I don't own the characters, but I do enjoy taking them out to play, and I always return them when I'm done.

This one is for Susan--hope you're feeling better soon! As always, thanks to the Lurkers.

This is number 12 in my Sports Series and begins the morning after the previous story ended. I apologize for the long delay between stories and thank you for your patience. And yes, I do hope to add more installments in the future.

This story is a sequel to: One in the Dark

pacing: to set or regulate the pace of

Blair stared at the napkin lying on the table. Jim sure hadn't wasted any time finding someone to replace him. He racked his brain, but try as he might, Blair couldn't recall anyone by the name of Chris. Was she someone he'd known before? Or someone he'd just met?

Or maybe Chris was a he instead of a she.

Blair fingers ached to crush the napkin in his fist, but he restrained himself. He backed away from the table and the incriminating note as if it were a black adder.

Last night had been like coming to an oasis after being in a desert all week. Watching the Jags game together, the easy companionship between them, and that damned kiss. Blair remembered with disquieting clarity how warm and firm Jim's lips had been against his own. How many times had kisses like that led to lovemaking?

Was this Chris in line to be Blair's replacement in Jim's bed...and heart?

No! He was letting his imagination run rampant. Jim had accepted his invitation for the movie, which meant Blair meant more to him than Chris did, since he was obviously canceling his date with her...or him. After talking with Jim last night, it was clear his sentinel still harbored feelings for him. But what kind of feelings? Friendship with a large dose of lust on the side? Or was there more to it?

Running his fingers through his still damp hair, Blair glanced up at the loft bedroom where he could see Jim's lumpy figure beneath the blankets. Lumpy? No way. Blair had no trouble envisioning Jim's smooth muscles and striking angles. It would be so easy to climb those stairs and slip under the covers next to him.

He shook the erotic thoughts from his mind and concentrated on breakfast. Usually Jim awakened before he did, but his roommate must've been exhausted. Hell, Blair had gotten little sleep himself during the endless week. When a person got used to making love and falling asleep in his lover's arms most every night, it was difficult to return to celibacy and an empty bed.

Tiptoeing, Blair put the coffee on, letting the common, everyday task divert him from the note on the napkin. As he broke eggs into a bowl, he felt rather than heard Jim stirring. He glanced upstairs and saw short, tousled brown hair come into view. Blair couldn't help but smile at the cowlick on the left side of Jim's head. He'd never noticed it until he'd started waking with Jim Ellison beside him. His heart swelled at the boyish picture of Jim knuckling his eyes to remove the sleep.

Dressed only in navy blue boxer briefs, Jim descended the stairs. Blair eyed his lean figure and the subtle outline of a morning erection against his briefs, and felt his body respond to his best friend.

"Morning, Chief," Jim greeted with an almost shy smile.

Blair grinned. "Morning, Jim."

Instead of heading to the bathroom immediately, Jim paused in the kitchen beside Blair. The sentinel crossed his arms, emphasizing the width of his chest and shoulders, and displaying his narrow waist and hips to their full advantage.

"What's for breakfast?" Jim asked.

"Thought I'd throw together some mini frittatas," Blair replied, forcing his admiring gaze back to the mixture in the bowl. "That way you don't have to rush."

Blair could feel Jim's steady gaze on him, but didn't dare meet his eyes.

"Sounds good, Chief. After breakfast, we'll have to make a list of chores that need to be done today."

Blair could hear the underlying strain in Jim's voice to remain casual and make this just a normal Saturday. But it wasn't ordinary and probably wouldn't be again until things were resolved once and for all...one way or another.

"Who's Chris?" Blair asked, then silently cursed himself for giving in to his insecurities.

Jim's gaze cut to the napkin and his cheeks flushed. "A nurse I met yesterday when Pep was released." He shifted from one bare foot to the other, which made him look vulnerable and shy--two characteristics Blair rarely associated with Jim Ellison. "She was in the Army, too. We were going to have dinner." He shrugged. "No big deal."

Blair stopped mixing and looked at Jim, gauging his honesty. Not that Jim made a habit of lying to him, but this was too important. "Are you going to reschedule?"

Jim's eyes widened, then comprehension filled them. "No."

"Why not?"

"I wasn't looking for someone to take your place, Blair," Jim said, his soft-spoken words deflating Blair's rising defensiveness.

Blair blinked several times to clear his vision and poured the egg, cheese, and ham mixture into the muffin pan. He shrugged, assuming a nonchalance he didn't feel. "If you did, I'd understand."

Suddenly, he was grabbed and spun around to face the sentinel's fierce blue eyes. "What would you understand? That I could just jump into the sack with someone else and forget about us?"

Blair's face heated, but whether it was embarrassment or anger, he wasn't certain. "What 'us', Jim? Sentinel and guide? Cop and student? Friend and friend?" His voice broke then he added softly, "Lover and lover?"

Jim released Blair and whirled around. Blair was surprised when he didn't bolt into the bathroom to escape the emotional bloodletting. Instead Jim remained standing with his back to Blair, his shoulders slumped.

"All of them," Jim's hoarse voice replied. He straightened his spine, but didn't turn around. "Why did you let me think you were on a date last night?"

Startled by the non sequitur, Blair floundered for a moment. "I did have a date."

Jim faced him and his face was pale, his eyes curtained. "You know what I mean. You deliberately misled me. Why?"

Blair placed the frittatas in the oven and set the timer with a trembling hand. He gripped the counter edge and turned his head to Jim. "I didn't want you to think I was waiting around for you."

Jim's expression revealed his astonishment. "Were you?"

"Waiting around for you?"

Jim nodded.

Blair's lips turned downward but his eyes were filled with sorrow. "I've given you three years of my life, Jim. Before you, the most I'd given anyone was six months." His blue eyes flared. "So, yeah, I was waiting for you."

Taken aback, Jim opened his mouth then closed it. He rubbed his morning whisker growth and the rasp was loud in the loft's silence. "I'll get ready for breakfast."

Jim disappeared into the bathroom.

Blair hung his head, his long hair acting as blinders so he could see only the countertop. He hadn't meant to spill his guts. At least he hadn't given away everything. If Jim discovered the truth--of how much he meant to Blair--he wasn't certain what the fallout would entail. And he had no wish to find out.

Blair straightened and took a deep breath. His gaze caught the damning white napkin on the table. If he hadn't asked Jim about Chris, the conversation wouldn't have veered off in a direction Blair had had no intention of traveling. Nothing like opening a can of worms before breakfast. At least the early bird would get his fill.

He shook his head at his nonsensical mixing of clichs. He needed coffee. Badly.

Ten minutes later Blair was sitting at the table reading the paper and drinking his second cup of coffee. Jim came out of the bathroom wearing the robe that usually hung on a hook on the back of the door. The deep maroon velour covered him from neck to mid-calf, but Blair's memories supplied the hidden parts.

After Jim disappeared upstairs, Blair glanced down at his lap. "Behave yourself."

"I heard that, Chief," Jim called down.

Blair caught himself before groaning aloud. "Heard what?" he asked with all the innocence of a fallen angel.

Jim chuckled, easing some of the tension that had captured Blair's shoulders. Sometimes living with Jim could be exasperating as hell...and sometimes as exhilarating as the monster roller coaster at Elitch Gardens.

The timer on the oven dinged and Blair retrieved the baked frittatas. He dumped them into a wicker bowl lined with a cloth and set them in the center of the table. By the time he poured the orange juice and made four slices of toast, Jim was descending the stairs. Wearing faded blue jeans, his Nike tennis shoes, and a denim shirt with a red t-shirt beneath it, Jim inspired even more erotic thoughts.

"Just in time," Blair said with a smile.

"Looks good, Chief."

The two men sat down to eat just as they'd done countless mornings before. They took their time, sharing the paper, and taking turns to refill coffee cups.

Once breakfast was eaten and the paper read, Jim grabbed some note paper and a pen from the junk drawer. Between them, they figured out the day's chores and errands.

Since Blair had to stop at his office at Rainier and Jim wanted to get a haircut, they decided to divvy up the list and take separate vehicles. Blair would've preferred Jim's company, but there was no reason for Jim to have to wait around while Blair inputted grades. And since it was the second Saturday of the month, Jim had to get his monthly haircut and it didn't make sense for Blair to sit in the barbershop waiting for him. Besides, there was no way Blair wanted to be anywhere near Jim's barber. No buzz cuts for Naomi Sandburg's little boy.

Later, when Blair parked his Volvo in the nearly deserted parking lot near Hargrove Hall, he was glad to be so close since it had started raining. Slinging his backpack across a shoulder, he jogged across the asphalt and slipped inside the building. His damp soles squeaked on the tile floor and echoed down the hallway. Only half the lights were on and combined with the dreary day, the corridor was dim.

Jiggling his key ring in his hand, he found the right key and when he arrived at his door, he unlocked it and went inside. With a heavy sigh, he booted up his computer and set to work.

An hour later, he closed down the grades program and opened his email. Most were faculty memos that he deleted after reading. Two were recently scheduled meetings, which Blair added to his calendar. The last one was an email from a fellow TA and Blair quickly scanned it.

"Shit," he murmured. Susan, another TA, had had an emergency appendectomy yesterday. He'd drop by the hospital to see her on the way back to the loft.

With all the loose ends tied up, Blair shut down his PC and glanced around his office. No pressing deadlines and no classes for the next two weeks. A smile played across his lips. He was looking forward to spending time with Jim at the station...and at the loft.

The rain hadn't let up and he darted to the Volvo, holding his jacket over his head. After stopping at a florist shop, he parked at the hospital and made another dash through the falling rain. He paused in the doorway, shaking his head and jacket free of droplets, then walked over to the information desk where a grandmotherly woman gave him Susan's room number.

He took the elevator, smiling at a little girl with pigtails, huge brown eyes, and a shy smile who clung to her mother's hand. They got off on the third floor and Blair rode to the fifth alone. The doors slid open and he stepped out, only to freeze when he spotted Jim down by the desk, leaning close to a tall, leggy redhead wearing a colorful smock and white pants. He quickly ducked into the waiting area around the corner and stood there with his heart clamoring in his throat.

What was Jim doing here? Who was he talking to?

The morning's conversation flashed through his memory. Was this Chris? The nurse he'd planned to go out with tonight? Why didn't he just call her to cancel?

"Chief?"

The familiar voice caused him jerk in surprise and he spun around to see Jim staring at him, concern clear in his face. A part of him noted Jim's newly-short hair that made his eyes stand out even more brilliantly in his masculine features.

"Uh, Jim. Hi." As recoveries went, it was pretty weak, but Blair was merely relieved he'd been able to speak at all.

"What're you doing here?" Jim asked, his gaze deliberately straying to the bouquet of balloons he carried.

"Uh, well, a friend of mine, Susan, had an emergency appendectomy. I thought I'd drop by to see her." He looked at Jim, noting his narrowed eyes, and indignation sparked his temper. "I didn't know you were going to be here. Rescheduling your date with Chris?" Blair cringed at the acidity of his tone, shocked by the unexpected bitterness.

Jim's expression closed and his lips pressed into a thin line as he tilted his head, as if listening to something. "I was canceling my date."

Blair stepped forward, far enough that he could see down the corridor to see the attractive woman studying a file in her hands. "Redhead. Your favorite flavor."

Jim crossed his arms and his annoyance dipped into anger. "So is Susan a blonde or a brunette? Which flavor is it this month?"

Blair's eyes widened. "She's just a friend."

Jim grunted, but didn't remark. Instead, he turned away and pressed the down arrow for the elevator. "Take your time, Sandburg. I won't be home until late."

Disbelief slammed into Blair. "We have a date tonight."

Jim's cold eyes bored into him. "We had a date."

The elevator pinged and the door slid open. Before Blair could snap his mouth shut, Jim was gone.

Blair dropped into a waiting room chair and leaned his head back, thumping it softly against the wall. What was the matter with him? Why had he said those ugly things to Jim? Just when he thought he and Jim really had a chance together, he sabotaged it by letting his insecurities get the better of him.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. God, he'd messed that up. A helium balloon bobbed against his head and he suddenly realized why he was at the hospital in the first place. His mood had taken a one-eighty shift, but he couldn't forget why he'd come here. Pushing himself to his feet, he moved down the corridor on legs that didn't feel like his. He turned another corner and collided with a woman.

"Sorry," Blair exclaimed, catching her by an arm. He looked at her and found the nurse Jim had been considering going out to dinner with. He quickly released her.

"No harm, no foul," she said with a slight smile.

Blair managed to tilt his lips upward. "Guess I better watch where I'm going."

She studied him a moment. "You were just talking to Jim Ellison."

Blair's heart tripped. "That's right. He's a...friend."

"He seems like a nice man."

"He is." The words came too quickly to Blair's tongue.

The nurse smiled wryly and shook her head. "I should've known."

"Known what?"

"The good ones are already spoken for." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze then continued on her way.

Blair managed to stifle a groan. He'd definitely fucked up with Jim. What else could go wrong today?

Before he entered Susan's room, he took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face.

"Blair," Susan said. A welcoming smile spread across her face. Her delighted gaze went to the balloons. "Are those for me?"

Blair's smile turned genuine. "No, they're for the guy next door."

She rolled her eyes and reached for their strings as he handed the bouquet to her. "Thanks, Blair."

"You're welcome." He pulled the only chair in the room closer to her bed. "So how're you doing?"

Susan shrugged. "Fine. But the doctor wants to keep me in here for another day. Make sure everything's all right."

Blair clasped her hand. "That's a good idea. From what I understand, you almost died."

"Yeah, they said my appendix burst."

"If nothing else, your timing was pretty good with the end of the semester."

She pulled a frown. "Actually, my timing sucked. I won't miss any days of work."

Blair laughed with more politeness than humor. "How's Brad?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back after lunch."

Brad and Susan were engaged to be married but the date hadn't been set. "I can't stay long."

He was interrupted by the appearance of Jim's nurse friend in the doorway. "Excuse me. Blair Sandburg?"

He nodded.

"There's a call from Jim for you at the desk."

Dread ripped through Blair even though he'd seen Jim fifteen minutes ago. He came to his feet quickly and started to the door, then stopped and returned to Susan. He kissed her brow. "I have to go."

"I know. It's Jim," Susan said without rancor and more than a little fond exasperation.

"I'll call you," he said as he followed the nurse out of the room.

"You can take it here," the nurse said, pointing to a phone at the nurses' station. "Line three."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Blair punched the third blinking light as he picked up the handset. "Jim?"

"Chief. We've got a body."

"Where? I'll meet you there."

There was a momentary but noticeable pause. "I'm still in the hospital parking lot. I'll pick you up in front of the main entrance."

"Okay." Blair set the phone back down and hurried to the elevator. As luck had it, someone had already pushed the down button and the doors were opening as he reached it. As he rode down to the ground floor, he wondered why Jim was still here. When he'd left, Blair had the impression he couldn't wait to get far away from his guide.

Blair managed to hold himself in check as the elevator stopped on the second floor and an elderly woman with a walker entered at a snail's pace. She smiled up at him and he smiled back. When the elevator opened on the ground floor he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, waiting for the woman to disembark before sailing out behind her. He hurried to the door and spotted Jim immediately, the truck idling along the curb.

He slid into the passenger side and automatically tugged on his seatbelt. Only after it clicked in place did Jim pull into the street. Silence filled the cab, broken only by the swish-swish of the wipers and the tapping of raindrops on the roof. Blair chanced at glance at Jim's profile and was relieved to see his jaw wasn't clenched.

"Any details?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head, keeping his gaze on the wet street. "Only that it's a woman and it appears she was strangled."

"Where?"

"An alley off Stanhope and 4th street."

Blair pictured the area. "Not a very nice place."

"Not a very nice murder," Jim countered dryly.

Blair nodded in agreement, steeling himself for the task ahead.

Arriving at the area that was cordoned off by yellow tape and patrol cars, Jim parked at an angle and shut off the truck. He and Blair tugged their jacket collars up around their necks even though they knew it would do little to stave off the cool rain that had slowed to a light drizzle.

Jim glanced at Blair and the younger man read the question in his eyes. "I'll be fine."

Jim's eyes softened slightly, but he didn't give Blair much chance to see the change. He opened his door and stepped outside. Blair followed, swallowing his reluctance to be out in the nasty weather.

The police officers first on the scene had tried to protect the physical evidence, but the earlier rain had been merciless. The crime scene officers were shaking their heads and muttering about the lack of physical trace.

Blair stayed close to Jim, talking quietly to him as he took him through the drill of using his senses to search for evidence. However, Jim garnered little. He did, however, spot a cuff link peeking out from beneath the woman's body. With his hands encased in gloves, he picked up the piece of jewelry.

"There's letters on it," Jim said.

Blair squatted down beside him, his shoulder against Jim's. "What are they?"

Allowing his sentinel sight to zoom in, Jim read, "G.L.V." He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and slipped the cuff link inside then handed it to one of the CSU people.

Jim studied the woman's neck, and the bruises that encircled it. He pointed to them. "Somebody strangled her with their bare hands."

Blair leaned over Jim's shoulder, fighting both his aversion to the dead body and his own reaction to Jim's proximity. "Think you can get anything?"

Jim shrugged and, still wearing the gloves, lightly touched the dark smudges on her throat. Blair remained silent, letting the sentinel do his thing without interference.

"There's a slightly deeper indentation here." Jim used his index finger to point out a spot in the middle of the bruising.

"What? Like the killer had something in his hand when he strangled her?"

"Maybe. Or he was wearing something. A ring maybe?"

Blair tamped his excitement. When he'd found Jim--his sentinel--he hadn't expected the bond that came with it. Or the pride Blair felt when Jim used his gift and his deductive mind to put puzzle pieces together. Is this what a parent felt like when their child took that first step?

"All right. So we're looking for a man with the initials GLV and who wears a ring on his right hand," Blair said.

"That probably describes a few thousand men in Cascade alone." Jim sighed and pulled a hand over his short damp hair. "But at least we have a starting point."

Blair sighed, knowing this day was going to be a long one.

Blair followed Jim into the loft and almost ran into him when the older man stopped just inside the apartment. Jim leaned over to remove his shoes, giving Blair an unhindered view of his friend's denim-encased ass. Blair forced himself to look away, to ignore the tendril of heat warming his chilled body. He moved to the side and copied Jim's motions, taking off his own damp Nikes and leaving them on the rubber mat beneath the coat rack. Hanging his coat next to Jim's, he followed the older man into the kitchen and, with a murmured thanks, accepted the bottle of water Jim handed to him.

Jim leaned against the counter while Blair used the island to prop himself up.

"Sorry you missed the movie with your friends," Jim said, breaking the silence.

Blair shrugged and kept his gaze aimed at his water bottle. "No big deal." His heart stammered in his chest as he lifted his eyes to meet Jim's. "It wouldn't have been as much fun without you."

Jim stared at him for a moment, then his eyes and mouth softened into a gentle smile. The two men simply gazed at one another, content with the resurgence of their easy camaraderie.

Jim was the first to move as he pushed away from the counter. "I'm going for a run. Care to join me?"

"Run? Aren't you tired?" Blair asked, aghast that his friend still had energy after their grueling day.

Jim shrugged. "My mind's racing. A run will help clear it."

Blair shook his head even as he said, "Sure, why not?"

Jim grinned and tousled Blair's hair.

"Not the hair, man. Not the hair," Blair said, although he was laughing as he escaped his partner.

Blair changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt with some rock'n roll band he could barely remember on the faded front. White socks and his Nikes completed his attire. Walking out of his room, he tugged on a ball cap and threaded his ponytail through the opening in the back.

Jim was already dressed and in the living room. Although the sentinel's navy blue nylon shorts were loose fitting, when Jim bent over to do his pre-stretching the material pulled firmly against his backside and thighs. He wore only a jock strap beneath the shorts.

Blair's mouth lost all moisture as he turned away to do his own warm-ups. After a few minutes, he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"You ready, Chief?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded and followed the sentinel out the door as Jim placed his Jags cap on his head. Once on the sidewalk, Jim planted his hands on his hips and glanced at Blair. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Blair's gaze slid down Jim's sweatshirt-covered shoulders and chest, to his shorts and down his long, bare, muscular legs. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to take."

"I'm glad." Jim's soft voice was at odds with the lecherous gleam in his eyes as he did his own visual survey of his guide.

Blair blushed and was grateful when Jim began to run. He knew Jim was keeping his strides shorter than his normal gait, but Blair still had to stretch his legs to keep up with him.

There were few people on the sidewalk so late at night and the two men ran side by side, their arms pumping in unison. The dull slap of their running shoes on the concrete created an easy rhythm, which Jim and Blair settled into almost immediately.

Blair's muscles loosened up as he ran until he found himself enjoying the steady pace. Jim's company was an added bonus. They'd run together before, but not often. Tonight it seemed they were completely in sync, from their pacing to their breathing to the feeling of rightness that they were together, side by side, where sentinel and guide should be.

Blair glanced over at his partner and couldn't help the appreciative but silent whistle that sprang to his lips. Jim's thigh muscles rippled with each step and his face had lost its earlier tension until the sentinel almost appeared to be zoned. Then Jim turned to meet his gaze and smiled. The streetlight revealed a twinkle of mischief in Jim's blue eyes and Blair couldn't help but shake his head, grinning. He should've known Jim would catch him enjoying the view.

They continued block after block, with Blair letting Jim lead the way. He suspected Jim didn't have a physical destination, but a mental one--a place where the sentinel's thoughts finally scattered to the wind, like chaff separating from the wheat. Blair understood only too well. He, too, wanted the visions of the day's murder to be blown away.

"Race you to the water fountain," Jim suddenly said.

Blair blinked and realized they were nearing the park. His answer was a burst of speed as he pumped his legs. He heard Jim's laughter and nearing footsteps, and poured on even more speed. Thirty feet from the fountain, he spotted Jim out of his peripheral vision. Twenty feet, and Jim was only two paces behind him. Ten feet, and Jim was beside him. They reached the water fountain at the same moment.

In between panting and laughing, Blair and Jim walked in circles to cool down before taking a drink. Jim stepped over to a picnic table and hefted himself up to sit on it, his feet resting on the bench. Before joining him, Blair glanced around. The nearest streetlamp was half a block away and the slight breeze created dark, undulating shadows, but Blair knew they were perfectly safe. Jim would know if anyone was near.

He hiked himself up to sit beside the sentinel on the picnic table. Stretching out his legs, he turned to face Jim with a smug grin. "I won."

Jim rolled his eyes but his lips quirked upward. "Maybe."

"Can't admit you lost to a short geek?"

"I can admit I lost to a height-challenged, brilliant anthropologist." Jim tucked a dark curl under Blair's cap. "Don't you know the best things come in small packages?"

Blair stared at his friend, shocked by his openness. "Um, you do realize you just complimented me."

Jim drew back. "Am I that much of a bastard, Chief?"

Blair blinked, his mind having to take a moment to translate the question. "No. It's just that you don't do compliments."

Jim took a deep breath then rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. He stared into the darkness and sighed. "Even though I swore I wouldn't turn out like him, seems like I'm my father's son, after all."

Uncertain what to say, Blair just pressed closer to Jim until their shoulders were snug against one another.

"I don't think my father ever complimented Steven or me. Even when we got As on our report cards, it was like it was expected." Jim laughed, a bitter sound. "Anything less would've been un-Ellison-like."

"You had a harsh childhood, Jim. It's bound to shape you as an adult. But you've created your own self, not a mirror image of your father."

Jim grunted.

Blair nudged him with his shoulder. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Jim slowly turned to meet his eyes and Blair held up his hands.

"About anything important?" Blair amended.

"No never." Jim raised his hand to cup Blair's cheek and his thumb stroked the smooth skin above the day's whisker growth. "I told Chris I wouldn't be calling her. Ever."

Blair's breath stammered in his throat. "You did?"

Jim nodded. "It wouldn't be fair to her when I'd be thinking of you." He took a deep breath. "But I'm not going to fall right back into bed with you, Blair. Some things are too important to rush." He grinned wryly. "And after our little fight at the hospital today, we both have some issues to deal with."

Blair managed to swallow even as his chest pounded in his chest. "So you're saying you just want to move a little slower?"

Jim turned so his knees bracketed Blair's thighs and he framed the younger man's face in his palms. "It's just like running, Chief. You start off running too fast and you burn out before you hit the finish line. You start off too slow and you never make up the distance."

Blair nodded slowly and rested his hands on Jim's fleece-covered forearms. "It's all about pacing."

"I want us to cross the finish line together, " Jim said softly. Then he leaned forward and Blair met him halfway, their lips meeting in an almost chaste kiss. When they separated, they stared at one another for a long, drawn-out minute.

Finally, Jim took a deep breath and rose then extended his hand to Blair. "Only a mile to go. Think you can make it?"

"As long as you pace me," Blair said, his voice husky.

Jim smiled and his eyes creased at the corners. "Always, Chief. Always."

End Pacing by Romslinger: romslinger@yahoo.com

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