, but you try to hide that anger. That’s not healthy and we’ll need to deal with that. But at least we’ve got it out on the table.”

When she paused, they stared at her stonily.

“I assure you, I have no designs on Jim. But it was interesting to see you care enough and still feel affiliated enough with him to be jealous. And it was most illuminating to see how you, Jim, are not prepared to allow anyone to denigrate Mr. Sandburg – at least not in your hearing, though I suspect Mr. Sandburg has to live with a lot of people thinking and saying those things.”

She paused then, but Blair was not inclined to either debate the point she’d just made or remind her to call him by his first name, so she continued, “All in all, I think the two of you have a very sound basis of strong mutual regard and affiliation for being able to work out your differences. If you’re not willing to continue working with me, I’ll understand; my approach at the beginning of this session, to shake both of you out of your comfort zones, was somewhat unorthodox.”

She pushed a button under her desk and they heard a low buzz from the door. “It’s up to you whether you go or stay, or go to discuss whether to continue working with me, or simply go with a view toward working with another therapist, even if it means starting from square one.”

“And you said I was manipulative,” Blair said sardonically. “I need to think about this. And I think we need to discuss what just happened before we talk with anyone else.”

“Fair enough. Give me a call if you wish to schedule another appointment.”

**

They were both silent on the way out of the building and back to Jim’s truck; given the stony look of fury on Jim’s face, Blair thought silence was probably a good thing. He wasn’t any too happy with the woman, either, not least of all because she’d effectively pulled the plug on any trust Jim might have had in her. Jim hadn’t been all that pleased about pursuing therapy in the first place and the likelihood of him starting over with anyone else was just about zilch.

On the other hand, while he might question her process, she’d sure succeeded in getting them to cut to the chase.

When they got in the truck, Jim just sat there, staring out through the windshield, apparently lost in thought. Needing the time to decompress and get all his own emotions back under control, Blair didn’t

push. Best man I’ve ever known. Best friend, best partner, best lover. Need him like I need air. I owe him everything.

Pressing his lips together, he crossed his arms and bowed his head. Jim had told him some of that before, after the press conference. But he’d written it off to the stress and pressure of the moment and Jim’s desire to give him something in return for having trashed his own life. Need, maybe respect, and obligation. But Jim hadn’t said much about love. Maybe, though, his weird, mixed up actions, like sleeping with others to get Blair to give up on him, were paradoxically driven by love, by the need to sacrifice all for what Jim believed was best for him.

Blair understood sacrifice, knew what it cost, what it meant. Chewing on his lip, he wondered if he was reading too much into it, or if he was being conned. Jim was so damned plausible; but he’d do something like this, something stubborn and risky and even distasteful if he thought it was ultimately the right thing to do.

Heaving a sigh, Blair gave his head a shake. Was it a test, like he’d thought weeks ago? A test to see if he’d keep loving Jim, no matter what? Was it some genetic drive to reproduce? Was Jim just tired of him, uncomfortable in a gay relationship, or intrinsically unable to commit to one person? Or was it really because, deep down, Jim didn’t believe he deserved to be loved, and he genuinely felt Blair needed to be driven away for his own good? Given what Blair had already sacrificed for him, Jim had to know that he’d have to do something so fundamentally offensive as to be utterly unacceptable to get Blair to give up on him. Partner betrayal was pretty damned offensive.

Staring into space, Blair decided it was either the test or the sacrifice – otherwise Jim would have been more careful not to get caught – and maybe, though Jim might not even be entirely aware of it, it was both, which could explain his evidently contradictory feelings and behaviors.

“Was she right?” Jim rasped. “Is that really what most people still think? Is that what you face every damned day, that contempt?”

Startled by the one question he had totally not expected, Blair didn’t have a ready answer. Shrugging, his gaze wandering everywhere but toward his partner, he replied, “People who know us don’t treat me that way. Who cares what strangers think?”

“I hate it,” Jim snapped and slammed the wheel with his hand. “All of it. I hate what knowing me has done to you.”

“Enough!” Blair exclaimed. “Damn it, Jim. You act like I can’t think for myself, make choices for my own life. I’m not a child. I’ve been a full participant in everything that’s happened – up until you apparently decided you had to drive me away. If you can’t accept my right to choose, if you can’t respect the choices I make, then it really is hopeless.”

“If you weren’t a cop, what would you do?” Jim asked then.

Blair’s laugh was hollow. “I don’t know, man. I haven’t given it a lot of thought.” Finally twisting to face Jim, he challenged, “Maybe you should have asked me that, and if I wanted to be anything else, before you decided to destroy what we had.”

“I don’t understand how you can say you still love me,” Jim said softly, his gaze downcast, his tone confused. “If I caught you ... God, if I didn’t kill you, I’d sure in hell never trust you again and, and I don’t know if I could still love you.”

“I know,” Blair said and frowned in thought. There went the test idea. Jim hadn’t thought there’d be any hope of forgiveness but, afterward, he’d apparently not been able to live with what his actions had caused. Well, to err was definitely human and he’d known Jim had feet of clay for a very long time. How messed up was it that Jim had maybe done it all out of love, out of only really wanting the best for him ... the best being, in Jim’s definition, a life without Jim in it? Anger surged at the games Jim had been playing, at the stakes he’d risked and for what? To destroy what had been so hard won? But the pain of it overwhelmed Blair’s anger, leaving little but despair in its wake.

“So, you love me, but you don’t trust me anymore,” Jim said, sounding infinitely weary.

Blair knew how he felt. God, he wished he could curl up and just go to sleep for about ten years. “Yeah, that about sums it up,” Blair muttered. “And I’m angry with you. So angry that, half the time, I want to slug you for being so boneheaded.”

“Feel free if you think it’ll help,” Jim offered, sounding more than half serious. When Blair didn’t respond, he asked, “Am I ever going to be able to make it up to you?”

“I don’t know,” Blair told him.

“Well, that’s better than a ‘no’,” Jim returned, and cranked on the engine. “So, what do you think about seeing her again?”

“What do you think about it?”

“I don’t want to start over from square one.”

Not surprised, Blair nodded. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust her, but maybe that’s not necessary so long as she helps us deal with one another.”

“I’m sorry, Chief,” Jim sighed, and still didn’t ease into traffic.

“For what, specifically?”

“Everything. Before you met me, you used to trust just about everyone. Now, trust is as big an issue for you as it is for me.”

Blair snorted and couldn’t stop the grin that twisted at the corner of his mouth. “Guess after five years, you’re rubbing off on me.”

Jim choked, and then laughed wryly. “I wish,” he said with a wink at the unintended double entendre. But he sobered and met Blair’s gaze. “If you’ll give me another chance, I won’t cheat on you again. I just don’t know how to prove that to you.”

Blair bowed his head, and turned his face away. That was now the crux of the problem, because he didn’t know how Jim could prove it, either. Didn’t know how he was ever going to learn to trust the man to not rip his heart out again. He knew Jim meant what he was saying; didn’t doubt that in the least. But Jim was driven by his emotions far more than he would ever admit, and when he was stressed or boxed in or angry, he did and said things without thinking. Blair had done his best to ignore the reactive behaviors, to not take them personally, but he was feeling raw and tired and didn’t think he wanted to keep playing that game. “I guess we take it a step at a time,” he finally sighed as he buckled his seatbelt. “Doesn’t look like there’s any rush. Neither of us is going anywhere in the meantime.”

Jim gave him a long, thoughtful look but didn’t say anything more, just checked the mirrors and eased into the late afternoon traffic.

**

Too agitated to sleep, Blair spent most of the night pacing around his apartment, arguing with himself about what to do about his relationship with Jim. He told himself that everyone makes mistakes and that years of friendship shouldn’t be outweighed by a single – well, okay, repeated and monumental – mistake. Some mistakes were bigger than others, more hurtful, and Jim had done this deliberately, cheated on him, hurt him. Out of love? Out of fear? Did it matter?

Jim needed him, needed his specialized support, so he couldn’t just walk away, not without feeling guilty, not without dreading what it might mean for Jim’s safety and his life. Jim was trying to make up for what he did. He was easing himself out of the closet, and was undergoing therapy ... but whether that was doing any good, Blair wasn’t entirely sure.

Blair wanted to forgive him; it was in his nature to forgive and move on. But every time he thought about that afternoon in the loft, he felt sick. He couldn’t go back there, not ever. Could not sleep in that bed again. Funny, he’d grown up with a mother who had drifted from one man to the next, loving each one and then leaving him, without any evident regrets or sorrow, only anticipation for the next adventure. If Naomi had caught her lover in a similar situation, she would have shrugged and packed up, and they would have taken the next bus out of town. She’d talk about good intentions and the inherent weakness of men, and pat his head and hug him and say she was sorry he was doomed to be as weak as all the others. Naomi didn’t believe any man could ever make a life commitment to just one person; she felt it was biologically impossible. So she never tested it, never bucked nature, just went with the flow and enjoyed life as she found it. Blair rubbed his eyes. And now here he was, a man who’d grown up with no idea about how a committed relationship worked but who wanted that commitment desperately, only to learn that maybe his mother was right. Men weren’t designed for fidelity.

He frowned at that. Nature versus nurture was the perennial argument in his field. But men weren’t just their drives and needs. They thought and felt love, they created art and rules for civilized life, and they could make choices, even dedicate and give their lives for an ideal, like freedom or love. Jim was the most disciplined man Blair had ever known. If anyone was capable of making and living up to a commitment it was him. And Jim said he was ready now, willing to make such a commitment. Said he wanted forever, too. But...

The eternal ‘but’.

“Can I trust him?” Blair sighed heavily and paused by the window to stare out at the night sky. “Is this about being able to trust him? Or is it about my fear? My unwillingness to be vulnerable to more hurt? I’ve trusted Jim for five years to protect my life ... it shouldn’t be so hard to trust him with my heart.”

He leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. Memories of good times, special moments, flashed in his mind, making him ache to be with Jim. But then the scenes shifted, and he remembered again what it felt like to hear Jim tell him it was over, and to be drowned. He flinched away from the window, stumbling back, reflexively panting for breath. But his mind took no pity, and he remembered Jim kissing Alex on the beach in Mexico, abandoning him and Megan to go after her, leaving them bound in the temple while he kissed her and held her while her mind went into meltdown. And he remembered Jim cutting him off, arguing with him over Veronica. And Jim again telling him they were done when the dissertation blew up in their faces.

Taking a shuddering breath, Blair slid down the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees. Bowing his head, he remembered what it felt like to know Jim was making love to someone else in their bed. Tears blurred his eyes and he ached with anger and pain.

How many more times would he let Jim rip out his heart?

How long before Jim decided once again that he wasn’t good enough, or that he’d screwed up one time too often or – whatever – and told him they were done?

Was he a fool to give up now, when Jim said he was ready to make a commitment? Or would he be a bigger fool to give Jim yet another chance to reject him?

Life was short, time that passed was time he could never get back. Detach with love and move on? Remain but as friends and partners downtown only? Give love another chance? His gut clenched and he could not, simply could not, imagine ever going back to the loft.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered in anguish. He’d never felt so torn, so uncertain and indecisive. So vulnerable. “I can’t go on like this,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

Moving through the apartment to his bedroom, he went on talking to himself. “I came back from the dead for him, and he treated me like shit. I gave up my doctorate for him, and my reputation, to keep him safe, and most of the world has treated me like shit ever since. I went to the Academy and accepted the badge and carry a weapon I’m trained to kill with, for him, to be his partner, and I finally seemed to have gotten it right, because he finally told me he loves me and took me into his bed. And that lasted for what? A little more than ten months? Before he took other lovers? Why? Because he loved me? Because he was afraid I might cheat on him? God, come on, that’s all just so much crap. No more. No fucking more. He wants me, he can work for it. I’m not going back to him.”

Frustrated, angry, emotionally exhausted, he threw himself onto his bed and thumped the pillow into shape. Determined to sleep, he closed his eyes, only to curse a few minutes later, and roll onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “You’re hopeless,” he grated, despising himself and his treacherous body for the love that burned in his heart, and the ache he felt, his deep need, to hold Jim in his arms.

I don’t know how you can still love me.

Jim’s poignant, heart-wrenching words echoed in his mind, taunting him, daring him to prove that he still loved the man. Did he love Jim unconditionally or not? Didn’t love put up with anything? Have infinite patience and acceptance? Forgive anything and everything?

Unable to stand the clamoring thoughts any longer, Blair lifted an arm to cover his eyes, and willed himself to go through the deep breathing and mental exercises to empty his mind that he’d learned about the same time as he learned how to walk and talk.

When sleep finally claimed him, he fell into a jumbled dream. Incacha’s bloody fist gripped his arm. A wolf whimpered, then howled, sounding nearly frenzied, and a jaguar’s guttural, broken scream pierced his mind. Fear enveloped him, consumed him. Something was wrong, badly wrong, desperately wrong. Jim! Where was Jim? Jim!

“Jim!” Blair woke shouting, and gasped. His heart thundering, he looked around and realized he was in his apartment, that it had all been a dream. “God,” he husked, and raked his hair back from his face. His heart was still pounding, the breath tight in his chest. Fear still pulsed through his body. Glancing at the balcony doors, looking out over the bay at the distant islands, he could see that it was still dark in the west, barely dawn. Exhausted, he once again willed himself to empty his mind, to breathe deeply and evenly, and he was just about to roll over to try to get back to sleep when a thunderous explosion rattled the windows.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, and rolled to his feet. Alarmed, he stumbled down the hall to the living room windows and gasped. Billowing black clouds, fueled by scarlet and orange flames, were filling the golden eastern sky on the other side of the harbor, a block up from the water in one of the older downtown neighborhoods.

“My God,” he breathed in horror. Thankful he’d never undressed the night before, he raced to the entry hall. With mindless, mechanical efficiency he donned his shoulder holster and clipped his badge to his belt, even as he shoved his feet into his boots. Still pulling on his jacket, he grabbed his keys and cellphone from the hall table and sped out of the apartment and down the six flights of stairs to the parking garage. Mere minutes after he’d awakened, headache pounding, feeling breathless and sick with fear, he was on his way to the scene of the disaster, praying that it wasn’t where he thought it was, wasn’t really Prospect that was on fire.

Another explosion split the silence of the predawn hour. He soon heard the wail of distant sirens that grew louder as he got closer to the center of the chaos.

Blair had to abandon his vehicle more than a block from the burning buildings, behind a hastily erected barrier. Flashing his badge, he darted down the street, skirting around clumps of stunned, pajama-clad people, skipping over fire hoses and dodging emergency workers. Red and blue lights strobed the scene, and the blinding lights from the news cameras pierced the gloom. His heart pounded as he took in the sight before him. Two buildings were shattered and burning. Little remained of the one that housed a number of boutiques, with offices and storage spaces above, and a few apartments but it was being renovated and he was pretty sure most, if not all, the apartments were empty. The other was 852 Prospect, the residential building Jim lived in. The front half of it was gone, the rest of the structure barely visible through the choking smoke that stung his eyes, making them water, and tickled the back of his throat.

“What happened?” he yelled at a passing fireman.

“Don’t know. Maybe a gas explosion,” was the hurried response. “Get back behind the lines!”

Ignoring the instructions, Blair hurried toward the building he’d called home for nearly five years, and his gaze raked the crowd of displaced people huddled on the far side of the parking lot on the edge of the street. Thankfully, he recognized most of his old neighbors, including the two dogs and five cats who also lived in the building, but not the one person he most anxious to see.

“JIM!” he shouted at the building, knowing it was hopeless but unable to stifle the need to scream his partner’s name. Someone else was missing ... old Mrs. Hayak, from the second floor. Blair squinted through the smoke at the building, and he could see that the corner where her apartment had been was already gone. Jim would have gone for her ... the terror of his dream erupted, consuming him. “God, please,” he breathed brokenly before shouting again, “JIM!”

“Sandburg, over here!” Jim cried, his voice raw and breaking with effort.

Whirling around, Blair saw his partner carrying the wizened old woman in an old-fashioned, flannel nightgown. Nearly overcome, coughing hoarsely, his eyes swollen nearly shut and tears streaking his smoke-grimed face, Jim was staggering out of the smoke filling the alley between the burning building and the parking lot. When flashbulbs erupted in his face, he flinched away, stumbled back. Clearly reeling with exhaustion, he dropped to one knee, but tightened his grip on the elderly woman, keeping her stable and safe.

“Back off!” Blair yelled furiously, as he and an EMT raced to Jim’s side. “Damn vultures!” he seethed, pushing through the pack of journalists. “God damn you, either help the man or get the hell out of our way!”

Conscious of the blistering heat and roar of the flames from the fire only a few feet away, Blair wrapped his arm around Jim’s back. “It’s okay, Jim. I’ve got you, man,” he murmured as the medic took charge of the woman, easing her out of Jim’s grip and carrying her to one of the ambulances. Jim lifted an arm to encircle Blair’s shoulders and, standing, leaned on him heavily as he coughed and struggled for breath. There was a cut over his right eye, and another long slash on his left arm, blood streamed from both and mingled with the sweaty soot streaking Jim’s face and body. What was left of his undershirt looked charred in places. Beside and above them, the fire snapped and the building cracked and groaned ominously.

“Chief, can’t see – the camera flashes ...” Jim rasped.

“I’m not surprised,” Blair replied, barely able to see himself in the smoke and fumes. “It’s just the smoke; your eyes are swollen nearly shut. C’mon, I’ll help you across the street. The air’s a bit clearer over there.”

Bearing most of Jim’s weight, Blair practically carried his nearly blind, stumbling partner away from the fire and the worst of the billowing smoke, to the safety of the other side of the street, close to another ambulance. Jim was coughing up his lungs, wheezing for breath, and his skin was smeared with oily smoke residue that had to be irritating the hell out of his senses. All he was wearing were his jeans, the grimy, sleeveless undershirt, and his bare feet were jammed into loafers.

Once they were out of harm’s way, Blair yelled for another medic before easing Jim down to the curb. Crouching beside him, he ran his gaze swiftly over Jim’s body, hurriedly examining him to determine the extent of his injuries, more to reassure himself that the man was there, alive and basically alright. But the soot, grime and blood coated everything, and he couldn’t tell how badly Jim might be injured. “Are you burned?” he demanded breathlessly, cupping Jim’s face with his hands and peering into Jim’s puffy, bloodshot eyes. “Anything broken?”


“No, no, don’t think so,” Jim gasped between wracking, choking coughs. “Smelled gas. Yelled, pounded on doors. Woke the neighbors. Mrs. Hayak, didn’t hear ... broke down her door. Others already out. Explosion rocked the building. Then another and the ... the staircase was burning. Got her out the back fire escape. Nearly got trapped by the fire and ... the collapsing walls.”

“Okay, easy, just focus on breathing,” Blair crooned, patting his shoulder. He felt Jim quivering under his touch, shivering from shock or cold, or maybe both. Rising, he pulled off his jacket to drape around Jim’s shoulders and shouted toward an EMT, “Could we get some oxygen over here!”

The man nodded and ducked into the interior of an ambulance. Looking around, trying to determine if his help was needed to tend to more severely injured, Blair squinted against the smoke and saw Simon materialize out of the haze. The EMT appeared beside them and held a mask to Jim’s face. Once Jim gripped it on his own, the technician examined his bleeding face and arm.

“Thank God,” Simon intoned when he spotted them and moved to stand over them. “When I heard the address, I was afraid....”

Blair looked up at him and nodded soberly, his own fear still coursing through his body, leaving him shaken. Around them, people shouted and wept, the fire roared and smoke billowed on the wind created by the voracious flames. Sirens whined and a woman started screaming when she realized her husband hadn’t gotten out of the building next door before it had blown sky-high. With an almighty crash, the front half of Jim’s building crumbled. Jim winced and shuddered, huddled into himself. Dust and grit swirled up to choke them.

Though he hated to leave Jim’s side, Blair helped Simon and some uniformed officers and firemen urge people back, further down the street and away from the fire, while the EMT helped Jim to the ambulance.

“Things are under control here. You go take care of your partner,” Simon ordered, gently pushing Blair back toward the ambulance. “Check in with me later.”

Coughing, Blair nodded and hastened back to the emergency vehicle. “How’s he doing?” he asked, as he climbed inside. Taking saline-soaked gauze from the EMT, he began to gently clean Jim’s swollen eyes.

“He’s doing fine,” Jim husked sardonically, peering up at him, but he still sucked oxygen from the mask.

Frowning, Blair watched the medic loosely bandage Jim’s arm. “How bad is he hurt?” he asked.

“A few shards of splintered glass need to be dug out of his arm, and he’ll probably need some stitches. Maybe some first degree burns. Hard to tell.” Looking out at the inferno not many feet away, the technician said, “He’s lucky he got out. They all are.”

Blair’s throat was tight and his eyes stung from the oily smoke. “Yeah,” he breathed, gripping Jim’s shoulder.

“I think everyone got out of our building,” Jim wheezed. But he shook his head, and his expression was stark as he added, “I don’t know if any got out of the one that blew up next door.”

“Some did,” Blair told him. “I passed them on the street.” Thinking of the woman who had screamed and then collapsed in tears, he murmured, “Not everyone, though. People in your building were lucky you smelled the gas and got them all out.”

Jim swallowed hard, and the muscles along his jaw flexed.

“You couldn’t save everyone, man,” Blair consoled him. “Shit happens.”

Jim’s gaze flicked toward him before faltering and dropping. But he nodded slowly.

More people suffering from smoke inhalation crowded into the ambulance, and Blair realized he’d have to get out to make more room. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he said.

“I can go with you,” Jim rasped, and started to lift the mask from his face.

But Blair restrained his hand, and pushed until the mask was once again firmly in place. “No, you need the oxygen. Keep your dials turned down, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jim grunted, but he pulled off the mask and handed it to an old woman the attendant and Blair were helping onto the stretcher beside him.

Shaking his head, but accepting that Jim was constitutionally unable to keep the oxygen mask when someone else needed it, too, Blair jumped out onto the street to help others board. Glancing inside, he could see Jim rifling in the supplies to help the EMTs bandage the worst wounds before transporting everyone to the hospital. With a bemused smile borne of admiration and fond frustration, Blair
reflected that Jim couldn’t help himself. So long as he was conscious and breathing, he’d always be helping people who were worse off than himself ... and even some that probably weren’t as badly hurt.

When he saw that the EMTs were ready to transport, he confirmed their destination. Before running back through the smoke and chaos to his own vehicle, he spared a moment to look up at the burning edifice. The firemen seemed to be getting the flames under control, and he could see that at least some of Jim’s apartment looked like it might still be intact because it was furthest from the main fire and on the back of the building, which was still standing. But, between the smoke and water damage, he doubted that anyone would ever be able to live there again – let alone a sentinel – and it was anyone’s guess whether Jim would be able to salvage any of his possessions.

Feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, still shaky from the relief of finding Jim alive, Blair hurried to his car and headed to the hospital. Fragments of his hazy dream surfaced and, away now from the fire’s heat, he shivered, not entirely just because of the early morning chill. Jim was the one who usually had the visions, but Blair wondered if he’d experienced something like precognition; nothing explicit, no, but a sense of impending danger, a warning maybe, one that had too quickly become reality.

Recalling the devastation behind him, he trembled to think how easily Jim might have been killed. His fists tightened on the steering wheel, and the breath caught in his chest. God, what would he have done if Jim ....

Refusing to think about the horror of what might have been, Blair whispered a prayer of thanksgiving to whatever gods or goddesses might be listening.

**

When Blair got to the hospital, he palmed his badge and flashed it at anyone who looked like they might even consider stopping him as he wove his way through the packed waiting area and into the restricted area beyond. He checked one treatment room after another until he found Jim stretched out on a gurney, oxygen mask once again firmly in place. A nurse was cleaning and patching the cut over his eye, and the young emergency doctor was stitching up the gash on his arm.

“Hey, how’s he doing?” Blair asked, not happy with the sound of Jim’s breathing.

“And you are?” the doctor asked archly, his attention still focused on the wound.

“Oh, sorry. Detective Blair Sandburg,” he replied and held up his badge, but neither the doctor nor the nurse looked at it. Letting his arm fall to his side, he added, “Jim’s my partner.”

“I’m fine,” Jim wheezed.

“Yeah, you sure sound fine,” Blair retorted, moving closer.

“As you’ve noticed, he’s suffering from smoke inhalation, and I’m debating keeping him overnight,” the doctor said.

“No, no,” Jim protested, and then coughed roughly.

“Detective,” the physician continued, sounding tired, “from what I understand, your home burned down and you have nowhere else to be anyway.”

“I’ll get a room in a hotel,” Jim insisted.

“Uh, that would be a ‘no’,” Blair interjected, knowing Jim would rest better in an environment less likely than either the hospital or a hotel to aggravate his senses. “I can take him home with me, but it sounds like we’ll need an oxygen tank.”

“Hmm,” the doctor murmured and frowned. “He may also have some minor burns. I’ll give you some lotion to smooth over his skin once he’s cleaned up. If you see any blistering, you’ll need to cover that area with a sterile dressing.”

“I can do that,” Blair agreed.

“Chief, Blair, you don’t have to –”

“Yeah, I do,” he cut in. “Lucky I furnished the spare room in case Naomi ever came for another visit, huh?” he added, trying to sound wry. But since she hadn’t visited since the dissertation fiasco, he was conscious that Jim wasn’t likely to find it any more amusing than he was. But he had furnished the room. Just in case. Because, someday, she was bound to come, right? Turning back to the doctor, he asked again, “And the oxygen?”

Glancing at the nurse and giving her a nod as he spoke, the doctor replied, “We can requisition a portable tank. That should be enough, but if it isn’t, you’ll need to bring him back here for reassessment.”

Jim grimaced and Blair knew he wasn’t happy about being talked about as if he wasn’t there. The nurse quietly left the room, presumably to implement the doctor’s order. The doctor finished the stitching and put a waterproof bandage over the wound. “The stitches will dissolve on their own in the next week. If you experience any swelling or discharge, you need to see your doctor to get some antibiotics. You can shower and bathe with this bandage, and it will need to be changed in two days.” He handed Blair some dressings as he spoke, and then helped Jim to sit up on the side of the gurney. “You may experience some dizziness because of your breathing difficulties, but those should ease in the next few hours.”

“Thanks,” Jim acknowledged and peered at Blair through his reddened, puffy eyelids. “Can we go now?”

“Just as soon as the nurse comes back with the oxygen tank,” Blair agreed.

A few minutes later, he was helping Jim into his car, and placing the small oxygen tank on the floor between his partner’s legs. As he was walking around to the driver’s side, his cell phone buzzed. “Sandburg.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Fine, Simon. We’re just leaving the hospital now, to head to my place. Jim’s still on oxygen and I think I should stay with him, to make sure he doesn’t, you know, react to all the smoke and crap that he breathed in and got on his skin and in his eyes and lungs today.”

“Your place? Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Blair grimaced at the underlying questions and explained, “I’ve got a spare room.”

“Oh, oh, right, sure. And, yes, stay with him to make sure he doesn’t have any, uh, delayed reactions.”

“Thanks, Captain. I should be in as usual tomorrow,” Blair added before terminating the call.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he cranked on the ignition.

“Sandburg, Simon’s right. I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Jim muttered, stiff and uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied blithely as he steered out of the lot. “It’s karma, man,” he went on with a small smile. “You once took in a guy whose place had gotten blown up, remember? The Universe is now paying you back.”

Jim snorted, and then hacked a cough. Resettling the mask on his face, clearing his throat, he took a few breaths and then said, “Just for a week, right? Until I get myself sorted out.”

Blair laughed with weary resignation. Figuring the Universe was also trying to tell him something, especially after the dream he’d had, he glanced at his partner and offered, “Let’s just see how it goes, okay? No rush to figure things out right now.” Looking at Jim, at the filthy clothes that were all he had left in the world, Blair felt a rush of compassion. “You’ve lost everything, man. I’d be a damned poor friend, let alone partner, if I didn’t at least give you a safe and secure roof over your head.”

Jim turned to face him and the vulnerable hope that was evident on his face, under the mask of streaked soot, made Blair’s heart ache. “Okay,” Jim rasped, with a faint, very tentative smile. “Thanks.”

“No thanks are necessary, Jim. You’ve done the same for me – and you even took in an ape,” Blair teased gently. “All I have to put up with is you.” He waited a beat and then added with a smirk, “But this time, I get to make the rules.”

Jim laughed and then doubled forward, coughing. His eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel, Blair thumped Jim’s back until he was breathing a bit more easily. Before returning his hand to the wheel, he squeezed Jim’s shoulder gently. “Just take it easy,” he soothed. “Soon as we get home, we’ll get you cleaned up and you’ll feel a whole lot better.”

Jim nodded and, closing his badly swollen eyes, rested his head back on the seat.

Fifteen minutes later, one arm around his waist for support, Blair guided Jim into the apartment. Though Jim wasn’t complaining, he was pretty sure that Jim could barely see past the puffy, reddened lids. Without pausing, he drew his partner directly into the guest bathroom.

“Let’s get these things off you,” he muttered after turning on the shower to warm the water. “I’ll wash them later so at least you’ll have something of your own.”

Jim leaned against the counter for support as he fiddled with the mask to free it from the folds of the t-shirt Blair drew up over his head. “I can do this,” he protested, then started to cough.

“You concentrate on breathing and standing up,” Blair directed, as he popped the button on Jim’s jeans and drew down the fly. “Not like we haven’t seen it all before,” he added, hoping he sounded matter of fact, while he slid Jim’s pants down his legs and off one foot and then the other. His partner must’ve been sleeping nude and had only paused long enough to pull on the minimum of clothing before rushing out of the apartment. “Besides, you can barely see, so the odds of you getting all this crap off your skin is just about nil,” he said. “Hold on a minute, and I’ll help you into the shower.”

He hastily stripped off his own filthy clothing, and then assisted Jim into the large shower stall that easily accommodated them both. “Lean on the wall,” he directed while he worked shampoo into Jim’s hair and then rinsed. The water running off their bodies was black. Getting the oily soot out of their hair and off their skin was going to take some scrubbing. But he was mindful of Jim’s sensitive skin as he soaped his partner with the mild oatmeal bar that he’d bought without thinking. After so many years of ensuring the loft with stocked with hypo-allergenic, environmentally friendly supplies, he’d unconsciously just continued to buy all the same stuff for his new place.

One of Jim’s shoulders, the upper part of his back, and the arm that had been wounded were all very red and Blair took care to look for any blistering. “You’ve been burned a bit,” he observed. “Looks okay. Can you tell if it’s worse than it seems?”

“I think it’s okay,” Jim replied through the mask. When Blair tugged lightly on his arm to turn him, he resisted. “Uh, Chief, I...”

Understanding that their bodies were both enthusiastic about the hands-on contact, Blair snickered. “Don’t worry about it, tough guy. It’s a normal reaction.” And he thought that he’d be a little concerned if there’d been no reaction to their proximity, after so many months apart.

“It’s not funny,” Jim protested, but he turned.

“No, I guess it’s not,” Blair agreed. “But we’ll just have to grin and bear it.”

Jim chuckled. “Puns now?” he asked, as he rested his hands on Blair’s shoulders.

“No, not ‘bare it’,” Blair retorted, but laughed at how bizarre the whole situation was. “Let’s just get clean, okay?”

“Want me to wash your hair?”

“No, no, that’s okay,” he demurred, conscious that they were treading a very narrow line, one that he didn’t want to cross, at least not yet. But then he realized Jim had gone deathly pale and he felt the tremble through the hands that clenched his shoulders. “Uh, hey, easy, man,” he soothed as he eased Jim down onto the molded seat in the corner of the shower stall. “Methinks the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”

“Yeah,” Jim huffed and leaned back to rest his head against the wall, closing his eyes against the stream of water.

Blair hastily finished Jim’s shower, and got him out of the stall. He handed the oxygen mask to Jim, and then wrapped him in one massive towel before winding another around Jim’s head. After he’d finished drying him off and coating his burned skin with soothing aloe and lanolin lotion, Blair helped Jim into the next room, sitting him in an armchair first, while he swiftly made up the bed. “The sheets aren’t silk,” he said, “but I think you’ll be comfortable.” Then he helped Jim into the bed, ensuring that the oxygen line wouldn’t crimp if Jim rolled over in his sleep. “Rest,” he commanded. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

In the kitchen, he boiled water and set teabags to steep while he hastily finished his own shower. Scooping up their discarded clothing, he dumped it all in the washer and then went to his room, to draw on his robe. Back in the kitchen, he put together a tray containing a chilled water bottle, a cup of tea, a toasted bagel lathered with cream cheese, and the cooling tea bags.

“You still awake?” he whispered when he entered the bedroom.

“Uh huh,” Jim murmured, squinting at him, and wincing at the light now pouring in the wraparound windows.

“I want you to eat something while I soak your eyelids with these teabags,” Blair said as he set the tray on the bedside table, and then hastily drew the blinds to mute the light. “Just bagels and cream cheese, but the carbs and protein will be good for you. And I’ve got a bottle of water here, too, ‘cause I think you’re probably dehydrated from the heat. And finally, some sugared tea, to counteract the residual effects of shock.”

Jim’s lips twisted into a grin, and he started to push himself up, but Blair interceded to slip more pillows behind his back so he could swallow without choking, but could still be lying flat enough for the teabags to rest on his eyes. He handed Jim half a bagel and applied the teabags. For the next several minutes, Jim slowly munched in silence, while Blair just looked at him and thought again how glad he was that Jim hadn’t been hurt more badly that morning. After Jim had finished the bagel, he removed the teabags and gently dabbed Jim’s eyes to dry them. Then he supported his partner while Jim took a long drink from the bottle of water.

“You want the tea?” he asked.

“Nah,” Jim sighed as he replaced the oxygen mask. “Why don’t you drink it? Keep me company until I fall asleep?”

“Okay,” Blair agreed, settling in the chair and feeling his own stress reaction set in now that he could really relax in the knowledge that Jim would be fine.

Again, silence descended between them, easy and comfortable. After a moment, Jim said sleepily, “I was dreaming, heard you calling me. You sounded so scared, Chief – woke me right up. That’s when I smelled the gas.”

Blair gaped at him, but didn’t say anything, couldn’t. He felt the chill of the mysterious creep up his spine as he remembered his dream, remembered waking himself up, shouting in terror, so afraid something had happened to Jim. God ... Jim had heard him? That just wasn’t possible. What if ... what if Jim hadn’t wakened? Blair’s mouth was bone dry and he felt sick with the thoughts of what might have been.

Oblivious to his reaction, Jim went on, “When the flames were surrounding us and the smoke was so thick I couldn’t see, there were a few minutes when I wasn’t sure if ....” He broke off and cleared his throat. “I was real glad to hear your voice, Chief. Wasn’t sure you’d be there ... should have known better.” He paused and shifted onto his side, his voice increasingly drowsy as he said, “You’re always there when I need you.”

Between one breath and the next, he was snoring softly. Deeply moved by Jim’s admission of fear and his simple expression of gratitude, still reeling from what Jim had said about being awakened by his shouts, Blair took a shaky breath and then pressed his lips together to stop their trembling. His throat too thick to speak, he could only nod and, swiping at his eyes, sit back to keep watch. Jim was safe but his breathing was still rough, and he might still have skin reactions to the crap he’d been exposed to that morning.

The angry voices in his head, the hurtful memories, were stilled – at least for the moment – if not assuaged. In awed silence, he thought about his dream, about what it might mean. Gazing at Jim, he also pondered the nature of unconditional love and what it meant for how he felt about Jim, and their future.

Time drifted past unnoticed, while Blair tried to wrap his head around what he could never begin to explain. All he could be sure of was that the Universe wasn’t yet finished with either of them, and it seemed that they were bound together in ways that transcended what passed for ‘normal’. But, then, he’d known that, hadn’t he, ever since he’d found himself in a blue jungle with a jaguar and a wolf, and had turned away from the light to respond to Jim’s call. They’d never spoken of it beyond those few minutes in the hospital and, after a while, it had all just seemed surreal, more dream than reality. But it had been real. And something similar had just happened again. If Jim hadn’t wakened, hadn’t smelled the gas ... Blair shivered and rubbed his arms.

Jim shifted in his sleep and stilled sharply, his face creasing in pain and he hissed as he jerked into wakefulness.

“What?” Blair asked, immediately on his feet and at Jim’s side.

“My skin’s on fire,” Jim rasped. “My shoulder and back.”

“Okay, okay, I understand,” Blair soothed as he lightly gripped Jim’s uninjured arm. “Let’s get your pain dial sorted out. I’ll bet it’s off the charts. C’mon, you can do this; you know you can.”

Jim nodded and closed his still puffy eyes. After a moment, the tension eased from his body and he sighed deeply. “That’s better,” he murmured.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t fix the problem. Roll over and let me put on more lotion to cool the heat and help your skin heal.”

Jim took a breath, as if gathering himself for the effort and, careful of the oxygen mask, he shifted onto his stomach. Blair drew down the covers, warmed some of the lotion in his hands, and then very gently stroked his hands over Jim’s burned shoulder and upper back. After months of being apart, the intimacy, first with the shower and now touching Jim’s skin, was playing hell with Blair’s libido but there wasn’t much he could do but ignore it as best he could.

“Mmmm,” Jim hummed and blew a long breath of contentment. “Feels good.”

“Go back to sleep if you can,” Blair urged quietly as he drew the sheet and blanket back up over Jim’s shoulders. He checked to ensure the oxygen line wasn’t impeded and, when Jim began to snore again, he padded out of the room.

The washing machine had stopped, and he drew out their clothing. Jim’s undershirt was scorched and no amount of washing would make it any better. After tossing the rest of their clothing into the dryer, Blair put the ruined shirt in the garbage and then went to his room, to sort through his clothing for stuff he knew would fit his partner.

“What’s mine is yours,” he said mockingly to himself. Holding pairs of rolled up socks in his hands, he sank down on the edge of his bed. Just last night, he’d decided that he’d had enough, that Jim would have to work to get him back. Now, Jim was sleeping just down the hall. Circumstances were pushing them back together, but none of the underlying issues had yet been resolved. Blair literally ached to be able to trust to the Universe or karma or whatever was going on, but this was just too important. They just couldn’t afford to screw this up, not again. It was too hard, too heart-breaking, to keep messing up, and he didn’t think he had it in him to ... to what? Give everything he was to Jim again, and have it tossed back in his face? To have his heart broken, his life left in tatters, not knowing where he stood or what to do, or even where to go next?

He flopped back on the bed and inhaled deeply to calm the fear quivering inside.

They had to get it right.

And if they couldn’t, he had to find the strength to walk away, for good this time. “And not just for myself,” he whispered to the ceiling before scrubbing his hands over his face. If Jim were truly happy in their relationship, he would not have done what he did. Blair stumbled over that thought, and
floundered, because ... because he didn’t have the power to make Jim happy, no matter how hard he tried.

The problem was, he didn’t know if Jim himself knew what he needed, whether that was to be happy or to love either unconditionally or for a lifetime.

Elements of his dream seeped into his mind, the spirit animals sounding as if they were in pain. Was that just because of the threat to Jim’s life that had been imminent in the moments before dawn, or was their suffering caused by the rift between the two of them? Incacha, with his dying breath and with his bloody fist, passing along the way of the shaman – was that to remind him of his role, and that it was one he couldn’t blithely walk away from?

“Am I the problem? Am I supposed to be doing something I’m not, or doing something I’m not supposed to be doing?” He didn’t know, and didn’t know how he could ever find answers to those questions.

Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Maybe I’m over-thinking this,” he muttered and rubbed his forehead, as if that might alleviate the headache behind his eyes. “I can’t be responsible for Jim or his choices. I can only be responsible for mine.”

Rising, he scooped up the clothing he’d chosen for Jim. On his way to check on his partner, he stopped in the kitchen, to call their therapist and make another appointment. After hanging up, he blew a long, slow breath, and then he harried at his lip and wished he could see into the future, and know how it was all going to turn out. Blair didn’t know if they’d be able to get back together, because he still didn’t understand why Jim had betrayed him in such a fundamental way; nor was he sure that even Jim fully understood why he’d done what he’d done. All Blair knew was that they had to work through it, had to figure out what had gone wrong and if it could be fixed.

Frowning, he bowed his head and, leaning back against the counter, he thought about that, about what ‘fixed’ meant. Did it mean getting back together as lovers in a committed relationship? Or did it mean healing their friendship enough that they could continue to work together? Remnants of his dream haunted him and, when he thought of Jim lying in the bed down the hall, he felt as if the Universe was mocking him – maybe both of them.

Shrugging off his irritation with his desire to know the unknowable, he took the clothing to the spare room and laid it on the dresser. Studying his partner, he was glad that Jim’s breathing had eased considerably and the lines of strain had smoothed from his face; his eyes were still a little puffy, but the worst of the swelling and redness was gone. Jim’s arm and shoulder were still pink but when Blair held his hand close to the skin, he could readily feel that the angry heat of the burns had dissipated.

Nodding to himself, the unsettled feeling he’d had since he’d realized he and Jim had somehow been connected that morning eased. He didn’t understand it, and wasn’t sure he either wanted or really needed to understand, any more than he understood how Jim had harnessed their spirit guides to bring him back from the dead. It was enough to know their guides were still there, watching out for them ... hadn’t given up on them.

At least, not yet.

**

Blair had just pulled the casserole from the oven, and was finishing the salad, when the intercom from the lobby buzzed, its sound loud in the silence of the loft. By the time he’d gone into the hall to answer it, he could hear Jim moving in the spare room.

“Yes?” he said into the grille on the wall.

“It’s Simon.”

“C’mon up,” Blair replied in welcome, and pushed the button to release the glass door in the lobby, five stories below.

Sleepily rubbing his head and unconsciously further disarraying hair that was spiked in all directions, Jim wandered out of the guest room. He was wearing the sweatpants Blair had left on the dresser, and that was all.

“I went out earlier to get you a razor, tooth brush and some other supplies,” Blair told him, gesturing toward the bathroom. “You seem to be breathing okay now. How’s the burn?”

“Fine,” Jim replied, twisting to examine his shoulder and upper back. “A bit tender, that’s all.”

“Good,” Blair observed, looking everywhere but at his partner. “Uh, dinner’s almost ready, and Simon’s on his way up.”

“Simon?”

“Yeah, he called earlier, said they’d found the probable cause of the explosions.”

“Gas leak?”

Blair shrugged. “Looks like it.”

Jim looked toward the door, and then moved to open it before Simon could knock.

Banks gave him a long-suffering look, and then his brow arched when he took in Jim’s state of undress. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he said dryly, shifting his questioning expression to Blair.

“Jim just woke up,” Blair supplied, and waved Simon further into the apartment. “C’mon in. I’ll get you a beer. Dinner’s just about ready.” Blair turned away without waiting for either man to say anything more.

“Some of us put some clothing together for you,” he heard their boss say behind him, and belatedly realized that was what was in the oversized bag Simon was carrying. “Some shirts, pants, a jacket, a pair of sneakers ... you know, to tide you over until you can do some shopping.”

“That’s great, Simon, thanks,” Jim replied.

“Yeah, well, maybe you can put something on before we eat,” Simon suggested.

Turning into the kitchen, Blair didn’t hear Jim’s response. He pulled three bottles of beer from the refrigerator, and handed Simon one when he came into the room.

“Dinner smells good,” Simon said with a smile as he uncapped the bottle. “Thanks for inviting me over.” He paused and glanced back toward the hallway. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”


Giving him a crooked smile, Blair nodded. “Yeah, for now. Long term?” He shrugged. “After a week, I’ll start charging him rent,” he added, remembering Abby’s offer to him.

Simon gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push it. Blair knew Jim could hear every word, so he wasn’t inclined to discuss it any further, either, at least not before he and Jim had a chance to talk.

Jim was shaved and had put on a sweatshirt when he joined them a few minutes later and, though his eyes were still a little reddened and puffy, he looked a thousand times better than he had that morning. Blair handed him a beer and finished putting the food on the table.

“So it was a gas leak?” Jim asked, with an appreciative sniff of the casserole before he picked up his fork.

“Yes,” Simon affirmed. “That’s an old part of the city, overdue for infrastructure maintenance. Lucky more people weren’t killed.”

“How many?” Blair asked, remembering the distraught woman he’d seen.

“Only one man,” Simon sighed as he buttered a roll. “I guess he and a few others were camping out in the basement, and he was still sleeping off the binge from last night. The others had gone up to the street, to start hustling so they got off with fairly minor injuries when the building behind them went up like a bomb had gone off. The people who live in the one occupied apartment in that building are out of town.” He glanced at Jim. “People in your building were damn lucky you woke up before the explosions, smelled the gas and got them all out of there.”

Jim nodded and frowned as he chewed. “Had a dream, that Sandburg was calling me,” he relayed. “Weird. Even after I woke up, I could’ve sworn I heard your voice, Chief.”

Head down, Blair debated mentioning his own dream and, with a sigh, decided he probably should. In the past, when one or the other of them hadn’t been straightforward about the mystical stuff, they usually ended up in trouble. He gave Simon a look of apology before turning to Jim. “You probably did hear me. I woke up about ten minutes before the first explosion, calling for you. I, uh, I had a dream about the jag and the wolf – our spirit animals,” he explained to Simon, who rolled his eyes. “In the dream, I couldn’t find you,” he went on to Jim. “And ... and I felt you were in danger.”

Jim’s face closed up, just like it always did when he was confronted with anything that wasn’t ‘concrete’ or ‘real’. “Huh,” he grunted, his gaze dropping away.

Simon grimaced at him and shifted his attention to Blair. “So you think these spirit animals warned you? And, what? Enabled Jim to hear you calling? Gave you a shared dream or something?”

Blair nodded, buying time to ensure the annoyance he felt toward Jim wouldn’t bleed into his voice. “I think so. Not sure how else to explain what happened.”

“Too bad they didn’t warn us in time to fix the damned leak before everything blew up,” Jim grumbled.

“Yeah,” Blair murmured. “Too bad you lost just about everything. I’m sorry. I know how much that can hurt.”

Jim sighed and put his fork down to take a sip of beer. “No, I’m sorry. Simon’s right. All of us in that building were lucky. If the jag and the wolf – and you – had anything to do with that, I’m grateful. As for the loft?” he shrugged, and sighed again. “Maybe losing it isn’t such a bad thing. There was nothing there that still mattered a lot to me. Maybe it’s good to have a clean break with the past, a chance to start fresh.”

“Not like insurance won’t cover everything you lost,” Simon added sardonically.

Jim grinned and tipped his beer bottle toward him in a salute.

They finished eating and, not long after, Simon took his leave with the understanding that both of them would be reporting as usual in the morning. Jim helped Blair clear the table and followed him into the kitchen. Blair was rinsing the dishes and cutlery in the sink before loading them into the dishwasher when he felt Jim come up close behind him and caress his back.

“Don’t,” he said, and tried not to stiffen or twist away as if it mattered, or had sent shivers rippling over his whole treacherous body in response.

The touch disappeared but Jim didn’t move away. “Just a few hours ago, you were naked in the shower with me. And now you don’t want me to touch you?”

Blair closed his eyes and, his hands lightly gripping the edge of the sink, he blew a long breath. “That was different. You were more than half blind and having trouble breathing. We had to get that shit off your body as quickly as possible. It wasn’t about seduction, and you know it.”

“Then why am I here? Why did you offer to let me stay here?”

“Because you’re my partner ... and we used to be best friends. I guess I hope we can be again, maybe, someday.”

“Just friends, Chief?” Jim asked, his tone low and suggestive.

“Damn it!” Blair exclaimed and slapped the counter as he pushed back and twisted away to face Jim with a few feet of space between them. “What do you want from me? I’m doing my best here, man. And it’s a whole hell of a lot more than ....”

He stopped himself and took a steadying breath. Jim was looking mutinous and he really didn’t want to fight. Holding his hands up, he said more calmly, “Look, I know you’re ... you’re trying to make things better. I know that. And so am I; that’s why I suggested the joint counseling. But I’m not there yet, okay? I don’t know if I ever will be. I don’t know if I can trust you to not do it again.”

Jim’s jaw clenched and he looked away, but the tension eased from his shoulders. “Yeah, okay,” he sighed hoarsely, and ran a hand over his head to massage the back of his neck. “I just ... I just want things to be the way they were.” Once again, his gaze met Blair’s, and he looked so earnest, so vulnerable, that Blair’s heart ached. “I know I screwed up, big time. I just don’t know what else I can do to make things better.”


Blair broke eye contact and went back to rinsing plates and loading the dishwasher. “I made us another appointment with the therapist.” Behind him, Jim put the leftover salad and casserole into the fridge. Turning, Blair said, “You want to get me another beer while you’re there?”

Taking the bottle Jim handed him, he twisted off the cap and led the way into the living room. Too restless to sit, he stood for a moment, looking out over the bay. “I think ... I think we have to get to the reason you felt you needed to be with those women,” he murmured.

“I told you,” Jim said, slumping into a chair across the room, near the fireplace.

“You’ve told me two or three different things, Jim,” Blair replied, feeling somber. Looking at Jim’s reflection in the glass, he added, “I’m just not sure which – if any – of them is the truth. I’m not sure if you even know why you did it.”

Jim rolled his eyes and reached for the remote control on the table. Flicking on the television to the news, he growled, “Then I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

Blair smiled sadly. Turning from the window, he sank onto the sofa. “That’s why we’re in counseling, man. To figure it out. But ... but I think it might have something to do with love. What love means to you. What you need that maybe I wasn’t giving you.”

Jim’s belligerence died, leaving sorrow etched on his face. “You gave me everything,” he said. “I know that. Nobody has ever loved me the way you do. I didn’t ... I didn’t know anyone could love like that. I don’t know if I can. But I want to, Chief. Honest to God, I want to.”

Blair’s throat thickened, and he felt heat prick the back of his eyes. “That’s a good place to start,” he offered. “We need to give ourselves time, Jim.” And then he huffed a mirthless laugh. “Honestly, when I caught you with Abby, I would have never thought I’d still be working with you – let alone sharing an apartment with you – ever again. Given how furious I was that day, we’ve already come a long – very long – way.”

“I guess we have,” Jim agreed with a shadow of an uncertain smile. “So ... if we make it through the next week, how much is the rent and what are the house rules?”

Looking away, his gaze wandering the room, Blair thought about it. “We’ll split the rent on the place and decide if we want to the renew the lease in four months or not. Rules? Simple. You don’t bring any lovers home.”

Jim choked on the beer he was swallowing, and coughed to clear his throat. “Don’t worry,” he rasped. “I don’t have any lovers to bring home. Don’t want anyone else – only you.”

“I hear that,” Blair breathed but made no other comment and kept his eyes focused on the news on the television screen. Or tried to. His mind replayed Jim’s words over and over, and reminded him of what Jim’s skin felt like, and what it felt like to be touched by him. God help him, he wanted so badly to believe Jim was telling him the truth.

Jim snorted, but he didn’t pursue the conversation, either. With a dissatisfied grimace, he settled back in the chair, only to wince and hiss softly.

Blair was on his feet before he realized he was moving. “Damn, I forgot. We should’ve put some more of that lotion on your back and arm when you got up.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” Jim growled, but Blair was already on his way out of the room, heading down the hall to Jim’s room where he’d left the tube on the bedside table. Jim’s room, he thought ruefully, and shook his head at how he’d already adapted to the idea of sharing a place with Jim again. Maybe it was nuts. Maybe this was just a big mistake ... but maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for them.

He turned to find Jim had followed on his heels and was leaning on the door frame. So he waved his partner inside. “Take off your shirt and let me see how your skin is doing,” Blair directed, determined to remain impersonal.

“You say the nicest things,” Jim drawled, but his eyes were hard, and Blair knew he was angry about his touch being rejected earlier, about his avowal of attraction being ignored.

“Don’t push me, Jim,” Blair warned. “I’m doing the best I can here, okay? Don’t push for more than I’m ready to give.”

Jim’s eyes softened and he dipped his head. With a slight nod, he came into the room and pulled off the sweatshirt, turning so that Blair could easily see and reach his shoulder and upper back. The skin was still the irritated pink of a bad burn, but there wasn’t any blistering, and Blair figured the danger of that was now past.

“Looks okay,” he murmured as he warmed the lotion in his hands and then with a deft, gentle touch, smoothed it over Jim’s skin. God, he ached with the knowledge that he dare not do more, despite how much he yearned to love and be loved by Jim; he despaired of the arousal he felt just touching Jim’s skin but his body didn’t care about the problems between them and only knew what it wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Jim murmured, not facing him, and Blair wondered uncomfortably if his partner smelled the pheromones he had to be exuding. “I know it’s all my fault. And I know ... I’m lucky you still ... that you’re giving me a chance to work it out.” When Blair didn’t say anything, he asked, “When’s our next appointment?”

“Tomorrow afternoon at three,” Blair told him.

Jim twisted to look at him. “That soon? You’re kidding?”

Blair gave him a crooked smile. “She said she’d kept the slot open just in case we decided to keep working with her. She said that enough time had been wasted already and it was time we started talking about things that matter.”

“She’s pushy, isn’t she?” Jim muttered, sounding aggrieved, as he pulled his shirt back on.

Blair laughed. “Yeah, yeah, she is. I’m kinda surprised you’re still seeing her actually.”

Hands on his hips, Jim stood with his head bowed for a beat, and then looked up into Blair’s eyes. “I came close to telling her to shove it and quitting more times than you’d want to know. But I know I’m

out of chances, that I’ve blown it one time too many, and if I don’t fix things, make things right – make whatever’s wrong with me right – I’ll lose you, for good.”

Frowning, Blair echoed, “Whatever’s wrong with you? Man, maybe there’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe, maybe we ... maybe it just wasn’t right for you.”

“Or maybe it’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I just didn’t know how to hold on; maybe I got scared,” Jim replied, sounding confused and not a little lost.

“Well, I guess that’s what we’re going to find out,” Blair said, stepping back before he gave in to his urge to take Jim into his arms. “We’ll figure it out, Jim. Whether that means we’ll get back together? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. But we will figure out where it all went wrong.”

**

“I’m glad the two of you decided to continue working with me,” Dr. Meadows said as she waved them past her and into her inner office.

Remembering what had occurred there only days before, Blair couldn’t help feeling wary and defensive, but he was determined to do his best to at least help Jim and himself figure out what had gone wrong, even if it meant they’d never get back together, at least not the way they’d been. Working together was going okay; a bit stiff, sometimes, but not bad. After having worked together for four years before they’d become lovers, the old paths of friendship were well worn and relatively easy to find through the thicket of their failed love affair. It helped immeasurably that they both still honestly
cared about one another. He could believe that, at least; he no longer really doubted that Jim cared about him. And he knew Jim needed him, or was convinced he did, when it came to managing his senses.

“So, what’s happened since you were here last?” she asked. “Have you had the opportunity to talk much about your relationship?”

Blair looked to Jim to explain what had happened.

“The day after we were here, the building I lived in blew up – broken gas line – and Blair offered me his spare room,” Jim said, keeping it all admirably brief and to the point.

Meadows blinked at him and then looked at Blair. “Why did you do that?”

With a small shrug, Blair replied, “Well, Jim lost everything he’s got, and he took me in once when I’d lost everything – or just about – when my place blew up. We’re partners and doing our best to remember we’re friends, even if we aren’t lovers anymore.”

“Is that all?”

“Jim’s got a lot of sensitivities. I ... he needed a place that was safe, especially after getting out of the hospital. He’d inhaled a lot of smoke and had some minor burns.”

“And ... any other reason?”

Blair felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his mouth was dry. He swallowed and bit his lip. Finally, with a deep breath to steady his voice, he admitted, “And I ... I hope that ... I hope we find a way to make it work.”

She nodded and smiled at him, and then turned to Jim. “And why did you accept his offer? Must be difficult to be relegated to the spare room when you’d like to be in the master bedroom.”

Jim shifted in his chair and then clasped his hands together, as if determined to appear at ease, and failing miserably. “Uh, well, it’s a move in the right direction. And Blair’s right – he understands my sensitivities better than anyone else.”

“So, you’re back to working together and living under the same roof,” she observed, and jotted a note onto the page in front of her, and Blair wondered if she’d ever worked with another couple as interdependent and involved, and yet as screwed up, as they were. She put the pen down and looked at them for a moment. “Why didn’t it work out? What was missing that Jim got involved with others?”

When Jim didn’t say anything, just studied his hands, Blair offered softly, “Jim’s your typical alpha male, and I think he’s basically heterosexual. I’m not sure he was ever comfortable being my lover. And, I think Jim has trouble trusting love, trouble believing in it.” He hesitated, but decided he might as well get it all out on the table. “As if that’s not enough problems, I think Jim believes he needs me and ... yeah, I think, like that old Meatloaf song, he loves me in his own way, but I’m not sure, at least not now, that he wants me. Two out of three ain’t bad, I guess, but it’s ... it’s just not enough for, well, for marriage.”

Jim gave a strangled laugh. When Blair and Meadows looked at him in surprise, he flushed. “Two out of three,” he rasped, sounding strained and sad, and he shook his head slowly. Flicking a look at Blair and then staring hard at the floor, he went on, “I know you love me, and I know you want me. But you’ve never, ever, needed me the way I need you.”

“Oh, man,” Blair sighed, not knowing what to say – or what Jim needed to hear. But he felt the chill of understanding shiver through his being. Despite everything, Jim still didn’t truly believe that he’d always come first, that anyone would always love him, or never leave him to pursue something they wanted or needed more than him. Was that all it had been? A pre-emptive strike? To show the world that Jim didn’t need anyone before Blair left him high and dry and hurting more than anyone could bear? Blair’s throat thickened and he had to fist his hands, and draw a shuddering breath, to stave off the urge to weep or rage at the futility of it all. The ... shame of it and sorrow, that no one in his life had ever loved Jim the way he so deserved and needed to be loved.

Silence fell like a pall over the office, and then Meadows broke it with a gentle tone of inquiry. “The two of you lived and worked together for four years without becoming lovers. What changed? What took the two of you across that line?”

Jim sniffed and scrubbed at his face. Shook his head, and Blair knew his partner needed time to get himself together. “I was at the Academy, taking the courses I needed in self defense and weapons certification. The last day, when we knew I’d made it and would be graduating with the group the next day, I came home and Jim had ... well, he’d planned a celebration. Candles, good wine, a home-cooked dinner that he knew I’d love.” Blair paused, remembering, and his heart swelled until he thought it might burst with how much it had all meant to him, and how much he’d since lost.

“He, uh, he told me that he’d known for years how I’d felt about him, and that worried me, because I’d tried so hard to not push, to never even hint at what ... well,” he glanced at Jim and then at Meadows, “you can’t hide anything from a sentinel. Jim ... Jim can smell pheromones. He knows when someone is aroused.” Taking a breath, he swallowed hard, and wished Jim would take over but his partner was now sitting with his face turned away, staring out the window. “I thought he was working up to telling me that ... that the time had come for me to move out. But, but, instead, he told me he loved me, too. And wanted me. Wanted to make love to me.” Blair stumbled to a stop, overcome and overwhelmed with sharing something so private, so immense, with a stranger.

“Why did you think he chose that time to tell you?” Meadows probed carefully.

“I thought it might be because we were finally going to be equals. I was going to be his official partner. I thought it was because he wanted what I did: to be partners in everything. But ... but now I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“Jim?” she prompted.

“Equals? Not hardly,” Jim murmured then, sounding far away though it was clear he’d been listening. He continued in a low, constrained voice, “I finally read his dissertation. I read it that week, his last week at the Academy, and I thought about it, about everything he’d given me, everything he’d done for me and sacrificed for me. And I knew ... I knew what he wanted. I thought ... I thought ...” He turned to Meadows, and then to Blair. “I love you. I do. And I knew then that there’d never be anyone in my life who loved me the way you love me. I wanted to ... you’d earned ... you deserved to have what I knew you wanted. You deserved so much more but....”

Appalled, Blair stared into Jim’s eyes, and saw the pain and sorrow pooling there. As Jim’s words sank in, he could feel his heart shrivel and break, and he wished he could just disappear, just .... Jim had never wanted him, not really. It had been about evening the score, about some kind of twisted reward or some damned thing.

“Love isn’t about keeping score,” he whispered, broken, not sure if even Jim had heard him. Not really sure if he’d spoken. Sick to his soul, he tore his gaze from Jim’s and dropped his head to stare blindly at his fisted hands. Tears welled in his eyes, and one trickled slowly down his cheek but he didn’t have the strength or will to move, to brush it away. Jim ... Jim had sacrificed his body in a misguided effort to be fair. Oh God. Oh God. There was no hope of reconciliation; there never had been. He couldn’t even remember what they’d had now without a kind of horror.

Distantly, he heard Meadows ask why Jim had decided to take other lovers. Desperate to cling onto something, anything, to keep from shattering into pieces, Blair forced himself to listen.

“There’d always been talk about me and Sandburg, but it hadn’t mattered before, because it wasn’t true. But after we started sleeping together, it was true. Some of it wasn’t too bad, just that it was a damned shame because we should have kids. Some of it was ... vicious. Dangerous. All I could think of was ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’ and that if anyone really found out, really knew, we wouldn’t be able to stay partners. And I wondered about kids, about neither of us having any....”

Jim’s voice was rough, hard to listen to, but he had to listen, had to hear it all now, like a mortal wound being cauterized, to maybe burn it all away and leave him numb and unfeeling and maybe make the pain stop.

“The women ... I knew they were attracted to me. And I knew neither of them would be able to keep it to themselves, so that would kill the rumors, at least for a while.” Jim heaved a heavy sigh. “And I guess ... I guess I needed to know, needed to test whether....”

Wishing he was dead, that Jim had never brought him back from the jungle, never called him back from going into the light, Blair pushed himself to his feet. “I’m sorry. I can’t ... I can’t listen any more. I ... I have to go.”

Rising and reaching out to him, Jim pleaded, “Chief, please, you need to hear it all.”

“I can’t!” he shouted, backing a step away, desperate now to escape, to get out of the office, out of the building, out into the fresh air. Someplace else. Any place else. But he felt as if he was frozen to the spot, trembling and panting for breath, but unable to move another step. Unable to think. He needed to think but all he could think about was that Jim had forced himself – God, he couldn’t think about it or he’d throw up.

“I love you,” Jim husked. “You have to believe me.”

Unable to look at him, Blair held up a hand to make him stop. “I know,” he whispered, tears blinding his eyes. “Apparently, too much.”

“No,” Jim protested, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand.”

In agony, Blair lifted his eyes to meet Jim’s gaze, and he saw desperation and fear. Jim was afraid of him. Afraid he’d abandon him. That’s what it had been about. All this time, he’d thought, hoped ... but it had all been about Jim’s fear, after all. “Don’t I?” he challenged, and turned away, away from the hurt and the fear. He had no strength to bear it now. No strength left to give.

“I’m not sure you do understand,” Meadows interjected. “I’m not sure either of you understands what love means to the other. Whether you talk about that here or between yourselves, I urge you not to give up, not to end this without that discussion.”

Blair stared at her, wondering what it could possibly matter. “Not now,” he said, feeling battered and exhausted. “I can’t talk about anything else right now.”

He could read compassion in her face, and he tried to smile because, really, it was better to know, wasn’t it? Better to face facts and deal with them, come to grips with reality and ... and figure out what came next? But it was just too hard. It all just hurt too much.

“C’mon, Chief. I’m going to take you home,” Jim cajoled with soft gentleness, as if he was talking to someone not quite with it, someone who was on the edge, getting ready to jump, and Blair supposed that probably wasn’t far from the truth. He flinched at Jim’s touch on his arm, but he nodded and turned toward the door.

Behind him, he heard Jim assure her, “We’ll have that talk, just as soon as he can hear me.” What talk? he wondered, feeling lost, dislocated from the world around him. Oh, yeah. About love. What a joke that was, and the joke was on him.

Somehow, he got to the truck and, without thinking, he secured his seatbelt. Jim was there, beside him, but thank God, he wasn’t saying anything. Blair needed silence and he wanted to be alone. But he didn’t have the capacity to think or move; he felt as if he was caught like a bee in amber, stuck in the moment of eternal death.

When they got home, he continued down the hall to his room, and he closed the door. Climbing onto the bed, he curled onto his side and stared sightlessly out the window. He wanted to weep, but Jim would hear him, and he knew Jim was in pain, too.

Closing his eyes, he told himself he could deal, that he had no choice. No matter how much it hurt, at least they’d gotten to the truth. It wasn’t Jim’s fault if he didn’t feel the same things, the same way. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. He thought about the wolf and the jag, about how they’d warned him that Jim was in danger just the day before, letting him know that, no matter what, Jim still needed him. Might always need him. And wasn’t that what love was about, real love? About giving without expectation? About caring unconditionally?

He did love Jim unconditionally. Always had; always would. They’d recovered enough of their friendship since that fateful afternoon that there was no way he’d abandon Jim, not now. They’d be partners as long as Jim needed him.

But it was hard. So very hard. And it hurt. Hurt worse than anything he’d ever known before.

One breath at a time, Blair focused on just breathing and blocking out everything else. Time passed, and the light in the room faded into dusk. Gradually, the pain began to feel more distant, sealed under a numbness, the closest he could get to acceptance. But it was enough for now; enough to imagine being able to get off the bed and leave the room. Enough to pretend it was mostly okay. Enough to remember that he wasn’t the only man in the apartment who was hurting pretty bad. Blair was just beginning to think he should go check on Jim when there was a soft rap on his door.

“Chief? You okay? I, uh, I made you some tea. And there’s soup and sandwiches, if you’re hungry.”

Blair heard the uncertainty in Jim’s voice, the strained, lost notes that signaled his partner was feeling helpless and scared, but didn’t want to admit it. So he was trying to help in ways that he could, concrete ways, like making warm comfort food full of carbs. He’d probably loaded the tea with sugar.

A sad smile flitted across Blair’s face and his heart ached. They knew each other so well, fit together so well, were family in so very many ways, but it was never going to be the way Blair had wished with all his heart and soul, never going to be ... he forced himself to stop thinking about it, to stop going in endless, useless circles that led nowhere except to heartache.

“I’m ... okay,” he replied, not bothering to raise his voice, knowing Jim could hear him. Rolling onto his back and forcing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, he added, “Tea sounds good. I’ll be right out. Thanks.”

He heard Jim’s slow retreat back down the hall, and pushed himself to his feet. With a heavy sigh, he raked back his hair and squared his shoulders. It wasn’t Jim’s fault that Jim didn’t want him in a physical, sexual way. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It was just the way it was. Jim had tried, really tried, in order to please him, and that had to mean a lot, right? Nodding to himself, telling himself to just move, he left his room and went to the kitchen, where Jim handed him a steaming cup of tea.

“Thanks, man,” he murmured, but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact before he turned away and walked into the living room to look out at the darkening harbor.

“Chief, we need to talk,” Jim said, standing close behind him, but not touching.

“Talk?” he echoed, and tried to get his sluggish mind into gear. Jim wanted to talk. Sure, fine, he could do that. “Okay,” he agreed, and slid past Jim, again without looking at him, to sit on the sofa and sip the hot tea. There was something he had to say ... what? Oh, yeah. “Jim, you don’t need to worry, man. I’ll keep working with you. It’ll be ... fine.”

Jim perched on the edge of the nearest chair, his hands clasped between his knees, leaning forward, as if trying to get as close as he could without getting directly into Blair’s space. Blair could see Jim out of the corner of his eye as he took another sip and swallowed. Jim’s face had softened, and he looked as if he might cry, an expression Blair had never seen before, and it unsettled him. Uncomfortable with the silence, needing to just get past this place, this emptiness, Blair tried to think of something to talk about, but then Jim’s low voice drew his attention.

“Why? How can you ... I can’t see how .... Damn it, Blair. I don’t understand how you can keep forgiving me.”

His gaze drifting around the room, lighting anywhere but on Jim’s face, Blair gave a small shrug. He was too tired, too numb, and the hurt was too close, just under the surface, to offer anything but the simple, unvarnished truth. “I love you,” he said, and felt his voice nearly crack. Clearing his throat, he explained, “I know you don’t understand that, because love hasn’t been good to you, so you don’t trust it. But ...” He lost his train of thought, and frowned with his effort to concentrate. “Naomi had her faults, and she wasn’t ever able herself to make any kind of commitment to love. But she knows what it is and between her and her friends, I grew up in loving environments. Where people accepted one another and didn’t try to make them into something they weren’t. Where people supported one another, out of compassion, without judging. I was taught that we can’t ever judge the choices other people make or condemn them, because we don’t know what the world looks like through their eyes, or what choices they feel they have or don’t have.” He stopped and gulped more tea to moisten his bone dry mouth. “I ... I love you, Jim. You’re my best friend. I know your life has been hard, very hard, but you’ve always done the best you can.”

He sighed, but knew he had to say more. Had to offer absolution, even though he didn’t think any was required. Not anymore. Jim had tried to love him, tried to give him what he so dearly wanted and needed, but it was too hard. You can’t fault a guy for trying, especially when trying was so against his nature. “I know you’ve been aware of how I feel about you for a very long time. But we worked around it okay. Or, at least, I thought it was okay. But maybe that was at the root of some of the strain that kept growing between us. I can see where it would make you uncomfortable and wear on you. And I’m really, really sorry that you felt you had to ... to be something you’re not, that you felt you had to give me .... I’m just sorry I didn’t realize or I wouldn’t have ever .... But I understand now, I really do. And it’s okay.”

He sagged back against the sofa. “After the diss mess, I was so scared of losing everything, especially your friendship. And I was so glad that we seemed to get past the worst of it. I don’t want to lose your friendship, Jim. I ... when I heard you with Abby, I was hurt and furious and just wanted to run. But we got past that, too. With patience and effort on both sides. We can work together. But I don’t think, I don’t think we can keep living together. Not that you have to go this minute. I know you need to find a place and everything. But after ... and when you know how I feel, I just, I just don’t think it would be a good idea to live together, like we used to.”

“Blair, I need you to really listen to me. Can you do that?” Jim asked, and that lost note was back in his voice, under a strain of raw determination and something that sounded like desperation.

Studying the mug clasped between his hands, Blair nodded.

“You’re right that I don’t know how to love the way you do, and that I’ve never trusted love, but I’m trying to learn, and I think I am learning, from you,” Jim began. “And you’re right that I took us down this path for the wrong reasons, because I wanted to give you something, something worthy of all you’ve given me, something I knew you wanted. But ... it wasn’t hard, Chief. At first, I was surprised how much I enjoyed being with you, but then I just ... it felt so right. Nobody has ever loved me the way you do, loved me completely, with your heart and soul and mind and body.”

Jim paused at that, and shook his head, as if he was in awe of the way Blair knew how to love. “But I was scared, too, that people would find out. Not because I was ashamed of you, of loving you or being loved by you – that was never it. I was scared about what it would mean for us at work. I need you as my partner, more than I think you realize. You think I’ve got it all together now but that’s only because you’re with me, and that ... that just makes it all easy somehow. I don’t understand it and I guess I never will, but you make everything in my life easier, better; not just the senses, everything.”

Blair felt the burn at the back of his eyes, and he didn’t think he could take much more. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Yes, I do,” Jim insisted. “Because you don’t understand. Okay, so, with all the talk downtown, and, well, I know ... I know you’d never ... but I couldn’t stop thinking that you don’t need me, and you gave up too much. I hate that. Hate what I hear people saying about you; hate what you have to put up with. Hate that I’m too big a coward to make things right.”

“You’re not a coward,” Blair argued, but wanly. He briefly closed his eyes and tried to find his center, tried to find his inner strength. “I don’t want everyone knowing, either. That was the whole point. You’d be in too much danger if it was common knowledge.”

Jim bit his lip and shook his head, but he made a gesture as if to push all that away. “I don’t know what I’d do if you ever left me. I felt – feel – too vulnerable. Every which way I looked, all I could see were threats. And I had to do something, to ... to resolve at least some of them. And, and, yeah, maybe to find out for myself if I was as happy with you as I thought I was.”

Blair frowned at that. Jim had been happy? He hadn’t cheated because he was unhappy, but only because he’d been scared? For the first time since the session with Meadows, he looked right at Jim, and wondered what the hell the man was trying to tell him.

Jim leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his face as if that would help him order his thoughts or wipe away what he didn’t want to see. Staring up at the ceiling, he said, “I don’t know why you’d ever believe another word I say. I’ve skirted around this whole thing, made one excuse after another, because if I just told you the simple, honest to God truth, I knew you wouldn’t listen.”

“Jim ...”

“No, no, I know you. If I told you that I was afraid for you, because of what I heard people saying, and suffocating on the guilt I feel because ... because I’ve never set the record straight, or that, yeah, I was thinking about kids, only not mine, yours, because you should have kids. You’d be a great father. If I just came out and told you that I think I’m bad for you, that ... that you really should move on, you’d wave it all away, because you have always, always put me first. And, much as I hate to admit it, a part of me wanted to know if I could ever go back to what my life was, go back to being with women, because all my life, until I met you, I’d been told that ... that was the right way of living.”

Jim shifted to again sit on the edge of the chair. “You taught me that the person’s sex doesn’t matter. What matters is the love a person feels, and shares, and the urge to ... to cherish someone who is worth more than anything else, who is the greatest gift life is ever going offer, a greater gift than I, at least, ever expected or deserve.”

Blair stared at Jim, and wondered if he was dreaming all that was happening, all that he was hearing. He blinked and crossed his arms, to hold the hope inside, to keep from shaking apart.

“Blair, I knew that afternoon with Abby that I wasn’t ever going to cheat on you again, that I’d never want to. She’s a beautiful woman, and yeah, my body responded, but it was ... empty. I felt nothing. All I could think about was how much I wanted your touch, and how much I wanted to make love to you, and how I’d do everything in my power to make sure you never found out how stupid I’d been.”

Jim sighed and shook his head. “I was a fool to bring her to the loft. Stupid. It was just closer than her place.” His gaze dropped. “And then I heard you downstairs, heard you packing. And I knew I’d screwed up one time too many, and that I’d hurt you again, when you don’t ever deserve to be hurt, not by me, that’s for damned sure. You were so angry, and I understand ... I do. Hell, if I’d found you with someone, I might have killed you, and then myself. But you wouldn’t listen and you said you were leaving for good and ... and ... I knew I’d destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me. The crazy thing was, I told myself that it was for the best. Because now you’d get your own life back. You wouldn’t be tied to me anymore. Only ... only I couldn’t stand to imagine what life would be without you ....” Jim jerked to his feet and paced to the windows. “I nearly ate my gun that night.”

Blair gaped at him. His chest tightened and his gut twisted, and he thought he might be sick at the horror of the idea that Jim had even contemplated ending it all. “Don’t ever do that,” he rasped. “Don’t you ever do that to me.”

When Jim turned to face him, Blair could see tears glimmering in his eyes. “When I saw you at the office the next day ... I just wanted to haul you out of there and beg you to take me back. But you were so angry, so distant, and that made me think it was hopeless, so I got angry and pushed too hard.”

“Jim, I don’t understand. This afternoon, you said ... you made it pretty clear that you’re really not into men. You tried, man. For me. You tried. And I ... appreciate that. But if you’re not bi and you’re certainly not gay, then what are you saying? Take you back as your partner? Okay, fine. We’re there. We’re good. I promise I won’t ever leave you hanging.”

Jim held up his hands. “Just listen, Chief. Please. Just hear me out.”


He stepped closer and then dropped to one knee in front of Blair. “I told you. I’ve finally learned that it’s not about wanting to be with men or with women. I didn’t understand that until I tried with Jocelyn and Abby. I didn’t really understand anything at all. I just ... love is ... it never works, for me. Never works out.” Jim’s voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “But you’ve taught me what love is, what it looks like and sounds like and feels like. Love is ... it’s about being with you. I love you. I never thought it was possible to love anyone the way I love you,” he said, the words coming faster, his voice rough and husky with emotion. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone before. I love being loved by you and making love to you. You were wrong this afternoon when you said that you thought I didn’t want you, physically, sexually. I do want you. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off you.”

Jim’s voice cracked again, and a tear slipped over his lashes to trail down his cheek. “I’ll do anything you want, burn the closet, whatever it takes,” he begged, “if you’ll just take me back and give me another chance. Please. Give me another chance. I swear I’ll never hurt you again. And when the time comes and you decide you need to move on, I promise I won’t try to hold you back.”

“Why are you saying this? You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Blair protested, refusing to let hope kindle in his chest.

“I’m not pretending!” Jim roared like a wounded animal, surging to his feet to pace the room with tight agitation. “If I could take it back, change the past, I would in a heartbeat. I’d never do that to you again. I’d never be such a fool and risk everything we had.”

“But you wanted to be caught,” Blair replied, trying to make sense of it, of all the stories Jim had told him, all the explanations, trying to weave through it all to find the core of truth. He raked the hair off his face as he struggled to get the synapses firing on all cylinders again.

“No, I don’t think I did,” Jim sighed, head bowed, hands on his hips. “I don’t think I thought it through at all. I ... I wanted to stop the rumors, because they’re an immediate threat to you. And I knew how easy it would be to stop them. All I had to do was sleep with someone else. Jocelyn ... well, she was definitely interested, but I heard one of the guys say she was wasting her time because you led me around by the cock.” Jim heaved a sigh. “Part of me knows you deserve better than me – you sure in hell deserve someone who would love you more than his reputation, who wouldn’t let you live a lie for self protection. But part of me hopes you’ll forgive me. Because ... because ... ah, hell. If I was half the man you deserve, I’d walk away now and not put you through all this shit.”

Piece by piece, Blair sorted through the jumbled thoughts that whirled in his mind, to put together a coherent whole. Jim had taken him as a lover to even the score – a harsh way of putting it, but essentially true – but had been surprised to find that being lovers made him happy. Then, the old rumors had taken on new edges, because they were now true, and that had scared him, because it threatened their partnership and might even be dangerous in terms of not getting backup when they needed it. Jim had fixated on the dangers, worried about kids and about how to stop the rumors, and he decided to lay them to rest in the most convincing way possible. And in the process, Jim had discovered that the fulfillment he’d felt with Blair hadn’t been some kind of fluke; that, in fact, their relationship was all he wanted. All of that fit the various stories, so he’d been given parts of the truth, bits and pieces, a confusion of information, maybe because Jim had been so confused about it all himself.

And it all fit with the man Jim was, more given to action than talk, quick to want to fix things and move on, without a whole lot of insight about how the fix might be worse than the problem. Jim was inherently an honest man. He hated the lies they lived with. So consciously or unconsciously, Blair would have laid money that Jim would have felt he deserved to be caught, no matter how much he denied it.

And Jim seemed to be so absolutely certain that Blair was eventually going to leave him ... because of the lies. Because he believed Blair deserved better. Because Blair didn’t need him. Bottomline, that basic and profound insecurity when it came to counting on anyone but himself was probably the underlying cause of everything else.

“Say something, Sandburg,” Jim rasped, holding his hands out in appeal. “I’m dying here.”

“What do you need to believe I won’t ever leave you?” Blair asked, and Jim blinked, as if that was the last question he’d been expecting.

“I ... I don’t know,” he replied. “I just know –”

“You know shit,” Blair snapped, too tired and raw to sugarcoat it. “Why would I toss everything of my old life away and become a badge-carrying, gun-toting cop, if I thought I’d ever leave you? Dammit, Jim. You have to deal with this crap. You have to start believing you’re worthy of love. You can’t keep waiting, like for another shoe to drop – or more like, axe to fall – expecting me to betray you like everyone else you’ve ever loved has betrayed you. That’s what’s at the bottom of all this. You couldn’t believe in me – couldn’t believe enough in yourself.”

“Am I deserving of love, Chief? After all the, well you said it, crap ... do I still deserve to be loved?”

Blair blew a long breath and set the empty mug on the floor beside the sofa. “Everybody deserves to be loved.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jim rasped and wandered to the windows. Staring out at the night, he rubbed the back of his neck. “You know me better than I know myself. You understand me when half the time I’m ... I’m just reacting to what’s going on around me. You know what my life has been like. My mother leaving when we were kids with no explanation. My father remote and cold, more involved with his business than with Stevie and me. The only adult who paid attention to me, made me feel worthy, murdered in front of me and I couldn’t do anything about it because I was too damned scared of being a freak to ... to stand up and make the cops listen to what I saw.”

“You were just a kid, Jim,” Blair interjected.

Jim shrugged and shook his head. “Stevie and I were at each other’s throats, competing for Dad’s attention. There was no love in that house, so I didn’t learn squat about love in the years I grew up there. I got away, ran as far away as I could get as soon as I was old enough. I worked my ass off on a military scholarship, and then joined the Rangers. Discipline, that’s what mattered. Nobody got too close to anyone else in covert ops; friendships weren’t encouraged because caring about anyone made you vulnerable. There were women, sure, for physical release and satisfaction, but it was empty, transitory. The few times I thought it might mean more, I found out pretty damned fast I was wrong. I never thought about being with another man. The way I’d been brought up, the discipline of the service, it all meant that ... that I did what I needed to do to fit in, to excel because of something inside that drives me to do my best, and to survive. But nobody cared about me, and I didn’t really care about anyone else.”

Jim dragged in a deep breath, and crossed his arms, as if he was cold. “In Peru, I was all warrior, fulfilling my mission. When I joined the PD, and ended up in Vice, I was angry, so angry at the world, all tied up in knots inside. The crap I saw on the street, in the back alleys, what I had to do when I was undercover, it all made me feel so dirty. God knows what Simon saw in me that made him take the risk of bringing me into Major Crime, but I think he probably saved my life. Jack made me more human, but I still felt empty, like I didn’t really belong ... and then I betrayed him and he disappeared.”

Jim bowed his head. “What is there in all that to love, huh? Carolyn tried. We got along okay. But she said something a few years ago, after we were divorced – ‘the lights are on but nobody’s home’. Story of my life. Nobody home.” He lifted his head, and his gaze met Blair’s in the window’s reflection. “Then the senses came back online, and I met you, and you said I could be a one man crime lab, or something like that. That’s all they meant to me. Being better at my job. Because my job was all that I was good for, all I lived for.”

He turned to face Blair. “You changed all that. Oh, not all at once. I was an uphill road for you. But you showed me how to have fun. How to ... let the work go and just kick back with a beer and a game on the box. And you thought I was something special.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “I guess, when it comes to the senses, you’ll always think I’m something special.” Leaning a shoulder against the brick wall, his head bowed, Jim went on, “In a matter of weeks, I cared more about you than I’d cared
about just about anyone in my life. When Lash took you, I was frantic. I had to get you back. I couldn’t let you die, not on my watch. Not for helping me. Even then, I couldn’t imagine the world, my world, without you in it.”

He scrubbed his palms over his face, and slid down the wall, to crouch with his back against it. “You nailed me, Chief. When you said that fear drives me. I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want it to be true. That weirdo, homeless bum, angel, whatever, said something that made me think; said I needed to learn to listen to the hearts of others to begin to learn what was in mine. I didn’t listen well. Hell, I didn’t listen at all. I’m glad the damned loft blew up. Whenever I think about it, I remember it as the place where I threw you out and got you killed. The place where I wouldn’t listen to you or deal with the dissertation mess, and I cost you your career and your reputation. And ... and,” his voice cracked, “I betrayed you, when all you’d done was give me everything, made me happy and taught me how to love. Some payback, huh? You’re right,” he rasped, “I don’t understand how you can still love me. I don’t understand how anyone could. But I ... I hope ... I want to believe you because I can’t stand to think I had it all and I blew it. I ... I can’t ... don’t want to imagine living without your love.”

Jim sniffed and scrubbed away the tears that were staining his cheeks. “I’m falling apart here,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed but unable to muster the cold veneer Blair knew he wore as a shield. “I want to fix it, Chief. I want so bad to make it right. But I don’t know how. Just tell me. Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. Anything. Anything you want. I know I haven’t given you any reason to trust me or believe me, but if you’ll just give me another chance, I swear I’ll never betray your trust
again. I just want what we had. The last couple days, I thought there might be some hope. But today ... God, I’m so sick of hurting you but that seems to be all I do.”

Stunned by Jim’s revelations, wanting with keen desperation to believe Jim meant every word, Blair got up and crossed the floor to sit against the wall beside Jim. “Wasn’t just bad stuff that happened in the loft,” he said. “I mourn it, even if you don’t. That’s where you took me in and let me stay and gave me the first real home I’ve ever had. It’s where we became friends and where we worked out so

much about how to understand and manage your senses.” He reached to thread his fingers through Jim’s. “Some of the best times in my life were in that old loft.”

“Some of the worst, too,” Jim insisted, evidently determined not to spare himself or obtain absolution too easily.

“What will it take for you to believe I’ll never leave you?” Blair asked again.

Jim leaned his head back against the bricks. “I don’t know. Maybe telling me every day for fifty years?”

Blair snorted, and then he started to giggle, the exhaustion and catharsis of the emotional rollercoaster over the few days making him giddy. “Fifty years?” Blair sputtered and shook his head. But even as he laughed, his mind was playing over things Jim had said, justifications he’d made, words that had hurt at the time but that now he thought he might not have understood. Jim had protested two or three times that ‘it wasn’t like they were married’. Did he need marriage to feel safe, or was it the commitment it represented, even if it hadn’t worked with Carolyn?

“What? You’re laughing at me now?” Jim challenged. “I bare my soul to you and you laugh at me?” But he too snickered, and was soon laughing uncontrollably. He reached out to wrap his arms around Blair and draw him close even as they both rocked with laughter that had more hysteria than amusement at its core. But Blair hugged him back, and thought about how good it felt to hold him again, and to be held. And how good it would be to spend fifty years with Jim. God, how good it would be.

Gradually, they quieted, and sat leaning against one another. Blair thought about the hurt, how bad it had been, and about how he’d vowed never to trust Jim again. Maybe the smart money would say he should stick to his guns, that there was no percentage in risking a bad bet, given their screwed up history. And the smart money could well be right.

But he’d never seen Jim cry before, not even when Danny Choi had been murdered. It wasn’t the tears themselves that convinced him that Jim was doing his best to be as honest as could be, but the vulnerability the tears represented. Jim hated to let his walls down, hated to be seen as weak, and Blair hadn’t thought he’d ever see the vulnerability Jim had shown him that night. But Jim had dropped all his masks, all his shields, and had just spoken as clearly and truthfully as he could about what he felt.

Was he a fool to want to believe Jim? To want another chance to get back what they’d had? Clearly, some things had to change, and they still had a lot to work through, but ... it would be worth trying, right? Worth taking the emotional risk?

He felt Jim caressing his back, slow, soothing strokes, warm and comforting. “What do you say, Chief?” Jim whispered to the top of his head. “Can you forgive me? Trust me again? Give me another chance?”

“You’re really sure about this? You’re not just saying all this because you think you owe me or some damned thing?”

“I’ve never been as sure about anything in my life as I am about wanting to spend the rest of my life loving you,” Jim assured him, and tightened his hold.

Blair took a breath and drew back, so he could look into Jim’s face. “I don’t want to go back to just what we had,” he said slowly. “I want more. I want the people we care about, the people who matter to us, to know we’re together.”

Jim nodded solemnly. “You got it. And if it ends up being a problem on the job, then we’ll move on, find something else to do that ... that’s worthwhile.”

Blair studied Jim, and the words rang again in his mind: ‘it’s not like we’re married’. And he knew then that that’s what he wanted, the commitment that marriage represented, the vows to love and cherish for a lifetime. “Will you marry me?” he asked.

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise, but then a slow smile widened on his face and he leaned in close to capture Blair’s lips and take him into a deep kiss. When he drew back, he breathed, “Yes, Blair Sandburg, I’ll marry you. Either we’ll go to Canada or have a commitment ceremony downtown with our friends present, whichever you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” Blair replied as he stood and held out a hand to draw Jim up beside him. “You know this doesn’t solve everything, right? That we still have stuff to work out? You’re carrying a ton of guilt about what you think you owe me that you have got to let go. And you have got to accept that you are worthy of love. If you don’t, you’ll drive us both crazy.”

Jim frowned. “You’re saying we have to keep seeing Meadows.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Jim blew a long breath. “You drive a hard bargain, Chief, but, hey, if that’s what it takes, then I’m there.”

Blair smiled then and it was all he could do to resist drawing Jim down the hall to the bedroom, where he could claim what was his. God, he wanted to do that so badly. But ... but that would be moving too fast, given all that had gone before.

They were both emotionally over-wrought and neither of them was thinking clearly. They needed to step back a bit, and he needed to process everything he’d heard that day. Three months before, he wouldn’t’ve thought he’d ever consider giving Jim another chance, ever be able to forgive the betrayal, the hurt, or get over his furious anger. Hell, three hours ago, he’d believed any reconciliation was truly hopeless. Even as hopeful as everything seemed now, he knew there were no guarantees. There were some significant issues that still haunted them, that needed to be worked out. But the no-doubt hard times ahead would be worth it if they could work their way through them and come out whole on the other side. Love that could only survive the good times, the easy times, wasn’t really love.

Fire was what made steel so strong.

Smiling to himself, he thought they’d been through enough fire in the last year to be strong enough to face anything and everything, so long as they met the future together.

“You said something about soup and sandwiches? I think I could eat now.”

“You got it,” Jim assured him, and led the way to the kitchen. Blair slid onto a bar chair at the counter, to watch Jim bustle around, reheating the soup and getting the sandwiches he’d made out of the fridge. As Jim put a laden plate in front of him, Jim asked tentatively, “Did you mean it? Will you marry me?”

Blair took a healthy bite of the tuna sandwich and nodded as he chewed. Swallowing, he said, “I meant it. I think you need the ritual to believe the commitment is real, and once you make the commitment, you’ll live up to it. But ... I think we need to work on stuff first, to be sure we aren’t going to crash and burn again. Because, honestly? I couldn’t go through all this again. As much as I love you, if I can’t trust that we’re on solid ground, I won’t risk being betrayed again. That would just be stupid, you know? I’m not into abuse.”

“I know you’re not,” Jim agreed, looking unhappy, but then he brightened. “We’re gonna make it. It’s just a matter of time now.”

Blair thought about that and took another bite before answering. Jim was settling at the breakfast bar with his own sandwich and a bowl of steaming cream of broccoli soup when he replied, “I hope you’re right. But we really do have a lot of stuff to work through, Jim, and we can’t ignore that. My new bed isn’t as big as the one in the loft – there’s room for both of us, but not for a whole lot of regrets and guilt and, well, you know what I mean.”

Jim grimaced but nodded. “I know, Chief. And I agree. I want to ... I will work it all out. I’m just glad you’re willing to help me do it.”

Blair gave him a small smile of encouragement, and finished his simple dinner. Carrying the dirty dishes to the sink, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m wiped out and have to get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Blair, and ... and thank you, for being willing to forgive me.”

“Ah, Jim, don’t beat yourself up too much, okay? We’ve both made mistakes or we wouldn’t be in this situation. But ... but Meadows is right. We’ve got a lot going for us.”

He left the kitchen and went to his room, leaving Jim to turn out the lights and ensure the place was secure. Blair was sure he’d lie awake for hours, thinking about that had happened and all that he’d learned that day, but emotional exhaustion overtook him, and he fell into a deep sleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**

The next morning, Blair woke feeling better than he had in months. The perpetual tension that had tightened his body every day, and the gnawing ache inside were gone. When he smelled the rich scent of brewing coffee, he smiled and rose to greet the day.

Jim, already dressed and ready for work, was in the kitchen when Blair, freshly showered and shaved, entered. “Morning!” Jim greeted him with a cheerful smile, and finished loading up their plates with scrambled eggs, sausages, and fluffy pancakes.


“Whoa,” Blair exclaimed, delighted to see the substantial breakfast. He felt as hungry as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “This looks great! What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Jim replied, his smile widening as he filled two mugs with coffee. “This is just the basic courting behavior of a man providing food for his chosen mate.”

“Courting behavior, huh?” Blair echoed and then, remembering the long ago morning when Jim had accused him of the same thing as a way of insinuating himself into the loft beyond the agreed upon week, he laughed. “You’re making sure I don’t throw you out, right?”

“You got it, Chief. These are nice digs. I plan to stay.”

They scanned the paper over breakfast, as they had countless mornings in the past, and when they locked up to head to the station, Blair felt ... happy. Though worries fluttered on the edges of his mind, doubts and concerns about whether everything would work out as easily as they’d both hoped the previous night, he refused to acknowledge them.

On the drive around the harbor, though, he realized Jim was just a little too quiet, and some of the telltale signs of anxiety were all too evident, like the tightening of Jim’s jaw and the aggressive way he drove through the morning traffic. “What’s up, man?” he asked with a slight frown of concern.

Jim’s lips thinned, but then he checked the traffic and pulled off into a vacant spot along the curb. Putting the truck into park, he turned to face Blair. “I spent most of last night thinking about stuff you said. About how I have to believe I’m worthy of being loved. And about how our bed isn’t going to be big enough for old regrets and grief and whatever else I’m packing around.”

“Not just you,” Blair interjected. “I’ve got my own issues. Like anger. As much as I believe you and understand now what led up to all this, I’m angry that you never talked to me, that you didn’t trust me enough.”

Jim looked away and nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I know. I know I need to talk to you more, let you in on what I plan before I go off half-cocked.” His gaze again meeting Blair’s, he went on, “This morning, at Simon’s regular morning staff meeting, I want to ... to ask our colleagues for a little help.”

“Help?” Blair asked. “What kind of help?”

Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You and I both know that the whole sentinel thing is an open secret that nobody talks about – well, not in front of us, anyway. But there are still too many people who scoff at the idea, who cling to their belief that you ... that you’re a liar and fraud. I can’t live with that any longer, Chief. I just can’t. Makes me sick inside. I don’t want to take out a full page ad, but I also don’t want to lie about it at work. So I want to ask the others to intervene whenever
they hear any of that shit, and set people straight. Make it clear that I am a sentinel and that you didn’t lie about a damned thing, except to protect me.”

“Oh, Jim, I don’t know, man,” Blair temporized. “I’m not sure ... what if someone tells the media? It’ll be a circus all over again.”


“I know, I thought about that,” Jim agreed somberly. “We should probably figure out what to say if and when that happens.” He shrugged. “I won’t like it, but I’m sure we can spin it in a way that won’t reveal too much of what we don’t want known. If I hadn’t been so shocked and blindsided the last time, maybe I could have handled it better then, I don’t know. What I do know is that I have to do this. I owe it to both of us and to our colleagues to be straight with them. I’m tired of the games and the lies. I ... I just want to make a clean start here, one that’s fair to both of us.”

Blair felt something ease inside, deep down. As much as it had been his own decision to deny his dissertation, he’d harbored well-buried resentment and anger that Jim had left him hanging in the wind, even with their closest friends and colleagues. The last year hadn’t been easy, far from it, for a whole lot of reasons, and it had kept the wound raw. Even deeper inside, he knew he still carried old anger about everything that had happened with Alex. Jim wasn’t the only one who had to learn to let things go. Was that part of what had gone wrong? Jim had sensed or feared that what they’d had couldn’t last; could that have been related to Blair’s own fears that it was only a matter of time before Jim pushed him away again, kicked him out, told him they were done?

“So, Chief, what do you think? I really want to do this, but I’d like you to be okay with it.”

Blair nodded slowly. Inherently, Jim was a man of great integrity; the lies had to have chafed, had to leave him feeling bad about himself. It wasn’t a healthy way to live. “You’re right. It’s time we came clean with our friends and colleagues. And, yeah, given what you’ve been hearing and worrying about, we need to be sure we get the backup we need when things get hot, and not be worried that some schmuck thinks we – or at least I – deserve whatever I get. I’ll think about what we’ll say if the story breaks. You say as much as you want or need to say to be comfortable with the people we work with. I’m good with that.”

Relief blossomed on Jim’s face, and he was smiling when he put the truck into gear and pulled back into the traffic.

Later that morning, Jim’s open admission that he was a sentinel and that he relied on Blair’s help in managing his senses didn’t seem to cause anyone any surprise, and his request for support was met with solid approbation. Brown grumbled playfully that it was about time, and Megan beamed at him, as if she was downright proud of him. Joel gave them a big smile and said it would be a pleasure to set a few fools straight. Rhonda grinned at that, and nodded, and Simon simply wanted to know how they’d handle things if there was a leak. They’d already gone through all the old case files months before and were sure they’d all hold up if there was ever an appeal.

When the meeting ended, Jim signaled to Blair to linger and, after all the others had left the office, Jim said to Simon, “Captain, Sandburg and I are well on the road of working things out between us. It’s time, I think,” and he looked to Blair for confirmation, “to decide how we’re going to handle the issue with the regs, about life partners working together.”

His throat thickening, touched by how determined Jim was to make everything right as quickly as they could, Blair could only look at Simon and nod his agreement.

Simon looked from one to the other. “You’re both sure about this?”

Again, they nodded. “Okay,” he said, and seemed to be fighting a smile. “Your move this morning is a step in the right direction. My suggestion would be that we don’t say anything about your personal relationship; we’ll just take it as a given. If anyone challenges your right to be partners in the future, we’ll just play the sentinel card which, by then, will be common knowledge in the PD.” He shrugged. “I really don’t think it will be a problem.”

“Thanks, Simon,” Jim breathed with evident and very genuine gratitude. Blair couldn’t help the smile that bloomed, or the happiness he felt welling inside. But he was moved to the edge of tears when Jim continued, “When the time is right, we’ll be having a commitment ceremony or something – maybe even go up to Canada to do it up right. I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we’d really like you to be there, to stand up with us and witness it.”

“I’d be proud to be there,” Simon replied with a warm smile. “In fact, if you didn’t ask me, I’d be damned upset.” He gestured toward the bullpen. “And I think the rest of the team would say the same thing.”

**

Over the course of the next week, Jim took to wearing the gold filigree earring Blair had given him, on duty as well as off. On the weekend, he suggested they go for drinks at Dorothy’s, to listen to the music, and he slung his arm around Blair’s shoulders for the walk there and back. As they relaxed again with one another, they eased back into the teasing and bantering they’d enjoyed for years, until laughing together became a way of being again.

During their session with Dr. Meadows that week, they told her they were actively working toward reconciliation, and they spent the first part of the hour helping Blair drain the abscess of his deep-seated anger, which illuminated the insecurity that anger had hidden, at least from Jim. The worry Blair had been harboring that Jim would, inevitably, kick him out again, call it quits.

“I won’t,” Jim vowed with grim resolution. “Not ever. God, I’ll never forget what happened when I’ve done that in the past – and I’ll never hurt you, or leave you so open to being hurt again.” The expression on his face, and the fire in his eyes convinced Blair that he meant every word and would live up to his vow or die in the attempt.

The following weekend, Jim asked Blair if he’d mind having William and Stephen for dinner. Jim wanted to ensure his father and brother understood their relationship. He also wanted to let them know that the truth was seeping through the Cascade PD, and what line they’d be taking the next time journalists got in their faces. The evening went fairly well, though William seemed a bit taken aback at first. He recovered quickly, though, and offered them his full support if they should ever be in need of him. Stephen offered a toast to their happiness. Blair, knowing how traditional both men were, how conservative, was moved by their acceptance and deeply grateful. Jim admitted later that he’d been surprised at how well the evening had gone and that he was proud of his father and brother, maybe for the first time.

During their next session with Meadows, Jim took a deep breath and confronted the guilt he felt about the price Blair had paid to protect him. Letting the truth filter through the PD had helped, but hadn’t erased his knowledge that Blair had turned his back on dreams he’d held for nearly half his life, dreams he’d worked damned hard to achieve. The conversation inevitably got around to his sense of being unworthy of such sacrifice, of any sacrifice, if it came to that. Shaking his head, annoyed that Jim just didn’t seem to get it, Blair once again began enumerating all the reasons that proved Jim was worthy, and shouldn’t feel any guilt because none of it was his fault. But Meadows stopped him and insisted Jim tell her why he was worthy, rather than unworthy, and why the decision had been a good one for Blair, and not simply a loss of former dreams. By the time the hour was over, Jim was beginning to look and sound as if he might finally believe all the things Blair had tried to tell him for over a year, but that he’d never really heard or accepted.

Some evenings, when they weren’t working, they just kicked back and watched television; other evenings, they talked long into the night about their worries and concerns, about the issues that still bothered one or the other of them. Jim was particularly concerned that Blair wouldn’t be having any children, and was afraid the day would come when he’d very much regret not being a father.

Blair picked at the label on his beer bottle as he thought about kids and what it would mean to have them, or not have them. “I ... I don’t know what I want,” he admitted, flicking a glance at Jim. “I’m not as sure as you are that I’d make a decent father. Other than Simon, and the way he’s raised Daryl, I don’t have any role models to emulate.”

Jim graced him with a gentle smile. “You’d be a fantastic father,” he avowed. “You’re patient, and you love to teach. You have boundless energy, so you could keep up with a frenetic kid. And any kid of yours would grow up knowing how to love ... and how to accept and appreciate this world and the people on it.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Blair murmured, knowing his voice was husky with emotion. “I’d like to think about it.”

“Fine, but don’t think too long. Adoption can be harder and take longer than we might think. I’m not getting any younger and I think the authorities have concerns about ancient parents.”

“You’re far from ‘ancient’,” Blair objected, grinning widely. “But I take your point.” His smile faded into reflection. “I’m hesitant, I guess, because we have such potentially dangerous jobs, and the possibility exists that we could go down together. That’d be damned hard on a kid.”

Jim frowned. “If you really want children, Chief, we can find a way to work that out.”

Blair shook his head. “No, no, I don’t want to ‘work it out’ because it would ultimately mean that we wouldn’t be working together. You come first, Jim. I’m your backup and I always will be.”

Jim glanced away, and Blair saw his jaw and throat working as he swallowed heavily. Sniffing, Jim nodded and took a deep breath before looking at him. “Thanks, Chief,” he managed, before his voice clogged.

Understanding, Blair moved across the floor and dropped to one knee beside his chair. Gripping Jim’s arm, he said, low and fervent, “Get used to it, man. Someone – namely me – loves you beyond anything and everything else in this world. You will always come first with me.”

Jim combed his fingers through Blair’s hair and then cupped the back of his head. Blair could see tears glimmering in his eyes, before he blinked them away. “I know, Chief,” he murmured huskily. “Still blows me away, though. I think ... I think it always will.”

“I can live with that,” Blair replied with fond affection as he caressed Jim’s cheek.

Once again, Jim suggested they head down the block to Dorothy’s, where he led Blair to a table in a shadowed corner. After they’d ordered their drinks, Jim looped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in close to ask, “You have any problems with me necking with you in public?”

Delighted, Blair rewarded him with a bright smile, a quick shake of the head, and a kiss that neither of them was in any hurry to conclude. Minutes later, Jim was nuzzling his ear, and Blair was flushed with pleasure and growing desire. “Why don’t you ever do this at home?” he asked, a little breathless.

“Because I’ve been worried about pushing too hard, too fast,” Jim murmured. “And ... and I was afraid of starting something I might not be able to stop.” His arm tightened around Blair. “I want you so bad. Love you so much,” he said with a low moan, before again capturing Blair’s lips.

No more than I want you, Blair thought, as he pulled bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table to cover the drinks that hadn’t even arrived yet. Taking Jim’s hand, he pulled him to his feet. “C’mon. We’re going home where we can get comfortable.”

Jim’s face lit with hope and anticipation, and Blair’s heart lightened at the love he saw in Jim’s eyes. There were risks, he knew that. There was no way to read the future or predict it, but he decided the risks were worth taking, the gamble worth making. The doubts he’d harbored were gone; Jim loved him, of that he was certain. He was equally sure that Jim was genuinely sorry for the boneheaded betrayal, and that it would never happen again. Though he wasn’t yet quite prepared to admit it might
even have been a good thing, because being with Jocelyn and Abby had removed all Jim’s doubts about how much he loved Blair, he no longer remembered that afternoon with the same shaft of furious hurt and grief.

They held hands, bumped shoulders, laughed for the joy of it, and stopped to kiss in the shadows so that the journey home took a good deal longer than the five minutes it would have normally. By the time they reached the warehouse, the time for thinking, and analyzing, and worrying was over, at least for the night. Inside the apartment, Blair ushered Jim straight to the master bedroom. There, they made short work of stripping off Jim’s clothing and his own.

With a seductive smile and a low growl of desire, Blair pushed Jim down onto the bed. Then, he crawled on top of his lover, to lay claim to what was his – and his alone – that night, and for the rest of their lives.

End

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