I don't own them and am doing this strictly for enjoyment, not profit.

Happy Birthday, Marilyn!

This is number 3 in the Sports Series.

This story is a sequel to: Screen Ball Hinder

"Why did I let you talk me into this?"

Blair grinned at his partner. "Because two weeks ago you taught me how to play racquetball."

Jim's brow furrowed. "And that relates how?" He motioned down to the in-line skates on his size eleven-and-a-half feet.

"It's kind of a tit-for-tat type thing." Blair leaned over to tighten the Velcro fasteners on his own skates. "C'mon, man, let loose those old bones and do something fun."

"Fun is going to a Jags basketball game. Fun is winning a poker hand by out-bluffing Simon. Fun is not trying to balance on one row of tiny wheels."

Blair sat up on the park bench that he shared with Jim and laid his arm across the back. "You told me I had to find something to alleviate stress, and skating is touted to be one of the most effective ways." He laughed. "It's kind of ironic since it was Alec who taught me. Of course, I didn't skate much then."

"You were too busy relieving stress with Molly," Jim said wryly.

Blair grinned like a little kid who found all prizes and no popcorn in his CrackerJack box. "I was pretty relaxed while we dated, wasn't I?" His dreamy smile faded. "Except for the times when Alec was driving me nuts."

"He wasn't a bad kid. A little mouthy, maybe, but I'm used to smart-mouthed students." He gazed at his friend deliberately.

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Ellison." He angled a look at the sentinel. "You could use some stress reduction yourself, man. You bite down any harder and you'll be in hock to a dentist for the rest of your life."

"The P.D. has a good dental insurance program," Jim growled back.

Blair rolled his eyes. "Quit being obtuse, Jim. You were wound up so tight this past week I thought you were going to like spring wide open, man. That string of crimes starting the night of the full moon wiped out everybody in the department. It's been determined that a full moon triggers a chemical imbalance which aggravates violent tendencies within certain types of--"

Jim clapped a hand over his partner's mouth. "I got it already, Einstein."

He felt Blair smile and tried to ignore the allure of the student's lips on his palm. If he dialed up his sense of touch a little more... Jim mentally shook himself before he could fall into a zone that would be difficult and embarrassing to explain.

Quickly drawing away, Jim leaned over to check his straps, ensuring his ankles had sufficient support. Eyeing the pads on his knees and elbows, he couldn't believe he was actually doing this. If it had been anyone else but Blair, he wouldn't be here, looking like some middle-aged, menopausal man with delusions of recapturing his youth. Hell, youth was for the young and stupid--two things Jim Ellison wasn't. Of course, those two words didn't describe Blair, either, although Jim often had a hard time remembering Blair was thirty years old.

"I don't know about this, Chief," he muttered as another wave of doubt swept through him.

"Enough of the negative vibes, man. You'll love it." Blair stood, making the process look easy. With all the safety gear on, Blair didn't look any older than the college freshmen he taught. "Are you going to let something like rollerblades defeat an ex-Army Ranger?"

"Yes," Jim replied without hesitation.

"Put on your helmet and wrist guards like a good little boy."

Jim made a face at his partner, but donned the accouterments.

Blair clasped his wrist. "Stand up. I'll catch you if you fall."

You always do, Chief.

Forcing himself to relax, Jim took a deep breath and allowed Blair to help him stand. His right foot rolled slightly and Jim overcompensated, making his left skate--and consequently, left foot and leg--shoot out behind him. Blair reached out and Jim latched onto him, grabbing both his arms.

"Whoa, easy there. Bend your knees a little, y'know, like surfing," Blair advised.

"I have a long board under my feet when I'm surfing," Jim retorted.

"Think of your skates as short, narrow boards."

Jim would've given him a glare, but he was too busy trying to maintain an upright position.

"Would you stop making like a pig on ice?" Blair remarked in exasperation.

This time he did glare. "A 'pig?'"

"Don't get your boxers in a knot, man. It's a simile with the four-legged kind." Blair took a deep meditative breath. "Relax and be the skates."

"Zen and the art of in-line skating?" Disbelief filled Jim's face and voice.

"Whatever works." Blair smiled. "How're you doing?"

Jim actually felt semi-stable. "Better."

"Good. Step onto the grass."

"What?"

"You heard me. You can get used to the feel of the skates that way."

Still gripping Blair, Jim carefully took two steps over. He immediately felt more in control and let go his hold on his partner. The student followed suit, releasing Jim carefully.

"Okay?" Blair asked.

Jim nodded.

"Now take a few steps on the grass, keeping your toes pointed outward."

"Why?"

"Because that's how you'll push off."

That made sense. Jim did so, feeling more confident with each step.

"Remember what I told you about the brake?" Blair asked.

Jim nodded. "It's a heel brake."

"Good."

Jim faced his partner. "Pavement?"

"Fall first."

"What?"

"Fall."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your teacher, that's why." Blair sighed. "You have to know how to fall correctly or you could get hurt." He dropped to his knees. "See how easy it is."

"It's stupid."

Blair rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. "Try it."

Jim opened his senses to see if there was anyone in sight. Finding nobody around in this secluded part of the park, he leaned forward and found it more difficult than he expected to just let himself fall. He landed on his knee pads which he wore over his blue jeans. The pads were effective, but this was grass and not hard pavement.

"You're going to take a few falls before you get this thing figured out, Jim," Blair said. "So you have to know how to do it safely."

Jim managed to scramble back up, but felt like that pig on ice. "Actually, it's kind of like skiing."

Blair's face lit up. "Exactly. Try it a couple more times." As Jim did so, Blair continued to lecture. "When you feel yourself beginning to fall, throw your weight forward so the knee pads and wrist guards take the brunt of the impact. And don't stiffen your arms. Let yourself slide forward."

"I figured that one out on my own, Chief."

Blair grinned. "Then you probably know that falling backward is bad news. You could mess up your back or tailbone." His gaze swept across Jim's denim-clad backside. "And that's too nice of ass to mess up."

Jim jerked his head up sharply to find a mischievous twinkle in his friend's eyes. "Sandburg," he growled.

Blair spread out his arms, assuming an innocent demeanor. "I'm merely stating the obvious," he said. "Remember, try to land on your wrist guards and elbow pads if you do go down backwards."

"Avoid the ass," Jim said dryly.

"In this case, definitely. Besides, your bruise from racquetball just went away." The sparkle in the student's eyes revealed a flash of something else, something that Jim recognized because he'd felt it himself.

"And how would you know that?"

Blair waggled his eyebrows. "I have my ways." He switched gears before Jim could ponder that revelation. "Feel comfortable with the falling gig?"

Jim nodded as he continued to mull over Blair's teasing that wasn't exactly teasing.

"Time for the real thing." Blair moved onto the paved walkway.

Jim followed and was pleasantly surprised that he felt much steadier. When Blair showed him how to push off, Jim had no trouble getting into the rhythm and balance of the in-line skates. Blair kept their pace slow and stopped after about a hundred feet.

Jim eased his front skate toe upward and the heel brake caught, stopping him. "That's not so hard."

"Wait until you increase your speed. Stay here, while I skate up ahead. When I stop, you skate toward me as fast as you feel comfortable, then stop when you get to me."

"All right."

"Remember how to fall."

"I got it already, Sandburg. Go."

Blair grinned and rolled ahead. Jim took advantage of the view, admiring Blair's skill and poise. *Admit it, Ellison, you like looking at his ass.*

Blair stopped, making it look deceptively easy. "Come on."

Jim skated toward his guide, feeling more confident. He increased his speed, but was careful not to become reckless. As he neared Blair, he began to brake. The wheels on his back skate hit some loose gravel. Thrown off-balance, he managed to lean forward. He got his hands out in front of him and remembered not to keep his arms stiff. The impact against his knees and wrists stunned him momentarily.

A hand settled on his shoulder. "Are you all right, Jim?"

The sentinel opened his eyes and found his guide leaning over him, concern radiating from him. "I'll live, Chief.

Blair relaxed. "Happens all the time, man. That's why you have to learn how to fall. Ready to try it again?"

"The falling or the skating?"

"They go together--gotta take the bumps with the rush." Blair studied him, his eyes darker blue than normal. "A little like loving someone."

Startled, Jim stared at his guide. The moment stretched out between them. Jim listened to their heartbeats, not quite in synch, but in a rhythm which balanced the other.

Blair blinked and grinned. "Are you going to kneel there all day, Ellison?"

Jim glanced down, unable to meet Blair's gaze. "It might be safer since it sounds like I'll be going down quite a bit." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized the double meaning, and his face burned. His hope that Blair hadn't noticed was dashed when he dared a look at his partner.

A particularly dirty little grin played on Blair's lips. "A person can always dream." He extended his hand. "Come on, Jim."

"Yeah, yeah," Jim growled, anxious to get past his Freudian slip.

Jim continued to practice, and within fifteen minutes, was feeling comfortable enough to do some actual in-line skating. Blair agreed and led him down the path, keeping the pace sedate.

It didn't surprise Blair that Jim caught on so quickly. The man was a natural athlete. Not that Blair was a slouch at sports, but he didn't have Jim's aptitude, which automatically made the detective a standout. Jim's confidence and level-headedness didn't hurt either. Often times, Blair was torn between envy and pride at his friend's athletic prowess.

That he'd been able to get Jim to try in-line skating had been a minor miracle. Blair was certain Jim would never agree to it. He had figured it would take at least three days of intermittent harassment, but it had taken only fifteen minutes of cajoling and wheedling. When Jim had said yes, Blair had picked his jaw up off the floor and called his friend to borrow his skates and equipment for Jim before he changed his mind.

The weather had cooperated and although it was a cool November day, the sun was shining and there wasn't a rain cloud in sight. That morning Blair had taken Jim to the Pancake Haus for breakfast and didn't rag Jim about all the pancakes, eggs, and sausage he ate. Then they'd run the weekend errands: picking up clothes at the local Cascade Cleaners; stopping at Wal-Mart for lightbulbs, toilet paper, laundry detergent, a new rug for outside the loft door, and a guilty pleasure for each man--a three pound bag of trail mix (heavy on the M&M's) for Blair and Caramel Chocolate Cups for Jim; dropping off an overdue book at the Rainier Library and paying the required late fee; driving slowly through the lot at Luther Motors so Jim could drool over the new truck models even though Blair knew he was loyal to Sweetheart; and finally doing the grocery shopping to fill their nearly empty cupboards and fridge.

All in all, Jim and Blair did what they normally did on a Saturday. Which was normal for married couples, a fact that added to Blair's growing suspicions that he and Jim were more than roommates. Even more than sentinel and guide. So where did that leave them?

"How far are we going, Chief?"

Jim's voice startled Blair out of his musings. He glanced around to find they'd arrived at the other end of the park, where there were more people enjoying the unusually beautiful weather. Damn! He had been so busy contemplating life with Jim Ellison that he had led them to the most congested area of the park.

"No farther," Blair replied over his shoulder. "Sorry, I should've been watching closer. We'll head back to where we started out."

Blair was again careful to keep his speed down, cognizant of the beginner following him. Jim had done much better than Blair had thought, but they hadn't run afoul of anything in their path or downward slopes, which Jim wasn't ready to handle no matter how adept he was.

"Shit," came Jim's voice.

Blair slowed and glanced back at his partner, thinking he had trouble with his skates. Instead, Jim had his head cocked to the side. "What?"

Jim pointed ahead. "That guy's robbing her."

Blair squinted and could make out a woman in running shorts and a t-shirt, playing tug-of-war with a man. "Are you--"

Jim, his attention focused wholly on the possible mugging, suddenly shot forward on his skates.

"Jim!" Blair hollered at his back. "You can't skate that well yet!"

The sentinel only moved faster.

"Why can't we just have one day..." Blair muttered as he pushed off, racing after his partner.

The mugger got what he was after and dashed down the path with Jim rolling after him. The woman had been shoved to the grass but didn't appear hurt.

"Are you all right?" Blair called out as he approached her.

"Yes, but that guy got my wallet," she shouted back, glaring at the back of the disappearing thief.

"We'll get him," Blair reassured as he put his skates back into motion. He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

Blair kept Jim and the mugger in sight and began to gain on them. He was still fifty feet from the sentinel when Jim launched himself at the thief. The two men went down in a tangle of arms, legs, and skates. The mugger didn't have a chance. By the time Blair arrived, Jim was sitting on the perp's back.

"Call it in, Sandburg," Jim said.

Blair dug Jim's cell phone out of his fanny pack and hit speed dial two.

"I didn't have any trouble stopping, Chief." A smug smirk graced Jim's lips.

"Your 'brake' doesn't look very happy," Blair said dryly.

Jim shrugged, then shifted to make himself more comfortable and the mugger groaned.

The victim ran up behind Blair. "You got him!" She dropped to her knees beside Jim, grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him. "Thank you!"

Jim jerked back, startled. "Uh, well, you're welcome, ma'am."

Blair fought a grin at the blush on the sentinel's face. It was difficult to reconcile the big, bad ex-Ranger, now big, bad cop, with the Jim in front of him. This "it was nothing, ma'am" side of Jim was downright endearing.

"Are you sure you aren't hurt?" Blair asked the woman, taking pity on his partner when it was obvious Jim didn't know what else to say.

She rose to her feet and dusted off her backside. "Just my pride. I've been running in this park for over a year and nothing like this has ever happened before." She looked back at Jim, then again at Blair. "I'm just glad you two happened to be here, too. I'm Marilyn, by the way."

Blair shook her hand. "Blair Sandburg, and the flying wheels there is my partner, Detective Ellison with the Cascade Police Department."

Marilyn laughed. "Talk about luck."

A police car pulled up to the curb of the park. The two uniforms hurried across the grass. They both grinned as they neared Jim and Blair.

"Dare I even ask?" Don Peterson, the older of the two patrolmen, inquired as he stared at Jim. It was obvious he was trying hard not to laugh.

"Don't even," Jim began in his best, threatening voice.

Don collapsed into laughter, leaving his smiling partner, Sam Cochran, to place the cuffs on the mugger.

"Trying out new police defensive gear?" Sam asked, motioning to Jim's elbow and knees pads.

"Laugh it up, guys," Jim growled. "I hear the chief is looking for volunteers to play security at the policemen's ball."

"You fight dirty, Ellison," Don said. Although he'd stopped laughing, his eyes were still smirking. "What happened here?"

Blair gave Jim a hand up, relieved when the sentinel rose with his usual natural grace.

"That man stole my wallet," Marilyn spoke up, pointing at the man in the cuffs. "And Detective Ellison stopped him."

"And I called it in," Blair volunteered.

While Jim and Marilyn gave their statements to Don, Sam escorted the thief to the patrol car. When they were done, Marilyn invited Jim and Blair to dinner next weekend with her and her husband. The uniforms gave Marilyn a ride home, and Jim and Blair skated back to where they'd left Jim's truck.

The in-line skates rolled over the paved walk with a steady droning. While Jim was giving his statement, Blair had realized how lucky they'd been. Jim could've easily broken a bone or two in his mad dash after the mugger. Jim's blatant disregard for his well-being pissed off Blair, but he usually kept his concerns to himself and they eventually disappeared. This time, however, instead of dissipating, his anxiety grew.

Jim and Blair stopped at the truck to get their shoes and sat down on the bench where they'd begun the day's adventures. The helmet and pads were removed first. The pads left circles of sweat on the men's clothing.

Blair counted to one hundred as he concentrated on keeping calm, but it wasn't working. Besides being a novice at skating, Jim hadn't known if the perp was armed. What if he had been? The knee and elbow pads weren't very effective against bullets.

"What's wrong, Chief?" Jim asked as he removed his skates, obviously sensing Blair's distress.

Blair promptly backhanded his chest. "You are such an idiot!"

Jim's eyes widened almost comically as he rubbed the point of impact. "What're you talking about, Sandburg?"

"You could've fallen and broken some bones or worse. And if the mugger would've had a knife or gun, you might've been killed." Blair tugged off his skates with more vigor than required.

Jim glanced at his friend. "But I wasn't. And he didn't." He slipped into his Nikes. "As far as skating, stopping is the hard part and our perp took care of that."

"That's only part of it," Blair said, his anger replaced by fear of what could've happened. He pulled his shoes on and stood to look down at his best friend. "You could've hit a rock or some sand, and taken a bad fall."

Jim rose. "Nah." He moved closer, until there was less than a foot between them. Jim lightly yanked a strand of Blair's sweat-dampened hair, but didn't release it. He rolled it between his fingertips. "You taught me how to fall without getting hurt," he said, his voice husky.

Suddenly Blair knew they weren't talking about skating anymore. Jim was staring at his lips. Blair returned the favor, but didn't stop at merely looking. He raised himself on his toes and tentatively kissed his partner.

A single touch, not long enough to fall, but time enough to stumble.

Blair shivered as a cool breeze swept across them. He reached for his safety gear and skates. "What do you say we call for Chinese when we get home?"

Jim gathered his own skating equipment. "Sounds good, Chief." He started walking toward the truck, but paused to turn and look back at Blair, who hadn't moved. "Sandburg?"

"I can't promise you we'll never fall or get hurt," Blair whispered.

Jim smiled tenderly. "I'm not asking you to. But we can promise to try to catch each other when we do fall."

Blair thought about that for a moment--more about the man who'd spoken than the words themselves. Finally, he nodded. "I can do that."

"Me, too." Jim gestured with his head toward the truck. "C'mon, Chief. Let's go home. We still have laundry to do, and it's your turn to clean the bathroom."

Some things never changed.

End Learning How to Fall by Romslinger: romslinger@yahoo.com

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