Author's webpage: http://www.squidge.org/5Senses/

Author's disclaimer: The story is an episode of The Sentinel Slash Virtual Season (SVS), produced by FiveSenses, Inc. SVS is based on characters and concepts developed by, and belonging to, Pet Fly Productions. This story is intended for private, personal enjoyment only. No money is being made, or will be allowed to be made, by the author of this story or by FiveSenses, Inc. from the writing and distribution of this story. Any original characters introduced in an SVS episode belongs to the episode author and to FiveSenses, Inc. and should not be used without their permission.

Author's notes: Episodes of SVS may contain depictions of consensual m/m sex. The depictions may or may not be accompanied by specific mention of items necessary for safe and healthy intercourse. It is the intention of FiveSenses, Inc. and all SVS authors that, even when such items are not explicitly mentioned, their use is to be assumed as a matter of course. All of us at FiveSense, Inc. are aware of the risks of unprotected sex in today's world and strongly advocate the practice of safe sex, including the use of condoms and other protective devices.

Warmest thanks from FiveSenses, Inc. to Alyjude and Gryph for their much appreciated contributions in beta reading this story.

Author's e-mail address: blair_lady@yahoo.com Author's webpage: http://members.tripod.com/Candy_A

SVS-02:
Comes Around
by Candy Apple

The whispered words had no sooner slipped out into the late night shadows of the loft than Jim realized something had changed in the sounds around him. Blair's sleeping heartbeat was no longer a sleeping heartbeat, and it was... closer. He hit the stop button quickly, and then turned off the television. Finally, he mustered the courage to turn around. How do you explain to someone that the worst moment of his life was the most precious moment of yours?

"Can't sleep?" Jim asked hopefully, clinging to the possibility that Blair hadn't heard the hushed words, and hadn't seen the image on the screen.

"Seems weird to see it on the screen, on tape," Blair said, moving toward the couch and sitting next to Jim. It was cool in the loft, and since he was dressed in a thick sweater accordingly, Jim realized that Blair's tank shirt and boxers wouldn't be a match for the temperature too long. He leaned forward and pulled the throw off the back of the couch and handed it to Blair, who just smiled a little and covered up with it, pulling his stocking feet off the floor, up to the relative warmth of the cushions. "Where'd you get that?"

"Don Haas, over at the network -- he dubbed me a copy," Jim admitted. He watched as Blair nodded, his eyes fixed on the dark screen where the press conference had played moments ago.

"Why..." Blair frowned, shaking his head a little. "Why would you want to watch that again?"

"I didn't mean for you to see it. I'm sorry about that."

"That didn't answer my question," Blair persisted. He finally shifted positions so he was facing Jim's profile, which remained still. "Maybe you can answer this one for me," Blair said, his tone gentle. "Did you mean what you said?"

Feeling the eyes boring twin holes in the side of his face, Jim finally turned, and looked down into the face of the man he'd been watching on the screen. Captivated by a two-dimensional image of Blair, he'd professed his love. Now, here was the real thing -- living, breathing, a little rumpled and bleary-eyed -- looking up into his eyes and asking for the words. Words he'd given freely to a videotaped image.

"Yeah, I meant it," he said, nodding slightly.

"Why...?" Blair gestured toward the TV again.

"What it meant, I guess. What you were really saying."

"You don't need a tape for that, Jim." Blair smiled a little, and Jim shifted positions to sit sideways and face him. Blair's hand rested over Jim's heart. "I love you."

"Then..." Jim enclosed the hand in his own, still holding it against his chest. "Why are you looking for another apartment?" Blair's expression froze momentarily, then he shrugged.

"I thought it was the right thing to do."

"And the jobs? You're job hunting too?"

"I need to pay the bills, Jim."

Jim released Blair's hand and stood up, walking over to the balcony windows.

"That's not a problem as long as you're here. I didn't think I had to spell that out."

"You don't. But I'm not a free-loader, man. The academy isn't going to cover my monthly bills, and even if it did..." Blair's swallow was almost audible from where Jim was standing, even without Sentinel hearing. He turned to look at the other man sitting there on the couch. Suddenly, Blair looked very tired... weary.

"What if money wasn't the problem?"

"It is a problem. It's not that I don't appreciate that you're here for me and that you're willing to help me out. I just... I'm used to pulling my own weight."

"I was going to wait and let Simon tell you officially, but there's no point in you losing sleep over it."

"Tell me what?" Blair frowned, confused.

"Simon did a little finagling with the brass, and with a little paperwork, you can start getting paid for your work as a consultant to the department -- at least until the academy starts up. I know it's not going to make you rich, but it might at least pay some bills. You just have to keep track of your hours, mileage, expenses -- things like that."

"Simon did that for me? I mean, I know I asked him about a job before, but that was before all this... mess. That was really... that was really great of him to do that." Blair seemed moved, but not relieved in the way Jim had hoped. He thought learning of the job would make things easier, maybe lift a little of the stress Blair seemed to be feeling. Instead, he looked more perplexed than before.

"It's not the money that's an issue with the academy, is it?" Jim prodded.

"I'm not sure, okay?" Blair got up himself now and started pacing, leaving the throw on the couch. It wasn't long before he started rubbing at his arms, almost unconsciously. "Jim, I... I don't know if I want to go through with it." Blair had forced the words out, and they had sounded fairly assertive, though his fingernails were biting into the arms on which his hands rested.

"What's wrong, Chief? Is it the gun thing?"

"Well, yeah, you know, I've never liked guns much," Blair answered, a bit too quickly, sitting on the arm of the couch, still not looking toward Jim to meet his gaze.

"Easy with the claws there, tiger," Jim said with affectionate chiding as he took a hold of one set of fingers and pried them away from the skin they were close to gouging. "You want to try the truth this time?"

"My being your partner is never going to work out," Blair said quietly, pulling his hand away and letting them both rest on his knees. "Doesn't matter if I'm a consultant or a cop. It just won't work now."

"It's worked for the last three years -- why wouldn't it work now?"

"It just... won't, okay?"

"Sandburg, that's almost as lame as 'because' as explanations go."

"I came by the station the other day."

"When? We were there today, but--"

"When Henri was chauffeuring you around, I stopped in to the station. Trust me, Jim. I know when I'm not welcome someplace, and I am not welcome around there."

"You're losin' me here. Simon, Joel, Henri -- they're as much your friends as they are mine."

"Yeah, and I'm really grateful for that. But you know what? Out of a whole police department, they're only one small handful of people. You didn't see the looks, hear the remarks... I felt like a fucking serial killer who got out on a technicality."

"Who hassled you?"

"Oh, that's good, Jim. What're you gonna do? Go take on every other guy on the force who makes a shitty remark? You can't do that, and neither one of us can do a decent job if we're spending all our time dealing with stuff like this."

"So that's it? You want to get a different job and move out because some people said some things or looked at you funny?"

"That's your world. And when all is said and done, it still is. I was only ever a tag-along in their eyes, and now I'm a fraud and a liar. Do you know how long your life is going to be worth anything with me for a partner? Not long, my friend, not long." Blair got up and moved past Jim, pacing again. "I want you to have some peace, Jim. That's what the whole press conference was about -- letting you have your life back, letting you have some peace to enjoy that life and do your job the way you're meant to do it. This isn't a martyr trip or a 'Felix Unger' act, or anything else -- it's just a statement of fact -- your life is going to be a hell of a lot easier without me in it this closely. We can still be friends, but you'll be able to do your job without the human stigma following you around."

"That's the biggest crock of shit I've heard you shovel yet, Chief. We worked this case like we've always worked them, and having you there helped me do my job better. Why do you think that a few rude people are going to change that?"

"I'm not officially your partner, Jim. When I am --"

"You are, damn it." Jim moved forward and grabbed Blair by the arms. "You never stopped being my partner, and I don't care what some asshole says to you at the station, or what some piece of paper about your ride-along status says."

"Your loyalty is probably one of the things I love most about you. The way you stick by me," Blair said, smiling. "Which is why I have to be the one to let go of you, because you're never going to let go of me, even if holding onto me is professional suicide."

"Letting you go is personal suicide, and I don't have a death wish." Jim held Blair's gaze for a long moment, and suddenly it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lower his head, to see Blair raising his just a bit, until lips met.

It was hesitant at first; close-mouthed, gentle and cautious. Then the lips beneath Jim's parted, and his tongue found its way between them, finding its mate. He finally relinquished his grip on Blair's arms and pulled him into a close embrace instead, deepening the kiss. He felt strong arms go around him, a warm, eager body pressing against him. He slid his hands into the tousled curls and held Blair there, prolonging the kiss until he could no longer breathe and had to step back, releasing his hold on the hostage hair.

"Um, Jim, unless the PD has some really different initiation rituals than I know about, we're talking about a different kind of partnership here," Blair said, his voice a little unsteady.

"I guess we are," Jim responded, his voice coming out almost raspy.

"I didn't know you... I mean," Blair swallowed. "How long have you...you know, thought about us... getting together?"

"Does that idea freak you out?" Jim asked quietly, one hand still in Blair's hair, the thumb stroking his cheek.

"I kissed back didn't I?" Blair asked, grinning. Jim laughed a little at that. "You're still avoiding my question, man."

"A while. Quite a while. I'm not sure exactly how long." Jim paused. "I know you're not gay because you're not that good an actor," Jim said, and Blair chuckled a little. "Have you ever been with a man before?"

"No," he admitted, looking back up into Jim's eyes.

"Why me?"

"I never felt about anybody the way I feel about you. And you kissing me kind of moved things along, too," he said, smiling again.

"You never said anything. I didn't keep it any secret that I was bi --"

"But you kept it a secret that you wanted me. There's a big difference."

"Yeah, I guess I did that, didn't I?" Jim rested his hands on Blair's shoulders, then frowned. "Did I do that, too?" He took a hold of Blair's right upper arm, checking out the yellowed bruise there. "No, it's too old. Like it might have happened a few days ago." Jim looked back up to catch Blair's eyes.

"No big deal. Somebody grabbed my arm because I ran into him in the hall."

"Hard enough to leave bruises? Who was it?"

"Let it go, Jim. This is just what I'm talking about."

"I'm supposed to let you just walk away after what just happened between us?"

"Look, maybe we could still... see each other. You know, without being partners. It would make it easier for you --"

"Like hell it would make it easier for me. You're not skipping out on me, Sandburg. Not now. Not because of a few narrow-minded jerks at the station. You're not a fraud or a phony. You've got no reason to slink around ashamed."

"I'm not slinking around. I'm trying to give you your life back, Jim. And I'm trying to put mine together -- I don't know how long I can go to work every day and feel like the station pariah."

"I'm sorry you had a bad time of it when you came to the station, but I'm not letting you quit on me, and I'm not letting you walk out that door. That's final."

"What if I can't cut it with the academy?"

"I know you can cut it. Do you want to cut it?"

"No," Blair said in almost a whisper, looking down now, avoiding Jim's eyes.

"So part of this is about not wanting to be a cop."

"Yeah, part of it." Blair sat on the couch again, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I'd do it if I honestly thought it would work out, but I think you're going to live to regret having me for a partner. You'll be swimming upstream all the time, fighting people's attitudes."

"This was big news around here for a while, but it'll die down in time, Chief." Jim sat on the arm of the couch and ran his hand lightly back and forth over Blair's upper back. "It'll be okay. People will get past it, and life'll go on." Jim paused. "Or are we talking about more than our police partnership now?"

"Maybe both. How long do you think you're going to have a comfortable life when your buddies start finding out you're not only partnered with a fraud, but you're shakin' the sheets with him in your off hours?"

"You're assuming I give a rat's ass about what they think."

"That's easy to say when there's no problem, but --"

"Blair." Jim moved off the arm of the couch and knelt in front of his partner, urging Blair's legs apart until they were almost nose to nose. "Shut up." Jim slid his hands into Blair's hair again, leaning forward and capturing his mouth, putting all the conviction he felt about the rightness of their partnership -- professional or personal -- into the hungry movements of his mouth on Blair's.

He moved up, pulling Blair with him and then pushing back into the cushions of the couch, covering Blair's body with his, never breaking the kiss. He relished the spicy-sweet taste of Blair's mouth, the softness of his lips, the prickle of stubble on stubble, and the odd combination of strength and softness in the body beneath his.

"Love you," Blair sighed against Jim's mouth as the kiss finally broke apart. "Are you sure?" Blair whispered, his eyes searching Jim's with something that bordered on desperation -- the desperation of wanting something so badly and yet fearing believing in it even when it's finally offered.

"That's my line, Chief."

"Yeah, I guess this isn't new to you."

"It's new, Blair," Jim said in a voice little above a whisper, his forehead pressed against Blair's. "I never loved anybody as much as I love you. So I'm sure," Jim responded, smiling readily, the response easy -- the desire to dispel the fear in those sincere blue eyes, overpowering.

"I'm sure too -- I'm just not real sure what to do about it," Blair admitted, laughing softly.

"We don't have to do anything tonight, not this soon."

"I hate to break this to you, Jim, but I think we do." Blair made a slight undulation against Jim, his rapidly hardening cock introducing itself to Jim's.

"I guess I don't have to worry that you're not gonna get turned on with me, huh?" Jim asked, grinning and stroking back through Blair's hair.

"Your leg okay?" His brow wrinkled a little in concern.

"My leg's fine, Chief." Jim kissed the spot where Blair's eyebrows had drawn together a bit in worry.

"Your place or mine?"

"Mine's bigger."

"You better be talking about your bed, Ellison."

"Whatever," Jim responded, shrugging and then laughing as Blair rolled his eyes. "Only way to prove me wrong is to let me see for myself."

"Your place," Blair decided, nodding.

Jim rose a little awkwardly, belatedly realizing that his leg really wasn't enraptured with all the activity. Blair made a delightful substitute for the cane as he slid his arm around Jim's waist and Jim draped his arm over Blair's shoulders. They made their way slowly upstairs.

"You've got at least two layers on me," Blair teased, smiling and tugging at the bottom of Jim's sweater. He obligingly raised his arms and Blair pulled the garment up and off, tossing it aside. Jim pulled the t-shirt beneath it, over his head and tossed it in the general direction of the sweater. Blair was eyeing him with open lust now, and Jim reached over and grasped the hem of the tank shirt Blair wore, disposing of it in much the same manner, adding it to their growing pile of clothes.

Blair moved forward and ran his hands lightly over the planes of Jim's chest, a sort of reverence about his movements. Then he leaned forward and began kissing a trail down the center, following the contours of skin and muscle until he reached a small nipple. Jim gasped at the electric jolt of pleasure he felt as Blair's mouth fastened on the little nub, sucking and licking at it as his hands moved down to unbuckle Jim's belt and unzip his pants.

He grabbed onto Blair's hair with both hands, holding him there, totally unconcerned with how he must look there, pants around his ankles now, head thrown back in pleasure. Blair moved off the first nipple, asserting his decision to move despite the grip of the hands in his curls, licking his way to the neglected nipple, sucking it into his mouth as Jim struggled out of his shoes and finally stepped out of them, leaving pants and shoes in a pile near the bed.

Encouraging Blair away from his chest, Jim pulled him up for another kiss. They moved carefully back toward the bed, still mindful of Jim's leg, and ended up losing their balance and falling on the mattress.

"You okay?" Blair checked worriedly, but Jim's ready smile answered him quickly.

"I'm great."

Running his hands down Blair's back, he slid them under the waistband of his partner's boxers and hooking it with his thumbs, pushed the underwear out of the way as he caressed the firm mounds there. Blair moaned into their kiss and wriggled out of them, his own hands going for Jim's underwear.

Breaking the kiss, Blair carefully moved them down and off, paying special heed to the healing leg. Then he moved back up Jim's body, grinning, coming up on all fours until he was back for more kisses, strong arms grabbing him and pulling him down, rolling them over so he was pinned beneath the larger body.

Jim trailed kisses down the side of Blair's face to his neck, fastening his mouth there and sucking hard, leaving his mark, smiling at the little groan of pleasure it brought. He rubbed his cheek against the silky chest hair now, absorbing the feel of it with Sentinel touch.

"Am I too hairy?" Blair asked, sounding a little disconcerted by Jim's concentration on the hairiest part of his chest.

"You're perfect, baby... love you so much," Jim whispered against a nipple before taking it in his mouth, licking and teasing and sucking it. //This is Blair's taste on my tongue, Blair's naked body breaking into a fine sheen of sweat under me, writhing around, moaning and panting because of my mouth on him...//

"Love you," Blair gasped in response, arching into the mouth that claimed the second nipple now before moving further down the path of hair to the hollow of Blair's navel, poking at it and teasing it with his tongue. As he nipped at the soft skin of Blair's stomach, he felt the hot, hard flesh of the rigid cock nudging his chin.

Blair's heart had been thundering with desire, but now it was beating rapidly for a different reason. Jim could feel a tension in the muscles, and Blair's hands were gripping his arms as if he were riding a corkscrew roller coaster instead of lying on his back in a nice safe bed.

Jim moved up and pulled Blair into his arms, hoping the reassurance of the embrace would settle the case of the jitters tensing up his bed mate. As soon as they were together again, kissing, hands roaming over damp flesh, all thoughts of jitters or cold feet seemed to fly out the window. Then Blair started writhing, very purposefully, humping against Jim so their erections slid together, rubbing against each other. The motion suddenly became more frenzied, and Jim could feel Blair stiffening out against him, a long cry of his name accompanied by a warm, wet slipperiness between them. Sliding even more easily now, Jim picked up his own pace, and grabbing hold of Blair's buttocks with both hands, he drove himself over the edge, calling out Blair's name, fingers squeezing the firm but pliant flesh under his hands as his completion mingled with Blair's.

For long minutes, there was no sound except their shared heavy breathing as they cuddled together, arms and legs around each other as they lay on their sides. Then Jim made himself move just enough to kiss Blair's cheek and nuzzle his curls.

"You're my partner, Blair... I always want you to be my partner," he said in a hushed whisper, pulling back and looking into sleepy blue eyes. "Always," he repeated, hoping Blair understood what he was trying to say.

"Life partners?" Blair whispered back, his lips moving against Jim's, sharing breath as he spoke.

"Life partners, sweetheart." Jim smiled at Blair's little grin.

"Absolutely, sugar muffin," Blair teased, nuzzling Jim's neck.

"Sugar muffin, huh?" Jim repeated, laughing.

"I'd call you 'stud muffin', but it would go to your head."

"Which one?" Jim countered, tickling Blair's side with a few dancing fingers, enough to make him laugh and jerk around to avoid them. "Blair, don't worry about the situation at the PD. We'll work it out, okay?" Jim said, becoming serious. He realized it had been far too long since he'd seen Blair really laugh, and even longer since he'd seen him relaxed.

"This isn't going to make things easier." Blair relaxed into Jim's arms again, letting out a long sigh.

"Nothing worthwhile is easy, Chief. You know that as well as I do. But it'll work out. Things have a way of falling into place."

"Did you mean what you said? Always?"

"Yeah, I did. You okay with that? This is sort of a 180 for you."

"I'm great with that," Blair responded, grinning widely.

"Then it's settled." Jim sealed the deal with a long kiss. "One permanent partnership formed," he announced, settling down and closing his eyes, sleepy and relaxed in the afterglow, glad to share the same breath with the man held close in his arms.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Is a 180 better than a 69?" Blair asked, and Jim could feel the grin against his chest.

"Say goodnight, Blair."

"Goodnight, Blair," came the expected reply.

The ringing of the telephone was an unwelcome intrusion that jarred Jim out of a deep sleep. He glowered at Blair momentarily, envious that he could sleep through the phone ringing. The glower turned to a smile when he really looked at the sleeping face. Giving in to impulse, he leaned down and kissed the tip of Blair's nose before answering the phone. There was a smile in his voice as he watched Blair wrinkle his nose and frown in his sleep.

"Ellison."

"Jim... it's Dad. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, but that's okay. I need to get moving anyway. Anything wrong?"

"Not exactly. I was just reading this article in the paper about Eliot Jamison. That's a real shocker."

"I've heard a theory that wealthy white males commit the majority of the crimes in America." Jim flinched as Blair swatted his arm, obviously awake now.

"That's interesting, Jimmy. I'll have to keep an eye on my wallet when I go to the Club for lunch from now on," the elder Ellison shot back, matching his son's sarcasm.

"Did you know Jamison?"

"Everyone knew Eliot. The original Mr. Big Stuff. The staff at the Club genuflect when he walks in. Personally, I played a couple rounds of golf with the guy when we had the annual tournament last year... you could call him a casual acquaintance. I suppose I'm just snooping," he admitted.

"Are you close with anyone who was tight with Jamison?"

"We certainly have mutual acquaintances. Why?"

"The investigation into the theft is still open -- you know that from the paper. We're still investigating Jamison, looking for a possible link to someone inside the University."

"I see..." William was silent a moment. "You might want to talk to his ex-wife, Renee. Ex-wives usually have interesting tales to tell."

"I came across her name on the background check. Anybody else?"

"Well... oh, actually, Elaine Edwards would be a good person to visit. I've seen them at the Club together fairly often."

"Elaine Edwards? We're talking about Chancellor Edwards at Rainier?" Jim clarified, trading surprised looks with Blair.

"She and a few other administrators at the University have memberships at the Country Club as perks of their jobs. I've seen him with the guy who does the fund-raising out there a time or two -- along with half the fundraisers in Cascade high-end enough to hang out at the Country Club. His name is... oh, damn, it's John something, but I don't remember. Usually though, he's with Elaine Edwards."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Eating lunch... talking, I guess. Is that significant?"

"Given that the theft took place at the University, it could be very significant. Look, Dad, keep this conversation under your hat, huh?"

"Sure, no problem. You think Edwards is involved?"

"I'm sure of it. Frankly, the way she stuck up for Brad Ventriss when Blair had that whole grade dispute with him -- that stunk right from the get-go."

"First Norman Ventriss and Henry Nadine, now Eliot Jamison. Cascade's high tech industry is certainly going through a bizarre criminal brain-drain. Not to mention the fun it's creating on the stock market. That Jamison bastard just cost me about $5,000 last week in crashing stock values."

"I guess you have a vested interest in being my informant, then?" Jim asked, a bit of sarcasm in his tone. His father actually laughed.

"I'm expensive, but my tips are reliable."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. I never pay my snitches in full until their information checks out."

"How is everything... after all that... flurry with the, uh... with the press?"

"Quieting down, fortunately. You gotten anymore phone calls?"

"No, none -- well, a few after the press conference, but nothing significant." William paused a moment. "I better get going. I've got a breakfast meeting with a couple guys on the Board of Directors."

"I thought you were retired."

"I am, but that doesn't preclude bedeviling the current CEO off the record. Earnings have slipped, morale isn't what it used to be... I think I'm being asked to come in and kick some corporate ass as a major stockholder."

"Do I detect a little sadism here, Dad?"

"You detect a lot."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. Let me know what happens with the Jamison thing, will you?"

"I will. Bye, Dad." Jim hung up the phone and looked over at Blair, then smiled softly and lifted a couple of wayward strands of hair away from his lover's face.

"What did he say about Edwards?" Blair asked.

"Oh," Jim stopped, intercepted from his mission of homing in on Blair's lips. "That he's seen Jamison having lunch with her quite a few times at the Country Club and that they seem pretty tight."

"Isn't that interesting..."

"Sandburg, did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" Jim covered the somewhat startled, partially open mouth with his own, and felt the immediate response, Blair's arms sliding around him. When they parted, Jim asked, "Any regrets?"

"Yeah. That we waited almost four years to get here, and went through a lot of crap that we probably wouldn't have had to if we'd just communicated a little sooner."

"Can't argue with that logic," Jim responded, pulling Blair into a hug. "But we're here now."

"We sure are," Blair agreed, returning the pressure of the embrace.

Blair parked the truck in the visitor parking, and stared straight ahead for prolonged seconds, taking in the sight of the building in front of them. Finally, he sensed that Jim was watching him.

"You okay, Chief?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine."

"Do you know this guy very well?" Jim asked, referring to John Matthews, Rainier's Director of Development -- the man Jim's father had mentioned seeing with Jamison on one occasion.

"Just from seeing him at a few University functions."

"Think he'll talk to us pretty frankly, or not?"

"I don't know how he'll feel about me after the press conference. I didn't ever get the impression he was really tight with Edwards."

"Guess there's one way to find out." Jim got out of the truck, and Blair followed.

John Matthews was a man in his early sixties who had retired from his position as CEO of a major corporation in Seattle prior to accepting his current job leading the University's fundraising activities. Being of average height with receding gray hair and wire-frame glasses, dressed in an obviously expensive dark blue business suit, white shirt and tie, he certainly fit the mental image of an aging "corporate man".

Once his secretary had left the men to their meeting, he extended an offer of coffee, which both refused with thanks.

"Mr. Matthews, I'm sure you've been following the developments in the case regarding the theft of a drug formula from one of the University's labs."

"I think everyone around here has. Jamison being arrested was frankly a real surprise." He leaned back in his desk chair.

"Did you know Eliot Jamison well?" Blair asked.

"No, not well. I spoke to him about a gift to our current campaign for the new athletic building. Obviously, Norman Ventriss isn't going to be funding it as we originally thought, and we're left with what amounts to a very large hole on the south end of campus," he added, his voice breaking with a little chuckle. I approached Jamison about a naming gift -- a significant enough donation to put his name on the building, in other words. He was considering it at the time of his arrest." Matthews shook his head. "So far, this hasn't been a good capital campaign for us."

"Most of your major donors are behind bars at the moment," Blair added. "Makes you wonder where the common denominator is, doesn't it?"

"I take it you have some theory on that?" he prodded.

"How well do you know Elaine Edwards?" Jim asked.

"She's a colleague. I don't really know her socially or personally. She was instrumental in bringing us the Ventriss gift, and she did pave the way for my discussion with Jamison."

"How instrumental was she in the Ventriss gift?" Jim asked.

"All I had to do was visit his office and pick up the first pledge payment. Unfortunately, that was his last, as well."

"How many of your major donors have come to you via Chancellor Edwards?" Blair asked.

"There was Ventriss, Complexiom Software -- Henry Nadine's company, and then Jamison. She also provided a list of names for me to contact for the campaign. I just haven't made the calls yet."

"Would it be possible for us to have a list of those names?" Jim asked.

"Not without a subpoena, I'm afraid. Our donor records are confidential. It's not that I don't want to cooperate with the investigation, but there is an issue of trust here. I can't just hand you a listing of major prospects for purposes of a criminal investigation."

"If we return with a subpoena, can you assemble that information for us?" Jim persisted.

"If the request is an official one with the right paperwork, we'll be happy to cooperate any way we can."

"Thank you, Mr. Matthews."

"Thanks, John," Blair added, shaking hands with him after they had risen.

"I saw your press conference, Blair."

"I think a lot of people did," Blair said, a bit uneasy.

"That must have been difficult. Good luck to you in sorting that mess out."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Blair said, smiling a little.

"We'll be in touch with a court order," Jim added.

"I'll be here the rest of the day," he responded, not appearing the least bit unnerved by the prospect of forfeiting the records.

"What do you think?" Blair asked as they headed across the parking lot for the truck.

"He's being straight with us. We just need that court order to get that list."

Jim took another bite off the end of his piece of pizza while he scanned the list in front of him on the table. Blair joined him, bringing two fresh beers with him. The red tape had held them up all day, but finally, they had Chancellor Edwards' list of recommended donor prospects from the Rainier Development Office.

"Quite a list of names." Jim flexed his eyebrows. "Wonder what she had that all these folks wanted."

"Matthews said that when he got together with people she referred, it was always easy -- as if she'd laid all the groundwork for him. I guess all we need now is to go down the list and ask." Blair took a swig of his beer as Jim regarded him a bit skeptically. "Discreetely, of course."

"Of course."

"You know who we ought to show this list to, don't you?"

"Simon, first thing in the morning."

"Your dad."

"Why?"

"Oh, come on, Jim. He probably plays golf with half these guys. He might be able to give us some insight. He might even know what she could have on some of them."

"This is pretty sensitive information."

"All it amounts to is a list of rich people she thought would be good donor prospects. It doesn't prove anything negative about them just because they're on the list. I mean, maybe not all of them have anything to hide. Fundraisers do this all the time -- get lists of prospects, of rich people they can approach."

"Okay. We'll stop in there tomorrow and ask him to look it over." Jim looked back at the pizza, which was fast losing his interest, and then back at Blair. A long evening, just the two of them... "You still hungry?" Jim asked.

"No, man, I'm fine." Blair seemed oblivious to the intense gaze he was under until he looked up at Jim.

"You didn't move any of your stuff upstairs yet," Jim said, taking a hold of Blair's hand.

"We haven't been home all day," Blair responded, smiling. "Besides, I don't really need much in the way of clothes up there."

"I just wondered... you know, in the light of reality..." He shrugged. "Last night was kind of a heat of the moment thing, and I thought maybe --"

"You thought maybe I changed my mind?"

"You said yourself you've never been with a man before, and I wondered if, uh, maybe today... you had second thoughts."

"Actually, I did." Blair stood up, then surprised Jim by straddling his lap and draping his arms around Jim's neck. "My first thoughts were that your bed was a really beautiful place to wake up," he punctuated the statement with a kiss, "my second thoughts were that I loved you," another kiss, "and my third thoughts were that I finally had that brass ring for real." Blair kissed Jim a third time and then hugged him tightly, hanging on until the pressure of the embrace was returned. "I love you, you moron. Just 'cause I haven't put my socks in your dresser drawers yet doesn't change that."

"I think I need more proof," Jim said, pulling back, looking into Blair's eyes with a mischievous grin.

"Ever do it in the kitchen before?" Blair asked, running his hand down to find the bulge in Jim's pants, grasping it gently but firmly.

"First time for everything," Jim responded, pulling Blair down for another long kiss. "Relax, sweetheart," Jim said softly, moving his hand down to open Blair's belt. "If anything doesn't feel good, you tell me," he whispered against Blair's ear as he unzipped the fly of Blair's jeans and slipped his hand inside the boxers to find the firm heat there. Blair gasped and gripped his shoulder with one hand, the other moving back down to fumble with Jim's pants, their mouths coming together again as Blair's hand moved inside the open garment. Taking Jim's hardening length in his hand, Blair pumped it a bit tentatively.

"I don't know... I mean, it's gotta be really sensitive," Blair said, his voice a little uneven from the gentle, steady stroking he was receiving.

"Just do what you like to feel done to yours. I'll holler if you squeeze too hard," Jim reassured.

"I was kind of hoping you'd end up hollering anyway, if I'm doing it right."

"That's it, baby, firm and steady, just like that," Jim encouraged, using his free hand to pull Blair's head down for another searing kiss as they continued pumping each other in unison, the motions getting more aggressive, more passionate with each move. With a strained shout, Jim came, spattering Blair's shirt and open pants. Then, Blair's body jerked back with a cry, and then another spasm, and he was coming too, leaving traces of his completion over Jim and his disarrayed pants.

"Let's go upstairs," Blair whispered hotly against Jim's ear. "Get naked." A flick of the tongue around the shell.

"I hate to put a damper on the party, sweetheart, but my leg's throbbing like a bass drum right now."

"Oh no," Blair was up and off Jim in an instant, seemingly unconcerned that his pants were open, and spattered with come, and his lax, sated cock was hanging out the fly. "Did I hurt you when I sat on your lap?"

"No, but I think I've done all the rocking and wiggling I can do for a while and still walk tomorrow. Do I get a rain check?"

"Yeah, you sure do." Blair leaned in for another kiss. "How about the shower?"

"Now that I can do." Jim pushed up out of the chair and limped toward the bathroom with his lover, arm around his shoulders. "I don't think I've gotten it on my shirttails since I was about seventeen and doing it in the backseat," Jim joked.

"Then you haven't been hanging out with spontaneous, exciting lovers like me," Blair retorted. Jim stopped then, and took Blair by both shoulders.

"There's never been anybody else like you, Chief." Jim enjoyed the smile that earned him for a brief moment before covering it in a prolonged kiss.

Jim knocked on the front door of his father's house, and before long, Sally appeared on the other side.

"Jimmy! This is a surprise," she said, smiling widely. "Come in!" She ushered both Jim and Blair in quickly, closing the door on the rainy weather.

"Sally, this is Blair Sandburg. Blair, Sally."

"Great to meet you, Sally. Jim's said a lot of really nice things about you."

"I could say the same thing, Blair," she said, smiling and shaking hands. "Your father's on the phone in his study. If you want to wait in the living room, I'll tell him you're here. Or you could wait in the kitchen. I just took fresh cinnamon rolls out of the oven."

"You probably don't have to tell him anything, Sally. As soon as the smell reaches the study, he'll come out looking for them anyway," Jim said, chuckling a little.

"How is your leg?" Sally asked.

"Getting better. Still slow going, but it's getting there."

"Those cinnamon rolls smell really good -- maybe we should wait in the kitchen," Blair agreed, and the two of them headed back that way while Sally went to the study.

"Sally's a phenomenal cook, Chief. Men would go to war for one of these rolls," he said, pulling up a chair at the table while Blair did the same. There was a fresh pot of coffee next to the platter of sticky, freshly iced, warm cinnamon rolls.

"Maybe we should wait for your dad," Blair said, pouring coffee for Jim, and then for himself.

"Just don't take the corner piece or you'll be limping with the other leg," William said as he entered the kitchen. Grabbing another mug, he set it on the table and Blair filled it. "What brings you two over here -- or could you smell these from your apartment?" William ventured to joke, and Jim laughed.

"I knew there was something in the air this morning," he responded. "This is sort of a touchy issue, Dad, but Blair's convinced we should consult with you on this."

"Consult with me?" William frowned, then glanced at Blair, then back at Jim. "About what?"

"I figure you probably know most of the people we've got on this list -- or at least know of them -- and maybe you could give us some guidance on whom to approach first," Blair said. "But it's pretty touchy because they're all folks with potential links to Edwards -- maybe innocent links, but maybe not."

"I see. You know I wouldn't betray a confidence like that, Jim. I'm not about to go down to the Club and say, 'hey, guess who the cops are investigating next'."

"It's just very vital, given the potential for lawsuits here, that we keep this confidential."

"Jimmy, I ran a major corporation for over fifteen years, and spent over forty years in the corporate world. I understand the concept of confidentiality."

"I remember that. I was there," Jim responded, not missing a beat as he opened the manilla folder with the list inside and slid it over toward his father. "Recognize these names?"

"Most of them, yes. You probably remember a couple of these folks yourself. People who came to the house for social functions."

"Steven and I were usually upstairs for those after we'd been displayed for the right length of time."

William took his glasses out of his pocket and let the comment hang without response. He scanned the list closely.

"Carstairs, Grogan and Mahoney are all crooked as corkscrews. If they're up to something and Edwards knows it, they're not going to help the cops. Gallagher... I doubt he's got anything interesting to hide, unless he's got a loser kid he wants nudged through college -- which I suspect he probably does. I think that's how he got his degree -- his father bought a building. He's not too bright and his kid's an idiot. He'll probably have to buy two buildings."

"Do you remember his son's name?"

"Tyler, Tyrone, something like that."

"Tyler Gallagher... I know I've seen that name. I think he dropped one of my classes -- right after the Ventriss mess. I wonder if that was advice from Edwards?"

"Probably, since you'd already stood your ground against Brad," Jim agreed.

"Go talk to Bill Bartholomew. He's a good guy... I think if he realizes she's into criminal activity -- other than whatever it is she's got on him -- he'll come clean. The rest of these people I know casually, but not well enough to make any recommendations about how to approach them on something like this."

"Thanks, Dad. That helps a lot." Jim took the list back and tucked it inside the folder.

"Where do I turn?" Blair asked, heading down Bayview Drive, behind the wheel of the Ford pick-up. Jim was checking their list for the address.

"Cove Circle should be the next right," Jim said. "They're in #4."

"High rent district," Blair said, shaking his head. "Wonder if any of these people are going to come clean about what Edwards had on them?" Blair frowned. "You think Norman Ventriss or Henry Nadine might, if they could get a good word put in for early parole?"

"Ventriss, I doubt it. Nadine is a possibility. He strikes me as the more easily cracked of the two -- though he sure wasn't forthcoming about anything right down to sentencing."

"They wouldn't testify against their kids -- that's for sure. But you know, they might squeal on Edwards."

"Ventriss might do that more quickly now, because we know what she had on him -- protecting his fuck-up son until he got a degree. With Brad doing time for murder, Ventriss cooperating couldn't hurt his son any now."

The two men rode in silence for a while until Blair located the exclusive, tree-lined court that was Cove Circle. Surrounded by sprawling, expensive homes on all side, the '69 pick-up blazed its trail quite unapologetically to the crest of #4's circular drive. Jim and Blair got out and met at the door, where Jim banged the brass knocker three times and waited for a response. A uniformed maid answered the door.

"Cascade Police, to see Mr. Bartholomew," he announced, showing his badge.

"Please step in," the older woman invited, opening the door all the way and standing aside as they entered. She closed the door behind her, and though her first inclination seemed to be leaving them in the large entry area, taking note of Jim's cane, she led them into the nearby living room. "Have a seat, and I'll tell Mr. Bartholomew you're here."

"Thank you," Jim said with a slight smile, and they seated themselves in matching chairs, awaiting their audience with the home's owner. Within moments, a tall, distinguished man in his late 70's with a mop of thick white hair and silver glasses appeared in the doorway of the room. He wore dark pants, a gray sweater and a white shirt.

"Good morning, officers. How may I help you?" he said, as both men stood.

"I'm Detective Ellison, and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg. We're investigating the Jamison case -- I'm sure you've read about it in the papers."

"Very shocking situation, yes. Please, sit down. Job-related injury?" he asked, gesturing toward Jim's cane.

"Bullet wound, yes," Jim responded. "Luckily, the cane's temporary."

"Don't they give you leave for something like that?"

"Technically, I'm on leave, but I came back to work early because of this case -- so as you can see, it's a departmental priority."

"I can imagine. Would either of you like coffee?"

"No, thanks," Blair answered, and Jim agreed.

"I don't know Eliot Jamison personally -- oh, I've seen him at a function or two, but I really haven't gotten acquainted with him."

"Actually, sir, we're more interested in your contacts with Chancellor Edwards at Rainier."

"Why?" He frowned a bit, then narrowed his eyes. "Ellison -- you're Bill Ellison's son, aren't you?"

"That's right," Jim said, nodding. "About Chancellor Edwards-"

"I've certainly heard plenty about you. Best arrest rate in the department, or so I've been told."

"It's right up there," Blair chimed in, smiling at Jim proudly. Noticing Batholomew's somewhat surprised expression at what he must have thought was bragging, Blair added, "I'm a civilian consultant to the PD. The arrest record is Jim's."

"I see," the older man responded, nodding.

"Only on paper. Blair's definitely the other half of that record," Jim clarified. "Getting back to Edwards --"

"What is it exactly you want to know? She contacted me to lay the groundwork for a gift request from the fundraising guy out there -- Matthews, I think."

"Did she suggest any sort of incentive for that gift?" Jim asked, watching the other man intently. The pulse at the base of his throat became a bit more visible to Sentinel eyes, and his heart rate picked up.

"Such as?"

"That's what I'm asking you, sir. You see, Chancellor Edwards is a suspect in the Jamison case, and we have reason to believe that she may be engaged in some... illegal activity. None of that has been proved at this stage -- but we have to investigate every possibility."

"Of course."

"We already know that she brought in Norman Ventriss' support to the University in return for protecting his son from any obstacles on the way to his degree," Blair spoke up. "When I tried to enforce the academic code against Brad, she fired me. I was a teaching fellow at Rainier at the time."

"I remember hearing about that -- not the Ventriss situation, but the fraudulent dissertation. I'm a little surprised to see you are still working with the police department."

"I think we're getting off-track here, gentlemen," Jim spoke up. "My father has mentioned you in the past as a man he considered to have real integrity, and because of that, when I saw your name among the donors Chancellor Edwards recommended, I thought you might be willing to help us. I can guarantee you we'll use the utmost discretion in handling any sensitive information you might share with us."

There was a long pause while Bartholomew looked from one to the other.

"There's nothing I can do for you," he said flatly.

"Sir, you might want to keep in mind that when Chancellor Edwards is found out -- and I can promise you, she will be -- she's bound to have documentation of her activities somewhere. When all that's found and entered into evidence, it's going to come out anyway. Think of it as a less lurid version of the Hollywood Madame's date book. You'll be called on to testify at that point, and it won't be a request with any special attention to your privacy." Jim leaned forward in his chair. "Is there anything you would like to tell us, when you have the opportunity to cooperate? Obstruction of justice charges are not outside the realm of possibility if we find something."

"You're putting me in an impossible situation, Detective." The older man rose and started pacing. "If I tell you now, I break a very sacred confidence. If I don't, it could end up on the six o'clock news."

"I've been on the six o'clock news, Mr. Bartholomew. It's not a nice place to be," Blair said. "If you have something to tell us, we'll try to handle your situation with the most discretion possible."

Bartholomew turned from where he was leaning on the fireplace mantel and looked at Blair, as if he might have regretted the somewhat sharp remark he had made at the younger man earlier. He was a hair's breadth from being the next "scandal du jour" himself.

"My daughter graduated from Rainier about six years ago," he began. "She was a late in life child for my wife and me -- we adopted her, and I know we spoiled her. Looking back, we probably made every mistake in the book. She never worked a day in her life, had anything she wanted." He paused, rubbing his forehead. "In her senior year of high school, she started running with a rough crowd. They were drinkers, dope users -- it was all fast cars and wild parties. We tried to take a firm hand with her, but it was too late by then. She wasn't used to the word 'no'." He sat on the edge of the chair he had occupied before. "She started Rainier, and dropped out midway through her freshman year, but not before being arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct -- it wasn't a Cascade PD arrest, though -- it was handled through Rainier's campus police. Shortly after that, Chancellor Edwards contacted me to ask if I would like that incident erased from Julie's record. She was still enrolled at the time, though she probably wasn't attending her classes too often. I went in to meet with Ms. Edwards, and the result was that for a six-figure gift, and some... personal consideration, she made that incident report disappear somehow."

"What was the 'personal consideration'?" Jim asked.

"$10,000."

"Quite a consideration," Blair commented.

"She was still in college, and I thought maybe there was a chance to turn things around, and with that off her record..." He shrugged. "It didn't work out that way. Julie had an apartment near the campus -- she moved out of the house as soon as she started college. My wife and I didn't realize she'd developed a very expensive cocaine habit, and when I finally came down on her for the excessive sums of money she was asking for every few days, she dropped out of Rainier -- and basically out of sight. We even hired private detectives to look for her. We finally located her two years later, in Los Angeles. She was... prostituting herself to support her habit."

"Chancellor Edwards knew that?" Blair asked.

"No, not at the time. At least, we didn't think she did. We managed to get her back home -- dragged her screaming and kicking, literally, into a private drug rehabilitation clinic in Switzerland. After a year there, she was clean, and ready to go back to school and finish what she started. She returned home, lived with us, finished her degree, and turned her life around. She met a nice young man in her senior year, and they were married."

"Does he know about L.A.?" Jim asked.

"Yes, he knows. But he's a junior executive in a very prestigious firm, and Julie just got a new position as a PR person for West Coast Technologies. Chancellor Edwards has photos of Julie from her time in L.A. -- photos she... posed for. She had names of people she claimed were Julie's clients. She threatened to anonymously send those to the Cascade Herald, as well as to a couple of seedier tabloids."

"And in return, she wanted...?" Blair prodded.

"A $2,000,000 pledge to the new Technology Center that's in the planning stages at Rainier. I was informed that when Mr. Matthews contacted me, I was to make that pledge, payable over five years. I also was to send a $25,000 check to Ms. Edwards for her silence."

"Bringing in all those donations made her look really good to the administration," Blair said. "She rose through the ranks pretty fast, from being a financial aid advisor, to director of that department, to her current job -- I mean, we're talking a span of like, five or six years."

"About the time it took for her to garner several million dollars in support for the U." Jim sighed. "Mr. Bartholomew, please believe me that we'll do all we can to handle this discreetely. I'm not sure yet what Edwards actually has in her possession, and those items will end up as evidence. But I'll talk to the DA about using the utmost care with bantering names about, and I'll do my best to get every possible shield I can from press exposure."

"I appreciate that," he said. "You'll need my testimony?"

"A signed statement, yes. If it goes to trial, you'll be called on to testify, yes."

"Julie doesn't know anything about this --"

"I'm sorry to say that you had better call her, sir. I hope we don't have to involve her, and hopefully we can keep her name out of the press, but it's best if she be prepared."

"Right."

"Would your wife have anything to add that might be helpful?"

"She passed away two years ago," he said.

"I'm sorry," Jim responded, rising and tucking his notebook in his pocket. "Would this afternoon be convenient for you to come downtown?"

"Around two o'clock?" Bartholomew clarified.

"That would be fine, sir. I can send a car for you."

"No, I have a driver. I'll be there."

"Thank you. I know this is very difficult." Jim extended a hand and the other man shook it.

"It is, but if she's doing this to a lot of people, she has to be stopped. My God, a man died thanks to the shenanigans of that Ventriss boy."

Jim obtained search warrants for Chancellor Edwards' home, car and office. Jim, Blair, Megan and Joel coordinated the effort, with Joel supervising the home search, Megan taking charge of the car, and Jim and Blair arriving at Rainier University about four in the afternoon to search the Chancellor's office, with two uniformed campus cops in tow.

"Detective Ellison, what is the meaning of this --" Edwards stood in the doorway to her office, briefcase in hand, obviously returning from an afternoon meeting.

"Read it and weep, Chancellor," Jim said, tossing the warrant on her desk. "I must say, we've found a few items of interest in your files. I'm sure your home files will be even more enlightening."

"You better prepare yourselves for one hell of a lawsuit, gentlemen," she snapped angrily as she glanced at the warrant on the desk before taking her usual seat behind it, in an attempt to regain command of her office. "And what is he doing here, going through my files? The Cascade Police Department can't be that hard up for personnel."

"I'd watch the insults if I were you," Jim responded. "Blair will probably end up testifying against you before this is over."

"Detective Ellison?" Chancellor Edwards' secretary stood in the doorway to the office. "Phone call for you."

"Thank you." He turned and headed out to the reception area to take the call.

"This is some kind of horrible mistake!" she exclaimed, rising out of her chair. "I demand to speak to my attorney!" She paused, realizing that Jim had no interest in her outburst as he was already on the phone at the secretary's desk. "You did this," Edwards said, shooting a venomous look at Blair.

"No, you did this," Blair retorted. "You twisted and perverted everything decent Rainier stood for. I think it's safe to say that you've embarrassed this University for the last time," he concluded.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" she accused Blair as Jim returned to the office.

"Actually, I think it's really sad. This is a good University, and now all anyone's going to associate with it is a lot of sordid scandal. No, I don't enjoy that at all."

"Elaine Edwards, you're under arrest for blackmail and extortion. You have the right to remain silent --"

"On what evidence?" she demanded.

"On evidence recovered from your safe at home, and from a safe deposit box at Cascade Savings and Loan, and the sworn statement of one of your victims. We expect more evidence in the future, but that's what we've amassed for openers. As I was saying, you have the right to remain silent," Jim moved toward her with cuffs at the ready.

"Is that really necessary?" she complained.

"It's procedure, ma'am," Jim responded calmly, continuing to read her rights. "Let's go," he said sternly, taking the prisoner by the arm and moving her along toward the door.

Staff and administrators were gathering in the hall to watch the procession of two campus cops, Jim with his prisoner, and Blair bringing up the rear. The University President intercepted them before they reached the elevator.

"I'm Donald Franklin, President of Rainier University," he announced, stepping in front of Jim.

"Detective Ellison, Casacade PD," Jim responded evenly. "If you'll step aside, please, we have a prisoner to transport."

"On what charges are you arresting Chancellor Edwards?" he demanded.

"Blackmail and extortion for openers, but we have the feeling a few more will be added soon. You had better get your administrators together and tell them to brace themselves for a full investigation. It's doubtful that Ms. Edwards was operating alone. Now, if you'll excuse me --"

"You're implying our entire administration is corrupt. That's a very serious charge, Detective."

"I'm not implying anything, sir. It's merely a warning -- there will be a full investigation of this University's faculty, staff and administration. If you have further questions, you can contact Captain Banks, Major Crimes, Cascade PD. Now, if you'll excuse us." The other man stepped aside as they passed, finally reaching the elevator and heading down to the first floor.

"You're going to regret this, Detective," Edwards said ominously as they all rode down in the elevator.

"This isn't a good time to level threats, Edwards. It would be an excellent time for you to be quiet."

With Edwards loaded in a waiting police car, Blair drove the truck behind it en route to the station.

"I thought this would be a really big moment, you know?" Blair said a bit wistfully. "I thought I'd be really... well, just like she said -- enjoying it. Somehow now, it just feels empty. The lousy press the U is going to get because of what she's done..." Blair shrugged. "Right on the heels of my mess with the diss... and all those people who were prospective donors who probably won't be now. It's just going to make for a really bad time for Rainier."

"They've been around a lot of years, Chief. They'll survive." Jim rested a hand on Blair's knee. "I think their biggest loss here was you," Jim said quietly. "After the way they treated you, you're still worried about the future of this place."

"Rainier didn't do that. Chancellor Edwards did it... and then I did it with the whole dissertation mess."

"You had help with that particular disaster, Chief."

"Yeah, but it ended well," Blair said, looking at Jim briefly, nothing but love in his eyes.

"It sure did." Jim moved his hand up and squeezed Blair's neck.

Seated at a table in an interrogation room with Elaine Edwards and her attorney, Jim and Joel conducted the questioning. Finding that she was unwilling to admit to anything in connection with the Bartholomew case, upon the constant coaching of her lawyer, Jim moved on to another topic.

"Ms. Edwards, you're facing some very serious charges. It would be --" Jim paused as the door to the room opened and Megan poked her head inside.

"May I see you a moment?" she asked Jim.

"Excuse me." Once they were outside the room, Jim grimaced. "I hope this is important."

"I think it is. Carl Madison -- or Martins or Marquez, take your pick -- was just picked up outside of Tacoma. They're transporting him here now. Should be arriving in about a half hour." She paused, then handed Jim a thick hanging folder. "I thought you might also find this of interest. From Ms. Edwards' personal files at home. Inside you'll find plans for the security system, a number of assorted photographs and other sordid little tidbits on half the elite of Cascade. Looks like she had quite a blackmail business going on. And, there are a number of checks drawn against her personal account made payable to one Clifford J. Martins. From the looks of this, Martins was working for Edwards, not Jamison -- she got the job done for Jamison using her henchman, apparently -- Jamison only made the final payment -- a big one since the job was so high-risk."

"And then he paid her off."

"There is a rather tidy deposit made to the same account not two days after the theft."

"Not too discreete, was she?" Jim observed, flipping through the contents of the folder, the corners of his mouth curving upward.

At the sight of the folder and its contents, Elaine Edwards was initially as reticent as she had been all along. Upon hearing the news that "Clifford J. Martins", a.k.a., Carl Madison, was en route back to Cascade, in custody, her resolve cracked just a bit. With a little more pressure, she admitted to the blackmail and extortion business she had established during her tenure at Rainier. Starting with a simple money-for-grades deal with a wealthy parent several years earlier, the little enterprise had escalated into a lucrative business. The theft of the formula was the most daring and overt of the illegal conduct, but it was certainly not the first.

Her statement implicated three additional Rainier staff members -- a campus cop who assisted her in getting Jamison and Madison the information they needed on the security system, a soccer coach who had received a cut of one of her payoffs for keeping a donor's belligerent son on the team -- and good old Sidney, head of the Department of Anthropology, who had greased the academic wheels for Blair's downfall both with Brad Ventriss and regarding the dissertation situation. Blair had been making too many noises about money buying grades -- remarks that had hit way too close to home. When he admitted on the air that his research was fraudulent, they had bent every effort to make the consequences he faced at Rainier the most stringent possible.

With Chancellor Edwards freely providing all information to the police, the district attorney was working with her attorney in determining what, if any, relief this would earn her in terms of her charges. She had seized the moment to squeal on Madison before he could squeal on her. Despite any slight consideration this might earn her, it was obvious that she would be spending a number of years behind bars, and that her career at Rainier was finished.

Jim was relieved when the interrogation was finally over, the statement typed and signed. He rejoined Blair at their shared desk in the bullpen and sat next to where the other man was using the computer to answer some of Jim's backed-up e-mail.

"Signed, sealed and delivered." Jim tossed a copy of the statement on the desk in front of Blair. "She sang like a canary."

"Wow, I guess so," Blair said, scanning the pages in front of him. "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, your old pal Sidney had his own little part to play in things. Rafe and Connor are on their way over to arrest him right now, while Brown and Taggert are picking up the campus cop. The soccer coach is on vacation in Florida this week, so we're waiting to hear back from the Miami PD that he's been picked up."

"Oh, man." Blair ran his hands back through his hair, holding it back away from his face for a long moment before releasing it with a sigh. "They were willing to destroy my career -- my whole academic future -- just because I made some remarks about their priorities." Blair closed the cover of the manilla folder containing the statement. "The scandal's going to kill the U's fund drive. Matthews wasn't kidding about the Ventriss building -- they had the hole dug, and had to send the crew home. It's just a big site with fence around it. They need that technology center... This just shoots the U's whole rep in the ass. Makes everyone who graduated from there feel... weird about saying so."

"Like people are going to wonder how they got their degrees?" Jim asked.

"Basically. I'm glad we nailed Edwards, but damn, I wish it didn't have to hurt Rainier like this."

"It'll recover, Chief. Scandals die down, life goes on. You want to get out of here and grab something to eat?"

"Yeah. I'm ready to be done with this day."

Jim was hesitant to relinquish sleep, but something was bubbling below the surface of consciousness now, pulling him out of the blissful oblivion back to reality. As soon as he identified that something as Blair's distressed voice and excessive wiggling next to him in bed, he opened his eyes and rolled over, working at gathering the agitated man in his arms. Blair struggled a little, but it was weak, and after a moment, the lines of distress were smoothed away from the beloved features until Blair's eyes fluttered open.

"Bad dream?" Jim asked, concerned, stroking hair that was damp with sweat back from Blair's face.

"Not bad exactly..." Blair wrapped his arms around Jim and snuggled against him. His breath came out against Jim's chest in warm puffs as he spoke. "I saw the wolf."

"Like the one you saw in the vision --"

"Yeah, just like that."

"You're shaking, honey," Jim said gently, holding Blair closer against him.

"The last time I saw the wolf, I was... dead."

"You're alive now, Chief. Healthy as a horse," Jim added, smiling and kissing the top of Blair's head.

"What if it means something? What if... what if I'm supposed to go back?"

"Go back?" Jim pulled back a little and looked down into Blair's worried face. "You mean to the other side?"

"When the wolf appeared before, it led me back to you. Maybe it was coming to lead me --" Jim put a hand over Blair's mouth.

"No. I don't know why you're dreaming about the wolf, but it's not that." Jim moved his hand and kissed Blair's lips, then the end of his nose.

"It means something."

"It means something, Chief -- most dreams do. But don't be afraid of it." Jim pulled him close again and rubbed his back in long, lazy strokes. "Try to relax." Jim was quiet a moment. "Just before Incacha died, when my senses shut down, I dreamed I shot the panther -- remember?" Blair nodded, and Jim continued. "It was all symbolic. Whatever this dream was, it's nothing you have to be afraid of. Just something we need to figure out."

"I don't understand what I'm supposed to get from it, that's all. When you dreamed about shooting the panther, you lost your sentinel abilities. Incacha died not long after that -- these dreams mean something."

"I agree. But all you saw was the wolf. You didn't see anything awful happen to it, did you?" Jim thought of his own dream of the wolf, of shooting it and then watching it morph into a very dead Blair, lying on the ground. Cuddling Blair close, feeling him calm a little, Jim determined this would not be the best time to share that particular vision with him.

"No... It was just... sort of walking through the woods. Looking back at me like it expected me to follow it."

"So, tomorrow, you'll meditate on it a while. Do a little research on spirit animals. It'll look less ominous in the daylight."

"Yeah, I know. It just... it reminded me, you know? About before... about the fountain, and Alex, and all that... stuff."

"I know. All that's in the past, Chief." Jim was quiet a few minutes, just holding Blair, trying to relax him with the back rub. "Think you can sleep?"

"I think so. As long as you don't let go," Blair said with a smile in his voice.

"Never plan on doing that," Jim responded, hugging him tightly and settling in to resume their sleep.

Blair started the coffee and stuck a bagel in the toaster. Yawning and stretching, he padded across the loft and paused at the foot of the stairs.

"Jim, you want eggs or anything?"

"No, thanks, Chief. If there's a donut left, I'll eat that," Jim called back from the loft bedroom, where he was getting dressed.

Blair returned to the kitchen and looked in the donut bag. There was one crusty glazed thing lurking in there, and he knew Jim would smell it a mile away if he attempted to dispose of it and replace it with something healthy. He set the bag on the table. Everything was so normal... and yet still so different. So... unsettled. Classes at the academy loomed on the horizon, and with them loomed the day when he'd have to either bite the bullet and dive into it with both feet, whether it suited him or not, or simply keep his new job as a consultant -- which truthfully was not, in and of itself, a career position. He doubted that, knowing how he really felt at this point, Jim would stand by and let him do something that made him uncomfortable.

He was just rescuing his bagel from burning when the phone rang.

"Hello?" Blair used his free hand to pluck the second half of the bagel out of the toaster.

"Blair Sandburg?" a woman's voice inquired.

"Speaking."

"This is Lin Konoe, at Rainier University. I've recently taken over as Chancellor, and I've been reviewing your case. I was hoping to meet with you to discuss it."

"I'm not sure there's anything to discuss."

"I would like to meet with you if you're available... say, at 11:00 this morning?" She appeared to be artfully ignoring his objection entirely.

"That would be fine."

"I'll see you then." With that, she broke the connection.

Jim came down the stairs then, moving a little more swiftly now that he could put the cane aside. Still, steps required caution and a moderate pace.

"That was Edwards' replacement on the phone," Blair said.

"Oh?" Jim located his donut and took a bite.

"Yeah, she wants me to come in there and meet with her at eleven this morning."

"Huh." Jim shrugged. "You gonna go?"

"Sure. I want to know what she has to say. She said it was something about 'the situation' with my dismissal, that she wanted to discuss it." Blair sighed. "She used to be Assistant Dean in the College of Education -- guess she got a promotion."

"You know her?"

"No, never met her personally. When I was an undergrad, she was a professor -- secondary ed. I think her specialty was history. Anyway, I guess she moved up the ladder, because next time I saw her name in the directory, she had 'Assistant Dean' in there for a title."

"You, uh, want company?" Jim asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He smiled as Blair ducked under his arm, waiting until the coffee pot was set aside to angle his way up for a kiss.

"Do you have time to do that? I know there's a ton of paperwork backed up and the clean-up on the Jamison thing --"

"I'll make time for it." Jim pulled Blair into his arms and kissed him again. "Always have time for you, Chief."

"I'd kind of like the moral support. Getting raked over the coals by another administrator isn't my idea of a fun morning," Blair said, snorting a little laugh.

"Maybe she isn't looking to rake you over the coals. Think positive, huh?"

"I'm trying, Jim." Blair rested his head on Jim's shoulder, soaking up the warmth of the hug. "I'm glad you're gonna be there," he said quietly.

"Hey, I'll pick you up around 10:30, we'll go get this taken care of, and I'll buy you lunch."

"I love you," Blair said, squeezing tighter.

"I know. Right back at ya, Chief."

Blair sat in the reception area in front of the Chancellor's office. Jim was talking about something, but for the life of him, Blair couldn't think of what it was. //Now that's a switch... he's rattling on and I'm zoned out.// Still, it was all Blair could do to sit still there, let alone listen to anything.

"Chief?"

"Hm?" Blair started a little, guiltily, and looked Jim in the eyes.

"Try to take more than surface breaths. You'll feel better. You're the deep breathing expert here, Darwin. You know better."

"I ought to," Blair agreed, smiling and shaking his head. Just then, a stocky man of medium height with graying brown hair and glasses walked up to the secretary's desk several feet away. Dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and tie, Blair barely recognized him. The last time he'd seen him, he'd been in a t-shirt and jeans, up to his armpits in sand, extracting an artifact from a dig site in the Fiji Islands. "Jim." Blair took a hold of Jim's forearm where it rested on the arm of the chair.

"What?" Jim turned his attention away from the man at the desk.

"Do you know who that is?" Blair asked in a breathy whisper.

"Should I?"

"That's Eli Stoddard!" Blair stated emphatically.

"The guy who wanted you to go to Borneo?"

"That's the one."

"Blair Sandburg," Stoddard greeted, turning away from the secretary and heading over to where the two men sat. Both stood, and Stoddard shook hands with Blair. "It's been a while."

"Eli -- this is really a surprise. What brings you to Rainier?" Blair asked. "Oh, Eli, this is my partner, Ji--"

"Ellison, yes, I saw you on the news." Stoddard shook hands with Jim, giving him a bit of a lingering look that was a little disconcerting -- as if Stoddard knew exactly what Jim really was. Or maybe he just had a hard time believing his protege was capable of fraud...

"Blair's told me a lot about you," Jim said, smiling slightly.

"Well, you're still smiling, so he must not have told you everything about me," Stoddard quipped. "Actually, you'll be seeing a lot of me around here now. I just accepted the position as Chair of the Anthropology Department."

"I'd say congratulations, but I think I ought to congratulate them. I mean, to get someone of your stature --"

"Someone of my stature who's tired of digging around in the dirt and traveling all over the globe. I've been everywhere twice, Blair. I'm not as young as I used to be. Settling down at a good university that has a reputation for supporting faculty research is just right for me."

"Certainly a step up from their last department head," Jim added, shaking his head. "You've heard all the news about how your predecessor lost his job, I assume."

"In painful detail from a number of colleagues. God, get a bunch of academics together at a conference and they generate more gossip than a ladies' quilting bee. That's how I learned about the vacancy, and I contacted Don Franklin -- he's a former colleague of mine from my stint at SUNY -- before he took the job of President here -- and they flew me out here to discuss it."

"That's really great. Man, this is just the sort of shot in the arm Rainier needs." Blair paused as the door to the Chancellor's office opened, and an attractive, middle-aged Asian woman with upswept dark hair, wearing a beige business suit, stood before them.

"You may come in now, gentlemen," she said, smiling.

"I'll go grab some coffee down the hall and see you in a few, Chief," Jim said quietly, resting a hand briefly on Blair's shoulder. "Relax, okay?" he whispered before moving away. Blair nodded and smiled, then turned to walk into Chancellor Konoe's office, surprised that Eli was joining them.

"I'm Lin Konoe," she said, extending a hand toward Blair, who shook it. "Eli," she greeted with a smile. "Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing toward the two chairs opposite her desk. "Now, about your dismissal, Mr. Sandburg." She put on a pair of small, gold wire-framed reading glasses and opened a manilla folder. "Dr. Stoddard has brought to my attention that he was a mentor of yours during your undergraduate work, and that he found your skills in the field, as well as in your written work, to be exemplary."

"Thank you," Blair responded, then glanced sideways at Eli with a slightly confused smile.

"Based on your academic record and your publication record, I'm inclined to agree. Your attendance record is a little spotty, but based on teacher evaluations by your students, they haven't suffered for it. Furthermore, you have a very low fail-rate." She looked up from the written material in front of her with a smile. "Which either means you have low standards or exceptional dedication to teaching your students. Dr. Stoddard assures me that the former is unthinkable and the latter is likely."

"The students are very important to me, Dr. Konoe. I know I have some... well, more absences than what I probably should, but I never left a course uncovered, and I've always tried to make myself available to help students who needed it."

"The big issue here is the fraudulent research." She took off her glasses and set them on top of the folder. "Chancellor Edwards dismissed you on the grounds that you had not turned in anything on your dissertation in three years -- which I must admit, I do find a bit troubling -- that the research you were allegedly working on you admitted was falsified, and that your conduct violated not only the terms of your fellowship, but also that your fraudulent research was grounds for full academic dismissal."

"Chancellor Konoe, with all due respect, I've been through this once already."

"Just be patient, Blair," Stoddard counseled calmly.

"Dr. Stoddard's first official act as Department Chair was to review your file and bring it to my attention, strongly suggesting I do the same. He has brought up several valid points, which is why I called you here today. First of all, I'm not inclined to reinstate your fellowship. There were explicit academic guidelines and standards you were expected to meet in order to retain that position, which you frankly did not meet -- specifically, making substantial, tangible progress on your dissertation, as well as the fact that you were less than truthful and forthcoming with your committee regarding your research. The fact remains that your record still indicates you were researching Sentinels, and now you claim that research was not at all valid. Your committee only learned of this via your press conference." She paused, regarding Blair with a somewhat intent, but slightly unreadable expression.

Blair felt himself flushing, and felt that sick heaviness in the pit of his stomach. Knowing he had Eli's support had at first made him feel uplifted, and given him some hope. Now he merely felt dressed down again, reminded of all the black marks on his academic record.

"However, Dr. Stoddard assures me that this whole situation is inconsistent with what he considers your usual standards of ethics and honesty. I'm a bit puzzled about this, Mr. Sandburg. You invested a considerable amount of time in working with Detective Ellison, and apparently you still are working with him, and yet you claim none of your research with him was valid."

"It was a mistake on my part. I thought he... fit the profile, but I was wrong." Blair looked down at his folded hands in his lap. Lying outright about what and who Jim was had been bad enough the first time around. Now it nearly physically stuck in his throat. "Jim and I became friends and we enjoy working together, so I stayed on with him. I got a little carried away with writing up the dissertation, and then it was e-mailed to the publisher in error, and the situation just snowballed."

"I see." She didn't move her gaze from Blair for another moment, and then with a quick sideways flick of the eyes at Eli, she continued. "While it's true that not turning in any tangible written material on your dissertation is what is ultimately costing you your fellowship, that same situation makes your academic dismissal far too severe a penalty. You never submitted anything fraudulent to the University, or to your committee. You researched Sentinels, but you never shared any tangible results of that research with us -- falsified or otherwise. Your academic record is otherwise flawless."

"Thank you -- but I --"

"Blair, we would like to reinstate you into the Ph.D. program," Eli said, cutting to the chase. "Obviously, you would need to determine a new dissertation topic to be approved by a new committee. You and I will consult on the choice of that committee."

"In other words, Mr. Sandburg, you most definitely did violate the terms of your fellowship, but you did nothing to warrant further disciplinary action than the revocation of that fellowship." She paused. "We would reinstate your graduate student status, and you would be free to register as usual at the start of the next semester."

"I don't know what to say." Blair felt his throat constrict a little, and he cleared it, working hard to maintain his composure. There were no words for how it felt to have another opportunity at his Ph.D. -- and his academic self-respect -- handed back to him.

"After you've been back with us for a semester, I see no reason why you couldn't apply for research grants. I happen to know that I will be needing some quality help for a couple of -- hopefully -- grant-funded projects of my own, and I'm sure other faculty in the department have similar needs."

"I would be honored to return to the doctorate program," Blair said, smiling. "Thank you both for reviewing my case."

"On behalf of Rainier University, I apologize for the manner in which you were treated by Chancellor Edwards. She didn't have solid grounds for academic dismissal, and it's most obvious she had reasons that were anything but ethical. That's in the past now, and I can assure you that the... administrative practices previously carried out in this office will not be in effect any longer. This is a quality institution, and I intend to do my utmost to ensure that it lives up to that reputation -- well, and hopefully, lives down the reputation it's been building in the press lately." She stood, and so did both men. "If you'll excuse me, I have a luncheon meeting to attend. You and Dr. Stoddard can work out the details of your reinstatement and your dissertation topic. It was a pleasure meeting you," she said, walking around the desk and shaking hands with Blair again.

"Likewise -- and thank you," Blair said sincerely, smiling brightly.

Outside in the waiting area, Jim sat dutifully, thumbing through a magazine. Blair excused himself from Eli a moment and walked over to where his partner sat. "Well?" Jim asked, standing.

"Did you hear any of it?"

"No, Chief, I didn't. Scout's honor," Jim added, smiling.

"Well, I'm still not a teaching fellow anymore," he said, then he grinned broadly, "but I'm back in the Ph.D. program!" he blurted, unable to keep up the charade for even a second. Jim grabbed Blair in a bone-crushing hug.

"Yes." It was more solemn than a cheer, a quiet, firm word that held all the happiness in the world. "Congratulations, Chief." Jim let go and stepped back, refraining from the obvious impulse to kiss Blair breathless just from the joy of the moment.

"A lot of it was Eli's doing," Blair said as Stoddard moved closer now, having paused to speak with Dr. Konoe's secretary.

"Blair is too valuable an intellectual resource in this field to toss him out on his ear. Call me in the next few days and we'll get together to outline your research plans."

"I will. Thanks again, Eli. You don't know what this means to me."

"I think I do. Nice meeting you, Detective."

"Same here." Jim shook hands with him again before the other man took his leave.

"You said something about buying me lunch?"

"Well, seeing as this is a special occasion, would you settle for driving through WonderBurger this noon, and going someplace special tonight?"

"How special?" Blair prodded as they walked down the hall toward the elevator.

"A three-figure check and a roving violinist?"

"Wow. You planning to get lucky or something?"

"Or something," Jim quipped, pressing the button for the elevator.

Happy that it opened immediately, and empty, both men stepped inside. In the relative privacy of the enclosed space, Blair pulled Jim into another enthusiastic hug.

"I feel like I've got everything I ever wanted."

"I know the feeling," Jim responded, kissing Blair's temple.

As the two men walked across campus to the truck, Jim still favoring his leg a bit, he asked an inevitable question.

"So, since you're not doing the Sentinel project anymore, you'll be needing another subject, right?" Jim asked.

"Actually, I have one in mind -- even have a few preliminary outline ideas on it." Blair worked hard to suppress a grin.

"Really?"

"The Thin Blue Line." Blair smiled as Jim laughed. "What?" He asked, feigning shock at Jim's reaction.

"You're serious? Simon didn't buy that little song and dance of yours the first time around, Chief. You expect it to fly now?"

"Yeah, I do. See, I can do some interesting things with The Thin Blue Line concept -- IA, crooked cops, conspiracies in the department... I've got some magnificent field study material to work with." //You are so easy,// Blair thought, gloating for the split second before all Jim's Sentinel abilities would become tuned in to his vital signs and figure him out for sure. "Yeah, even the ones who are giving me the cold shoulder are going to end up in my research." Blair grinned.

"Right," Jim responded, nodding with a little smile on his face.

//Shit, he's onto me now...//

"Trouble is, I still need more. I actually need to work among cops... maybe ride with one... to get a real look at my subjects in action. Could take years to gather all the data I need."

"I see. Only thing is, I don't know many cops who're gonna want to ride around with the nutty professor taking notes on everything they do," Jim teased.

"For the right cop, I might consider providing sexual favors in return for him putting up with me," Blair quipped, opening the passenger door of the truck and climbing in as Jim took his seat behind the wheel.

"I think I know a guy I could pair you off with. He's pretty lecherous, though." Jim started up the engine. "Might take advantage of you at any time." Jim drove out of the parking lot and headed down the campus street toward the dormant construction site begun for the Ventriss building. A nice, secluded, desolate place where a truck could park, obscured by a couple large piles of dirt. "You know, pull off the road somewhere and try to have his way with you."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Blair responded, laughing as Jim moved across the seat, pulling him into an embrace, nipping and licking at a patch of exposed throat, preparing to leave a glaring passion mark, fingers working the buttons on Blair's shirt. Then Jim paused, moving away a little.

"So this ride-along thing... what kind of timeline are we talking about here?"

"One week, man, and I'll be out of your hair," Blair said, then grinned broadly before they both started laughing.

"Seems like I heard that old song someplace before."

"That a complaint?" Blair asked, his smile softening as he caressed the side of Jim's face.

"Never," Jim said, kissing the full lips gently. Moving away, he added, "There's just one favor I need to ask you, Chief. When we talk to Simon, don't mention IA and crooked cops."

"Look, Jim, trust me. I know how to present --"

"Don't hand me that 'I'm an expert at thesis-speak' crap again, Sandburg. Last time I let you do the talking, I had to tell Simon you were my loser cousin the career student. This time, let me do the talking."

"Sure, Jim, absolutely. Whatever you say," Blair responded, then broke into a mischievous grin. Jim laughed out loud, pulling Blair back into his arms.

"That'll be the day."