Archive of Our Own ^beta

"So how's the surveillance going?" Simon Banks asked the two detectives slumped in their chairs at the end of the conference table.

"Look, Captain," Henri Brown said with a sigh of resignation. "I know the Feds are funding this little project and I will admit I was all for a few days of peace and quiet, but this isn't funny anymore."

"Meaning exactly what, detective?"

Henri sighed again, leaned forward and rubbed both hands over his face. "Meaning that watching paint dry would do more for my career at this point than watching the kid."

"So Kelso hasn't made any attempt to contact him?"

"Not that we can tell. Even though we have the kid's phone tapped, it's practically impossible to track most of the calls he receives. He knows people all over the world: friends, extended family, colleagues, former students, contacts. He can speak about six or seven languages fluently, and knows a half dozen more on a pidgin basis. Hell, he has friends who consider it fun to speak nothing but Latin."

"And Kelso hasn't tried to contact him personally?"

"No, sir. But you got to figure Kelso knows the Feds would put some sort of watch on the kid."

"What about you, Rafe?"

"What about me, sir?"

"What's your opinion of the stakeout?"

Rafe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I have to agree with Henri regarding the unlikelihood of Kelso trying to contact Sandburg."

"But..." Simon prompted, when his newest detective hesitated.

"But I don't find the stakeout boring at all. Sandburg is a fascinating individual."

"How so?" Jim Ellison, Simon's senior detective, spoke for the first time.

"He's a contradiction in terms on practically every level."

"Explain," Ellison said quietly, but intently.

The younger detective opened the manila file in front of him and slid a color photo down the table to his superiors. "What's your first impression when you look at his picture?"

Simon snorted. "He looks like a neo-hippie flower child."

"And you would expect what?" Rafe prompted, encouragingly.

"I don't know. Sex, drugs and rock and roll?"

"I wish." Henri rolled his eyes, but nodded to his partner to continue, as if saying you got yourself into this, you get yourself out.

"Would it surprise you to find out that he's a very respected teacher? He started college when he was sixteen and got his bachelor’s in anthropology in three years, with minors in psychology and sociology. He then spent three years traveling the world with his mentor Eli Stoddard, who had been assigned to evaluate the different anthropological and archeological sites that Rainier was sponsoring worldwide. He's been to Irian Jaya, Brazil, the Amazon Basin, New Guinea, the Fiji Islands, hell, even Sumatra. He's written numerous articles for scientific journals," Rafe said excitedly, sliding more pieces of paper across the table. "He's garnered the reputation of being one of anthropology's rising stars. He wrote his master’s thesis two year ago about a type of guardian that most ancient tribes had and is currently working on his doctorate."

Henri moaned, shaking his head. "You had to ask."

"He abhors recreational drugs, eats healthy, apparently abstains from sex, although men and women alike practically throw themselves at him. He's friendly, always willing to help a friend, and yet rarely asks for help himself."

"How does this help us?" Simon asked quietly.

Rafe opened his mouth to speak, but Henri cut him off. "It doesn't."

The younger detective sat back in his chair and shot a disgruntled look at his partner.

"Rafe?" Jim asked quietly, when it became apparent the younger man wasn't going to say anything more.

"Look, Jim," Henri cut in before his partner could speak. "While I may not be a member of the Sandburg Appreciation Club like my partner here, I gotta admit, it's doubtful that Kelso has or will contact him or that the kid would have anything to do with him if he did." Turning to Simon, he added, "What I want to know, sir, is what's it gonna to take to get us off this detail?"

"It's not that simple, Henri," Simon said apologetically, leaning back in his own chair. "However, that's why I've asked Jim to sit in with us today."

"No offense, Ellison, but what can you do that we haven't already tried?" Henri asked tiredly.

Jim shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I'm going to try to get close to Sandburg."

Henri pushed himself away from the table and stood up, frustration vibrating from every pore of his body. "Brilliant idea. Why didn't we think of that? Jesus. Rafe's already taking his Anthro 201 class. What are you going to do? Become his teaching assistant?"

"Henri," Simon called out sharply, then said in a softer voice, "Come on, Brown. Let's go to the break room and I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

Henri shot the men at the opposite end of the table an apologetic look, then slowly nodded his head. "Sure. Okay."

Simon stood, looking pointedly at Jim, then nodded his head toward the young detective at the end of table before guiding Brown from the room.

"I'm sorry," Rafe apologized quietly, when the door shut. "It has been a pretty boring assignment, but I've been passing the time by studying the kid."

Jim gathered up the various papers on the table in front of him and moved to the chair beside the younger detective. "And what have you learned?"

Rafe looked at him suspiciously for a moment then shrugged his shoulders. "Sandburg is considered by many to be one of the leading experts on closed societies despite not having his doctorate yet. He has a fascinating way of breaking down human behaviors and explaining how they evolved in society. I've...I've been sort of taking his principals and doing the same thing to him. You know, to pass the time."

"Go on," Jim encouraged.

Rafe looked nervous, but Jim nodded for him to continue.

"Okay, you've heard the old stereotype about hungry grad students, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's not really a stereotype per se. Most of them really are operating on the edge of starvation. Do you know why grad students always order pizza?"

Jim shook his head, but said nothing.

"Because if they go in as a group, contributing a buck or two, they can each get a couple of slices. Where else can they buy dinner for two bucks? If they splurge and buy a pizza for themselves, a majority of them will make it last as long as possible, getting maybe four to six meals out of the deal. But beyond that, they're always looking out for each other. They seem to know instinctively who's not going to make it any given week. Blair, I mean, Sandburg, is an expert at this. He's forever inviting someone over to eat with him, and while it may be partially for the company, more often than not it's someone who will confess later in the evening that they didn't know how much longer they could have held on."

"So Sandburg is the self-appointed guardian to these kids?"

The younger detective nodded. "Yes. Henri thinks he's a con man, but it's more than that." Rafe seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if not quite sure how to proceed. "It's true that Sandburg plays all the angles, but he's not as mercenary as Brown would lead you to believe. For instance, take today. It's Saturday, right?"

"Right."

This morning he went down to the Farmer's Market and helped out. In return, he was paid in left over fruits and vegetables -- which he needs for Larry."

"Larry?"

Rafe grinned, but waved his hands dismissively. "It's his Barbary ape. Don't ask. It's a long story. Anyway, he now has enough food to get Larry through the week and a bit left over for himself and perhaps a friend or two. He then went to the track, where he never bets more than twenty dollars. He almost always wins something and always uses his winnings to buy groceries. If it's a good week, he'll invite a couple people over for dinner. If he loses, he'll eat soup all week or until he comes into some more money. At any given time, he has three to four articles out seeking homes in scientific journals. He trades car repairs for tutoring the kids of a mechanic over on Central. But no matter how tight it gets, he always chaperones on Thursday and Saturday nights, which means he always has some change in his pockets."

"Chaperones?"

"It's sort of hard to explain." Rafe ran his fingers back through his hair. "About ten months ago Sandburg came up with an idea that makes him, and others grad students, approximately fifty dollars a night."

Jim frowned. "Is it legal?"

"Yes, that's the beauty of it. You see, he came up with a "Big Brother" program for undergrads."

"You mean like "Big Brothers/Big Sisters."

"No. Well, sort of." Rafe leaned forward in his chair and put his elbows on the conference table. "You see, the concept is fairly easy. A grad student takes up to ten undergrads to a dance club of their choice. The brother for lack of a better word, acts as designated driver and keeps an eye on the undergrads as if they were all his younger siblings. He breaks up potential bad scenes, tells handsy men to back off, and is generally the reason girls give as to why they can't leave/dance/chat with obnoxious men. Basically, the brother's job is to keep everyone on the straight and narrow. To let them have fun, but make sure everyone stays safe."

Jim grunted softly. "That's actually not a bad idea."

Rafe nodded excitedly. "The club owners love it. Patrol loves it because the number of alcohol-related incidents, bar fights and rapes amongst college students has dropped significantly. Hell, the university even provides the vans to transport the students and pays the insurance. Best of all, the big brothers make five bucks a head and get all the free soft drinks they can drink."

"Who keeps an eye out on the brothers themselves?"

"Sandburg. You wouldn't believe the criteria he makes these guys go through in order to chaperone."

"Why's he so strict?"

"Apparently one of his students was raped last year by someone she thought was safe. He doesn't want a wolf amongst the sheep, you know?"

"Makes sense."

Rafe leaned back in his chair a bit. "Anyway, Sandburg is a very popular brother. While a lot of his friends worked the "Doom" circuit, he preferred the quieter clubs. His reputation for being open-minded is so well known that he even occasionally takes a group of gay men to "Fabio’s." Apparently young gay men face the same sort of perils as young women, and are just as often scared to go out on their own."

"Is he gay?"

Rafe shrugged. "Can't tell, one way or the other. The boy leads the life of a monk. He's constantly studying, researching, teaching, grading and trying to squeak by. He doesn't have time for relationships."

"So what makes Sandburg such a popular big brother?" Jim asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Probably ‘The Dance’?"

"The dance?"

Rafe nodded excitedly and leaned back onto the table. "You see, once his group arrives at their chosen bar and gets situated, he takes the group as a whole onto the dance floor and dances until everyone has found a dancing partner. It's become something of an honor in the clubs to be able to lure a student away from the group based on nothing more than your dancing ability and presentation. Sandburg stays on the dance floor until everyone has been partnered up."

"That's interesting," Jim said quietly, entwining his fingers together as he leaned forward again.

"Sandburg tells his charges that the dance is based on a South American ritual where young women would dance around the fire, near their fathers, until a warrior of suitable prowess caught their eye through dance. Once the students feel comfortable or find someone that interests them they peel off from the group."

"You said he tells his charges."

Rafe nodded and grinned. "He confessed to a professor the other day that he made up the whole ritual."

Jim chuckled in appreciation. "So how does he get them all home?"

"At midnight, which is the designated witching hour, Blair goes back out onto the dance floor and begins to dance by himself until he's once again surrounded by his charges. He then packs them up and drives everyone home."

"But what if someone wants to stay behind?"

"Against the rules. He makes them all sign a contract before they go. Amazingly, he really hasn't had any problems with this program."

"Well it sounds great, but it doesn't really seem to help the female grad students?"

"Ah, but you see, the girls come in the day after by acting as chaperones for one-on-one dating. Say a student meets someone at the club and the guy wants to know her better. If the girl is nervous or not quite sure, she gives him a business card with a list of female grad students. The guy calls a big sister, who will arrange for the three of them to meet at a small cafe, the student union, or some place safe, and keeps an eye on things while the couple gets to know each other."

"Isn't that a little old fashion?"

"Yeah, but since when is safety out of style?"

"And Sandburg came up with this idea to feed his friends?"

"And to protect his students." Rafe chuckled. "He's already written two articles about the ritual which has supposedly brought in two hundred dollars. He's also been consulted by several universities across the country about setting the system up on their own campuses."

"Sounds like hitting the jack pot for a grad student living on the edge."

"It is." Rafe paused. "Do you see why I find this all so fascinating?"

Jim nodded.

"But, for all of his outgoingness, he's actually very quiet. No, that's not the right word. The boy can talk. Don't get me wrong. He talks faster and spouts more information than anyone I've ever known."

"But?" Jim prompted when the younger man hesitated.

"He doesn't give anything of himself away. You can never tell what he's thinking. He has a good soul. But you're not going to be able to walk up to him and become buds." Rafe shook his head in frustration. "That's not true. He's friendly to everyone. I don't think the boy has ever met a person he didn't like; but that's not going to get you close enough to learn about Kelso."

"What exactly is Sandburg's connection with Kelso?"

"Kelso and Blair's mom supposedly lived together for a couple of years while Blair was a kid. According to the Feds, Kelso has a soft spot for Sandburg. They claim he's made Blair his sole heir."

Jim rubbed his fingertips over his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

"If you want to get close to Blair, you're going to have seduce him."

Jim opened his eyes and glared at the younger detective. "I beg your pardon."

"I don't mean sexually, Jim. I mean you're going to have to appeal to his intellect. You're going to have to intrigue him, to become a mystery he wants to solve. You're not going to be able to sidle up to him over a weekend and get him to spill his guts." Rafe let out a long sigh. "Blair's greatest strength is his intellect, but his curiosity is insatiable. You need to find a way to use that."

"I'm very impressed. You've done a great job studying this guy," Jim said quietly, smiling at the younger man.

Rafe blushed. "Well, I look at him like a giant puzzle. I just know if I can get enough pieces together I can solve it, learn what makes him tick. You know?"

"Do you really think so?" Jim asked, his brows knitting together slightly.

Rafe sighed. "No, but it's fun trying. So, do you think you might have an idea on how to approach him?"

Jim nodded slightly. "I think I just might."

Blair Sandburg smiled encouragingly at the shy junior, who was his last charge to join the foray of the Saturday night dance scene. He thrust his chin slightly to the side to point out a tall well-built senior trying to gain her attention with his not-very-smooth dance moves. Pamela raised a semi-alarmed eyebrow, but Blair nodded gently at her, telling her it was okay.

A small part of him felt guilty, playing innocent, especially when he knew the lummox beside them had a huge crush on the tiny timid girl. It had taken Blair nearly a month of teasing and cajoling to get Pamela to attend one of his dances. Was it a breach of ethics to mention to a certain wrestler after class that Pamela would be attending tonight? Blair grinned openly as Pamela accepted Charles' silent plea to dance.

He was such a yenta.

As the song wound down, Blair made one last check on his girls. He could see them making their introductions as Bryan Adams' began to croon To Love A Woman in the background. Satisfied, he turned to move off the dance floor -- only to find his way blocked by a muscular man in tight black jeans and a tighter t-shirt.

Blair smiled absently in apology, then moved to go around. The man, however, stepped in his path again. Blair looked up and was stunned by the intensity of the blue eyes staring down at him. The man put his hands behind his back, as if to show Blair he meant no harm, but which only served to accentuated his spectacular washboard stomach and abs even more, then danced around him, his gaze never releasing Blair's.

Blair smiled. This had happened before, although usually with women in bars like this. He had, however, had a couple of men at Fabio’s approach him, wanting to see if they were up to the challenge of catching the interest of the one in charge. Shrugging, he put his hands behind his back, and turned to face his suitor.

The man grinned ferally as Blair silently accepted his unspoken dare. Their steps took on almost salsa quality, as they drew tantalizingly close to each other, but never quite touched. Blair blinked as the heat from the other man teased his arms. He had danced with men before, but never had one held his gaze like this one. His suitor never dropped his eyes, and Blair felt like he was being devoured alive.

The man leaned in and sniffed at his neck and chest, then twisted so that their backs shimmied briefly near each other, then appeared on his left side, breathing deeply of his hair. Blair swallowed hard, stunned by the exoticness of the gesture. The stranger grinned, almost arrogantly, at him.

Blair smiled. Two could play that game. He swayed forward, his lips slightly parted, then just as they were a mere breath's away, he spun away, careful not to touch the other man. He turned to find the other man panting heavily through his teeth. He realized suddenly that this was a dangerous man to tease, and yet Blair felt energized; knowing he had caused the hunger he was seeing in the blue eyes which now burned him with need.

As if by unspoken agreement, they moved close again, almost chest to chest, their dance steps complex as they moved forward and back as one, knowing that any misstep would cause them to stumble and touch the other, thus ending their game. Blair craned his neck up to capture the gaze he knew would be there. He opened his mouth again and teasingly licked his lips. He heard the rumble from the other man's chest as he groaned.

They swayed impossibly closer, their bodies a mere hair's breath from each other. Just when Blair was sure they would kiss, the song segued into Santana's Smooth.

Blair blinked, then reluctantly stepped back; and while his suitor allowed the distance between them, his possessive gaze left no doubt they had yet to finish their game. The stranger's arms slowly moved skyward and crossed at the wrists, his hips rocked almost playfully toward Blair. Blair smiled in return as he shimmied toward the older man. When they were again close, Blair felt mischievous and slowly lowered himself, breathing hotly as he swayed in front of the man's groin then bounced upward in time to see the stranger's eyes hood in desire.

His suitor brought his arms down to either side of Blair, forcing Blair to dance in the small space between his arms. Again, they moved as one, surging forward and back, dancing at a faster pace. Blair's hands skimmed above the stranger's chest and moved slowly over his flat stomach, then hovered over his hips.

While their feet stayed in place, their hips and upper bodies rocked impossibly close then swayed back, only to be drawn back to each other again and again. Blair gasped as he realized they were, for all intensive purposes, having sex on the dance floor. Slowly, as if he had no choice, he lifted his chin, exposing his neck to the man before him. Even with the music blaring in the background, Blair could hear the man gasp and growl.

Smiling seductively, he watched his suitor grit his teeth and thrust harder toward him. Blair matched each thrust, each stroke, quietly allowing himself to moan, knowing the other man would never be able to hear him. However, his suitor's eyes became even more intense as their chests ceased their backward retreat and merely gyrated next to each other.

Blair opened his mouth and grunted quietly, trying to release his body's growing tension. The stranger did the same thing and Blair had an overwhelming feeling of release. He breathed in quiet gasps as they continued to sway near each other until the song was done.

As the chords faded into the next song, the stranger smiled sweetly at him before stepping back and losing himself in the crowd.

Blair blinked as the reality of the crowded dance floor surrounded him and moved back to his table. He plopped down into a chair and drank half his Sierra Mist in one gulp.

"Jesus, Professor," Allison Gray, one of his charges, teased as she stopped briefly by the table, "I don't know about you, but I need a cigarette." With a wicked grin, she moved off in search of a new conquest.

Blair blinked and blushed as he watched her move away. What in the world had he done? He shook his head briefly and smiled ruefully. Whatever it was, he hadn't felt that alive in ages. He forced himself to breathe out slowly, then started to check out the location of each of his charges.

"Well?" Jim demanded as soon as he walked into the richly decorated manager's office.

Rafe turned and grinned at him, then looked down onto the dance floor through the one-way mirror. "You definitely got the Professor's attention. Now what?"

"Now we begin the mystery."

Rafe watched as Blair's charges moved as one toward a large booth in the back of the club. He couldn't help but notice the grad student checking out the club with a more diligent eye, knowing he was looking for Jim. Rafe shook his head in amazement. Ellison's plan was actually working.

Sandburg worked the club scenes on Thursdays and Saturdays. After their first meeting, Jim stayed out of sight for the rest of the evening. However, he returned on Thursday and the dance between the grad student and the detective played itself out again. At first, Blair had refused the silent challenge, obviously shyer the second time around, as if embarrassed by how much he had let himself go during their first meeting; but Jim was not deterred. Saying nothing, he let his body tease and cajole, until the younger man relented. Again, they shared two dances before Jim disappeared back into the crowd.

And so the ritual began. Jim would mysteriously appear as the last of Blair's charges peeled off and they would dance together, never touching; and yet Rafe knew that those dancing around the two men were burned by their combined generated heat.

For four weeks, the men below him danced, never speaking to each other with anything other than their bodies.

On the Thursday of the fifth week, Jim didn't go out on to the dance floor, never, in fact, made an appearance. Rafe's heart had ached for the young man as he looked around expectantly. When Blair realized that Jim was nowhere in sight, his shoulders slumped slightly before heading back for the table.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Rafe had growled at the older detective.

"I do."

"You hurt him, Ellison, and I swear..." he had threatened, surprised by the wave of protectiveness rising within him for the grad student.

"He has to meet me halfway, Rafe, or this is never going to work," Jim had explained.

"He looks so..."

Jim had put his hand on his shoulder. "I know."

"I don't like using him like this."

"We have to learn what he knows about Kelso."

Rafe had nodded, understanding, but still unhappy; letting it go only after he saw the desolation on Ellison's face and the detective's fingers pressing against the glass as if reaching out to the sad figure across the club.

That Saturday, Jim hadn't shown up again for the beginning of the dance. Instead, he waited until fifteen minutes before midnight. Ellison had then arranged to race through the crowd and lurch to a stop by Sandburg's table as if he had only just arrived at the club and realized what time it was.

Jim had smiled apologetically. Rafe had watched as Blair shrugged the whole incident off as if it were no big deal. Jim had waved a hand toward the dance floor, but Blair had shaken his head, nodding at his watch. Jim was not easily put off and held his hand out toward the grad student and smiled winningly. Rafe could actually see the younger man's resistance begin to melt. He had made one last attempt to refuse, but Rafe knew he was lost when the detective stuck his lower lip out and pouted. The grin which blossomed over the student's face was truly a sight to behold and Rafe had felt warmed by it even behind the mirrored glass.

Dragging his feet, Blair made a big show of reluctantly following his mystery man to the dance floor. The music had segued into something slow as Jim turned toward the student, just as Jim had pre-arranged. Rafe had watched as Blair stumbled, unsure of how to proceed, but Jim moved smoothly forward and for the first time they touched while dancing. While Rafe knew he would never have been able to hear the gasp above the music and din of the club, he knew, watching, that was exactly what Blair Sandburg did.

Rafe couldn't help but notice the grace with which the two men danced. It was as if they instinctively knew what the other was thinking. Jim's gaze had never moved from Blair's face. Blair tried bravely to maintain eye contact, but the intensity was too much for him. Instead, he had contented himself with short gazes, then would drop his sight to Jim's chest for a little bit while he gather courage for another look. Jim's gaze would soften with some unnamed emotion every time Blair's gaze dropped.

When the song drew to a close, Jim slowly backed away from the student, although he didn't drop Blair's hand. They had stood for several moments, staring at each other. Rafe could clearly read the emotions which had raced across the grad student's face: joy, regret, a little embarrassment...want.

When the music began again, Blair's girls started dancing toward them and Jim finally dropped Blair's hand and disappeared into the crowd. Rafe had swallowed hard, knowing that Jim had succeeded in his plan. He had, for all intents and purposes, hooked Blair Sandburg. Now all he had to do was reel him in.

Thursday night had rolled around quicker than he expected and Rafe found himself once again at the manager's mirrored window. If Jim's plan worked, Blair would go to Jim and ask for a dance. While a part of Rafe was excited to see if the plan would succeed, another part of him was ashamed, wanting to protect the grad student, to protect his innocence. For on a gut level he knew that when Blair learned of Jim's seduction, he would be devastated. Did they have the right to destroy this young man in their attempt to find Kelso? How would Blair react when he realized he had been the link used to catch a man he had considered a father?

Rafe closed his eyes briefly. Don't hurt him, Ellison. I swear to God you'll be sorry if you do. Blair's small group bounced toward their usual table, which always seemed to be empty upon their arrival. He watched as Blair's gaze casually drifted around the dance floor and found Jim, who had arranged to be in deep conversation with Simon, thus giving him the perfect excuse to miss the initial dance.

Almost like clockwork, the girls began to settle down and made a big show of handing Blair their purses. Rafe noted with interest that Pamela was one of the girls in attendance. Rafe was amused by Sandburg's yentaing; but couldn't deny that all the couples Blair had put together were still dating. Rafe scanned the crowd; sure enough Charles was by the bar with a look of anticipation on his face. Rafe wondered when Charles would be calling Susan to ask her to chaperone a casual meeting; then shook his head when he realized he knew almost as much about Sandburg's students as the grad student did.

Blair led the girls out onto the dance floor.

Rafe leaned his head against the cool glass. Would it work? Would Sandburg go to Jim?

Blair led the girls out onto the dance floor, surveying the area for jackals. When no one pinged his radar, he turned and smiled at the girls, who were already bouncing to music of the dwindling song. There was a brief pause while the deejay, a former student of Blair's, smoothly segued into Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Want to Have Fun.

Blair shot Chris a disgusted look but the deejay just laughed at him. Shaking his head in rueful amusement, Blair began the dance.

Almost immediately, Charles gained Pamela's attention and moved them away from the group. Blair wondered when the wrestler was going to call Susan to set up a more quiet meet, but shook his head, reprimanding himself about meddling too much. Blair had a rule: You introduced the prospective dates then backed away and let nature take its course.

Two men were vying for Lisa's attention as the redhead danced nervously, clearly not wanting to choose between the competitors. The tension growing between the two men was almost palpable. Blair be-bopped between them, took Lisa's hands and joyfully swung her around, making the girl laugh aloud. He danced with her until the boys realized he was going to continue to do so until they moved on. Reluctantly, both danced in opposite directions seeking new dance partners.

"Thank you, Professor," Lisa said as she bounced close. "Your timing's impeccable as always."

Blair just grinned at her and spun her toward a football player he had tutored the semester before. Jason would be able to scare off all unwanted suitors and Blair suspected the redheaded girl wouldn't mind the attention from one of Rainier's star players.

Bouncing around, he made sure that all the girls were enjoying the dance, before he permitted himself to look for his mystery man. Blair was a little gun shy about expecting the handsome stranger to appear out of the crowd after last week, but yet couldn't deny the excitement he had felt when they had finally held each other during the last dance. Blair swallowed hard. This man was definitely blurring his boundaries and carefully protected perceptions about himself.

Blair noticed that his mystery man was still in deep conversation with a very large black man. A part of him toyed with the idea of interrupting, but he quickly decided against it. After all, their conversation seemed to be a little on the intense side.

He sighed. Maybe, they could dance again before it was time to take the girls home. He turned to head back toward the table, only to find his way blocked by dancing couples. He started to move around them, only to find his girls purposefully blocking his way. He looked up at them curiously. As a group, they all looked back at the table where his suitor sat.

He could feel his face drain of color. So much for keeping a low profile. He shook his head and made "talky" motions with his hands, but the wall the dancing girls formed never wavered. Allison turned him around, then gave him a not very gentle shove.

Blair turned back toward them and frowned. As one, the girls crossed their arms over their chest and glowered at him. Knowing he was beat, Blair raised his hands in submission and took a couple steps backward. He was definitely going to have to have a talk with a few girls about who the chaperone was while clubbing.

He turned slowly, aware that his suitor's eyes were on him. He blushed, hoping he hadn't just witnessed the little scene. Blair closed his eyes briefly. Oh, what the hell. He began swaying to the music, then made eye contact with the mystery man. He almost faltered in his steps as the man's gaze burned him with intensity, yet at the same time looked at him with something akin to admiring pride.

Swallowing hard, Blair shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head toward the dance floor, silently asking the man to dance. His suitor looked at the man across the table from him. Blair immediately raised his hands, waving them at the wrists, indicating that he didn't want to interrupt. He turned quickly, embarrassed. He should have known better.

He had only taken a couple of steps when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, only to find himself nose to chest with the object of his affections.

"I...I didn't mean to interrupt," Blair stammered.

"I'm glad you did."

It was the first time Blair had ever heard the man speak, and the voice was everything he imagined it would be. Holding out his hand, he swallowed hard and said, "Blair."

The older man took Blair's hand in both of his own and smiled. "I know."

"You know?"

His suitor gently massaged his palm. "Yeah. I...asked around."

"I see." Blair felt vaguely nervous.

"Jim."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm Jim," his mystery man said, releasing Blair's hand.

Blair smiled and felt his smile grow larger when Jim returned it.

"Do you want to dance, Jim?" Blair asked shyly.

"Actually, I'd rather talk, maybe buy you a drink."

"I can't..."

"A Pepsi?"

"Make it a Sierra Mist and you have yourself a deal."

Later, Blair would never be able to pinpoint just exactly what they talked about. All he knew was that Jim never rolled his eyes when he spoke passionately about his work or beliefs. When Jim didn't agree with something, they had a rousing debate. Time passed way too quickly.

Blair looked at his watch. It was ten minutes before midnight. "I...I'm going to have to get ready to go," he said regretfully, knowing their time was drawing to a close.

"I don't want this evening to end," Jim said quietly.

Blair smiled at him. "Yeah, I know. Me either. But I've got to take the girls home."

"What about afterward?"

Blair blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Or maybe I should call Susan and ask for a chaperone."

"Ask for Susan... Are you saying..."

"Yes." Jim smiled at him, a smile that warmed Blair's toes.

Blair swallowed hard, dropping his gaze to his hands.

"Did...I say something wrong?" Jim asked quietly, moving closer to him.

Blair shook his head. "No," he barely whispered. "I'm...I'm afraid I may have misled you."

Jim sat back a bit. "How so?"

"I...I...shit," he whispered under his breath as he lifted his gaze. "I'm..."

"Not into guys," Jim said with a smile that said he found the whole turn of conversation vastly amusing.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Jim gently laid his hand on Blair's clenched hands. "I'm not proposing we go to bed, Blair. I'd just like to get to know you better."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, why?"

Jim chuckled. "You intrigue me."

"I intrigue you?"

"Yes. You sound like that surprises you."

"It does."

"It shouldn't."

Blair felt his face redden.

"So, can I?" Jim asked quietly.

"Can you what?"

"Get to know you better?"

Blair could feel his blush deepen.

"Blair?"

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he said, looking up into Jim's face. "When?"

"How about tonight? After you drop the girls off."

Blair swallowed. "That won't be until about one."

"That's okay. I live at 852 Prospect, Apartment 307, over Collette's. That is, unless you want to meet somewhere else; a coffee shop, perhaps?"

"No," Blair whispered, knowing he was doing exactly what he had told his girls never to do, but yet not being able to back down from the unspoken challenge. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather get some sleep?"

Jim rubbed thumb over Blair's knuckles. "I don't want this night to end."

"Me either." Blair's lips moved, though no sound came out.

"852 Prospect," Jim repeated as he stood up.

"Apartment 307," Blair finished for him. Jim nodded, then disappeared back into the crowd. Blair put his face in his hands and shook his head from side to side. He had totally lost his mind, but damn if it didn't feel good, exciting, and just a tiny bit naughty. He sighed, rubbed his face and stood up. Time to get his girls.

Blair was still smiling when he pulled his gray Corvair into the parking space in front of the closed bakery; the voices of the girls as they grilled him still playing in his head.

So what's his name, Professor?
And what does Jim do for a living?
What's his annual salary?
Is he going to call Susan or Celeste to get to know you better?

He pulled the keys from the ignition and sobered. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe he should have insisted on meeting Jim in a coffee shop. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. This wasn't a date. This was simply continuing a conversation that had been cut short by his obligations. He nodded his head, satisfied with the argument, then got out of the car.

He entered the building and walked to the elevator, pushing the third button and leaning against the metal box wall as it slowly rattled upward.

Jim did know, right? That it wasn't a date? Blair closed his eyes trying to remember their conversation. The elevator shuddered to a stop and the door squeaked open, but Blair remained with his back against the wall.

Jim did know, right?

The elevator door closed after a moment, but the elevator remained on the third floor.

Blair shook his head in disgust as he punched the open door button. He was twenty-five years old after all. It wasn't like he was freshman, straight off the farm. Besides, he was in pretty good shape, physically. He could more than hold his own if he had to, but he honestly didn't believe he would have to.

Blair knocked on the door.

Jim opened it almost immediately. "I thought I heard the elevator come up, but then I wasn't sure."

"Sorry, had to tie my shoe," he obfuscated.

Jim shrugged, then stepped aside. "Can I offer you a beer?"

"Sure," he nodded as he walked into the loft apartment. "Wow. This is a great place."

"Thank you," Jim said over his shoulder on his way to the refrigerator.

Blair walked slowly into the front room. "A little Spartan."

"I like it that way," Jim said from directly behind him. Blair spun and Jim just grinned at him as he held up the beer bottle. "It's easier on my senses."

"I beg your pardon."

"Sometimes my senses give me problems. You know, like they get hyperactive or something. Anyway, I find that the sparseness helps calm me down after a long day of work, sort of like giving them a rest."

Blair sat slowly down on Jim's couch, carefully setting the beer bottle on the table. "Which...which senses, Jim?"

"What?"

"Which s-s-senses freak out on you?"

"All of them. Though not at the same time. The one I have the most problem with is touch. I appear to be extremely sensitive to certain types of detergent. Some of them give me a nasty rash. I've learned the hard way how to avoid those."

"My God," Blair gasped.

Jim frowned, his brows knitting together. "What?"

"Y-you c-could b-be a sentinel."

"Are you okay, Blair?" Jim asked, sitting next to him on the couch and putting his hand on Blair's leg.

"My God, Jim. You don't realize this, but my doctorate is about people with heightened senses."

"You're studying heightened senses?"

Blair nodded excitedly.

Jim shook his head, then took a deep swallow of beer. "What was it you called me?"

"A sentinel."

"And a sentinel is..."

"Well, the term was coined by an explorer in the eighteenth century. In many ways, he was actually one of the first field anthropologists. He traveled the world and studied various tribes. One of his adventures took him to South America where he discovered that each tribal culture had what he called a sentinel, essentially a watchman who patrolled the borders, a man with heightened senses, who would watch for approaching enemies, changes in the weather, game movement, that sort of thing."

"But we don't live in the jungle, Chief," Jim said with amusement.

"I know and I was under the impression there weren't any true sentinels anymore, except maybe in the remotest of areas. I mean, I have hundreds of documented cases of people with one or two heightened senses, even one Mountie with three, but no one with all five. Jim, you could be the living embodiment of my field of study."

"So what does that mean?" Jim asked, quietly.

"I..." Blair shook his head, his hands moved, but no noise came out. "I'd like to conduct a few tests if you don't mind."

"What sort of tests?"

"Well, first off, we would need to get a baseline of your abilities, to see how strong each sense actually is."

"Look, I don't want to become some sort of lab rat," Jim protested.

"I understand that, but we can't get a true appreciation of how powerful your gifts are, unless we know what we're dealing with."

Jim remained silent for several moments. "Gifts, huh? Do you think you could help me get a handle on them? I mean, I'd really like to have some control. I'm tired of them spiking all the time. They have a tendency to give me migraines."

"And rashes," Blair reminded him.

Jim gave him a mock-glare. "And rashes."

"Well, I'm not an expert or anything, but I'd be willing to give you some opinions. See what we can work out to help you."

"Okay," Jim said, then took another swig of beer. "I'm in."

Blair laughed, running his hands back through his hair. "God, Jim. Who would have thought that..."

Jim put his beer on the table and closed the distance between them. "I can honestly say that I was drawn to you the first time I saw you," he murmured quietly, sticking his nose in Blair's hair and inhaling deeply.

"Well, Burton does make reference to a guide, of sorts, someone who helps the sentinel out. Maybe, maybe somehow instinctually you knew I would understand." Blair was aware that his voice was on the verge of cracking and he felt foolish standing up so abruptly, but he wasn't sure what else to do.

"That makes a certain amount of sense," Jim agreed, grinning playfully at him.

"I'm sure I can arrange for some lab time this week. Would you be available during the day or would you prefer evenings?"

Jim sat back against the couch. "I prefer evenings, although my schedule is pretty flexible."

"Do you have a number I can reach you at? You know, to let you know what I've been able to arrange."

"Sure." Jim pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to him, his finger lingering over Blair's hand for a moment.

Blair looked at the card, willing himself not to blush. "Ellison, huh?"

"That's me."

"Sandburg," Blair said as he pulled a card from his own wallet and handed it to the seated man.

Jim took the card. "Sandburg," he said nodding. "It suits you."

"Thanks." Blair looked nervously at his watch. "Oh man. I need to go."

"But you just got here."

"I know. I'm sorry. But I'll give you a call on Monday. Deal?"

Jim stood in one fluid motion. "Deal."

Blair backed slowly toward the front door, his gaze never leaving Jim's face. Jim followed with an incredible grace and Blair had the distinct impression he was being stalked by a large feline. He eeped softly when his back hit the front door.

"Do I make you nervous, Blair?" Jim asked, a wicked smile on his face.

"No. Not at all. I just...that is to say..." he stammered to a halt when Jim tenderly cupped his chin.

Jim moved in closer, until they were practically standing face to face. Blair could feel the older man's warm breath on his face. "Monday then," he whispered.

"Monday." Blair nodded and fumbled for the doorknob behind him then slipped around the door.

He moved quickly down the stairs, and was in his car before he started to tremble. "I must be nuts," he whispered. How in the world did he think he could have handled himself against Ellison? All the man had to do was stand close to him and he became a gibbering idiot. Trying not to notice his shaking hands, he put the key in the ignition and drove home.

Rafe turned and looked at Jim as the senior detective entered the small room they used for surveillance. "How in the world are you faking those tests, man?" he asked. After a week of watching Sandburg put Jim through his paces, he had to know.

"Where's Brown?" Jim answered instead.
"He just left to get us some lunch; he should be back in about twenty minutes. Why?"

Jim just shook his head and swallowed hard, but moved beside Rafe and looked down at the monitor and watched Sandburg grade blue books. After a several moments of silence, he said quietly, "I'm not faking."

Rafe spun and looked up at the taller man. "What?"

"You heard me."

"My God, Ellison."

Jim closed his eyes. "I'd rather this remain our little secret, if you don't mind."

"Of...of course."

Rafe's thoughts spun wildly in his head. Finally, he said, "You've got to get off this stakeout."

"What?" Jim frowned down at him.

"Look. If you're not faking, then you need this kid. When he finds out..."

"If I do this right, he'll never find out."

"Can you take that chance?"

"I have a job to do, Rafe. I can't just quit because it could affect me on a personal level."

"Jim, you forget, I've been here every step of the way. I've heard everything you've told Sandburg. If the spikes are as bad as you say, you have to get control; and all indications are the kid is giving that to you."

"He is."

Rafe was stunned. "You can't risk losing him."

Jim turned and looked out the window. "I know."

"Then why?"

Both men were distracted when the phone in Sandburg's office rang.

"Blair Sandburg's office."

"Buenos tardes, muchacho. Como estas?"

"Good afternoon. How are you?" Jim whispered to Rafe as they listened to the conversation.

"Buen. Buen. Y tu, Jorge?"

"Good. Good. And you, George."

"Me hecho!"

"I'm finished."

"Fantastico. Todavía estoy trabajando en mi disertación. Ser un viejo hombre antes de que consiga el mos hechos."

Jim smiled as he whispered, "Fantastic. I'm still working on my dissertation. I'll be an old man before I finish mine."

"Ha! Usted puede hacer antes de que usted lo sepa."

"You'll be done before you know it."

"De sus labios a los oídos de Dios. Hola, me dicen cuando se publiquen y se celebra voy. Voy a comprar la cerveza."

"From your lips to God's ears. Hey, tell me when you're published and we'll celebrate. I'll buy the beer."

"Reparto. Me tengo que ir. Sólo tenía que decir."

"Deal. I have to go. I just had to tell you."

" Estoy alegre usted. Adios, Jorge."

"I'm glad you did. Bye."

"Adios, Blair."

Rafe noticed Jim's frown. "What?"

Jim pointed to the screen. Blair seemed almost relieved. It took the graduate student a moment to collect himself before he went back to grading.

"So?"

"You told me once that he got a lot of calls from people all over the world, right?" Jim asked, intently.

"Yes."

"Were you able to get a trace?"

Rafe looked over at his laptop. "Yes. It looks like it came from Madrid." When Jim turned and began pacing, Rafe asked, "What's going on, Jim?"

"Were all the calls male? Or were they a combination of male and female?"

"A combination. Although more males than females."

"Damn. Double damn."

"What?" Rafe asked again in exasperation.

"I'd be willing to lay money that call was from Kelso."

"What?" Rafe shook his head. So Kelso's in Spain?"

"I doubt it." Jim clenched his fists and began pacing again. When he reached the door, he turned and leaned against it for a moment, closed his eyes as if centering himself, then opened them and moved quickly next to Rafe. "When I was in covert ops, we had this system of checking in when we were deep undercover. If we were okay, we might call in...say in Spanish. If we were having a particular problem we might call in French. If we suspected we had been made, we'd call in Portuguese."

"So you're saying--"

"What we had there was a totally innocuous conversation." Jim plopped in the chair beside Rafe and rubbed both hands over his face. "Based on Sandburg's reaction, my guess is that Kelso just told him that he's safe. Also, whatever he's doing, he's almost finished, enough to celebrate, at least."

"Shit," Rafe whispered, looking back at the screen, which showed nothing more than a teaching fellow getting caught up on his grading. "What are we going to do? Bring him in?"

Jim shook his head. "No. If Kelso's as smart as I think he is, he'd never risk putting Blair in danger by telling him his location. My guess is that Kelso just checks in with him from time to time to let him know he's alive."

"But that means both Kelso and Sandburg know they're being watched."

"Or know that the possibility exists that they're being watched," Jim clarified, leaning back in his chair.

Rafe faced Jim directly. "What are we going to do?"

Jim took a deep breath and rolled his head on his shoulders. "Right now, I want to go back through the phone tapes and see if I can put anything together."

"And Blair?" Rafe swallowed.

"We continue with the plan," Jim said quietly. "Sandburg isn't a spy. My guess is that he'll make a mistake sooner or later and we want to be in place when it happens."

"What about your senses?" Rafe asked.

Jim swallowed hard and looked away, but not before Rafe saw something in the older man's eyes.

"Oh, shit. You care about--"

"It doesn't matter," Jim cut him off. "If he's dirty, he's going down."

Rafe grabbed Jim's knee and swung it toward him, forcing Jim to look into his face. "Listen here, Ellison. I'm only going to say this once. Blair isn't guilty of a goddamn thing, other than caring about a man who was kind to him as a child and wanting to keep that man safe. He's hasn't broken any laws. In fact, we don't know that Kelso has either. All we have right now is the FBI's word on it and, personally, I don't give a flying fig what the feds think. If you hurt Blair unnecessarily, you'll have to deal with me."

Jim's eyes hardened as he looked into Rafe's face, then softened. "You care, too."

"Yes, but not like you."

"What do you mean?" Jim frowned, scooting his chair back, but not getting up.

"Would you like to watch the tapes?"

"I don't understand."

Rafe shook his head, knowing it wasn't his place to tell the older detective. "Just watch the tapes, Jim." Rafe turned back toward the monitor. "In the meantime, let's keep this entire conversation between us, okay?"

Blair danced in front of the kitchen counter as he chopped various vegetables for his stir fry dinner; every once in a while he tossed a piece to Larry. He was so completely lost in his task and the music blaring around the warehouse that he didn't realize anyone was at the front door until Larry stood and looked in that direction.

Grabbing the little ape (to keep him out of the vegetables), he danced toward the door and opened it.

"Jim! What a surprise! Come in! Come in! I was just putting dinner together. Can you stay? Do you like stir fry?" Blair turned quickly and raced back into the kitchen to pick up the remote and lower the volume of the stereo. "Sorry about that. One of the nice things about living in a warehouse is you don't have to worry about neighbors. So, what can I do for you?"

Jim just blinked and gave him a goofy grin.

"What?"

"Are you always this hyper?"

Blair laughed good-naturedly. "I think I'm going to have to plead the fifth here, man."

"So, this is Larry?" Jim closed the distance between them and held his fingers up to be sniffed, which the ape immediately did. "For some reason when you told me about your roommate I was expecting him to be taller."

Blair chuckled, handing the little ape to Jim, then turned and washed his hands. He picked up his knife and started chopping again, not making eye contact with Jim. "I...wasn't expecting to see you again."

"I'm sorry, Chief. I know it's been over a week, but I had some business out of town I had to deal with. It came up sort of suddenly and I didn't have a chance to call. It's why I'm here tonight though."

"Oh?"

"I just needed to see you."

"Are you having problems with your senses?" Blair asked as he handed Jim a piece of broccoli and looked pointedly at Larry.

Jim accepted the vegetable and grinned when Larry carefully took it from him. "No. I just wanted to see you."

Blair grinned, warmed by the older man's words. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jim snatched a piece of broccoli and ate it. "What can I say? I missed you."

Blair felt himself blush and turned to switch on the heat under the wok.

Jim set Larry down on the corner of the counter and moved closer to Blair. "So how come you're home on a Friday night, Chief?

"I'm always home on Fridays. It's my me night."

"So am I interrupting?" Jim asked, not moving backward.

Blair made an abortive look up, but dropped his eyes; then chastised himself and looked Jim in the face. "No. Not at all."

"I'm making you nervous," Jim said softly.

"No."

"Yes, I am."

Blair paused. "Yes, you are."

"Why?"

Blair started to toss the vegetables into the wok. Without looking up, he said, "I...I missed you too."

"And you don't know how you feel about that?"

Blair shrugged, not pausing in his work.

"I know the feeling," Jim admitted quietly.

Blair looked up into Jim's face, seeing the honest confusion there.

"So you're not --"

"No. You?"

Blair shook his head, then snorted softly in amusement. "So why'd you dance with me?"

Jim shrugged. "Why'd you accept?"

"Because I didn't mind. I just never thought it would lead to --"

"This?" Jim asked, waving a hand back and forth in between them.

"Yeah." Blair added the rice to the wok and spent a few moments mixing it in with vegetables. He cracked an egg and dumped the yolk and white onto the side of the wok and beat it before mixing it with the rest. "Whatever this is," he said quietly, adding the sauce.

Jim nodded in apparent understanding.

"Grab another bowl out of the cupboard, okay?" Blair asked, pointing over his shoulder.

Jim did as instructed and brought the bowl back.

Blair scooped the stir fry into three bowls and handed Jim his bowl then nodded toward the table. He put the wok in the sink and stood back as he turned on the water, smiling slightly as the pan hissed and sizzled. Turning, he pushed one bowl toward Larry. "Hot," he enunciated very carefully.

Larry reached forward, but Blair gently took his hand. "Hot."

The ape's eyebrows rose as he gingerly scooted the bowl closer. Satisfied, Blair joined Jim at the table with his own meal.

"How much does he understand?" Jim asked.

"More than he pretends." Blair smirked when Jim barked in laughter.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Blair occasionally looked up, only to find Jim glancing at him while he ate.

"Good meal, Chief."

"Thanks." Blair stabbed his last vegetable and ate it, gathering the courage to look at Jim again. "So, what are we going to do?" he finally asked

"I'm not sure," Jim admitted. "I mean...we both feel...this, right?"

Blair swallowed and nodded.

"Maybe...maybe we could...explore our options, as it were."

Blair grinned at him, then sobered quickly. "You said...you're not --"

"I'm not."

"And I'm not." He paused. "So where does that leave us exactly in the whole exploring our options thing?"

"Learning together?" Jim said, hopefully, raising an eyebrow.

"That has possibilities," Blair said quietly, trying not to blush. "But...."

"But?"

"I'd like...I need to go slow."

Jim smiled warmly at him. "I can do slow."

"Can you, Jim?" Blair asked, his voice dropping. "Can you go slow?"

The older man smiled seductively. "Oh yeah. Most definitely." Jim leaned forward; his lips brushing Blair's softly.

Blair moaned quietly, then tried to sit back, mortified; but Jim was having none of it. Without ever breaking their kiss, Jim stood, lifting Blair by the elbows as he did.

Blair whimpered when he felt Jim's arms wrap around him. He slowly opened his mouth to let Jim in, smiling when he heard Jim growl in approval.

A part of him knew that Jim was forcing him to walk backward, but most of his awareness was centered on sucking on Jim's tongue and exploring the taller man's chest. He gasped in surprise when the back of his knees hit the bed. Jim reached forward and guided his descent to the mattress.

Blair had only just recently thought about what it would be like to touch a man, to touch Jim. He was fascinated by the older man's hard muscles; smiling when Jim trembled, liking that he was the cause.

Jim's body covered his completely, but instead of feeling panicked, he felt safe, even loved. Experimentally, he wrapped one leg around Jim's thighs and moaned when he realized it brought their bodies into alignment.

Jim stopped for a second and looked down at him, his eyelids half closed in passion, which froze Blair in place. He panted, knowing he needed something, but not sure what. Ever so slowly, he thrust upward. The change in Jim was startling.

The sentinel fumbled for both of Blair's hands and held them against the bed away from Blair's body, then thrust downward. Blair gasped, arching upward.

"Oh, yeah," Jim said with incredible smugness. He thrust again. Blair whimpered, even as he thrust upward to meet Jim. The sentinel growled and Blair couldn't help but think it was the most incredibly erotic thing he had ever heard. Blair parted his legs further and Jim's whimper almost made him lose control.

Blair brought his knees up carefully and planted his feet flat on the bed, then pushed upward, daring Jim to push him back down again. The sentinel rose to the challenge. They slowly found a rhythm of moving against each other, then separating, only to be drawn together. They moved with such incredible slowness that Blair lost all rational thought. His whole world became about sensation, about touch, about his connection with Jim.

He could feel the heat between them intensify, the need to release slowly growing. He started to mewl with each thrust, hoping Jim would understand and give him what he needed. The sentinel did. He began moving faster, causing the friction between them to grow. Jim released Blair's hands and moved his legs so they hung over Jim's shoulders.

"Jim!" he cried out.

The pace the sentinel set was almost savage. He thrust hard, over and over again, barely withdrawing before he was plunging forward again. Blair felt his whole body rock, felt the tension inside of him building. He grasped Jim's shoulders trying to hold on, even as his own hips thrust upward to meet each of Jim's.

He panted, wailing, so close to the edge. Jim turned his head briefly and bit Blair's jean-clad inner thigh. Blair screamed his release silently, arching into Jim, as his body shook in climax.

"Blair!" Jim bellowed, his own release following seconds later.

Blair lay panting, his legs once again beneath Jim; the older man cocooning him. Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's shoulders, holding the sentinel to him. He whimpered every few moments as aftershocks rattled through him, and was please to hear Jim do the same.

He chuckled finally as his body started to relax, and rubbed his face against Jim's neck.

"What?" the sentinel asked in amusement, purring as he rubbed against Blair.

"I'm a little worried about what fast is going to be like if that's slow."

Jim chuckled, then pulled his head back and smiled gently as he looked down at Blair. "You know, for two guys who didn't have a clue, I think we did okay."

Blair kissed him softly. "I think we did more than okay. I think we were bordering on...all right."

"All right?" Jim said in mock-annoyance.

"Hey, you started it with okay." Blair chuckled and wiggled beneath Jim, stretching.

"Yeah, I suppose I did. Am I too heavy?"

"Nope. I just like feeling you." Blair immediately blushed.

"Don't be embarrassed, babe," Jim crooned, even as he nuzzled Blair closer. "I like that you like feeling me."

They held each other close for several more minutes.

"I think...I think we need to get cleaned up," Blair whispered to the drowsy sentinel above him. "I have some sweatpants that I think will fit you. Do you want to get cleaned up first while I pull them out?"

Eyebrows waggling, Jim suggested, "We could always clean up together."

"I...uh...that is..."

"Naked bodies going too fast, Chief?" Jim asked in gentle amusement.

"Oh, gawd," Blair moaned, hiding his face in the sentinel's shoulder.

"It's okay, babe," Jim chuckled, then pressed a kiss to Blair's temple. "We can take this one step at a time.."

"Thank you for understanding," Blair whispered, still embarrassed.

Jim purred in satisfaction. "I like slow, Chief. Believe me. I have no problem at all with slow."

Blair awoke and blinked at the digital clock by his head. He groaned as he watched the digital numbers turn from 5:59 to 6:00. Jim shifted, tightening his hold around Blair's waist. Blair debated whether or not to sleep in, but knew that he was running low on fruit and vegetables. He was going to have to get up and head out to the farmer's market, although he had enough money to last him through the week and so decided against the track. He wondered if Jim would want to spend the day with him.

He turned within Jim's arms and studied the face of his lover. Lover. He rolled that thought around in his head for a while and decided he could definitely grow to like it. While awake, Jim appeared to have his life together, seemed to be a take-charge sort of man. But when he slept, he looked so innocent, so vulnerable, allowing Blair to see the man behind the mask.

He wondered briefly what Jim did for a living, not that it mattered, but he was curious

Feeling a tad impish, he ran a finger millimeters above the bridge of Jim's nose, without ever actually touching the man. Jim's face wiggled and Blair bit his lip to keep from laughing, although he blew an amused gust of air through his nose. He watched in fascination as Jim appeared to rise up through the layers of consciousness, his eyes fluttering opening.

"Morning." He grinned at the older man.

Jim blinked. "What time is it?"

"Six."

"And you're awake, why?"

Blair chuckled, rolling so Jim's body was pinned partially beneath his. "Dunno," he said casually, running his finger down Jim's nose again, but this time touching him.

Jim playfully bit at Blair's finger when it came to rest on his lips.

Blair grinned wider, then sober a bit. "I have to go to the Farmer's Market for a couple of hours this morning, but I was wondering if you'd like to do something this afternoon?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. What would you like to do?"

Jim grinned seductively.

"Well, I...suppose I could be persuaded to do that," Blair teased.

"You don't even know what I was thinking."

"Yeah, I do."

"Oh yeah and what's that?"

"You're thinking you wanted to... go to the track."

Jim barked with laughter. "Damn. You did know what I was thinking after all."

Blair watched the laughing blue eyes beneath them, chuckling himself. He watched in fascination as Jim's barriers slowly solidified the more awake he became, hiding the vulnerability that was so apparent when he slept.

"What?" Jim asked quietly.

Blair simply lowered his head and kissed the man beneath him, gently exploring the moist warmth of his mouth. He deepened the kiss as Jim brought his arms up and encircled his upper body, lightly scratching his back. Blair was surprised to find that he liked feeling the strength of the arms surrounding him, liked the hardness beneath him.

Blair pulled back slightly and ran one finger over Jim's stubbled chin.

"What?" Jim asked again, softer.

Blair smiled and gave him a quick, but tender, kiss. "I just didn't expect...I didn't think it was possible to fall so hard so quick." He felt his face redden, but Jim didn't laugh. Instead, the older man gently ran his fingers up Blair's back and into his hair.

"I know."

"Can this really work?"

"I'm hoping so."

"Me too," Blair admitted, surprising himself with his own honesty. Shaking himself, trying to break the lethargic haze surrounding him, he pushed himself into a sitting position. "I'm going to clean up. When I'm done, I'll start breakfast and you can do the same."

"Deal," Jim agreed, propping himself up on his elbows.

Blair swooped in for another kiss, then gathered some clean clothes and slipped into the bathroom.

"Eggs okay?" Blair asked Jim as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Jim groaned as he stretched and got out of bed. "Sounds great, Chief."

"Scrambled or poached?"

"Definitely scrambled."

"You like stuff in it?"

"Yeah, throw in whatever you want, except for the monkey."

Blair laughed. "Ape."

"Whatever."

Blair playfully shoved his sentinel toward the bathroom, then headed for the kitchen, pulling an orange out of the refrigerator and giving it to the Barbary ape before eyeing the icebox's contents with breakfast in mind. The phone rang and he frowned, shutting the refrigerator door and answering the phone in one motion.

"Hello?"

"Blair?"

Blair swallowed hard. It was Jack. "Hey, Pete, what's up? Do you know what friggin time it is?"

"Like you sleep," Jack teased gently, before he started. "Just wanted to let you I was moving today. I wanted to know if you could help? My back isn't what it use to be. Everything's already boxed up. Leroy's coming over. Linda too. I was just--"

"No," Blair gasped aloud, realizing what Jack was telling him. Blair had known he was under surveillance. The FBI had gotten a couple of Cascade's Major Crimes detectives to do the dirty work of following him around. He had, on the several occasions when he actually thought about them, felt sorry for them. They had to be dying of boredom by this point. While a grad student's life was often hectic, a series of life and death, academically speaking, deadlines, to the outside observer it had to be like watching grass grow. Jack had told him earlier in the semester that the younger of the two detectives was actually taking Blair's Anthro 201 class. Surprisingly, Rafe was doing quite well. Blair liked the young detective and thought, given different circumstances, they could have been friends.

Jack had gotten word a few weeks ago that there was a new, more dangerous, player taking over the surveillance and had been working hard to learn the new person's identity. His calling meant he had learned the new player's name. By taking the first letter from each of Jack's sentences, the former CIA agent was telling him that that person was named Jim Elli--.

"Come on, Blair. Once we're done, I'll buy pizza. Pizza is the universal bribe for all grad students, isn't it?"

Blair closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the wall. Jim was a cop.

"Yeah," he breathed out as he took a few steps back and looked toward the bathroom. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Are you okay?" Jack quietly.

"Hey, don't worry about me. Everything's fine. Really. Except, I had plans today to go out with a friend."

"Ahh," Jack said quietly. Blair knew he understood the message back -- that the enemy was with him. "Want to bring him along?" Jack asked, finally.

"We would get things done quicker that way. Yeah, lemme ask."

"I'm sorry to blow your plans, Blair."

Blair sighed, hearing the honest regret in Jack's voice, knowing that Jack understood that he had fallen victim to the game and was sorry for having involved him at all. "No problem. We'll be there as soon as we can." He carefully hung up the phone, closed his eyes and laid his chest and face against the wall. He should have known, he berated himself. He should have. Looking back on how he met Jim, the entire courtship made sense. Jim had used his curiosity against him. But how? He pushed himself off the wall and turned to face the bathroom door again. Rafe. He had underestimated the cop. The detective had obviously been observing him for a while and had come up with the perfect seduction plan. Blair shook his head ruefully; Rafe would have made a great anthropologist.

He closed his eyes, picturing Jim's face as he awoke. He had half-way convinced himself that he had seen real emotions behind the light blue eyes, that Jim actually felt something for him. He slowly banged his head against the wall behind him. Of course, Jim didn't feel anything for him. Jack used to regal Blair about scenarios he had played out and what he and his partner used to do in order to get the information they needed. What surprised Blair was how good Jim, a local cop, was. Something told him that Jim had ops experience somewhere in his past.

A part of Blair wanted to be mad about the deception, but he realized he wasn't angry, just hurt. He snorted with laughter and shook his head ruefully. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he liked being seduced, liked being the center of someone's attention, liked thinking about...possibilities.

Blair opened his eyes. Was Jim even a sentinel? Could he have faked the results? Blair shook his head. There was no way. Of course, there were ways to check. If Jim wasn't, he was in big trouble. If he was...Blair felt his heart breaking. He had felt connected to Jim. Burton's monograph had made mention that sentinels often had companions whose main focus was the sentinel's well-being. A guide, of sorts. He had begun to think that maybe he was Jim's...

He pushed himself off the wall. No point dwelling on what could-have-beens. The game had changed all that.

He rubbed one hand over his mouth and looked up, startled, when Jim opened the bathroom door. The sentinel's eyes scanned the kitchen then looked curiously at Blair. "Out of eggs?"

Blair straightened. "Uh, no. A friend called. He's moving and needs some help, so it looks like I'm going to have to skip the market this morning."

"I could go for you, if you'd like," Jim offered, closing the distance between them.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd might want to come with me. Peter says he has all the boxes already packed. He's just going to need help carrying stuff. You see, he's in a wheelchair and..."

Jim hugged him gently. "Say no more. I'd be more than happy to help."

"Thanks, man," Blair said quietly, hugging Jim back, trying to keep his breathing calm, knowing the sentinel would be able to pick up on his distress if he let it get away from him. "Pete's offered to buy us pizza in return."

Jim laughed. "Works for me. You want to stop somewhere and get some breakfast?"

Blair shook his head. "If I know Pete like I think I do, he's probably bought doughnuts."

Jim perked up. "Doughnuts?"

Blair nodded. "I should have known," he said, trying for rueful. "Let's get this show on the road. I know Leroy and Linda, and if we get there late you won't be getting your vitamin G for the day."

"Vitamin G?"

"You know, 'G' for grease."

Jim laughed as they headed for the door.

Blair pulled his Corvair next to the little bungalow sitting by the ocean. He shut the engine off, then turned to look at the sleeping sentinel. Jim was completely out for the count. Blair had suggested that Jim practice his deep breathing exercises while he drove, using the excuse that the easier Jim could find his center, the easier it would be to control his senses. Jim hadn't even balked as he had at some of the other suggestions Blair had made about his senses in the past. Even though Jim was asleep, Blair spent an extra half-hour double-backing, crossing bridges he didn't need to, and generally hoping to confuse Jim's senses if the sentinel was somehow managing to track their path.

Blair got out of the car and walked around it and opened the passenger side door. "Jim, we're here."

"What?"

"We're here."

"Oh, man." Jim groaned as he got out of the car and stretched. "I'm sorry to have crapped out on you like that."

"Don't worry about it. You should listen to your body more. My guess is that you needed the downtime." Blair guided the relaxed man up the porch steps and into the house.

"Hey," Blair called out in acknowledgment to Jack as they entered the front room.

"Hey." Jack smiled back. "Why don't you two have a seat?"

Jim's eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. He frowned, but obediently sat.

"How are you doing, son?" Jack asked quietly.

Blair bent over and hugged the older man, before standing and looking over at the detective. "I've been better."

Jack gave him a small smile. "I hear that."

"Blair, what's going on?"

"Jim," Blair said quietly, as he sank into a plush chair beside the wheelchair-bound man. "I'd like you to meet Jack Kelso. Jack, this is Detective Jim Ellison. At least, I assume it's detective. You don't strike me as a beat cop."

Jim's face drained of color. "I don't understand."

"You don't? Well let me enlighten you then. Your assignment was to find Jack Kelso. I thought I'd save your department further time and expense and simply introduce you to the man you were hoping to track. Besides, I'm really starting to feel sorry for Rafe and Henri. I can't imagine anything more boring than watching a grad student do research," Blair said flippantly, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Blair watched Jim's eyes flicker over Jack, and knew the exact instant the sentinel took in the wheels on the ex-operative's chair.

"Doesn't he look dangerous?" Blair asked, mockingly. "I mean, doesn't he just scream criminal mastermind to you?"

"That's enough, Blair," Jack said softly, patting him on the leg. "Besides, I was sort of going for the Professor X look and if you keep going, I don't think my ego could take it."

Blair chuckled despite himself.

"As you know, detective, there are two sides to every story," Jack said, wheeling his chair so that it sat directly in front of Jim's. "I figured I would give you mine, then you can decide what you're going to do with it."

Jim remained silent.

"As you have no doubt guessed by now I was a CIA operative. Three years ago, while on assignment in Kosovo, my partner and I were betrayed and we were gunned down and left for dead. I've read about your time in Peru, so I think you can understand what I was going through as I laid helplessly in the snow and watched my partner struggle to breathe. She lived for almost five hours before she bled to death. I still don't know why I survived or even who found me for that matter. All I remember is waking up almost two weeks later, paralyzed from the waist down."

Jack rolled back a bit and picked up a bottle of water from the desk behind him. He took a small sip before squeezing it beside his useless legs and the side of the wheelchair. "It took me almost six months to recover, well, at least to get me to the point to where I am now. When I was able, I went to my superiors to see when I could go back to work."

Jim looked startled.

"Oh, not in the field, of course; but I've always been a damn fine researcher and computer geek. The Agency could care less. I was put on permanent disability and given my walking papers, if you'll pardon the pun. As you can imagine, I wasn't very happy. At first I spiraled downward, did the whole self-destruction thing, until Blair came to visit."

Jim looked back at Blair and Blair returned the gaze noncommittally.

"I see that surprises you, detective. It shouldn't. But then again, you don't really know Blair, do you?"

Jim's gaze shot back to the ex-operative's face.

"Anyway, Blair sobered me up, then knocked me around for a while; kept wanting to know what I wanted from my life, kept making me look at my options. After a while, when I realized he wasn't going to go away or give up on me, I decided I wanted to write an expose on the Agency. I will admit that a lot of my initial reasoning was anger, but then I came to realize that the American people had a right to know what their government was doing. The Agency got wind of what I was doing and decided they'd really rather I didn't write a book." Jack shook his head ruefully. "They started putting a lot of pressure on me and I decided it was a good time to go underground. I didn't have to, not really. But a part of me wanted to prove that I still had what it took to play the game. After all, they discarded me when I became paralyzed. I wanted to prove that I will still the best even without the use of my legs."

Jack smiled affectionately at Blair. "Imagine how those in charge must feel knowing that a crippled agent has eluded them for nearly two years. Anyway, the book has already been printed. It's being shipped out even as we speak. In fact, I have an interview with Diane Sawyer on Good Morning, America on Monday. I’d like to think that it'll blow the lid off the agency, perhaps even win some critical acclaim, although I seriously doubt it’ll be a best seller. Now that I've had some time to reflect, I’d be very surprised if it was something the American people were even interested in, but then I'm always shocked by the complacency of sheep."

"The history and political science departments are currently looking for full-time professors for next semester. I still think you should apply," Blair said quietly.

Jack shrugged. "Who knows? I might just take you up on that."

"What's your connection to Blair?" Jim asked quietly.

"I met Naomi when Blair was...what?" Jack asked, looking over at Blair.

"Twelve."

"Twelve. I lost my heart almost immediately. For the first time since I joined the agency, I had thoughts about settling down. And while I believe Naomi did truly love me, she couldn't deal with my work. She left me after a year. I was devastated. Not only had I lost the woman I loved, but the boy I considered a son. Naomi, God love her, never tried to keep me away from Blair though. In fact, she encouraged the relationship. I think on some level she hoped that I would eventually give up the agency for them."

Jack picked up the water bottle and took another sip. "So, there you have it."

Jim remained quiet for several moments, simply looking back and forth between Jack and Blair. "Why am I here?"

"Honestly, I think because Blair had to let you know that you’d been had; first by the Feds who asked for help, then by him, when he realized what you’d been up to." Jack paused for a moment to let Jim absorb that thought. "I have to give you credit, detective. No one's ever gotten as close as you have. Now, don't get me wrong, a lot of agents have watched Blair over the last two years. I can't imagine a more boring assignment."

"Hey," Blair protested, not because he was really offended, but because he knew Jack expected it of him.

"Face it, kid, you're so squeaky clean you probably reflect light when you're out in sun."

"Sun? In Cascade. Surely, you jest." Blair snorted. "Besides, I'm not that squeaky."

"Placing bets with your cousin, the bookie, doesn't count, nor does playing the occasional pony."

"Sure it does."

"Get real," Jack laughed.

"So what's going to happen to me now?" Jim asked, quietly breaking their banter.

"Now? Now, Blair takes you home."

"What makes you think I won't go to my boss as soon as I get back? Or arrest Blair for aiding and abetting?"

"You could do that, sentinel. But I don't think Blair's guilty of any crimes, as I haven't been formally charged with anything; therefore, he can't technically be guilty of abetting. You don't even have him on kidnapping as you volunteered to come with him. And quite frankly, I would appreciate your going to your Captain and telling him he's been had too. While Blair does work better in front of an audience, I'm thinking Henri and Rafe should be conducting more exciting investigations. Let's face it, watching grad students really isn't the sort of thing that boosts your career."

Blair watched Jim absorb what Jack had so subtly threatened. Jack was smooth. Blair had to give him that.

Jim looked over at Blair, his eyes showing the hurt he felt.

"Don't even go there." Blair shook his head. "You don't really want to get into comparing sins now do you, Jim?"

Jim closed his eyes and shook his head.

"So are you ready to go, Jack?" Blair asked quietly.

"Yes. The van’s all packed." The older man turned his chair to face Blair. "Will you be okay?"

Blair nodded. "Go on, let's get you out of here." He stood. "I'll be right back, Jim."

Blair walked Jack out to his van and helped him store the chair and get situated behind the wheel. "Are you going to be okay?" Jack asked quietly.

"He played me, Jack, and I fell for it hook, line and sinker."

"Blair--"

"No, Jack. After all the stories you told me, after everything you've taught me...I never even saw it coming."

Jack set a hand on Blair's shoulder. "If it's any consolation, son, he worked Black Ops for the Rangers, was even their CIA liaison. He's pretty much a pro."

Blair raised his eyes to the man he considered a father. "Jack...we...we..."

Jack's gaze hardened as he looked back toward the house, but softened when they returned to Blair. "I...didn't know."

Blair swallowed hard and dropped his eyes. "I didn't either."

"So he..."

"In all fairness, Jack, I went willingly...with my eyes wide open, sort to speak."

The hand on his shoulder tightened. "I'm sorry, Blair."

"Don't be. I'm a grown up. I know how the game is played." Blair gently shut the van door. "You need to get going. Promise me you'll stay safe. You're still a target until you get to Good Morning, America."

"You worry too much," Jack teased.

"There's no such beast."

"I could’ve been wrong when I told you that."

Blair smiled affectionately at his old friend. "Check in."

"I will. Watch for me on Monday."

"I already have the VCR programmed."

Blair reached through the van window and hugged the older man, then moved to the porch and watched the van disappear down the road. He waited another five minutes before heading back into the house.

Jim watched him with sad eyes as he entered the room, but said nothing.

"You want something to drink for the road? It's about a two hour drive back to Cascade."

"Water would be nice," came the quiet reply.

Blair nodded and pulled two bottles out of the refrigerator. "The bathroom is by the front door," he said, nodding toward the appropriate door.

Jim nodded and went into the right room. Blair checked the perimeter and made sure all the doors and windows were closed and locked. He also checked the various appliances and made sure nothing was turned on. When Jim came out, Blair ducked in and took care of business.

"Okay, let's hit the road then, shall we? I still need to hit the grocery store before I take the girls out tonight." Blair handed Jim both bottles of water, then followed the sentinel out and locked the door.

The drive home was agonizingly long with neither man saying anything. Blair pulled up to his warehouse apartment, beside Jim's truck. He turned off the engine and opened the door, but Jim's quiet voice kept him from getting out of the car.

"It was about the job...at first."

Blair nodded, indicating that he had heard, but said nothing.

"The reason I was gone for a week was because Rafe suggested I watch the tapes he made of us together." Jim raised his hands. "Don't worry. There weren't that many of them and they're all gone now. It was while watching the tapes that I realized my feelings for you were no longer about the job. I asked Simon to take me off the case, which he did on Wednesday. I needed some time to think things through. I came to you last night not as a cop, not even as a sentinel, but as Jim."

Blair took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Thank you for telling me that."

"It doesn't change anything, does it?"

"I honestly don't know, Jim. I think...I think I need some time to process everything. You know?"

"I know. After all, it's what I've been doing since Wednesday."

"If it's any consolation," Blair said in a soft voice, not looking at Jim, "I was in love with you."

"Was?" Blair's heart broke, hearing the pain of the world in that single word.

"Good-bye, Jim." And with that, Blair forced himself to get out of the car.

Rafe hesitated a moment before knocking on the door in front of him, wondering if he had any right to get involved. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that the entire situation had somehow been his fault. "Nothing ventured," he whispered to himself, then knocked.

"Come in," a pleasant voice called out.

Rafe opened the door and watched Blair Sandburg look up from a blue book and blink, as if trying to change gears. "Good afternoon, detective. Is there something I can do for you?" the professor asked frostily.

"Actually, yes."

Rafe held his breath to see how the young man would react. Blair took a deep breath and released it slowly, then pointed to a chair. Rafe nodded and sat where he had been told. Blair arched an eyebrow when he remained silent for a moment.

"I'm not sure how to begin," Rafe admitted sheepishly.

"I don't think I can help you with this one, Brian. You're basically on your own."

Rafe ran a hand nervously through his hair. "I need to apologize for my part in... things." Blair remained silent. "We honestly had no idea the Feds were playing us."

"I realize that."

"Simon's raised ten kinds of hell with them."

Blair smiled kindly at him, but said nothing.

"I know it's kind of late, but you'll probably be getting an official apology from Simon and the Chief of Police sometime within the week."

Blair shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather they didn't. I think I've had all the contact I want from the police for a while."

Rafe looked at his hands in his lap. "It was my fault, you know?"

"What was?"

Rafe took a deep breath to launch into his story, but stopped and finally, simply, said, "The seduction."

Blair rubbed his forehead. "I see."

"I don't think you do. You see, despite what everyone else said, I found watching you fascinating. I told Jim you were like a giant puzzle and I was determined to solve you."

"And have you?" Blair asked, no anger in his voice, only weariness.

"No. I suspect it would take a lifetime to do so; and quite frankly, I don't really have the inclination for such a prolonged study. But I know someone who does."

Blair shook his head, but Rafe refused to back down. "You've studied the social structure of warriors, Sandburg. You know what their honor means to them. Jim was given an assignment. He did it to the best of his ability and Jim is the best. But what none of us truly understood was that he came to care for you. It was killing him to continue, but he had a job to do. But once he watched the tapes, he knew he had lost his objectivity."

"He mentioned those."

Rafe nodded and pulled two tapes from his pocket and set them on the desk. They're yours to do with as you please. Destroy them if you want. But I think you should watch them." Rafe paused for a moment. "After Jim watched them, he resigned from the task force and went to you."

"I know. He told me."

"And he told you that he went to you, knowing we were listening?"

Blair shook his head.

Rafe leaned forward. "Do you know what that means to someone like Jim?"

Blair nodded.

"I don't think you do, Sandburg."

"What do you want from me, man?" Blair yelled. He shoved himself away from the desk and pushed himself to his feet.

"I want you to be happy!" Rafe stood and shouted back.

Blair turned and blinked at him.

"I want you to be happy," Rafe repeated again softly. "I want Jim to be happy."

"Why?"

"Does there have to be a why, Blair?" Rafe asked quietly, closing the distance between them. "Why did you invite Cara over for dinner every night for a week while she was waiting for her grant to come through?"

"She's a friend and she was hurting," Blair whispered.

"You're a friend and you're hurting." Rafe held his hands up to cut off Blair's protest. "I know you don't consider me a friend, but I've grown quite fond of you over the last three months. I care what happens to you and Jim. You love Jim. I know you do."

Blair crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from Rafe.

Rafe closed his eyes briefly. "We're having a party at the club tonight. Since it's Friday, Jim thinks it's safe to go. Please watch the tapes, Blair." With that, he left.

Rafe closed his eyes momentarily in relief when he spotted the young grad student hesitantly enter the club. He noticed the bouncer teasing Blair - no doubt confused as to why Blair was at the club on a Friday.

Rafe watched Blair scan the crowd and knew the instant the student spotted him. As casually as he could, Rafe looked in Jim's direction. The older detective was leaning against the wall at the back of the club watching the dancers.

Blair took a deep breath as if steeling himself for rejection. He shot Rafe a look that said that he would probably hunt Rafe down if this failed.

Celine Dion's It's All Coming Back to Me Now started and Rafe held his breath as he watched Blair move slowly to the edge of the dance floor, directly across from Jim.

Rafe worried his lower lip with his teeth until Jim finally notice the grad student. Jim's eyes got big as he spotted the student, but he didn't move. In fact, the older man seemed frozen in place.

Blair started to sway to the music, his face never leaving Jim's. A slow warm smile blossomed over the sentinel's face as he too began to move slowly to the music. As if by some unspoken signal, they both started to moved toward each other, stopping mere inches apart. As the tempo picked up, they began to dance, their eyes never leaving the face of the other.

Hands tentatively reached out, tenderly touching, as if rediscovering each other. Rafe could tell that they were both trembling. Blair seemed to be mouthing the words of the song up into the face of his lover.

If you forgive me all this,
If I forgive you all that,
We forgive and forget
And it's all coming back to me.

Jim smiled tenderly and whispered back

If you see me like this
And when I see you like that
We see just what we want to see
And it's all coming back to me.

The men swayed slower and slower until the music stopped and they gently kissed.

Rafe let out a sigh of relief. They still had hurdles blocking their path, but he knew they would be able to overcome any obstacles they faced as long as they did it together. He had never met two people more meant to be together. Damn, he thought in amusement as he headed for the bar, yentaing was a lot harder than it looked.