Author's disclaimer: Early in my voracious consumption of TS slash, I read a story in which Jim dated Blair's double. I liked the twist so much, I stole it. Characters, concept, etc. also not mine.

"Oh yeah, baby!" groaned Halloway, nudging his partner and indicating the woman striding purposefully towards them.

"Wha--oh yeah. Oh yeah. Wrap that up, put it under my tree!"

"No way, man, I saw her first. That ass is mine." Halloway had managed only a step before Rommi pulled him back. "Shit man, let go!"

"Not a good idea, Hal." Rommi was shaking his head rapidly.

"What, you gonna tell my wife? Come on, man, she probably needs directions or something. I'm just doing my civic duty--"

"Who does she look like?"

"I don't--oh shit. Shit. You mean--?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit. Do you think--"

"I think I don't want to be burying whatever Ellison leaves when he's through with you, okay? I think that ass is not yours, and it's NOT going to end up under my tree."

"Hell no. Shit, not my type anyway. I'm a happily married man."

"Right. And I'm the pope." Rommi leaned back against the wall, still unable to completely remove his gaze from the tight ass and long legs that were propelling their owner up the stairs and out of sight.

Halloway joined him in disappointed distraction until the vision was gone. "Come on, your holiness, let's get out there on the streets with the assassins and the pimps and the murderers."

"Yeah. Where it's safer."

*That is so unfair.

Marjory watched the woman she had just directed towards Major Crimes walk away. She considered herself 100 percent straight (college flings don't count), but she could see the appeal in the slight sway of the rounded hips as the woman glided down the hallway. The long legs in the short skirt, the bright smile that had been Marjory's payment for help rendered, the clear blue eyes...

She broke off to fan herself lightly with a stack of message forms. A voice from behind her made her jump almost a foot in the air, scattering forms like a bureaucratic windfall.

"Jeez, Marj, have a cow why don't you?"

Erin grinned, snapping her gum once as she joined in collecting the farflung papers.

"Thanks, Er." Marbury had long since given up on her 'I am not a Simpson' tirade. Now she merely shortened her coworker's name in retaliation; another year and Erin might get the connection.

"Didn't she look a lot like that swoonmuffin in Major Crimes?"

While disapproving of Erin's cavalier attitude towards a sweet and wonderful man--a man who was, in Marjory's opinion, far too gentle and kind to be hanging out with cops, let alone be one--she nonetheless felt compelled to nod in answer.

"Oh my god...looks run in THAT family." Erin rolled her eyes dramatically. Combined with the rhythmic chewing, the effect was far more evocative of mad-cow disease than she probably intended.

"You think she's a relative?" Marbury hadn't considered that option. But now that she thought of it...

"Is there any other explanation?"

Marbury busied herself aligning the forms. She didn't want to confess to her first assumption: that the swoonmuffin's partner had finally managed to find a female double for the man he was notoriously fond of. She loved working with all the pair-bonded men of the police--something about the buddy-buddy stuff had always given her an illicit thrill--but it was kind of...unwholesome to go looking for a socially acceptable stand in for your partner. Then again, remembering her own reaction to the woman...wonder if swoonmuffin and sis might be interested in a threesome?

Detective Brian Rafe angrily brushed eraser detritus from the pants of his Armani suit. It wasn't bad enough Brown couldn't seem to remember that ink doesn't erase, but then he handed a report still covered in this mess to his partner! Well, it was time for another session of 'Fun with White-out.'

"H, my friend," he began, glancing up to determine his colleague's location. Henri was, in fact, standing right beside him, but he seemed to be in no condition to answer--or to begin another session of secretarial cum sartorial show-and-tell.

Brown's eyes were slightly bugged out, and Rafe followed his gaze quickly to determine what could have caused his expression of shock. There was a woman standing in front of Ellison's desk. Rafe paused a moment to enjoy the view. "Now that's something you don't see every day, H. Whew." He ignored Henri's muffled snort as he stood up, brushed absent-mindedly at the last flecks of eraser dust, and began to walk across the room. A large hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

"Come on, H, what's wrong? I'm just going to go see if the lady needs any help."

"Bad idea, my man." Henri Brown jerked his head in the visitor's direction. "You take a good look at her?"

"Oh yeah. And I plan on taking a better look, if you'll just--"

"And you're sure that's not something you see everyday?"

"H, if you do, I want a subscription to whatever magazine you're 'reading'." Brown winced as Rafe mimed quotation marks on the last word.

"Look again, babe. Tell me what--or rather, who--you see."

"I see an attractive woman who is..."

"Who is...?"

"Oh, shit."

"Exactly. Who looks like someone we know and love and who is standing there waiting, presumably, for Ellison. And you call yourself a detective. You really want to step in right now, Bri?"

"No. I was just--this file. We should definitely talk about this file--shit, she's coming over, isn't she?"

To late to thrust himself between his friend and danger, H could only blurt "Look casual."

A warm alto voice interrupted the detectives' incipient panic. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I'm supposed to meet someone, but he doesn't seem to be at his desk. Is it all right if I wait here?"

Rafe forced himself to meet the crystalline blue eyes currently smiling at him. "Um, you're here to meet..." Damn, was his tie this tight when he bought it? "You're here to meet Ellison?"

The woman smiled. "Well, I wouldn't mind, I guess, but actually--"

"Mary?" A deep male voice interrupted her statement.

Without glancing around, she gave a slow, sultry smile that made Rafe's pants immeasurably tighter than his tie. "Thank you, gentlemen, I believe I've found him." Visibly dismissing them, she turned and moved across the room with a gait like a cat on the hunt. The newcomer seemed to share his appreciation, but nothing more was said until the woman stood in front of him.

"Hey, hotstuff, I've been waiting for you. Is it okay to kiss you in your office?"

"And if I say no?"

"Hmm, gonna have to arrest me, I guess, because I'm about to disobey an officer's direct order." Leaning in, she tangled one hand in Blair's curls and met his lips with light force.

Neither Rafe nor Brown--both watching avidly--could tell who made the next move. The figures in the tight embrace turned gracefully, and suddenly the woman was perched on the edge of Sandburg's desk, her legs wrapped around his. This had the obvious advantage of bringing her head down to a level that would reduce neck-strain for both of them. But for the watching pair, it also had the disadvantage of making them witnesses to probable indecent exposure.

Well, if Sandburg hadn't been blocking the view, it would have been indecent. Two great minds thought as one, and Brown called out, "Sandburg, can we see you for a second on the Marconi case?"

As Sandburg peeled himself away, Rafe manfully hid his disappointment at the knowledge that their visitor was indeed sporting underwear. Where were those Basic Instincts moments when he needed them? Dragging his eyes reluctantly upwards with just the slightest of pauses at chest height, he met a pair of sardonic crystal-blue eyes. "One second, ma'am." She sighed, but nodded.

"Yeah, guys--this the Marconi file?" Blair reached for the folder, but stopped when he saw how firmly Rafe was holding it--and where. "Never mind. You keep it. Looks like you need it more than I do." He smirked, but shifted minutely in sympathy.

"Sandburg, who the--what the HELL is that?" "You're dating Ellison's sister now, Hairboy?"

Rafe and Brown spoke together, and Blair seemed bemused by the bombardment. Before he could answer, Rafe turned to his partner. "Ellison never mentioned he had a sister."

"Ellison never mentioned he had a brother, either."

"Do you think he's got another sister?"

"Um, guys--"

"In the interest of your continued good-health, I hope not, babe."

"Guys--"

"I could handle her. I could, man."

"GUYS! Hello? You called me over here away from my lunch date. So could you please get to the point?" Frustration raised Blair's voice, and Rafe watched with paranoid interest as the woman's head came up in sudden protectiveness.

Brown cautiously leaned forward. "Have you noticed she--well, she looks a lot like..."

Leaning in to match his pose, Blair whispered with spurious intensity. "Looks like...?"

"She's Ellison, man!"

A long pause. "Rafe, any chance you can translate for Brown there?"

"Um. She does look a lot like Ellison, Blair."

"What?" Blair glanced back over his shoulder as if to remind himself what his date looked like. "Okay, so she's got brown hair and blue eyes. She's also a 36-C and has chosen that black skirt because she thinks her hips are too wide." All three men glanced back in patent disbelief--it was sort of like suggesting that the Pantheon was too domed. "So tell me again why she's a clone for my partner?"

"Well...I mean, she's tall."

"I've dated a lot of women taller than I am, Rafe. You might try it sometime, gives you a whole new perspective." Following Rafe's sudden furtive glance, Blair added, "Or at least, gets you closer to your current perspective."

"But, man Hairboy, she's built. And not like a brick-house, okay?"

Rafe chimed in. "She could bench-press you, Sandburg."

"I could press you, GQ." The low voice was just as sexy when threatening, and Rafe clasped the folder intently as the woman suddenly joined them. She flashed a bright, predatory smile. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Mary. Mary, these are Detectives Rafe and Brown, my coworkers. Guys, may I present my friend Mary Sue Rottweiler."

Brown winced as the woman's grip on his hand tightened. "Blair, I've asked you not to use my middle name."

Rafe choked. "Your last name is Rottweiler and you're worried about Sue?" He stepped back as she whipped around to face him, teeth bared. "Um...nice doggie?" he squeaked.

"Do I look Native American?"

"What?" Again the partners spoke as one.

Blair stepped in, placatingly. "I O U X, not U E. You--"

"Any reason you're talking in code, Chief?"

"Jim!" Blair turned, relief visible. "Hey man, I want you to meet Mary..." but his words were lost in the tectonic meeting that was taking place. Rafe and Brown parted, Red-Sea-like, as Jim took a step toward his doppelganger in drag.

Icy blue eyes met evenly, and Rafe glanced down quickly to reassure himself that one of the doubles was wearing heels. Damn nice boots, too; Ellison might not have welcomed his undercover role in the line-dancing stake-out, but on him the outfit worked.

Under his double's surprised scrutiny, Jim shifted slightly and folded his arms. The woman in the mirror put her hands on her hips, obviously judging her counterpart. Having made an appreciative visual journey down his wrangler-clad form, she smiled slightly as she ran one hand through her short-cropped but thick hair. Jim flashed her an answering smirk, subtly canting his hips to emphasize one area she could be judged as lacking.

Finally, the woman spoke. "Okay, I see the resemblance. He is stunning."

"Likewise, I'm sure." Jim grinned at her.

"If I can have a second with your partner?" Her words yielded game, set, and match with gentle irony. Jim nodded, acknowledging his victory with restraint. She gestured for Blair to follow and then made her way to the door.

"Mary, I don't--" Blair found himself mumbling into a quick but ardent kiss. When she stepped away, he felt a tug of regret at the sight of her resigned smile.

"Look, Blair. The fact that you're dating your partner's double is...um, suggestive, but not definitive. The fact that none of your friends were shocked by what it suggested...well, that's not definitive either. I'm the last person to think that your friends know anything about you. I mean, when I started lifting, suddenly guys I knew--guys I had fucking dated--hell, guys I had fucking fucked started introducing me to their lesbian friends. And you for one should know what they were thereby missing out on for themselves."

Blair's hands moved of their own volition towards her waist, and he forced himself to pull back.

"So there's a good chance that tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum over there know squat. On the other hand, you don't seem all that shocked by the suggestion either."

She shrugged philosophically. "So don't think this is me giving you my blessing or any such shit. I am, frankly, pissed as hell that that you're going home with Adonis over there, and I'm going home to the latest in Japanese electronics. And maybe I'll be lucky and you'll have a miserable time tonight. Nothing would make me happier than if you call me tomorrow begging to come back to the folds." She continued doggedly over Blair's cough. "But if, in fact, you find that one of the many things we have in common is an attraction to men..." she trailed off, frowning.

Blair was scarlet with mortification. "Mary, I'm so sorry. I never--I can't--I'm so sorry."

She leaned in again to kiss him, obviously not averse to mixing her message a bit. "If I was just a stand-in--"

"No! Not--"

"Shh. Calm down. You get any more upset and your dogs are going to be facing off," she jerked her head towards Jim, who was leaning forward with an expression of intense dislike as Blair's distress became obvious. "Blair, hey. We were having fun. This is not the last of the great romances. But remember--no blessing. In fact, I think I'm going to 'exit giving insane cackle'." Before she could make good on her threat, Blair pulled her into a hug.

Knowing that whispering was a useless effort, he nonetheless spoke low into her ear. "Hey, this doesn't have to be good-bye." He squeezed her tight for a second. "You could always be my hag."

Brown and Rafe watched in amazement as the look-alikes gave simultaneous bursts of laughter. For a second, the muted conversation at the door became audible. "In your dreams, powderpuff. You plan on unburdening any girlish gossip, you'd better bring your cuffs." With that last intriguing comment, Sandburg's visitor left.

Blair stood watching as she proceeded downstairs, and three detectives watched him watch. When he finally turned back into the room, Blair did not meet the other men's eyes. "I think I'd better--I--some case or something." He stumbled toward the door.

Considering the city of which he was Sentinel, a city of innumerable chances (many painful, some fatal) for a mortified Shaman to avoid the embarrassment of facing his colleagues, Jim grabbed his arm. "I don't think so, Chief. Guys, can you hold down the fort for the rest of the day?"

Brown sighed and shrugged acceptance. Behind him, Rafe reaffirmed his hold on the Marconi file as Ellison's catlike intensity reminded him of Rottweiler's charms. Let Ellison and Sandburg head off to fulfill whatever destiny they had coming to them. As soon as he could rustle up some blood-flow above the neck, Rafe was going to have that long-deferred discussion with his partner. He could still feel the rubbery remnants of eraser clinging to him like cheap polyester--it made him feel so dirty.

Brown turned. "Oh for god's sake, Brian. Go take care of it and then let's get some work done."

So it was that Rafe was only a few steps behind Sandburg and Ellison as they paused on the first landing.

"You don't seem overwhelmingly shocked either."

"Nope."

"So, have you--do you--"

"Look, Chief, I'm not going to play muse and medium here. You've got to figure this out yourself."

Sandburg ran a hand distractedly through his hair, and Ellison stepped forward to assist in the effort. "But I don't know. I don't get it." He leaned into Ellison's twining fingers. "My libido and my subconscious have ganged up on me or something."

"Something?" Ellison was definitely encroaching on Sandburg's space now, and, strangely, neither seemed to mind.

"Um. Yeah." Panting slightly, Sandburg visibly marshaled his argument. "I guess I have to figure out--" Ellison would be kicked out of an interrogation for this kind of posturing "--uh, yeah. Figure out if I was just displacing things--uh, emotions, attraction--more than just physical--god--physical similarities onto--um--whatshername."

"So what did you find attractive?"

Sandburg was practically stealing Ellison's oxygen. "Attractive?"

"About--her."

Suddenly, Sandburg flashed an inane, cross-eyed smile into eyes less than an inch away from his. "Uh--her openminded acceptance of my obliviousness in the face of the obvious?"

Ellison chuckled. "Nope, doesn't sound a thing like me. Can't be displacement." But even as he denied it, he was bridging that last inch to obliterate his rival's claim.

Blair pushed Jim back across the narrow area to pin him against the wall, reveling in the big, firm body so like...the warm, strong arms so like...the hard, hot cock so--okay, not so like. Jim assisted him in his exploration, pausing only when a tiny whimper drifted down from the stairs above them.

"There's a janitor's closet right behind you, Rafe," Jim said, taking pity as he guided Blair down the remaining stairs.