"The Sentinel" is the property of those holding legal copyrights to the shows or their characters and stories. No money is changing hands on these stories, and they are written for the sole purpose of entertaining other fans and sharing with friends. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story has been in the works for a year and a half, and there were times when I despaired of ever finishing it. Without the following friends' encouragement, this story would've languished half completed on my hard drive forever: Dolimir, Autumn, Alyjude, Belinda, Beth, Jo Ann, Kira, Susan, and Tricia. Thank you all so much for your invaluable feedback!

One of my favorite TS stories is "Detour" by Emily Brunson. I absolutely adored her proud but vulnerable Jim. One day while listening to Barry Manilow's "Keep Each Other Warm" the idea for "Harbor of My Heart" hit me. It has a Jim Ellison reminiscent of Emily's in "Detour" -- lost, hurting, but still the sentinel -- still the protector. In steps Blair Sandburg, who is also a protector in his own right, but also alone and lonely. "Harbor of My Heart" is the story of these two diverse men who learn how to trust and love.

"Come sail into my arms, the harbor of my heart, and trust that love is all we need to keep each other, keep each other warm." Keep Each Other Warm sung by Barry Manilow

PROLOGUE

It was too late.

The moment he stepped into the condemned warehouse, he knew. The odor filled his sensitive nostrils with the all too-familiar stench of death. He dropped to his knees beside her.

"Mommy's sick," one of the two identical blond girls exclaimed from beside him, her lower lip trembling.

The man struggled against his anger toward the mother of the young twins; anger for leaving her daughters with this final memory. He could smell the acrid scent of the drug as it invaded the woman's body, slowing her heartbeat and respiration. If he suspected she had any chance at all, he would have called for help and damned the consequences. But she was minutes from death and on some elemental level the five-year-olds also recognized the grim reaper's sinister approach.

The woman's pale eyelids fluttered open and her pupils were dilated, covering most of the bluish-gray irises. She raised a thin arm and the needle marks were plainly visible as harsh bruises against her white skin and shallow blue veins. "J-Jim..."

The man named Jim lifted her shoulders and head into his lap as the twins knelt on either side of him. "I'm here, Dee."

He could see her battle to focus on his face and recognized the moment when she won the tiny victory. She managed to lift a trembling hand and rested it against his cheek -- her palm was ice cold. His anger fled to someplace black and deep within his chest. "Why?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Self-hatred flashed across her waxen features. "S-So hard to f-forget. Tried to, b-but couldn't."

Jim knew what she referred to -- the pain of betrayal and the horror of rape by someone she had trusted and loved when she was little more than a child. He glanced at the twins, still amazingly innocent in spite of the fact they had spent most of their lives living on the streets or in cockroach-infested apartments.

He steeled himself and turned his attention back to the girls' mother. "I know, honey, I know."

Her faltering gaze slid across her daughters and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh G-God, I'll m-miss my b-babies." Dee's expression grew frantic and her muscles tightened. She clutched Jim's shirt front with skeletal fingers. "T-Take care of them, Jim. Please." The last word was both a plea and a benediction.

Jim's throat closed and he nodded jerkily. "I'll treat them as my own. I swear."

The woman, only nineteen years old, appeared thirty years older. The years of doing what she had to in order to survive had taken their toll. But now Dee's expression relaxed, as if Jim's promise had given her the peace she had lost so many years ago. "Thank you," she whispered, then closed her eyes. After two more rattling breaths, her heart ceased beating.

There was a long moment of silence before Jim became aware of a small, warm hand on each of his shoulders. He took a deep ragged breath and blinked away the moisture in his eyes. "Your mommy's gone to heaven." It took almost more strength than he possessed to say those words.

There were no screams or cries, but the children's stillness was even more disarming. Jim lay Dee's body on the warehouse floor and put an arm around each of the girls. They fell against him and Jim held them close, smelling their salty tears as their small bodies shook with mute sobs.

"We're family now and I'll take care of you," Jim whispered. "I promise."

TWO WEEKS LATER

The Major Crime detective trudged into the bullpen as he rubbed his gritty eyes. Three weeks straight of eighteen-hour days were beginning to take their toll on his physical and mental energy. An average of four hours of sleep a night might have worked five years ago, but not anymore.

"Sandburg, my office! Now!" Captain Simon Banks shouted from his doorway.

Detective Blair Sandburg groaned and Rafe gave him a sympathetic pat on the back as Blair passed him and his partner Henri Brown.

"Maybe he's going to give you a day off," Brown said.

"Yeah, and maybe it won't rain tomorrow," Blair retorted over his shoulder.

The long-haired detective knocked on the door frame once and slipped into Simon's office. The smell of some exotic coffee wafted around him and made his taste buds stand up and take notice.

"Close the door," Banks ordered.

Blair lowered himself into the hot seat in front of the captain's desk as Simon set a cup of fresh coffee in front of him.

"Thanks, Captain," Blair said. He closed his eyes and took a sip. "Ahhhhhh -- almost orgasmic."

When the young detective opened his eyes, he caught the glint of tolerant amusement in Banks' usually stern expression. "Probably as close as you've come in a while."

Blair snorted. "If my boss would give me some time off, I might get lucky -- " he grinned, " -- and get some sleep."

Simon leaned back in his chair and took a drink from his own cup. "I remember a time I would've chosen a woman over sleep. But it's been awhile. How many classes are you taking this semester?"

"Started with two, but I dropped one." He shrugged negligently, his curly hair brushing his shoulders. "Couldn't keep up with both them and the job."

Simon grimaced apologetically as he eyed his youngest detective. "You should have said something. I could've assigned the arson case to someone else."

"No, sir, this is my job and I'm damn good at it," the younger man stated matter-of-factly and without vanity. "This arsonist has murdered two people already." His eyes hardened uncharacteristically. "Even if they only lived on the street."

Banks stiffened. "I have never treated one victim differently than another. Each one deserves our best efforts to find his or her killer."

Blair let out a gust of breath and his shoulders slumped. "Shit. I know that, Simon. It's not you I'm mad at. It's the whole fucking system that -- " For one of the rare times in his life words failed him and he merely ended with a helpless shrug.

Simon heaved a long sigh, his defensiveness draining away. "I know. It's our superiors who play the game and you know what they say about shit rolling downhill .... " He aimed an unlit cigar at Blair. "Don't you ever let me get caught up in that political bullshit. And that's an order, Sandburg."

Blair smiled crookedly at his boss and friend. "Yes, sir."

"Do you ever wish you would've stayed at Rainier instead of joining the force?" Simon asked after a few moments of companionable silence as they sipped hot coffee.

Blair shook his head without hesitation. "No, sir. As much as Naomi hated authority figures, I think even she would've agreed with my decision." Sadness shadowed his eyes, turning them a midnight blue. "I can't believe it's been three years since she was murdered."

"And nearly that long since you went to the academy and graduated at the top of your class," Simon added. "For what it's worth, I think you're going to make a damn fine professor, but you're already a helluva cop."

Blair smiled, but his thoughts remained on his mother and the serial killer who had claimed her as one of his victims. Simon Banks had been the homicide detective in charge of the investigation. Grief-stricken, Blair had become obsessed with the case and had been instrumental in exposing the identity of the killer, coming up with a profile which had led to the man's capture. In fact, because of the arrest, Simon had been promoted to captain.

Blair and Simon had many talks during that time and it was during one of them Simon suggested he join the police force. At first Blair scoffed at the idea, but the more he considered it, the more it appealed to him. Although he abhorred guns, he loved to help people and as a cop, he could. His mind was also sharp enough to find clues in the most obscure evidence and information. So he processed through his natural aversion to guns and joined the force. Simon Banks had gone to bat for him and he was enrolled in the academy in less than a month. After a token three months as a uniformed patrol cop, Blair had been added to Simon Banks' department -- Major Crime -- and the younger man had never regretted his decision. He was also grateful he had never had to kill anyone in the line of duty. Yet.

With the current case, Blair was working with Debra Reeves, an arson inspector with the Cascade Fire Department, to track down the person responsible for the fires and deaths. He had worked with Debra a year ago on another case and the two of them had become friends -- not close, but as close as Blair let anyone except Simon Banks into his hermitic life.

"Any new evidence from the fire last night?" Simon asked.

Blair squeezed the bridge of his nose. "None. Debra said it was the same pour pattern and the same chemical accelerant used on the last three."

"Any leads with the accelerant?"

Blair shook his head. "Too common."

Simon grunted in comment. "Do you think there will be more fires?"

"Yeah, definitely. He's not going to stop until we stop him." The young detective shook his head and an unruly curl spilled across his brow. He brushed it back with an impatient hand. "The need is growing in him. There's less and less time between the fires -- there were only nine days between the last two; there were three weeks between the first and second. He's getting edgier, more impatient. He'll make a mistake and when he does, the bastard is ours." His passion extinguished as quickly as it had ignited, and Blair closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "Gods, I'm tired."

"Put in for vacation time after this case is wrapped up," Simon encouraged. "You haven't taken any time off since you started up here, except for the occasional three day weekend."

"Seems a waste of time when we're buried in unsolved cases. Besides, all I'd do is study."

"I'm serious, Blair. You're getting burnt out."

Blair opened his eyes and rolled his head so he could look at his boss. "Great choice of words there, Simon."

"Don't be a smart ass, Sandburg. You know what I mean."

Blair sighed, accustomed to Simon's curtness. "Yeah, I know, but there just doesn't seem to be any point. I have no personal life except for the few times we all go out for a drink at O'Shaunnesy's. Dating is a word I haven't used in months. My advisors want the first draft for my dissertation yesterday and I still haven't found a study subject."

"Is this still the sentinel thing?"

Blair straightened in his chair and his face lit with long absent enthusiasm. "There's got to be one out there somewhere, Simon. I just know it. The days I'm not here at the station, I'm conducting tests on subjects at the university. I've only found a few people with enhanced senses and with them it's only one or two senses."

"Like that coffee taster and perfume sniffer you were telling me about last month?"

Blair nodded. "I've searched for a sentinel nearly half my life. I can't stop now." His expression fell. "But I can't put off the committee for very much longer. Another week or two, then I'm screwed."

"Would it be so bad to do your dissertation on another subject?"

"I guess not, but my heart wouldn't be in it."

"Maybe you'll find your sentinel," Simon offered, though there was little conviction behind his words.

"Maybe." In spite of his previous enthusiasm, there was even less conviction in Blair's voice. He set his empty cup on Simon's desk. "I've got a few calls to make on the Carver case, then I've got class tonight."

Concern touched Simon's brown eyes and Blair knew his boss worried about him -- about the loner he had become since his difficult days at the police academy. Blair's personality was far from the norm of those who went into law enforcement and he was often the brunt of practical jokes, which he had endured with amazing equanimity. He hadn't joined the force because of some ego trip, but to help people, and he had decided early on no one would make him forget that.

Banks made a shooing motion with his hand. "Go get those calls made so you can get your butt out of here."

Blair smiled and stood. "Yes, sir." But his smile disappeared as soon as he spotted his desk overflowing with papers and files.

Blair unlocked his Expedition's passenger door and made a bowing motion to Karen Sutter. "Your carriage awaits."

Karen, a fellow graduate student who was in the same evening class as Blair, laughed and punched his arm, though her aim was a little off after more than her share of beer. Her fist grazed his jaw and Blair laughed. "I could arrest you for assaulting an officer."

Giggling, the brunette leaned into Blair's chest and unbuttoned a shirt button. "Please officer, I'll be good." Her voice became sultry. "Very very good."

Blair's libido liked that idea -- a lot -- as the blood headed south of his belt buckle. It had been a long time since he'd been laid, probably the longest dry spell since he had lost his virginity at fifteen. Karen was cute and sexy, and more importantly, she wasn't expecting anything more than a rollick between the sheets. But he did have one requisite which he doubted she'd pass -- he liked his dates to remember what they had done the next morning.

Blair captured her hands and helped her into the SUV. "Be a good girl and buckle up."

She pouted and Blair merely shut the door after making sure all her limbs were safely inside. He climbed in behind the wheel and buckled his own seatbelt then checked Karen's, finding it in place. After Professor Tomkin's dryer-than-dust three-hour lecture, Blair and four other classmates had decided to find a bar and debate the merits of various cultural mores and taboos, which had ended with a spirited and somewhat drunken discussion of odd sexual practices.

Blair drank only two beers, afraid that any more would merely put him to sleep rather than give him a pleasant buzz. He started the Expedition and pulled onto the nearly deserted street. He glanced at his watch -- 12:30 a.m. Damn! He had to be at the station at six thirty tomorrow -- today. Any more thoughts of accepting Karen's invitation were dispelled.

"That was fun," Karen commented, sounding slightly more sober.

"Yeah, it was," Blair said. "It got late, though."

She snorted. "The night's just starting."

"Maybe for you, but I have to be at work at six-thirty."

She turned clumsily in the seat to face him. "What's it like being a cop? Is it like some cosmic power trip?"

Blair gritted his teeth -- suddenly Karen didn't look so cute. "I'm a cop because I like to help people -- people who have nobody else to turn to."

"Oh, come on, Blair," she pleaded in a wheedling tone. "You can tell me."

In fact, Karen was starting to look downright homely. "I told you," he said somewhat impatiently. "It's never been a power issue."

The young woman crossed her arms and turned to stare out the front window. "Whatever."

The temperature in the vehicle dropped twenty degrees. Blair braked at a red light and opened his window to breathe in some heavy saltwater-tinged air. Though it wasn't exactly fresh, it cleared his head. A high-pitched scream sounded and Blair's exhaustion vanished in a heartbeat. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Blair made a sharp U turn and there was an audible thump as Karen's head struck the window. She muttered a curse. He cringed, but was focused on reaching the source of the harrowing cry. "A scream. Someone's in trouble."

After a block, Blair stopped and visually searched the dark alley frantically. "Call 911 and have them send back-up." He jumped out of the vehicle, pressing his phone into Karen's hands.

The woman fumbled with the cell phone.

"Do it," Blair ordered, trotting backwards into the alley.

Only after Blair saw her punch 9-1-1 did he turn and run into the pitch black passage. His nape tingled and all of his cop training came to the fore. A rustle made him draw his gun and aim at the noise -- a cat's glowing eyes stared back at him. With his heart thundering in his chest, Blair continued on. He strained to see in the darkness as his ears picked up the unmistakable sounds of fist against flesh and the occasional moan and grunt.

He was almost to the back of the alley when he spotted some dark humps moving against a building's brick wall. He moved in closer and his eyes adjusted until he was able to make out three men beating on another who had fallen to his knees. Even outnumbered and being pummeled, the single figure continued to fight, but there was no doubt he was going to lose.

Blair took the proper stance and held the butt of his revolver in two hands. "Halt! Cascade PD!" he shouted.

The three figures backed away from their victim and after only a moment's hesitation, disappeared into the alley's shadows. The object of their beating was struggling to his feet when two small bodies emerged out of the darkness.

"Uncle Jim," a little girl's choked voice cried as she launched herself into the victim's arms. Another little figure pressed herself against his other side and the man -- Jim -- held them close as he knelt, slumping, on the alley's dank ground.

"Shhhh, it's all right," Jim murmured soothingly in spite of his own injuries, which had to be fairly extensive. For an insane moment, Blair wanted to offer this man the same comfort he gave the children.

Blair approached them tentatively and eased down to his haunches so he was at eye level. "Are you all right?"

The man straightened his spine, but kept a protective arm around each of the girls. His eyes, silvery blue in the moonlight, stared straight at the detective and Blair shivered under the direct gaze. "I'm fine."

No thank you; just a flat "I'm fine."

"You should get to the hospital. You probably have some broken ribs, man."

"I'm all right." Then the man named Jim started to push himself upright, as if to prove his words. A slight hiss escaped his compressed lips and when Blair reached forward to help, the man's iron gaze aborted the gesture. Finally, Jim was on his feet, albeit unsteady and looking as pale as a wraith in the moonlit night.

"My name's Blair Sandburg. I'm a detective with the Cascade PD," Blair introduced himself as he, too, stood.

The man's lips curled into a sneer. "And I'll bet you even have a shiny gold badge to go with it."

Taken aback by his vehemence, Blair held up his hands. "Look, man, we got no beef. I was just passing by when I heard a scream." He glanced at the wide-eyed girls, their faces faint ovals in the darkness, as they clung to the man's legs. "Are your nieces all right?"

Startled fear flashed through Jim's eyes; then it was gone and the man's eyes were cold and forbidding once more. "Nobody touches them."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Blair assured. "Did you recognize any of the men who attacked you?"

"No."

Blair knew Jim hadn't spoken the truth, but short of calling him a liar, he didn't have any recourse to follow. "If you say so," he said deliberately, telling the man he recognized the lie. "I know you probably don't have any reason to believe me, but I care what happens to you," he finished.

For a long moment, Jim stared at him, then nodded slowly as his granite expression eased minutely. It wasn't much, but Blair figured it was a huge concession. Blair reached into his jacket pocket and the other man tensed once more. "I'm just getting one of my cards," the detective said, keeping his voice low and soothing.

Though Blair didn't figure Jim could see him that clearly, the man's gaze never left him and he tilted his head slightly as if listening to something in the distance. Blair withdrew one of his business cards and handed it to the man who, after a moment of indecision, reached out to take it from his grasp. Jim's cool, callused fingertips brushed Blair's hand.

"If you need any help, call me. Or if you just need someplace to crash for the night, use my cell phone number," Blair said.

Jim stared at him, his expression never changing. "Why?"

Blair smiled warmly. "I told you, man. I care."

The man didn't reply, but tucked the card into his jacket pocket gingerly. Blair eyed him a little closer, noticed how he favored his left side and arm. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," came the same succinct reply.

Blair suspected the beating he had received had been pretty damned vicious, but he also understood the street peoples' wariness when dealing with the cops. A few bad apples among the force had stolen their trust. No, not stolen -- trampled it into the ground and destroyed it. It was up to Blair and other compassionate cops who felt the same way to try to re-establish some type of faith among the homeless.

He squatted down and spoke to the girls who hadn't relinquished their hold on their Uncle Jim. "My name is Blair. What's yours?" he asked, using the soothing voice he relied on to defuse domestic disturbances and strung-out addicts.

"Holly," the one on the left said. She pointed to her sister. "And that's Haley."

"Shhhh. We're not supposed to talk to strangers," Haley hissed at her twin.

"That's a very good rule," Blair said seriously. "But I'm a policeman. You can trust me."

Haley shook her head vehemently. "Policemen are bad. They hurt people."

Suddenly bright flashing lights turned into the alley and the blaring yowl of a siren filled the narrow passage. Headlights illuminated the man and the two girls. Jim visibly flinched and a low groan escaped his thinned lips.

"We have to go," the man said, his voice husky. The girls each took a hold of one of his hands and, without another word, the family disappeared into the alley.

Two uniformed cops came running over to Blair. "What happened?" one of them asked.

Blair stared into the blackness which had swallowed the small family. "It was only a misunderstanding." He glanced at the two uniforms and recognized both of them. "Hey Charlie, Lester. Sorry to roust you out here for a false alarm."

Charlie frowned. "Did you know them, Sandburg?"

"No," he simply replied, and motioned toward their vehicles. "Let's get out of here."

Shaking their heads, Charlie and Lester got back into their patrol car and left with a wave. Blair was startled to see Karen in the Expedition, then remembered he had been taking her home.

"Thanks for calling it in," Blair said as he took his phone back.

"Who were they?" Karen, now sober, asked as Blair pulled onto the empty street.

He thought of the man's shielding stature and the adoring looks the twins had bestowed on him. Though the three of them had been dressed in secondhand clothes which were clean but threadbare, Blair suspected they possessed something infinitely more precious.

"Just a family trying to hold it together," he answered in a soft voice.

Going through one of their hidden escape routes, Jim and the twins emerged six blocks away from the cops. He listened intently for sounds of pursuit, extending his hearing as far as he dared, but he heard nothing except the typical night noises. Pressing back the throbbing aches and pains of his battered body, he gave his attention to the girls. "Those men didn't hurt you, did they?"

Haley and Holly shook their heads.

"They were bad men," Haley said fervently. "They hurt you."

Jim's heart clenched. "I'm all right." If something had happened to the girls because of his condition, he would never have forgiven himself. He forced a smile, but was certain his swollen lips made it appear more a grimace. "Let's go home and get some sleep."

"Home" was an abandoned warehouse where Jim had made a second floor corner nest for himself and his two young charges. An old Coleman lamp that ran on batteries illuminated relatively clean foam-filled mats, which were covered by sheets and blankets bought at a thrift store. A couple rickety chairs and a table, two crates, a propane stove, some battered cookware and chipped dishes populated their little area. A bright but cheap tablecloth gave it some color and sometimes the girls found flowers growing in vacant lots which ended up in an old mayonnaise jar set in the middle of the table.

While the girls changed into their pajamas, which were little more than old t-shirts their mother had worn, Jim sat on a chair and did a sensory sweep for intruders in the condemned warehouse. He kept his sense of touch down to a minimum by sheer force of will. He knew he had a couple cracked ribs and a whole array of cuts and bruises, including the knife wound on his left arm which had finally stopped bleeding.

"Uncle Jim?"

At the sound of Holly's tentative voice -- which was a little lower than her twin's -- Jim lifted his head. Holly was setting a pan of water on the table while Haley opened the first aid kit Jim had put together. Their expressions were somber but determined -- much like their mother's had been when she wasn't high. "What's this?" he asked softly.

"We're gonna take care of you," Holly said firmly. "Take off your coat."

Jim couldn't help but smile. "Yes, ma'am."

But he found his body resisted the motion needed to remove the jacket and the girls helped him, being especially careful with his injured arm.

"Now close your eyes and we'll wash your face like you do to us," Haley ordered.

Jim did as she said. Keeping his hearing level up so he could monitor for danger, he leaned his head back and allowed the girls to wash away the blood.

"You went away again, didn't you?" Haley asked.

Went away -- that's what the girls called his blackouts.

"Yes," Jim replied and was startled to hear a tremor in his voice. "I'm sorry."

A small palm pressed against his hot cheek. "That's okay, Uncle Jim," Holly said. "We screamed just like you said and you came back."

"It also brought that policeman," Haley reminded.

"It's all right, Haley. I'm glad she did," Jim said. If the cop hadn't shown up, he was certain he would've lost the girls.

The cloth was dipped into water and wrung out again, then was gently laid on his arm. Jim jerked, unprepared for the pain of the gash. The cloth was lifted off.

"Sorry," came a whispered apology.

Jim opened his eyes to see Holly looking down at the wound, her eyes glistening with tears. "It looks worse than it is, sweetheart. I can clean it."

Holly nodded and handed him the damp rag. Haley came to stand by her sister's side as they watched Jim wash away the blood, revealing a cut four inches long and half an inch deep. The wound gaped open and Jim suspected it could use stitches, but with no insurance, he would have to let it heal on its own. That it would leave a scar was a given -- what was one more to his collection?

"Would you get me that white tube from the first aid box?" Jim asked Haley.

The girl rummaged around for a moment, then brought out the flattened tube of antibacterial cream. There wasn't enough left for his wound and no money to buy more, so Jim placed the tube back in the kit in case one of the girls needed it later. He wrapped the cut loosely with some gauze, having the girls help him.

"Now it's time for bed," Jim announced with a smile even though a headache drilled his brain and his wounds throbbed and ached.

"Do you feel good enough to tell us a story?" Holly asked shyly.

"Do you think a couple little owies can stop me?" Jim asked in feigned outrage.

The girls giggled and crawled under the blankets on the thin mattress, their blue eyes bright with anticipation and their arms wrapped around their stuffed animals -- the only toy each of them owned. This was their favorite time, when he would tell them a story and they would fight to stay awake as his low voice gently lulled them into slumber.

The big man settled cross-legged on the floor beside them, keeping his left arm close to his side. He patted Holly's cat and Haley's dog with his right hand and smiled down at the girls' expectant faces, allowing his own worries to dissipate. "Which one tonight?"

"Tell us the one about Wolf and Panther," Holly whispered, her eyes round.

"But you've heard that one a hundred times already."

"Don't care. It's our favorite," Haley said stubbornly.

Jim tapped her cheek gently. "So it is." He rested his elbows on his thighs and began. "In a place far far away, there lived a beautiful gray wolf. He was so beautiful and so smart that the other wolves were jealous of him, so they chased him away. Although Wolf was very sad, he soon found he enjoyed traveling to new places and meeting new friends. One time he stopped to help a lion who had been hurt. The lion was so grateful, he allowed Wolf to stay with his pride. Wolf liked getting to know the lions, but in a few months, he grew restless and continued his travels. While he was hunting for mice one day, he ran across a fawn that had gotten separated from its mother. Wolf tracked the mother down and returned her baby to her. The deer was very happy and asked Wolf to stay with them. Liking the deer and their quiet ways, Wolf stayed and learned more about them. But again he grew restless and left. During his travels, he met a bear and a raccoon and a porcupine and lots of other animals. Since Wolf was so kind and gentle, he made friends easily and learned many things about the other creatures, but the restlessness would always come back and he would move on."

"Because Panther was waiting for him," Haley interrupted triumphantly.

Holly elbowed her. "Shhhh!"

Jim ignored their antics and continued. "One day Wolf heard a horrible cry from deep in the forest. He knew the dreaded panther lived there, but he couldn't close his ears to the cries for help. Ignoring his animal friends who were terrified of Panther, Wolf ran deep into the trees where it was very, very dark. Finally, he reached Panther who was caught in a trap."

"Poor Panther," Holly said quietly, her blue eyes glistening with tears as she tightened her arms around her stuffed black cat.

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat as he smoothed Holly's blond hair from her forehead. "Panther was special -- he could see and hear and smell better than all the other animals, and bad men wanted to capture him and keep him in a cage where they could study him. But Panther only wanted to be free." Jim paused to stare into the distance. A tug on his arm brought him back.

"Uncle Jim, don't go away again," Haley said with a frown.

Jim smiled weakly. "Thanks, sweetheart." He took a deep breath. "Panther snarled at Wolf, but Wolf knew Panther wasn't really mean, only scared. When he got close to Panther, the cat scratched him, but Wolf knew he only did it because he was in so much pain. Wolf lay down in front of him, showing him he wasn't going to hurt him, and finally Panther allowed him close enough to help get the snare off his leg. When Panther was free, he turned to Wolf expecting him to run away, but Wolf didn't. 'Why aren't you afraid of me like all the other animals?' Panther asked him. 'Because you are afraid,' Wolf said with rare wisdom. 'I only wish to be your friend.' Panther didn't know what to think -- no one had ever wanted to be his friend without wanting something in return, but he trusted Wolf like he had trusted no other animal. Panther nodded, and Wolf and Panther disappeared into the forest."

"Where they lived together happily ever after helping the other animals and keeping them safe," Haley finished, rubbing her chin on her dog's head.

Jim tapped the end of her nose. "Next time you can tell the story."

"No. We like your voice, Uncle Jim. It makes us feel safe," Holly said.

Jim glanced around the condemned warehouse and bitter bile rose in his throat. If he truly wanted to keep the girls safe, he would turn them over to the authorities. The life he was forced to lead wasn't good for two young children who needed a real home and love. But he was too damned selfish. He'd been alone for so long ...

"You need to go to sleep now," Jim said firmly. Ignoring his body's complaints, he leaned down and kissed Holly's, then Haley's forehead. "Good-night, angels."

"Good-night," they murmured in unison.

Holly's hand crept over to Jim's uninjured arm and she patted it. "Don't give up, Uncle Jim. Wolf will find you."

"It's only a story, sweetheart," he said around the lump in his throat.

"He'll come," Holly said with so much certainty Jim almost believed her.

"Good-night, Holly."

She studied him a moment longer, then turned onto her side and closed her eyes. Jim watched the girls drift into slumber and wished he still believed in bedtime stories and happily-ever-afters. He pushed himself to his feet, stifling a groan. Sitting in one position had stiffened his bruised muscles. He worried briefly about how he was going to move in the morning.

After making one more check around their home, he settled on his thin pallet, but sleep eluded him in spite of his exhaustion. Listening to the rats scurry in the darkness, he shuddered, remembering too well the sight of a baby killed by the rodents when the mother had left the infant alone. He closed his eyes tightly, but the image of the mutilated infant was seared in his mind.

Knowing sleep would be long in coming, he thought about his earlier blackout in the alley. He had focused on a rhythmic tapping noise and had gotten lost in his mind. Richey took that moment to arrive with his thugs and only Holly's scream had brought him out of the blackout.

If the cop hadn't shown up, the girls would have been bound for a short life of horror and abuse. His whole body trembled with a bone-deep chill and he didn't fight it, but welcomed the agony that washed through him as punishment for his failure to protect Haley and Holly.

He had to face the music -- his control was failing. Following his return from a two-week foray into South America over a year ago, two MPs and a colonel had come to his VOQ and escorted him to a special testing facility. There he had learned he had been under scrutiny since an ill-fated eighteen-month tour in Peru six years previous. At the testing facility, Major Jim Ellison had followed orders and done the tests demanded of him. But when they began to give him drugs which intentionally forced him into "blackouts", he rebelled. It was then he had become a prisoner rather than a soldier. Seven months ago, he'd had a bad reaction to a drug. For a week he dipped in and out of consciousness with his senses spiking in no particular pattern. When he finally regained some control of his senses, he made his escape and became a deserter.

Death was stalking him. He had known it would happen the moment he escaped. One day he would slip into a blackout and not come out of it. At least his death would be easy. For him.

He glanced at Haley and Holly, and even though it was dark, he could see them clearly. God, he didn't want to die and leave them alone, allowing scum like Richey to prey upon them. The son-of-a-bitch would sell them to the highest bidder -- some perverted bastard who got off on doing it with children. Jim choked back his revulsion and rage. Although he would rather lose an arm or leg than give up the two children, he had to find someone to watch out for them before he went into one of his blackouts and didn't return.

Someone like the detective?

Could he trust him? Trust. Jim had long ago given up on it. Too many betrayals, starting with his father, had eroded his faith in the human race. Fathers were supposed to love their children, not beat them. Commanding officers were supposed to lead with integrity, not order their men killed or tortured. Policemen were supposed to serve and protect, but vice detectives exchanged blowjobs for allowing a prostitute to continue plying her trade; homicide detectives were unconcerned about the murder of a homeless person because those nameless ones were nobody important, nobody worth their time; patrol cops turned a blind eye to drug deals because someone gave them an envelope with money to buy a new stereo or big screen television.

Moving painfully, Jim reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the detective's card. Detective Blair Sandburg, Major Crime Division, Cascade P.D. What was his angle? Everyone had one.

I care.

The soft-spoken words echoed in Jim's mind, Sandburg's smooth timbre rolling through his thoughts like a tropical ocean breeze across his skin. God, he wanted to believe Sandburg cared, but that wish was dangerous even to contemplate. He took hold of the card between his fingers, intending to tear it in half, but couldn't complete the motion.

Reluctantly, Jim placed the card back in his pocket.

He had to come up with a solution to his dilemma soon -- he was already living on borrowed time.

FOUR DAYS LATER

Blair sat up, his heart racing. Darkness surrounded him and the only sounds were those typical of the night, but something was wrong. He could feel it. He glanced at his digital clock on the nightstand -- 1:57 a.m. He had gotten home from the station at seven with Chinese take-out in hand. After eating, he had plopped on the couch to watch a Jags game, but had fallen asleep within minutes. He barely remembered hauling his butt upstairs to bed.

Suddenly, the phone shrilled loudly. Blair reached out and nabbed the receiver on the second ring. "Sandburg."

"There's been another one," Debra Reeves, the arson investigator, said grimly.

Blair closed his eyes tightly and raked a hand through his mussed hair. "Any victims?"

"Three."

"Fuck! Dead?"

"No, but they're suffering smoke inhalation and minor burns. They're refusing to allow the ambulance to take them to the hospital." There was a long moment of silence. "It was a man and two little girls."

Jim and his nieces. Blair jumped up, already reaching for his jeans which had been dropped on the floor when he had collapsed in bed. "Where?"

"Warehouse on Fourth and Lesley."

"I'll be there in ten minutes, fifteen tops." Blair punched the off button and scrambled into the rest of his clothes.

Grabbing his jacket and keys he raced out of the loft, locking the door behind him almost as an afterthought. The full moon hung low in the sky and Blair sped down the nearly deserted streets with his lights flashing. Long before he arrived, he could see the fire's orangish glow. The smell of the rolling black smoke struck him six blocks before the burning warehouse came into view. Finally he turned a corner and ran into a roadblock of fire engines, police cars, an ambulance and an EMT unit. The fire's glow and the headlights of the vehicles gave the whole area a nightmarish aura that sent a shiver skidding down Blair's back.

He jumped out of the SUV as his gaze searched the flickering figures and came to rest on Debra, two EMTs, Jim and the girls. He jogged between firemen and policemen, jumped water hoses, and finally arrived at Debra's side, but he focused his attention on the family who was wrapped in blankets.

"You really need to be checked out by a doctor," one of the EMTs was speaking to Jim, who sat on the end of the ambulance.

"No. No hospital," Jim replied, keeping a twin pressed to each side of him, an arm wrapped around their thin shoulders. His voice sounded raw and raspy. "We're fine."

"That must be your motto, man -- 'I'm fine'," Blair said with a smile as he eased his way past Debra and the EMTs. He met each of the girls' wide eyes with a wink and grin. "We meet again."

"You're that policeman," the girl holding the stuffed dog accused.

Blair squatted down in front of her and affected a hurt expression. "And what's wrong with being a 'good' policeman?"

"Are you a good one?" the other girl -- this one with a black cat -- asked, her voice barely registering above the shouts, water pumps, and the fire's crackling and hissing.

"I like to think I am," Blair said. "Are you Haley or Holly?"

"Holly." She pointed to her frowning sister. "That's Haley."

Blair moved his gaze to Jim's face, less than three feet from his own. It was pale and sweating and his pupils were dilated. Drugs? It was possible. "How are you really doing, man?"

"Cold, tired, and homeless, but I guess we were homeless before, so just make that cold and tired," Jim answered, his tone razor-sharp.

"And we don't got any clothes anymore," Haley spoke up.

"Or our beds," Holly added, her eyes glistening with tears.

"One of us can give them a ride over to the shelter on Ninth and Davenport," Debra whispered in Blair's ear.

"No! No shelter," Jim stated vehemently.

Startled, Blair's gaze flew to Jim. How had he heard her quiet words?

Jim stood and swept off the blanket, dropping it in the ambulance. Beneath it, he wore a soot-stained t-shirt and baggy gray sweatpants that had seen better days. His feet were covered with socks which had once been white, but were now dingy and dirty. "Come on, girls. We're leaving."

Without hesitation, Haley and Holly stood, also leaving their blankets behind. They wore adult sized t-shirts that hung to their calves and their blond hair was wild and frizzed. Soot and reddened skin gave them a ragamuffin appearance, and the worn stuffed animal each girl carried added to the picture.

"You should at least have that arm checked out -- it's probably infected," the red-haired EMT called out.

Without a word, Jim stooped down to pick up a barefoot girl in each arm, then turned his back and strode away.

"He's crazy," Debra said with a shake of her head.

"Most of them on the street are," the female EMT commented sadly. "But he really does need to see a doctor. He wouldn't let me remove the bandage around his arm, but I could feel how hot it was."

Blair watched Jim walk away, his broad shoulders squared and his backbone straight. The man had too much damned pride for his own good. Blair's legs reacted before his mind caught up, and he ran after Jim and the two girls. He had to convince them to go someplace safe for the night. They also needed clothes, shoes, and jackets against the cold Cascade night.

"Leave us be, Sandburg," Jim said tersely as Blair came up behind him.

"Please, listen to me. Just for a minute," Blair pleaded as he skipped ahead of the trio.

Jim stopped and sighed heavily. "What?"

Now that he had Jim's attention, Blair had no idea what to say. Blair Sandburg, at a loss for words -- Simon would love that. He quickly improvised. "Look, you can't just go walking around Cascade at night in November without shoes and a coat. You'll all freeze and get pneumonia or something. And where are you going to go? If you don't like shelters, do you have a friend you can stay with? Do they have extra clothes for you and the girls? What about a bed to sleep in?"

"We've lived without beds before," Jim said.

"But not clothes or jackets or shoes. And what about food? That takes money and by the looks of you, I doubt you have some tucked away in a pocket since you don't seem to have any pockets," Blair continued, a smile easing his blunt words. "And from what I understand about the hierarchy of the homeless, they tend to be very territorial unless some gesture of goodwill has been offered and accepted, which is a lot like many tribes in New Guinea and South America. In fact, I once lived in a village in Borneo where if a person came to visit with empty hands, it was thought to be the most terrible insult a person could give."

"What are you talking about, Sandburg?" Jim asked, his voice weary.

"Hospitality," Blair said with a weak grin. "What I'm trying to extend to you and your nieces."

"But we'll be coming empty-handed."

So Jim had been listening and understood. "But we aren't in Borneo."

"You're full of shit, Sandburg."

"Uncle Jim," Holly broke in, putting her palm against his mouth. "Shit is a bad word."

Blair's grin widened. "That's right, Uncle Jim. You should have your mouth washed out with soap."

"And who's going to wash it out?" Jim asked.

"I bet Haley and Holly would help me, wouldn't you?"

One girl nodded; the other shook her head.

"Stalemate," Jim stated.

"Then I suggest you all come home with me so we can debate the issue," Blair said blithely.

"No." Jim continued walking away from the conflagration.

Blair hustled to stay in step with him. "Why not?"

"I can't pay you."

"Damn it, I'm not asking for money," Blair said in exasperation, his arms flying about to emphasize his words. "I have this loft apartment with two beds and a couch all to myself. It's no bother, really. In fact, I'd take it as a personal insult if you don't accept my invitation."

"And if I insult you by refusing, what would my punishment be?" Jim asked, his footsteps slowing markedly.

Hope lifted Blair's spirits -- Jim was weakening. "In New Guinea, you'd be my main course at dinner."

Jim barked a hoarse laugh, surprising Blair ... and the twins. The detective's grin escaped its confines and he pressed his advantage. "Come on, Jim. Your girls need someplace safe and warm to sleep, and I'm sure you could use a good night's sleep, too."

Jim came to a halt and spent a full minute studying Blair. The younger man refused to squirm under his scrutiny, and he had an odd feeling it wasn't only Jim's eyes which were examining him. The older man's nostrils flared and he tilted his head, like someone who was trying to hear something from afar.

Finally, Jim nodded ever so slightly, his pale skin stretched taut against his cheekbones, and his jaw clenched. "I don't like being in debt -- "

"You can't be in debt if it's free," Blair said quietly.

Jim blinked as if the concept was a totally foreign one.

"My car's over here," Blair motioned toward the Expedition. He noticed Jim's slumping shoulders and lines of pain in his brow. "Do you want me to carry one of the girls?"

Jim started to shake his head, but Holly spoke up. "I can walk."

"Not with all the water and debris," Jim said firmly.

"Then l-let the policeman take me." She leaned close and whispered something in his ear that Blair couldn't hear. After a moment, Jim gave a resigned nod and Holly reached out toward Blair. Surprised but pleased, he lifted the young girl into his arms and her thin legs wrapped around his waist as one arm encircled his neck.

"Thank you for trusting me, Holly," Blair said quietly.

Blair and Jim walked side-by-side to the SUV and once there they situated the girls in the back seat and belted them in.

"Go ahead and get in, Jim. I'm going to tell them I'm leaving," Blair said, placing a hand lightly on Jim's back.

Blair watched the older man climb into the front seat and noted his sweating brow and trembling hands. Jim was definitely in a world of hurt, but Blair was under no illusions -- the proud man would go to his grave before admitting it.

Blair joined Debra who was speaking with the EMTs as they packed up their equipment.

"I'm taking them to my place," he said without preamble.

"Is that safe?" Debra asked, frowning.

Irritation made his voice sharp. "I'll hide all the knives and the family silver."

Debra's scowl deepened. "They've been living on the street for God knows how long, Blair. You may never get rid of them."

"Who says I want to?" Blair retorted without hesitation. At the woman's surprise, he held up a conciliatory hand. "I had to do a lot of talking to convince Jim to accept my offer. I suspect he'll be out the door as soon as the sun rises." He turned to the paramedics. "Give me a rundown on what I should do for them."

The two EMTs exchanged looks and the woman spoke. "Overall, the girls are in good shape but both them and their father could use some nutritious food. And try to talk him into seeing a doctor for the cut on his arm. If it's not taken care of, he could lose the limb."

Blair blanched. "It's that bad?"

The red-haired paramedic nodded. "I examined the area around the bandage -- it's hot to the touch. It's definitely infected. I was shocked when he picked up one of the girls with that arm. It's got to be damned painful."

As if pulled by an invisible thread, Blair turned to look at Jim in his vehicle. Jim was looking straight at him. Awareness punched him in the gut and he couldn't seem to find the next breath of air. He forced himself to look away, to face the three people staring at him. "I'll see what I can do."

"And make sure they drink plenty of fluids," one of the EMTs said. They picked up their equipment and returned to the emergency vehicle.

"I know you feel responsible, Blair, but this isn't your fault," Debra said, laying a hand on his arm.

Although she meant the fire, it wasn't that which Blair felt responsible for; it was the almost overwhelming sense of protectiveness he felt toward the displaced family. "I can't stand to see anyone suffer -- not when I have a place big enough to give them a roof over their heads and a comfortable place to sleep."

"You'll be careful?"

"Promise." Blair managed a smile.

The concern left her, replaced by professional detachment. "I'll stay here and make sure the physical evidence is gathered after the fire is out."

"Thanks. I owe you."

"Yeah, you do." Then Debra shifted into investigator mode and moved off to question Captain Stokes, the fireman in charge.

Blair jogged back to the Expedition and glanced in the rear seat to find the two girls slumped over in slumber with their arms wrapped around their stuffed animals. He opened the door as quietly as he could and slipped in behind the wheel.

"They were exhausted," Jim said in a low voice.

Blair shifted so he could see the girls behind him. "Losing their home and everything they owned in the middle of the night would exhaust even adults." He deliberately moved his gaze to Jim.

"I get the picture, Chief," Jim said wryly, though his face remained stony.

Blair started the SUV and slowly maneuvered it through the labyrinth of emergency vehicles until he made it onto the clear street, then sped up. The silence within the confines, though not totally comfortable, didn't grate on Blair's nerves like it usually did. He had grown so accustomed to filling conversation voids that he now did it without thinking -- usually coming up with some bizarre story from his anthropology days at the university.

A pang of something akin to homesickness struck him. He missed the camaraderie and intellectual debates with anthropology students and professors. Becoming a cop had put an invisible barrier between himself and them. Though everyone at Rainier who'd known him as a student still welcomed him when he was on campus, the conversations were short and superficial -- how much could a cop and an academician have in common? Not a helluva lot when it came right down to it.

The police force at large saw him as an outsider to their society, too. The long-haired son of a former flower child had little to discuss with cops other than cases, and those conversations were often wrought with stiffness and unease.

No, Blair lived in two worlds -- academia and cop -- though he wasn't considered a full citizen of either of them. But, then, at least he halfway belonged somewhere, unlike his subdued passenger. Blair took a deep breath and sent a sidelong glance at Jim. The streetlights kept shifting shadow bars across his face -- one time casting his profile into glacial darkness; another time cutting valleys beneath his cheekbones; and still another, hiding all but the icy blue eyes in blackness.

It was a strong face -- a fierce face, like that of a tribal warrior. Honed with marked angles and bold curves, Jim's features were those of a primitive hunter and his piercing eyes only added to the image. Where had he come from? What had sent him to the street?

Blair turned onto Prospect and three blocks later, parked across from Colette's.

"I live above the bakery," Blair said, suddenly feeling a restless need to fill the silence.

Jim opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Each man carried a drowsy twin into the building and Blair was thankful the elevator was actually working. He unlocked the door to apartment 307 and led the way inside, turning on the light as he entered.

Jim flinched and his eyes narrowed, as if squinting. Although puzzled by his reaction, Blair merely said, "There's a futon in the spare room. The girls can sleep there."

Jim followed him into a small room beneath the stairs. The futon was perpetually made with clean bedding, so Blair carefully laid his petite burden on the farthest side, and Jim set the other twin beside her. Blair eased the covers over their shoulders and watched as they readjusted their positions until it was obvious they were down for the count.

Blair guided Jim out of the small room and into a chair by the table in the kitchen. "I'm going to put a fresh bandage on the cut on your arm," Blair said.

Jim drew the soot-smudged forearm close to his side. "It's fine."

"Not this time," Blair said stubbornly. "I want to see how badly infected it is."

"Damn it, Sandburg, I told you it's fine."

Two sets of blue eyes dueled in a silent battle of wills. Blair wasn't going to let Jim win this one -- the man's life depended on taking care of the injury which Blair was certain he'd received the night he was beaten in the alley.

"Please," Blair said.

The soft plea startled Jim and he glanced away. "All right," he allowed grudgingly.

Resisting the urge to smile in victory, Blair retrieved the first aid items from the bathroom and a bottle of water from the fridge. He opened the bottle and set it down on the table in front of Jim. "Drink."

Startled, Jim blinked then reached for the water. As Jim drank in greedy gulps, Blair unwrapped the wound. The ugly gash was swollen and yellowish pus oozed from some of the edges.

Jim plunked down the empty bottle and covered his nose and mouth as he gagged. His face paled even further. "God, that stinks."

Although Blair could smell the infection, it wasn't overwhelming. "It's not that bad."

"Maybe not for you."

He must have a really sensitive nose, Blair thought as he cleansed the wound carefully with peroxide. "So how long have you lived on the street?" he asked, hoping to divert Jim's attention.

"Long enough," he replied between clenched teeth.

Blair glanced at him, seeing white lines of pain etched at the corners of his mouth. Sweat coated his face and as he watched, a droplet slid down the side of his face, rolling down his cheek and through the maze of stubbled whiskers to drip onto his chest. Realizing he was staring in absorbed fascination, the younger man flushed and concentrated on Jim's arm.

"If this isn't better in the morning, I'm taking you to my doctor," Blair stated.

He saw and felt Jim's muscles stiffen. "I told you, no hospital."

"I didn't say hospital; I said doctor," Blair said patiently. "Besides being my doctor, Kathleen is a friend. She'll help, no questions asked."

Although Jim didn't say anything more, Blair could tell he didn't like it. Not one damn bit.

Blair put the finishing touches on the bandage, then squatted down in front of him and rested a hand on his knee as he gazed up at him earnestly. "If not for yourself, think of Haley and Holly. What'll happen to them if you can't take care of them?"

Jim stared at Blair, his frosty eyes not thawing one degree. He clenched and unclenched his chiseled jaw as he struggled with, what only Blair could imagine were, personal demons. The cop understood -- he had his own closet full of them.

Jim's gaze flickered down to Blair's hand on his knee and suddenly the younger man was aware of how intimate his touch and posture were, yet he didn't feel uncomfortable. Jim met his eyes again and this time Blair saw a glint of something -- something which softened the icy blue.

Finally, Jim nodded though the simple gesture seemed to take all his strength. "All right, Sandburg. If it's not better, I'll go see her."

Though it was unspoken, each man knew Jim would be seeing the doctor. The infection had gone too far and only medical intervention would help now.

Blair pushed himself upright. "Would you like to use the bathroom and wash up?"

The minutest flash of pleasure crossed Jim's face. "Are you sure you don't mind? I'm pretty dirty."

Blair laughed quietly. "Besides the obvious, bathrooms are used to wash away dirt. No, I don't mind. Honestly." He grasped Jim's bicep and helped the older man up. Jim's quick intake of breath told Blair how much he was hurting and he took a firmer hold. "I'll help you in there."

"Are you going to give me a bath, too?" Jim asked with sharp sarcasm as they walked toward the bathroom, Blair's arm around his waist.

The image of running a washcloth over Jim's bare shoulders and chest brought a rush of heat to Blair's face, and he swiftly dispatched the vision. "If you want to take a bath and need help, I can do that, man. During my undergrad days, I worked at Conover. I did a lot of that kind of thing," he said lightly.

"I might take a bath tomorrow, but I'll do it myself."

Jim's cool, formal tone put Blair in his place as effectively as if Jim had slammed him up against a wall.

"No problem, man," Blair said in a low, mild voice. "Whatever you want."

Jim paused as the two men stood outside the bathroom door and he turned his head to the small room where the girls slept. The French doors were open and a shaft of light from the hallway illuminated their still bodies. Jim tipped his head to the side and Blair's gaze moved from him to the girls and back to the mysterious man.

"I'll check on them while you're in the bathroom," Blair assured.

"They're sleeping soundly," Jim said, then shifted away from the younger man. "I can take it from here, Chief."

Blair released him and the older man shuffled into the bathroom.

"If you need help, just yell," Blair said as the door closed.

Jim's answer was muffled, but Blair was certain the older man had heard him. He listened for a few moments longer, then left when he heard Jim using the toilet. Knowing Jim needed a comfortable place to sleep more than he did, Blair decided to give the man his bed. He would make himself a nest on the couch where he could hear Jim and the girls if they needed something.

With a plan of action, the detective grabbed fresh linens from the closet and ran upstairs to strip his bed and remake it with clean sheets and blankets. When he was done, he hurried back down to the living room and used the sheets from his bed to make a place on the couch for himself. One more trip upstairs to retrieve some clothes for Jim, and Blair walked down the hallway and rapped lightly on the bathroom door.

"Hey, man, I've got some underwear for you," Blair said, then added reassuringly, though with a mischievous smile, "they're brand new, never been worn."

After a few moments, the door cracked open and Jim stuck his hand out. Blair gave him the t-shirt and boxers.

"Thanks." Jim's voice was so hushed, Blair almost missed the single word.

"You're welcome." Then the younger man tiptoed into the girls' room, careful not to awaken them, although he wondered if a marching band could disturb their sleep.

Blair stood beside the futon and looked down at the two girls, noting the identical delicate features -- winged brows, dainty chins and bow-shaped lips. Dirt smudges marred their smooth skin, but otherwise they didn't appear harmed. He suddenly shivered. These little lives -- human beings with a wealth of potential -- had come so close to being lost tonight.

His eyes filled with moisture and he was glad no one saw him. Not that he was embarrassed by his emotions, but few understood the natural empathy he possessed. He had always felt things strongly -- when he was a child, he knew when one of Naomi's boyfriends was mad at him ... or wanted him.

Naomi's gone. Let the anger go.

A stuffed black cat lay about six inches from Holly on the futon and Blair tucked the cat close to the girl. The child instinctively put an arm around the toy and curled it into her chest.

"What're you doing?"

Blair spun around, startled by Jim's proximity. With the older man less than a foot from him, Blair could easily perceive the cold stoic mask which had been re-donned. "I was just checking on them. Making sure they were all right."

Jim moved to stand between him and the girls. His protective stance made it clear he trusted no one with his nieces and from what Blair knew of street living, he understood. There were always rumors of children disappearing and hushed voices expressing sympathy for those taken, but nobody ever stepped forward to offer help in stopping the bastards who pedaled young flesh like a grocer sold fruit.

"They're all right," Jim stated.

"I know," Blair whispered. He moved out of the small room and wasn't surprised when Jim didn't follow immediately. In the hallway, Blair paused and looked back to see Jim touching first one girl's head, then the other. His lips moved but Blair couldn't hear what he was saying. The gentle, caring expression on the man's face, however, told Blair everything he needed to know.

After a moment Jim joined him in the hallway, his mask firmly in place.

"How are you feeling?" Blair asked.

He nodded curtly. "Better. Uh, thanks for the underwear." A faint flush spread across his cheeks.

The t-shirt Blair had given him was a little snug across the chest, but the boxers seemed to fit fine. Jim appeared self-conscious, and the younger man didn't want to make him any more so. "No problem. Did you throw away the clothes you were wearing?"

"They're the only ones I have." Pride stiffened Jim's backbone and made his words terse.

"They're going in the garbage. Come on upstairs and I'll find you something."

"No more, Sandburg. You've already done more than enough."

Blair's throat felt tight. "It wasn't much. Your bed's upstairs."

Blair led the way, not looking back to see if Jim was behind him. A minute later, he heard Jim's bare feet on the stairs. As the detective rummaged through his closet, there was a stumble and a soft thud, then a vehement but low curse. Blair charged around the corner to the stairs and saw Jim sitting on a middle step, his back pressed against the brick wall and his wounded arm held close to his side.

Blair hurried down the steps and dropped beside him, instinctively resting a hand on his shoulder. "You okay, man?" he asked, worried by Jim's pallor.

Jim tilted his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. "My arm feels like it's on fire, and my clothes ... they hurt."

Blair frowned. His arm would be painful, but no more so than it had been fifteen minutes earlier. His clothes comment, however, made him recall his suspicions about possible drug use. What if Jim had taken something while in the bathroom? "Are you using, man?"

"No," came the immediate response. "I've never touched that shit." But then his eyes closed and Blair had the feeling the older man was hiding something.

"I'm not asking so I can bust your ass," Blair said quietly. "Damn it, I'm worried about you."

Jim's blue eyes flew open and there was surprise which was quickly covered by suspicion in their depths. "Look, Sandburg, I don't do drugs. It's just that I'm ... my sense of touch is more sensitive than other peoples'."

Though Blair hadn't known Jim long, he suspected the man was lying, but not about the drugs. "All right. I'll help you upstairs then you can get into bed. Maybe your sensitivity is related to the infection."

"Maybe," Jim said noncommittally as he allowed Blair to help him to his feet.

Once at the top of the stairs, Blair maneuvered him to the side of the bed. "Do you need some help?"

"No."

Blair stepped away from him. "I'm going to find some clean clothes you can put on in the morning."

Jim arched an eyebrow quizzically. "Your clothes aren't going to fit me, Chief."

Blair turned away and began to rummage around in his closet. "I had a friend who was about your size. He left some clothes here one time after spending a weekend -- " The detective cleared his throat. "With me."

Though Blair didn't dare look at Jim, he could almost feel the censure searing a hole in his back. A couple minutes of searching through the chaotic mess in his closet yielded a pair of blue jeans and a hunter green crew neck sweatshirt. He turned, not surprised to see Jim already lying in bed. He had the sheet and blanket pulled up over his chest as he watched the younger man.

"You can put these on tomorrow morning," Blair said as he laid the jeans and sweatshirt on the end of the bed. He scrounged around in his dresser and came up with a pair of socks. "You might need these, too."

He glanced back to see Jim still staring at him. His stillness unnerved him.

Blair shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Look, I know you might be a little uncomfortable, but -- "

Jim's expression didn't change; not even a blink. Blair's discomfort changed to concern. He crossed to the bed, leaned over the older man and waved a hand in front of his face. No reaction. He perched on the mattress and touched Jim's bare shoulder. "Jim? What's going on here, man? You said you weren't on drugs and I believed you." He paused when his words had no effect on Jim. Without even realizing what he was doing, he laid his hand on Jim's chest. "C'mon, man. Come back from wherever you are, big guy. You're like scaring me here."

Suddenly Jim blinked and comprehension flooded his features. "Damn."

Blair drew his hand away from the man's warmth. "What the hell was that?" Concern made his voice sharp.

"I-I'm just tired," Jim said softly, the weary pain in his tone cutting through Blair's irritation. He shifted away from Blair, moving toward the other side of the bed, and closed his eyes.

A hundred questions stampeded through Blair's thoughts but Jim's obvious exhaustion prevented him from asking them. The cop straightened, suddenly realizing how tired he was, too. He looked at the digital clock by the bed -- 3:47 a.m. He could maybe catch a few hours of sleep then run out and pick up some things for Jim and the girls at the 24-hour Wal-Mart a few miles away.

He turned the bedside lamp off and tiptoed down the steps. Halfway down, he heard a quiet voice. "Thanks, Sandburg."

Blair smiled, inordinately pleased by his gratitude knowing it wasn't something Jim gave easily or readily. "You're welcome," he whispered back.

After checking on the girls one last time, Blair stripped to his boxers and t-shirt and crawled into his makeshift bed on the sofa. It wasn't long before the detective fell prey to slumber.

Jim awakened, but kept his eyes closed as he lay motionless, reconnoitering the warehouse and ensuring nothing or no one was nearby. It had become second nature to do so and he stretched his senses without conscious thought. He frowned. The only familiar sounds were Haley and Holly's heartbeats and breathing. Remaining still, Jim became conscious of the soft mattress and clean smelling pillow beneath him.

Sandburg.

The detective had brought them to his place after a fire destroyed the warehouse and everything they owned within it. He swiftly became conscious of another fact -- his left arm burned and throbbed. The infection. The heat and smell were more than enough to convince Jim the wound had worsened.

Steeling himself, Jim opened his eyes and pushed himself up so he was leaning against the iron rails. He barely managed to control a groan of agony. He looked around, acquainting himself with the loft bedroom. It was clear Sandburg had never heard of the old saying "Cleanliness is next to godliness." In a corner was a pile of clothes which Jim assumed was dirty laundry. Books, papers, pens, and notebooks littered a dresser situated in the far corner of the room. The closet door was open only half a foot, but Jim could see the mess trying to escape its confines. Even though Jim had lived in a condemned building, he had always tried to keep it neat and orderly. Fifteen years in the military did that to a man.

Sunlight shafted in through the skylight above him and he glanced at the clock radio -- 9:46 a.m. No wonder it was so bright. The sound of small foot patters alerted him to the awakening of Haley and Holly. He glanced over the rail to see them rubbing their eyes as they stumbled into the living room. A white piece of paper on the dining room table caught his eye and he focused his vision on it.

Jim, Haley, and Holly. Make yourselves at home. I had to run some errands. I should be back around ten or so. Blair. P.S. Please don't leave.

Jim didn't know what to think of the younger man. He had opened his home to them, seemingly without any strings attached. He all but admitted to a former male lover, which also didn't fit with the image of a cop. Was he simply someone who truly put people ahead of everything else -- power, money, or status?

"I'm up here, girls," he called down.

Twin sets of blue eyes found him and the faint worry in their faces disappeared. "Uncle Jim," they cried and ran up the stairs.

The girls paused at the top of the steps, suddenly nervous.

"You don't look very good, Uncle Jim," Holly said worriedly as she hugged her black cat to her chest.

"Are you going to go to heaven like Mommy?" Haley asked, her blue eyes saucer-wide.

"Not if I can help it," Jim replied, pasting on a reassuring smile as he blinked back the moisture in his eyes. He patted the bed next to him. "C'mon up."

The twins clambered onto the mattress, one on either side of Jim, who pushed back his pain and wrapped an arm around each of them in spite of the acrid smell of smoke embedded in their hair and pajamas. "Did you sleep all right?"

They nodded together.

"It was kinda nice," Haley said. "Even though this is that policeman's house."

Jim kissed her crown. "I think we may have found a good policeman," he said.

Holly smiled. "I just knew he was nice."

Jim dropped a quick kiss on the other girl's head. "You were right, angel."

Holly's smile faded and she twisted around to look at Jim's injured arm. "Are you going to the hospital like that man last night said?"

"No, but I might see a doctor. Blair, the policeman, said he knew someone who would help me."

"Is that safe?" Haley's blue eyes clouded with apprehension.

Jim stifled a sigh. "I don't know, sweetheart, but I do know if I don't get some medicine, I'm going to be very sick."

"Where'd the policeman go?" Holly asked.

"He went out for something. He should be back any minute now." Jim cocked his head, listening to footsteps in the stairwell and the heartbeat that accompanied it. "In fact, he's back now."

The girls didn't question how he knew; they just accepted that he did. Jim wished adults were as open-minded. A minute later he heard muttered curses in the hallway and Jim frowned. "Why don't you two run down and unlock the door for Mr. Sandburg? It sounds like his arms are full."

Haley and Holly did as he said, although Haley held less enthusiasm for the task. She had always been the more suspicious of the two. Holly undid the lock and swung the door open.

Surprise lit Blair's face, then he smiled and his eyes twinkled behind round glass lenses. "Thanks. I was going to have to set everything down to find my keys." He handed Haley a couple packages, then Holly. "Could you take these please?"

The girls accepted them without comment and moved back as Blair shuffled inside bearing more blue plastic bags with Wal-Mart on them, as well as a box with Colette's logo on it. He used his foot to close the door behind him and glanced up into the loft bedroom as if he had known Jim was watching him. "Morning, Jim," he called up.

The sincere smile that went with the greeting almost undid Jim's impassive mask, but he held it in place by reminding himself of the times he had been tricked before. "Sandburg."

The cop's smile slipped a notch and Jim felt an odd regret for being the reason for the loss.

Blair turned away from Jim to face the girls. "How would you two like to clean up while I make scrambled eggs and warm up the muffins and bagels from the bakery?"

The undisguised pleasure in the girls' faces first warmed, then chilled Jim. He was rarely able to offer them more than oatmeal or bread for breakfast, with an occasional over-ripe orange or banana. Haley and Holly looked up at him, asking his permission. He nodded. "We would appreciate it," Jim managed to say past the lump of pride in his throat.

The girls clapped their hands and Blair sent Jim an extra bright smile. Jim blinked against the emotion which threatened to overwhelm him. He clamped down on it. Now was not the time to let down his guard.

"Do you need some help getting up and dressed?" Blair called to him.

"No." The answer came without hesitation. Jim didn't like being beholden to anyone and he was dropping deeper into debt by the minute with this puzzling detective. "I'll be down in a minute or two."

"Do you mind if I start a bath for Haley and Holly?" Blair asked.

Sandburg had obviously picked up on his protectiveness of his "nieces" and the fact that he asked spoke volumes for his integrity in Jim's mind. "Go ahead. I'll be down to help in a minute."

As Jim struggled out of bed and into the clean clothes Sandburg had left out for him, Jim eavesdropped on the conversation below.

"You mean we get to take a real bath?" Holly was asking.

"That's right," Blair said. "Complete with -- " there was a rustle of plastic, " -- Mr. Bubbles."

Two squeals of excitement made Jim grimace and try to tone down his hearing. Only by sheer force of will could Jim control his senses. More often than not, they controlled him. Sounds too loud, lights too bright, smells too pungent, tastes too caustic, and touch too intense. Pain had become a constant companion and Jim, already well-schooled in the art of repression, was fast becoming a master at ignoring the unremitting headache and the sensory-induced throbbing which accompanied it.

There were footsteps into the bathroom then the sound of the bath tap being turned on and adjusted, each sound as clear as if Jim were standing beside Blair and the girls.

"Now how much do we put in?" Blair was murmuring.

"Lots!" Holly cried out.

"No. Just a little so it lasts," Haley said.

Jim's breath caught in his throat. How often had he said those exact words to the twins in the past six months?

"How about right in between 'lots' and 'a little'?" Blair asked, compromising.

"Okay," the girls chorused.

A few oohs and aahs followed, then there was the sound of Blair walking into the kitchen and the girls climbing into the bathtub. Jim listened to their quiet splashes and a soapy sweet smell rose up to twitch his nose. He sneezed which jarred his infected wound, making him groan aloud.

"Jim, are you okay?" Blair called out as he raced up the stairs.

Involuntary tears of unexpected pain slipped down his cheeks and he rubbed them away with an embarrassed swipe of his uninjured arm. "Fine, Sandburg."

"Jesus, what'd you do?" Blair demanded as he wrapped an arm around Jim's waist and forced him to sit on the bed. The younger man stood above him, his hands pressing down on Jim's shoulders.

Irrational fear surged through Jim as memories of how he'd been physically restrained while a syringe with unknown drugs was injected into him. Then there had been the leather restraints which bound him to the bed as the tests were done. Visual tests, auditory tests, taste tests, smell tests and the worst, tactile tests, which involved his body's reaction to hundreds of different stimuli, including dispassionate handling of his genitals. Never-ending agony ... humiliation ... rage. He blindly struck out with his fists. His wrists were gripped and a scream clawed up Jim's throat, but then a calming voice stilled it as he listened, strained to hear ...

"Shhhhh, take it easy, Jim. It's all right. You're safe here. Just relax. Shhhhh, it's okay," Blair Sandburg said in a gentle, soothing voice.

The mattress dipped beside him and a body pressed close to his as arms encircled him loosely. Blair's tranquil tones continued to whisper through him, easing taut muscles and relaxing him like some kind of aural drug.

Jim leaned into the bastion that was Blair Sandburg as the flashback receded. The pain of his injured arm returned threefold and he squeezed his eyes shut against it. He allowed himself to rest against the younger man, to take the comfort and safety he hadn't felt in years ... since his mother had left her nine-year-old son.

After a few minutes of selfish indulgence, of being soothed by Blair's low voice and strong arms, Jim forced himself away from the solid body and stood. He was pleased when he didn't pitch forward onto the floor. Gathering his composure and keeping his gaze averted, he tugged the sweatshirt on over his head. He tensed when Blair stood to help him get his wounded arm through its sleeve, but the detective's touch was gentle and impersonal.

"What happened, Jim?" Blair asked quietly.

Jim turned away, unable to lie face-to-face. "It was nothing."

"Bullshit." There was no force behind the expletive. "You told me you didn't do drugs." This time there was accusation ... and disappointment.

Jim met his eyes, saw his bitter disillusionment, and suddenly wished their paths had never crossed. He hated hurting the younger man, even though they were by all intents and purposes strangers. "I swear to you, Sandburg, I've never touched drugs of my own free will."

Jim could almost hear Blair's mind kick into gear as fear expanded in his belly. He couldn't let him find out ...

"Thanks for the clothes," Jim said, using a preemptive strike to halt the younger man's questions.

For a tense moment, it looked like it wasn't going to work. Then Blair said, "No problem. I've got some more things for you downstairs."

"Sandburg," Jim growled in warning. "What'd you do?" A rare pleasure filled him at the hesitant delight in Blair's eyes.

"Who, me?" Blair asked innocently. "Come on. I'll help you downstairs. I need to make sure the bathroom isn't overflowing with Mr. Bubbles."

Though he tried, Jim couldn't hang on to his defensiveness around the young detective. In spite of the horrible things Blair must have seen in his job as a cop, he still retained an innocence and generosity which were at odds with life's hard realities. He was obviously tougher than he appeared to the casual observer.

The trip down the steps would've been much worse without Blair's help. At the bottom of the stairs, Jim surrendered his hold on Blair and shuffled toward the bathroom where he could hear the girls giggling. Blair followed and the two men stood in the doorway side-by-side as they watched Haley and Holly facing each other in the tub and having a bubble war.

"Take it easy," Jim warned. "We don't want to get Mr. Sandburg's bathroom all wet."

Blair grinned. "I don't mind. Have all the fun you want."

Jim narrowed his eyes at Blair who merely raised his eyebrows in a "what?" expression.

"Remember to do some cleaning while you're having fun," Jim finally said, giving in to the inevitable. "Holler out when you're done or if you need anything."

The girls nodded, then went back to their bubble battle.

"Go sit down on the couch and relax, Jim," Blair said. "I'll get coffee and breakfast going, in that order."

Indecisiveness froze Jim until Blair gave him a gentle nudge. The older man wasn't used to being catered to, but he realized his current condition made him less than effective in the kitchen or anyplace else. Holding his left arm close to his side, Jim shuffled into the living room and carefully lowered himself to the couch. A moment later, Blair handed him some Wal-mart bags. "Here, check this stuff out. Make sure it's okay."

Blair then hurried into the kitchen and began to break eggs into a bowl. Warily, Jim opened the first bag and was met with girls' underwear -- Winnie-the-Pooh, Barbie, and balloons and rainbows dotted the white fabric of the panties and undershirts. There was a total of twelve sets. Socks in pastel and rainbow colors came next, followed by knit pants, denim overalls, jumpers, sweatshirts and turtlenecks. There were also flannel pajamas, tennis shoes, and heavy jackets. Everything was in twos.

"Jesus, Sandburg, what'd you do? Buy out the store?" Jim asked.

Blair sent him a cocky grin. "Not yet." His smile faded. "Did I get the right sizes? I had the department manager help me, but -- "

"I don't go by sizes. I go by what they look like and I'm pretty sure these will fit, but we can't accept all this. Maybe one set of clothing and a pair of shoes each, but you have to return the rest."

From beside the stove, Blair waved a whisk at him. "I already threw away the receipt so you have to keep everything. Go on, keep looking."

Irritation vied with heartfelt gratitude, which only baffled Jim more. He took a deep breath and inspected the contents of the next bag: two children's toothbrushes and some sparkly toothpaste especially for kids; combs, brushes, hair ties, and barrettes; two backpacks -- a purple one and a green one. There were also coloring books and crayons, four picture books, as well as a couple children's card games.

Jim glanced into the kitchen to find Blair with his back toward him as he cut onions and peppers to add to the eggs. The young man's long hair was tied back, which in Jim's military world would've made him the recipient of politically incorrect jokes, but the broad shoulders defied the stereotype. Though Sandburg was only about five eight, his body was definitely masculine, from the shoulders to the narrow waist to the curve of his backside --

Jim halted that line of thought immediately. "You shouldn't have bought all this," he said.

Blair looked at him over his shoulder. "I wanted to, man. Just say 'thank you' and accept it."

Jim took a deep breath, fighting the pride that tied his tongue into a knot. "Thank you." Then he asked gruffly, "Don't you have family to spend your money on, Sandburg?"

Sadness flashed through Blair's face a moment before he turned away. "No. Check out the rest of the bags."

Startled by the younger man's sudden withdrawal and embarrassed by his unthinking comment, Jim couldn't help but wonder what kind of ghosts existed in his past. However, he reminded himself, Sandburg's life wasn't any of his business. Tomorrow he and the girls would be gone and they'd probably never see the cop again. He glanced around and spotted three more bags, then reached over to pick them up with his good arm.

Again, the detective had outdid himself. In the first bag, there was a razor, shaving cream for sensitive skin, toothbrush, toothpaste and deodorant. "You trying to tell me something, Sandburg?" he asked, holding up the deodorant.

Blair grinned impishly. "It won't hurt, man." He sobered. "Last night you seemed to have some extra-sensitivity involving your skin. I thought the non-allergenic products would be better for you."

Those items were also twice as expensive. Damn, what was it with Sandburg? Anybody as thoughtful as him couldn't be real. He continued rummaging through the bag, finding handkerchiefs, boxer shorts, and a six-pack of white cotton socks -- he was pretty sure Sandburg was thinking of his skin sensitivity again. In the next bag was a flannel shirt, a denim long sleeve shirt, two Henley tops, and two packages of v-neck t-shirts, as well as a pair of tennis shoes.

"I know they're not exactly Nikes," Blair began, noticeably nervous. "But the Foot Locker wasn't open yet. I can go back -- "

"No!" Jim shouted, then realized how he must have sounded. He gentled his voice before speaking again. "This is already more than you should've gotten."

The younger man shrugged and Jim could see a flush on his cheeks. "It's not like I have anyone else to spend my money on and besides," he raised his chin and met Jim's eyes squarely, "I wanted to do it."

Jim didn't know what to say so dug into the next bag and found a pair of sweatpants, another pair of jeans, khaki trousers, and a winter jacket with a hood.

"I hope I got your size right," Blair said as he sat on the sofa's arm beside Jim.

Jim kept his gaze aimed at the pile of clothing around him. "Uh, yeah, they look good."

Blair's scent -- herbal shampoo, lightly scented soap, coffee, and gun oil from the weapon usually worn at the small of his back -- drifted around Jim and he breathed deeply of the pleasant mix. The younger man's heartbeat slid effortlessly past Jim's ramparts and surprisingly, subdued his usually unmanageable senses.

"I called Kathleen. She said to stop by around noon," Blair said. "Your arm needs to be checked out, Jim."

"I'm not going to argue with you, Chief."

Blair's shock was worth the price of Jim's pride -- the younger man had obviously been expecting a fight.

"Okay. Good. All right. I'm glad." Blair couldn't seem to string more than two words together.

Jim laid his hand on Blair's leg. "Calm down, Chief. Breathe."

Blair laughed. "Sorry. I just thought you'd refuse to go."

"I figured." Jim gave his knee a squeeze. "Hope you like burnt eggs."

"Shit." Blair jumped to his feet and ran back into the kitchen. "Caught them just in time," he said, stirring the egg mixture in the frying pan.

"You're not feeding an army, Sandburg," Jim said wryly as he slowly joined him.

Blair's flushed cheeks and glasses combined to make the detective look even younger. "I'd hate to run out."

"We're done," the two girls called out together from the bathroom.

Blair met Jim's eyes. "I'll get some clothes for them if you want to go in there and start drying them. Towels are in the linen closet. I'll be in there in a minute."

Ten minutes later, after the girls were dressed and done admiring their new clothes, the group trooped into the kitchen. Blair had everyone take a place and poured orange juice for all of them, a glass of milk each for Haley and Holly, then coffee for himself and Jim. He set the bowl of scrambled eggs in the middle of the table surrounded by muffins, bagels and toast, along with strawberry preserves, peanut butter and cream cheese.

"Dig in and if we run out, I can make more," Blair said.

Jim's fever had returned, lessening his appetite while sharpening the pain of his wounded arm. Blair spared him a worried look, but Jim was grateful he didn't allow the girls to see his concern. For being only five years old, the girls had faced more than most people do in a lifetime and Jim hated them worrying anymore than they already did.

For the next fifteen minutes, the only sounds were those involved in eating. Jim managed to eat a small portion of eggs, along with half an oatmeal raisin muffin. He'd spent most of his time watching the twins enjoy the delicious breakfast. Though he hated to admit it, he spent a great deal of time watching Blair, too. The man appeared to be a natural with children. He complimented them on their new overalls -- Holly's had Tigger on the bib front and Haley's had the Tasmanian Devil. Smiling to himself, Jim realized the characters fit each of the girls. Blair asked them about their stuffed animals and even managed to get Haley talking.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, Blair wiped Holly's face with a napkin while Jim did the same for Haley, eliminating the crumbs and milk mustaches. Jim started to rise to help clear the dirty dishes but the world tilted and he grabbed the edge of the table to keep from taking a nose dive into the leftover eggs.

"Sit down, Jim," Blair ordered in a quiet but firm voice. "Haley and Holly can help me clear the table and wash the dishes, right?" he asked the girls.

They nodded, but their concern for Jim shown clearly in their young faces.

Jim lowered himself back to his chair, resisting the urge to wipe away the sweat from his brow. He smiled reassuringly. "Go ahead and help Mr. Sandburg, girls."

Blair showed the twins how to dry the dishes after he washed them, then patiently pointed out where everything went. Jim noticed he encouraged them to look in all the cupboards and drawers, as if wanting them to grow accustomed to his kitchen, like they would be here for some time.

No, Jim wouldn't think beyond tomorrow. He would see this doctor friend of Blair's today and get the medical attention he needed. Just one more night, and he and the girls would go back to the street and find a new place to live. He knew it would be difficult leaving this snug world, but he couldn't risk anyone finding out about him. If Sandburg learned who he was, the cop wouldn't hesitate to see him in Leavenworth, or worse, back in the military hospital.

"We're done, Uncle Jim," Holly said as she and her sister came around to join him. She laid a hand on his cheek and gazed solemnly into his eyes. "Mr. Blair says you're going to feel better after you see the doctor."

Jim arched a brow and glanced at Blair, who was leaning against the wooden post with his arms and ankles crossed. A little smile claimed Blair's full lips. Jim's belly tightened at the unintentionally sexy pose of the younger man. It had been a long time since anyone -- man or woman -- had affected him so powerfully.

"He's probably right," Jim admitted, his voice surprisingly steady.

Blair pushed away from the post. "We should get going in about forty-five minutes." He approached Jim. "Do you want to take a bath before we leave?"

Jim nodded without hesitation. He could actually feel each particle of dirt in his pores and smell the sour tang of old sweat coating his skin. A bath sounded like a slice of heaven. Before he could protest, Blair helped him to his feet and into the bathroom as the girls stood back, watching with faint apprehension, although they seemed to trust Blair.

The detective didn't stop at the door this time, but went inside as he handed Jim a bag. The older man glanced inside to see his new toiletries.

"Go ahead and shave while I start filling the tub for you," Blair said.

"Hold on, Sandburg -- " Jim growled, catching the younger man's arm. "I'm not helpless."

"No one said you were. I'm just giving you a hand." Blair shrugged. "Something a friend would do."

Startled, Jim stared into his midnight blue eyes. "We hardly know each other."

"Friendships have to start someplace, don't they?"

Damn. How did the kid do it? He always knew the right thing to say, unlike Jim who had learned at an early age the less spoken the better, especially when it involved senses which were different ... freakish. His father had drilled that precept into him with the aid of a leather belt.

Jim released him and turned his attention to shaving with his new razor. But even as he concentrated on removing his whiskers, he was constantly aware of Blair's presence. One time, Blair slipped out to check on the girls and Jim had a momentary flash of panic at his absence, then cursed himself for acting like a fool. By the time Jim finished shaving, the tub was half full and Blair turned off the tap.

Jim reached up to remove his sweatshirt and gasped at the arrow of pain from his infected arm.

"Let me help," Blair said. Carefully, he removed Jim's shirt and froze when he caught sight of his back. "Jesus, who did this?" His fingers brushed along years-old scars covered by more recent injuries.

"It's none of your business, Sandburg." Jim wasn't angry; rather, the words came out empty and indifferent.

Blair continued to run his fingers across the marks, his touch feather-light and leaving an amazingly warm tingle in its wake. Jim had lived with the scars since he was ten years old and had learned to keep them hidden from prying eyes. In the high school locker room, he was always careful to hang a towel across his back; swimming, he wore his trunks and a t-shirt; in the communal military shower, everybody was scared to look, as if one peek would label him queer.

However, having Blair see them didn't bother him. He instinctively knew there would be no condemnation, no disgust or stupid macho remarks.

"I hate him." Blair's voice vibrated with a rage so strong it alarmed Jim.

He turned slowly to face the younger man who gazed up at him with shimmering eyes. Jim's breath gushed out of him like he'd been gut-punched.

"Why?" Blair whispered. "Why would someone do this to you?"

Blair's empathy washed over him, bathing him with concern, compassion and horror for the little boy who had endured such pain. Nobody had ever cared, not the doctor who had treated him after he'd fallen out of a tree when he was twelve, nor the woman he thought he had loved and nearly married.

"It was a long time ago, Sandburg," Jim said in a raspy tone.

Blair skimmed a bruise on his chest with a fingertip and shook his head. "Not so long ago. Less than a week." He grazed another contusion with the backs of his fingers. "Those men in the alley -- they did this to you."

Jim didn't bother to reply.

"But the older ones ... Who?" Blair demanded.

Jim caught Blair's roaming hand. "It doesn't matter now."

"But -- " Blair's blue eyes widened.

"Let it go." Jim couldn't help but caress the gentle, magical hand he held -- the hand which could center him and make his senses behave. "I have." Then he released him. "Go. I'll be fine."

Blair's reluctance was clearly evident in his expression, but he nodded and did as Jim said.

Alone in the bathroom, Jim indulged in the hot bath. Since he didn't want to immerse his wounded arm, using only one hand to bathe was difficult, but he managed. After he was done, he toweled himself dry, then rolled on the fancy deodorant Blair had bought for him, expecting the burn of the chemical on his skin, but there was only a slight prickle. Sandburg had been right. He brushed his teeth, enjoying the luxury of real toothpaste rather than baking soda.

He dressed in the new blue jeans, pleased by the comfortable fit, and donned the tan and blue sweater awkwardly. The socks and athletic shoes completed his new attire. Jim ran a comb through his collar-length hair. He wished he dared cut it short like he used to have it. Though he liked Blair's long curly hair -- hell, if he was honest with himself, he more than liked it -- he preferred a brush cut which camouflaged his shrinking hairline.

A soft knock sounded on the door. "Are you doing all right?" Blair asked from the other side.

In reply, Jim opened the door.

Blair smiled. "You still look a little pale, but at least you don't look like some escapee from a prison now."

Jim stiffened. Blair's words hit a little too close to home. "Thanks," he said curtly and tried to step around him.

Blair's expression fell as he moved out of the way. Jim didn't mean to hurt him, but the detective had reminded him too much of the ominous situation he was in -- between the proverbial devil and the deep blue sea.

Or maybe between the devil and a blue-eyed angel tempting him with what he could never possess.

Jim rounded the corner to see Haley and Holly sitting at the dining room table, with a coloring book in front of each of them and crayons scattered between them. Then he became aware of another person in the room and spotted the woman from last night at the fire sitting in the living room.

"Jim, you remember Debra Reeves? She's the arson inspector I'm working with," Blair introduced.

Debra stood and joined them. Jim gave her a curt nod. "Ms. Reeves."

"Jim." Her tone of voice told Jim she didn't trust him. He couldn't blame her -- Sandburg was obviously a friend of hers, although he couldn't help but wonder how close they were.

"Debra's going to stay with Haley and Holly while I take you to the doctor," Blair interjected.

Jim's startled gaze went to the girls.

"It's okay, Uncle Jim," Holly said. "Mr. Blair 'splained to us that she's a friend and she'll take care of us."

"Haley?" Jim asked softly, wondering what the more cautious twin thought.

She nodded. "We'll be all right, Uncle Jim. You need to get better."

Surrounded by such luxury, it would be easy to convince the girls that Sandburg and Reeves were friends. But prisons weren't all made of iron bars.

"I don't like leaving the girls here, Sandburg," Jim said in a low voice.

"We'll be gone an hour, maybe two. You don't want them to be sitting in a clinic's waiting area that whole time, do you?" Sandburg asked, his voice equally low-pitched.

He had a point, Jim admitted to himself. But it went against every protective instinct he possessed to leave the girls with a relative stranger. Still, he had no choice. His arm definitely needed to be treated. "All right. Let's go and get this over with."

He gave Haley and Holly a kiss. "Be good for Ms. Reeves. We'll be back in a little while."

The girls hugged him, promising to listen to the woman.

Jim kept his hearing aimed at the apartment as he and Blair walked down the hallway to the elevator. Jim walked unaided; the older man couldn't afford to display any more weakness -- the jugular was easier to rip out when the victim's guard was down. He made it into Blair's SUV, but the moment he was seated, he closed his eyes against the dizziness whipping through him.

A silky sensation against his neck made him recoil and his eyes flashed open. The detective's curls were brushing his skin and the warmth of Blair brought heat to a part of his body which hadn't shown any signs of life since Jim had escaped.

"I'm just getting your seatbelt on," Blair reassured.

Jim closed his eyes again, but the image of Blair's chestnut highlights and soft, curly hair was burned into his sensory memory. For a moment, he simply enjoyed the awakening of his formerly quiescent passion and the lightning arcing through his veins.

Jim noted Blair's retreat, and disappointment laced with reality returned. Now was hardly the time to indulge in his body's instinctual responses. He kept his eyes closed, but his hearing and sense of smell made up for the lack of visual input. Sandburg's scent wafted across him and his rapid but even heartbeat steadied Jim in a way nothing else -- even the drugs at the hospital -- had ever done. It was almost as if he were back in Peru where there was less stimuli, and he had a Chopec friend named Incacha to guide him.

"We're here," Blair said a short time later.

Jim forced himself back to the present and nearly groaned when he sat up and opened his eyes. His left arm throbbed in time with his pulse and the area around the wound burned.

He struggled to undo the seatbelt latch, but his futile attempts were halted by a firm hand. Blair freed him in silence. Jim barely made the journey across the parking lot and into the clinic, but was constantly aware of the detective never far from his side.

Things became hazy and he focused on Blair, listening to the detective's tones as he spoke to the receptionist. A part of him longed to touch the younger man, knowing instinctively that to do so would further ground him with his tactile sense. But then, Blair placed a hand on his back to guide him to a chair, and the sensory static abruptly disappeared. His senses settled back to normal: he could breathe without flinching from the air moving across his lips; see without squinting against the too-brilliant glow of colors; hear without his eardrums crashing like cymbals with every syllable. The only aberration left was Blair's heartbeat -- Jim could hear it as well as he could hear the baby crying two chairs over.

Blair's touch left Jim for a moment, then they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. Jim closed his eyes, allowing the steady heartbeat to replace his wound's throbbing. He lost track of time, but didn't zone. Finally, he was called into an exam room. He stood and paused, gazing down at the still-seated detective. Although he fought it, Jim couldn't stop himself from asking, "Will you come with me?"

Blair blinked, startled, then stood and took Jim's arm to steer him toward the familiar exam area and into the correct room. He helped Jim onto the bed then eased the older man's sweater off. Jim could almost taste Blair's nervousness -- a bitter acrid flavor -- as he pulled the sleeve over and off the wound.

"Do you want me to stay when the doctor comes in?" Blair asked softly.

"No," Jim replied, but he was clutching Blair's forearm.

Blair smiled gently. "I won't go anywhere unless you want me to."

Relief filtered through Jim's scrambled senses.

A nurse came in to take his vitals -- temperature, blood pressure, and pulse. She worked quickly and efficiently, jotting the results on a clipboard with obscenely loud pen strokes.

Less than five minutes later, the door opened and Jim looked up to see a woman in a white jacket enter. Her auburn hair was pinned up and a pair of narrow glasses were perched on her nose.

"Hello, Jim. My name's Kathleen, or Dr. Stone, whichever you feel more comfortable with," she said as she perused the clipboard. "Blair says you have a bit of an infection."

Jim nodded and kept his wary gaze on her as she unwrapped the wound and examined it carefully.

"How is it?" Blair asked anxiously.

"It's a good thing you brought him in," she said grimly. "I'm going to have a nurse clean it with a strong antiseptic, then give him a tetanus and a shot of antibiotics." She paused. "Are you allergic to any antibiotics, Jim?"

He shook his head. "No, but I do have some sensitivity to drugs."

"Which drugs?"

"Most."

"Can you give us a clue here, Jim?" Blair asked. "We don't want you to go into anaphylactic shock."

"Don't worry. I'm not allergic, just sensitive," Jim assured, recognizing a slur to his words.

Blair rubbed Jim's back and was surprised when the man's muscles untensed. He glanced up at Kathleen. "Give me an Epipen and if he does have a bad reaction, I'll administer it."

"Are you sure?" Kathleen asked, her dark brows knitted in concern.

"Remember Mark, my roommate during our sophomore year?" She nodded. "He had a lot of food allergies and always carried an Epipen. I had to use it on him once."

"All right," Kathleen said as she continued to examine Jim more thoroughly. She probed his chest carefully, her brow knitted. Finally, she eased his t-shirt back down over his torso. "He has a couple cracked ribs, but they feel like they're healing fine on their own. His arm is the most serious injury. I'm going to have to give him a heavy dose of a powerful antibiotic to nip this in the bud."

"That bad, huh?" Blair asked, his forearm nearly numb from Jim's grip.

"Definitely. If you had waited another day or two, his prognosis would've been iffy. As it is, he's going to run a high fever for the next day or two, until the antibiotics can get the infection under control." She straightened as a nurse entered, and gave the woman her instructions. As the nurse did as directed, Kathleen motioned for Blair to move out of the way.

After he convinced Jim to release him, Blair followed Kathleen to the door, but refused to leave the room. "How is he otherwise?" he asked quietly as he kept his gaze on Jim, his eyes trapped by the other man's pain-glazed ones.

"A bit undernourished, but I'd guess he hasn't been homeless very long. Maybe five or six months," Kathleen replied. She took a deep breath. "When you called this morning, you said he had two nieces. Are you sure the girls are actually related to him?"

Blair dragged his gaze away from Jim. "What do you mean?"

"You said they call him 'Uncle Jim'. That doesn't mean they're family." She crossed her arms and it was obvious she was hesitant to elaborate. "It's not unheard of for an older man like him to become, for want of a better word, 'attached' to young girls."

Shock and sickness made Blair's stomach pitch. "No!" he whispered in a hiss. "Jim's not like that."

"What do you know about him?" Kathleen pressed.

Blair's mind fumbled for an answer which would allay Kathleen's appalling speculation. "You haven't seen him with them. He acts like a father, not some--some pervert. He almost died protecting them when I first met him."

The doctor didn't appear convinced. "If he really wanted to protect them, he would allow them to be placed in a foster home."

"Jim can take care of them."

"He can't now."

Her directness startled Blair. He glanced at the pale features of Jim. She was right. "But I can," he stated firmly.

She shook her head in exasperation. "All through college, I saw you throw your heart and soul into good 'causes', Blair, and I've seen you miserable when things didn't work out. If you allow yourself to get wrapped up with this man and those two girls, you'll be devastated when they leave." Her eyes glimmered with compassion. "And they will leave."

Blair's chest constricted, but he managed a weak smile. "I think your warning's a little late."

Kathleen studied him a long moment, then wrapped her arms around him. "Take care of yourself. And if you need any more help, or just a shoulder to lean on, call me."

He hugged her back, taking comfort in the friendship they'd shared for nearly ten years. "Thank you." He drew away, far enough that he could look into her face. "Send me the bill."

Kathleen chuckled. "This one's on me." She sobered. "Be careful. Your heart's been broken too many times already."

Blair nodded.

"Your friend is ready to go," the nurse said as she joined them.

"Thanks, Sherry," Kathleen said and the nurse slipped out of the room.

Blair shook himself out of his reverie and noticed Jim was again wearing his sweater. His complexion was still far too pale. "Anything else I need to know?" he asked the doctor.

"You should change the dressing twice a day and if it looks like the infection is worsening, call me. I may have to admit him."

"No, no hospital," Jim called out in a weak voice.

Blair frowned. How had Jim heard her, just as he'd heard Debra last night? Could he be one of those people with an enhanced sense? He recalled Jim's complaint about his clothes hurting and the younger man's heart tripped, then double-timed. Maybe both hearing and touch? What about the other three senses?

"I don't think that'll happen," Kathleen reassured, bringing Blair out of his musings. "The shot the nurse gave you should start to work within twenty-four hours. By as early as tomorrow morning, there should be a lessening of the infection."

"What about fever?" Blair asked, locking his gaze with Jim's.

"It's at one hundred and two now. If it goes to a hundred and four and stays there for more than four hours, call me. Otherwise, just try to keep him comfortable. Between the actual wound itself and the fever, he's going to be in distress."

"I'll be fine," Jim growled. He pushed himself off the examination table and would've taken a header if Blair hadn't caught his uninjured arm.

"Damn it, Jim. Don't be so fucking hardheaded," Blair said angrily.

"Yeah, like you're not stubborn, Mister Detective," Jim shot back.

Kathleen held up her hands. "Enough. Blair, get Jim home and make sure he rests for at least forty-eight hours. Give him plenty of liquids and remember to pick up an Epipen and his prescription at the desk on your way out. I'll have Sherry give you some extra bandages and antibiotic ointment. And," she aimed a forefinger at them, "he will take all of the pills even if he's feeling better."

"Yes, ma'am," Blair said with a sheepish grin. He'd forgotten about Kathleen's steel backbone.

Jim remained silent, his thinned lips pressed together.

Blair had an idea he was going to learn just how stubborn his houseguest could be in the next forty-eight hours.

Blair settled himself on the couch and barely stifled a groan of relief, grateful that the trying day had finally come to an end. After he and Jim had arrived back at the loft, Blair had made him lie down on the sofa. Debra had left, saying Haley and Holly had been well-behaved. What she hadn't said, though Blair could see it in her eyes, was that she, too, was growing fond of the girls.

The remainder of the day passed with Jim testing Blair every couple hours. He would rise and restlessly pace the floor, his arm held tightly to his side and creases of pain etched in his face. His forehead would be damp with fever-sweat, but the mulish man would push himself until he nearly blacked out and Blair would end up pressing him back down into a chair or onto the couch.

Throughout the day, Haley and Holly were Blair's allies. For being only five years old, the girls were amazingly mature and helped Blair make supper, as well as do the dishes and care for Jim. What kind of life had the twins had? Blair wanted to question them about their mother and father, but a part of him wondered if asking would uncover demons which should remain buried.

He stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the shadowed high ceiling. Despite his exhaustion, his mind raced. The mystery of Jim's identity never strayed far from Blair's thoughts. He wanted to know where he came from and how he had ended up on the street ... and everything in between. Hell, the man intrigued him.

Blair twisted onto his side and smacked his pillow with a fist. He didn't need this complication in his life. But Kathleen had pretty well pegged it, although it had been a long time since he had thrown himself so deeply into a 'cause'. This 'cause', however, came with a much higher price tag than most: Blair had allowed the small family to slip into his usually well-protected heart.

A moan from upstairs caught his attention and he sat up to listen intently. The sound was repeated, followed by Jim's restless movements. Blair threw back his covers and, heedless of wearing only boxers and a t-shirt, raced upstairs to find Jim in the midst of a nightmare.

He sat on the edge of the mattress and leaned over the larger man to lay a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Jim. Wake up! You're having a nightmare."

Jim continued to toss and turn.

Blair gripped his arm and gave him a slight shake. "Jim! Wake up, man!"

Suddenly Blair found himself on the floor with pain exploding along his jaw. He sat for a moment, shaking his head like a kicked puppy. Jim had punched him!

"Blair?" Jim asked in a quavery voice.

The detective pushed himself upright, cradling his jaw in his hand. "You have a helluva right hook there, big guy."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Chief. I-I don't like people touching me when I'm asleep. Too many years in the arm -- " Jim broke off abruptly. "Don't do it again, Sandburg."

Blair's agile mind latched onto his slip -- had Jim been in the Army? That would explain his bearing and well-muscled body, but why was he on the street now? Was he one of those soldiers experiencing post-traumatic stress syndrome? If so, he could be dangerous.

He gazed down at the guilt and misery in the man's face. No, Jim wasn't dangerous.

"Thanks for the warning, man," Blair said, injecting good-natured sarcasm. "Mind if I see how your fever is?"

"It's still there. Maybe another degree higher," Jim admitted reluctantly.

Blair cautiously lowered himself to the edge of the mattress. "I know you don't like hospitals, but maybe ... "

"No."

"If you're worried about the money -- "

"I'm not, but even if I was, I wouldn't let you pay. I'd find a way to take care of it."

Blair chuckled softly at the man's stubborn pride, then groaned as his hand flew to his bruised jaw. "Ow."

Jim sat up and though Blair couldn't see him clearly, he could feel Jim's intense study of him. The older man reached out and brushed Blair's jaw with his fingertips. "It's swelling."

The throbbing was forgotten with Jim's tantalizing touch and for an insane moment, Blair wanted to lean into the older man's hand. "It'll be all right," he managed to say above his heart's rapid beat.

Blair reached over and flicked on the small lamp.

Jim moaned and closed his eyes tightly. "Hurts," he whimpered.

Shocked, Blair quickly blanketed the room in darkness once more. "Jim, are you all right, buddy?" he asked, his voice made louder by his apprehension.

Jim clapped his hands over his ears and snarled in pain. "Loud. Too damned loud."

Blair's eyes widened. That made three senses now -- sight, hearing, and touch. Jesus, what if ...

Following instinct, Blair rested his palm on Jim's chest and lowered his voice as he spoke, "I want you to concentrate on my voice, Jim. Just my voice, nothing else. Can you hear me?" He could barely see Jim's slight nod in the darkness. "I want you to imagine a dimmer switch for a light. I want you to turn it down until your eyes don't hurt anymore. Can you find that switch?"

After a long painstaking moment, Jim's expression eased. "Yeah. Okay."

Astounded, Blair kept speaking in the same soothing, modulated tone. "Now I want you to do the same for your hearing. Think of a car radio and the volume dial. Bring it down, man. Bring it down until the sounds aren't so loud."

Blair's eyes adjusted to the dimness so he could watch as Jim concentrated on doing as he was directed. The lessening of the lines around the older man's mouth told the detective he had succeeded. Blair let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Better?"

Jim nodded and slowly opened his eyes, his long lashes flickering before he settled his gaze on Blair. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make it better."

Blair smiled. "I don't have a clue. I just did what felt right and I guess it worked."

Jim leaned back against his pillow and rested his injured arm on his chest. The younger man could sense the struggle to conceal his pain behind an unyielding facade. Why did Jim look like he expected Blair to thrust a knife into his belly?

"Talk to me, Jim," Blair urged gently. "What's going on here?"

"You tell me, Chief." Jim's voice was husky, shaded with caution.

Though Blair wanted to ask him about his senses, he found himself holding back. Jim didn't need his badgering -- he had to use all his strength to fight the infection. Jim's sweat-coated face glistened from the scant light coming in the window. He still had a ways to go before he would be well.

Blair stood.

"Where are you going?" Jim asked with a note of panic.

"Downstairs to get a damp washcloth. It might help your fever."

Blair paused in the bathroom to examine his jaw and, just as Jim had said, it was already red and swollen. He shrugged to himself -- he'd had worse after subduing a suspect. He climbed the stairs and wasn't surprised to find Jim's silvery-blue eyes on him, reflecting the moonlight from the window above. Blair perched on the edge of the bed after setting the bowl of cool water on the nightstand. He wrung out the washcloth, folded it and laid it on Jim's hot forehead. "How does that feel?" he asked, keeping his voice pitched low.

"Better."

"Close your eyes and try to sleep. If you don't mind, I'll sit with you a little while."

Although Jim didn't answer, he seemed to relax minutely. After a few minutes, he slipped into restless slumber. Without thinking, Blair clasped Jim's hand that rested on his chest and rubbed his thumb across the scarred knuckles. The man's restive motions diminished and his breathing became deep and regular.

God, it would be so damned easy to fall for this man. He would have to guard his heart well or, as Kathleen had said, he would have it broken.

Some time later, Jim awakened to darkness. He lay still, trying to figure out where he was and why he felt so warm and relaxed. Silky-smooth tendrils tickled the curve of his neck and a comfortable weight rested on his shoulder. An arm was slung over his waist, almost possessive in its firm hold. A now-familiar scent surrounded him underscored by exotic muskiness. He breathed deeply of the faint male pheromones.

Blair.

He remembered waking to see Blair sitting on the floor after he had slugged him in his sleep. Jim's uninjured arm instinctively tightened around the younger man as remorse washed through him. He also recalled his sight and hearing spiking, and Blair's uncanny ability to bring the senses back down to a tolerable level. Nobody had ever been able to help him like Blair.

Afterward, Blair had laid a damp cloth on his forehead, then clasped Jim's hand. Even now, Jim could feel the residual traces of Blair's fingers lightly rubbing his knuckles. He hadn't felt that safe and cared for since ...

Jesus, he had never felt that cherished.

Jim closed his eyes and attempted to regain some emotional distance from Detective Blair Sandburg. Jim had no future to give to himself, much less a seductively compassionate, caring man. Blair deserved so much more than a deserter and a freak.

Moisture burned behind Jim's eyelids but he savagely refused to let the tears escape.

Get over it, Ellison. An hour after we're gone, Blair will forget us and find another cause.

But for now, Jim would pretend Blair was his and hold him close. Tomorrow was soon enough to return to grim reality.

It was the smell of blueberry pancakes that brought Jim out of uncharacteristically pleasant dreams. Nearly identical giggles reached his ears and he smiled at the precious sound. He pushed himself up, surprised but pleased the pain had faded somewhat and his temperature though not normal, had fallen overnight.

Rolling onto his side, he peered over the railing to see Blair making a show of pouring pancake batter onto a hot griddle. Haley and Holly were sitting on stools back far enough that they wouldn't be burned, but close enough that Blair could entertain them. Who would've thought a policeman could gain their trust so quickly? But, then, Blair had that quality about him -- an almost child-like innocence at odds with the tough career he'd chosen. What had made someone like Blair become a cop?

The detective's mussed curly hair captured Jim's attention and his fingers ached to bury themselves within the silken mass. Just the thought of the satiny strands slipping through his fingers made his belly grow heavy with desire. For over a year, Jim had lived without sex. Because of his senses it was difficult to get turned on by a man or woman when Jim could smell every little scent about them, including what they had for dinner, what kind of deodorant they did or didn't use, and what type of soap they'd used if they had showered that morning. But Blair was different ....

He shook aside his musings as well as the sweet memory of Blair sleeping with him, his firm body pressed against Jim's and his breath warm across Jim's chest. He got out of bed and slipped on a robe which hung from a hook by the bed. Blair's scent from the bathrobe wafted around him and Jim forced himself to ignore its allure. He padded down the steps on bare feet and was met by Blair's surprisingly shy smile. Maybe he was remembering how they'd slept entangled with each other, too.

"Good morning," Blair said.

Haley and Holly twisted around on their stools and when they saw Jim, hopped down and ran over to him. Jim squatted down and drew them into his arms, reveling in the baby powder scent of their skin. "How are my angels?"

"We're being good, just like you said," Holly replied.

Jim raised his eyes to catch Blair's affectionate gaze on them, and frowned when he spotted his slightly swollen jaw. He hated that he'd hurt the younger man after all Blair had done for them.

"You're looking better," Blair said.

"I'm feeling better," Jim replied tersely. He released the girls and rose, but kept a hand on their shoulders. "Thanks for watching them."

"Believe me, it's my pleasure. Besides, it's a two-way street -- your nieces watch over me, too."

"You're a grown-up, Mr. Blair. You don't need us to watch you," Holly argued.

"Sometimes grown-ups like to be taken care of, too, even if they don't want to admit it," Blair said to the girl, but Jim knew the words were meant for him. The younger man returned to the griddle and lifted four pancakes off. "Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes."

Jim used the bathroom while the twins helped Blair set the table. When Jim returned, everything was ready, including the pancakes and sausage links. The older man's stomach growled, reminding him he had eaten little yesterday.

Blair handed Jim his antibiotic, which he reluctantly swallowed with a glass of juice. Everyone sat down and Blair poured syrup over two pancakes on Holly's plate while Jim did the same for Haley. Once the girls were busy eating, Jim and Blair forked pancakes onto their own plates.

Jim glanced up to catch Blair studying him, but the younger man quickly averted his attention to Holly. Jim refilled his plate for the third time and cleaned it off, then pushed it away. It had been a long time since he had eaten so well and so much. He leaned back and opened his senses to Blair's home. There was a lived-in comfort to it which Jim appreciated. There had been little in Jim's life that spoke of belonging and family. In the beginning, the military had felt like family, but though there was camaraderie, there was nothing close to familial love and acceptance. As Jim looked at the twins, he realized he had never felt a sense of family before them. His gaze wandered over to Blair and he found himself suspecting that the young man could deepen that feeling of belonging in ways Jim hadn't even known existed.

"My mother died a few years ago," Blair was saying to Holly and Haley.

"Our mommy's in heaven, right, Uncle Jim?" Holly asked.

Jim stiffened and nodded. "That's right, sweetheart."

"What about your daddy?" Blair asked the girls.

"They never knew him," Jim replied, suddenly wary.

"Was he your brother?" Blair pressed.

"No."

"Then their mother was your sister?"

Anxiety knitted Jim's brow and he forced his expression into a neutral mask. He could lie, but he had never liked lying, although he had done more in the past year than he had in his entire life. He didn't want to add another falsehood, especially to this generous man who had opened his home to them. "No. I met Dee and her daughters on the street about six months ago."

"So you're not really related to them." For the first time since Jim had met the younger man, Blair's expressive eyes were curtained.

"Not by blood, but I love them like my own, Sandburg." A subtle threat imbued his tone.

Blair smiled, but the warmth didn't quite touch his eyes. "Anybody who's seen you with them knows that."

"I won't let anyone take them."

"May I have some more pancakes, Mr. Blair?" Holly asked, unknowingly defusing the tension.

"As many as you want, sweetie." The detective smiled as he piled two more pancakes on the girl's plate.

Jim glanced away, knowing he had given Blair -- the cop -- a reason to take the girls away from him. Would he? Or did he mean everything he had said when they first met -- things like caring?

After everyone had eaten their fill, Haley and Holly helped Blair with the dishes, shooing Jim into the living room. The older man found himself beside one of the large bookshelves, scanning titles. He breathed deeply of the familiar mustiness all books exuded. He loved to read, had often spent his free weekends doing that rather than going out on a date or with the guys to get drunk and chase women. Books had been his friends growing up and he'd never lost his love for them.

He noticed a Jack Kerouac title he had never read. He reached for it, but his hand froze two inches from the spine, uncertain.

"Go ahead, Jim," Blair's voice came from the kitchen. "Help yourself. Books were made to be shared."

Jim stared at Blair for a long moment, wondering if the younger man knew how deeply his offer touched him. He swallowed the lump gathering in his throat and gave Blair a tight nod, hoping he understood. Blair's smile told him he did.

Jim carried the book to the couch and sat down, then opened it almost reverently. Just as he finished the first chapter, he heard Blair tell the girls to get dressed. He turned to see Haley and Holly disappear into their room. Blair smiled after them, then came into the living room. He settled on the coffee table in front of Jim.

"Why haven't you allowed Child Protective Services to find out if they have any other family?" Blair asked without preamble.

Unprepared for Blair's question, Jim reacted instinctively. He stood. "As soon as the girls are ready, we'll be leaving."

Blair grabbed his wrist with a surprisingly strong hold. "Damn it, Jim, help me out here. You said yourself you're not related." His grip slackened as he asked quietly, "Did you love their mother?"

Jim jerked his arm out of Blair's grasp. "That's none of your damned business, Sandburg."

The younger man bowed his head. "You're right. I'm sorry, man."

Jim's throat constricted as he ached to tell him the truth, that he had cared for Dee like a sister, and the thought of being with her that way hadn't even entered the picture. Dee had sold her body to obtain money for drugs and Jim had stopped her self-destructive behavior for only a short time. She had been determined to end her troubled life one way or another, and Jim had made a promise to himself to save her daughters from the same fate.

"When do you want us gone?" Jim asked, keeping his voice free of emotion.

Blair's head shot up. "I don't," he blurted, then backpedaled. "I mean, only if you want to go and that's only if your infection is under control. You have four more days of pills to take. Stay here for at least that long." He studied Jim with intense blue eyes and added softly, "Please."

Jim kept his gaze on Blair's, reading sincerity in the simple plea. Slowly, he reached out and rolled a strand of chestnut hair between his thumb and forefinger. The curl was soft and seductive, like satin skimming across bare skin. He focused on the heavenly sensation, oblivious to everything but the spellbinding feel of Blair's hair.

Blair remained frozen in place, not wanting to break the sensual mood Jim's touch created. The unexpected bolt of jealousy which had struck him at the thought of Jim and the girls' mother together was replaced by sizzling passion and something ... more.

Jim was a stranger, yet Blair felt an odd kinship with the man. He should have remained guarded like he was with everyone else, even those he had known for years. Although Kathleen knew of his tendency to embrace causes, she didn't know he always held back a part of himself.

Detach with love, Naomi had always said, and that was easier to do when the heart remained unaffected. It was a well-learned lesson he had carried into his adult years and the few women and even fewer men he had been involved with in the past ten years had never broken past the final barrier. It was the reason Blair was alone now -- the reason he believed he would always be alone.

Jim had demolished that last fortress with nothing more than a touch and a soft word. Strong, yet vulnerable. Proud, yet selfless. A man shattered by something in his past; something he chose to bear alone. Blair wanted to be the one he turned to -- the one he told his secrets -- but he knew Jim's defenses were built even higher and thicker than his own.

The tableau continued, neither man moving. Blair's heartbeat accelerated and his body leaned closer to the other man as if drawn by some invisible thread.

"Uncle Jim!" the girls cried as they entered the living room.

Startled, Blair turned his head and let out a quiet yelp when Jim didn't release his hair, but didn't have time to worry about the loss of a few strands.

Haley and Holly stared up at Jim, their eyes wide and anxious. Blair glanced back and was shocked to see the older man standing motionless, his eyes vacant and his mouth lax. He looked like he had slipped into a hypnotic trance -- just like he had the first night.

"What's wrong with him?" Blair asked, his desire evaporating with the onslaught of alarm.

"He went away," Holly replied.

"Went away?" Blair parroted.

"He goes away sometimes," Haley said.

"We're supposed to scream to get him to come back," Holly added.

She took a deep breath, but Blair clamped a hand over her mouth before she could follow words with action. "Let's try to bring him back some other way, okay?" Blair asked shakily.

The girls exchanged looks, then nodded and gazed at him. They obviously expected him to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Frantically, Blair searched for a clue to help the insensate man.

Senses! That was it. Blair had already ascertained that Jim had at least three hypersenses. If he had all five, he could be the real thing -- a sentinel, just as Richard Burton described in his monograph. If that were so, then Jim would also be subject to zone-outs, fugue states caused by concentrating too intently on one sense.

Okay, so what do I do?

He had to get him to engage his other senses.

Blair placed his palm against Jim's chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the robe. "Jim, can you hear me? I need you to stop doing what you're doing." Lame, Sandburg, lame. "Listen to my voice, concentrate on that and my hand on your chest. C'mon, Jim, come back to us. Haley and Holly are counting on you."

Jim suddenly gasped and stumbled. Blair caught and steadied him. "Hey, you back with us, man?"

Blair could see his throat move with a hard swallow. "Y-yeah, I'm back," Jim replied. He glanced at the relieved expressions on Haley and Holly's faces and a soft groan escaped him. "Son of a -- it happened again."

"Don't worry, Jim. You're safe here," Blair said, fighting to keep his excitement hidden. He wanted to investigate the evidence further before springing his theory on the older man.

Jim eyed him coolly. "Am I?"

Blair kept his gaze locked with Jim's. "Yes." He urged Jim over to the sofa. "Rest," he ordered, then turned to the girls. "Why don't you get your brushes and we'll brush your hair?"

As Haley and Holly skipped into their room, Blair settled cross-legged on the couch a few feet from Jim and flicked the television on to Sesame Street. He and Jim would have their discussion later, when the older man's jaw wasn't set in such rigid stubbornness.

The girls returned, carrying their matching brushes. Haley sat beside Jim, while Holly dropped down in front of Blair. The two men took the respective brushes and worked the snarls out of their hair as the twins' rapt attention remained on Bert and Ernie.

Blair could easily imagine he and Jim taking care of the girls all the time, just like this. The image was one that brought warmth curling in his chest -- someplace much too close to his heart.

The phone rang, startling them all. Blair fumbled for the phone behind him. "Sandburg."

"I need you to come in today," Simon Banks said without preamble.

"Now?" Blair asked impatiently.

"Yes, now, Sandburg. I want you to go over the forensic results on the arson from two nights ago. Also, there's someone you and Reeves need to interview -- he says he knows who the arsonist is. He's probably a crackpot, but it needs to be checked out."

Blair closed his eyes, wishing for a moment that he had never joined the police force or heard of Major Crime. "All right. I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said reluctantly.

"How are your houseguests?"

Blair felt his muscles stiffen defensively. "Fine. Jim saw Kathleen yesterday and she put him on antibiotics. He's supposed to be taking it easy for a few days."

"What about his daughters?"

Blair didn't correct his mistaken assumption, though he knew he'd be reprimanded later for the deliberate oversight. "They're fine. In fact, they're watching Sesame Street right now."

Simon grunted, but Blair could imagine the twinkle in his dark eyes. The tough captain could be turned into mush in seconds around kids.

"I'll see you in about fifteen minutes," Blair said, then turned the phone off and set it back on its base. "I have to run into work for a few hours."

"Whatever," Jim replied, keeping his gaze on Big Bird who was talking about crossing the street safely.

"Simon -- Captain Banks -- wants me to look over the reports from the fire that burned down the warehouse where you were staying. He said he has someone who might know who did it." He paused. "Do you remember anything at all from that night? Maybe a sound or a glimpse of something?"

Jim's brow furrowed. "Not really, except --" He pressed his lips together.

"What?" Blair prompted.

Jim remained silent for a long moment, then spoke as if the words were dragged out of him, "Maybe a smell."

Blair kept his features neutral. "What kind of smell?"

"I don't know." Frustration rang in his words.

"Don't sweat it. Maybe we can try some relaxation techniques when I get back."

"You mean like twisting my body into a pretzel?" Jim's voice was surly.

Frowning, Blair wondered where all of Jim's hostility was coming from. But, then, what did he know about the man? Other than he was fascinating, mysterious, stubborn, and damned good-looking.

"No, nothing like that," Blair assured. "Think about it while I'm gone. If you don't mind, that is."

"Okay," Jim said grudgingly.

"You two take care of your Uncle Jim and make sure he rests," Blair instructed the girls.

"We will, Mr. Blair," Holly said solemnly.

Blair ruffled first Holly's hair, then Haley's, and turned to Jim again, his expression somber. "Can you promise me one thing?"

The older man narrowed his eyes, not ready to give an inch. "What?"

"Don't leave without saying good-bye." Blair's voice was husky.

He held his breath for the interminable time it took for Jim to answer. "I owe you that much."

Despite Jim's lack of enthusiasm, Blair had won the small battle. He laid a hand on Jim's knee. "Thank you," he said in a voice so low only a person with enhanced senses would hear him.

"You're welcome," Jim replied reflexively.

The detective held back a triumphant grin as he strolled to the door and snatched his brown jacket from the rack. "I'm planning to be back in time to make lunch. If something comes up, I'll call."

"All right."

Blair turned to wave good-bye and froze in mid-motion at the sight on the couch. Haley and Holly were snuggled close on either side of Jim and the big, tough man had an arm around each one.

Unable to speak past the lump in his throat, Blair raised a hand in farewell and slipped out the door. He hurried down the stairs and to his SUV. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he could return to the loft which felt more like a home than it had in the three years he'd lived there.

"Are we keeping you from something, Sandburg?" Simon Banks asked with Ginsu-sharp sarcasm.

Blair blinked, embarrassed to see Debra and Simon staring at him. "What? Did I miss something?"

"I thought you wanted to catch this arsonist," Simon said.

Blair sat up straight. "Damn right I do. He nearly killed Jim and the girls."

"He did kill two people."

Blair's face heated beneath the deserved reprimand. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that" -- he squirmed in his chair -- "I'm worried about them. What they'll do once they leave."

Simon heaved a long sigh. "Maybe you should've taken up social work instead, Sandburg."

"If this job gets to be too much, I might," Blair admitted in total honesty, startling Simon.

Debra leaned back in her chair. "I might join you if we can't catch this guy before he kills somebody else." She shuddered visibly.

Simon fingered his cigar. "I know this one has been tough on both of you and after the false lead this morning, it's even more frustrating. All you can do is keep going and hope our arsonist makes a mistake or someone comes up with a name. They're both long shots, but it's all we have for now."

Blair motioned toward the files spread across the table. "There's got to be something in there we're missing."

"What?" Debra demanded. "We've both been through everything at least a dozen times."

"I don't know, but I want to go through them one more time."

Debra glanced at her watch. "I have a meeting down at the station house. Go ahead and take another crack at it. It's not like we have any other leads." She stood. "I'm going away for the weekend but Jeff Melton will be taking my calls, so if the arsonist strikes again ..."

"What's Robert going to do without you for a whole weekend?" Blair asked innocently.

Debra wrinkled her nose. "He's going away with me, smartie, and no, I'm not going to tell you where."

"Romantic getaway, huh?" Simon asked.

"That's the idea. We've had this planned for months. See you Monday." She opened the door and left.

Blair gathered up the files. "I'm going to take these home to look over."

"Knock yourself out," Simon said with a magnanimous wave of his cigar. "No romantic weekend planned?"

Blair thought of Jim, but shoved the image aside and smiled crookedly. "For that I'd have to have met someone to spend it with. Actually, I'm hoping Jim and the girls will stay through the weekend."

"What's going on, Blair?" Simon asked, almost paternally.

Blair's heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"You're acting like a mother cat guarding her kittens with that homeless family."

The younger man laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "I don't think I've ever been compared to a mother cat before. A jackass once, even a dog on occasion, but never a cat."

"Quit changing the subject." Simon took a deep breath and suddenly looked like he wanted to be someplace else. "Debra told me about this Jim. She said he wasn't a typical street person -- in good physical condition ... handsome."

"I guess," Blair murmured, tossing the arson files into an empty Xerox paper box.

"I know you're discrete, but be damned careful."

The young detective's face flushed as he remembered how he'd awakened in Jim's arms that morning. For the first time in a long time, he had felt safe and secure and had slept without nightmares about Naomi's death. Instead, he had dreamed of a wolf and a black panther -- a strangely comforting dream in spite of its weirdness. He forced a laugh. "Kathleen beat you to the punch, Captain. She told me the same thing."

Banks snorted. "And I doubt you'll listen to either of us."

"There's something else," Blair began quietly. "Remember when we were talking about my doctoral thesis and how I hadn't found a subject yet?"

Simon nodded as his eyes narrowed behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

Blair plucked at a piece of loose cardboard on the box, unable to meet Simon's gaze. "I think Jim is a sentinel."

"What?"

The younger man finally looked up. "I've observed hypersensitivity in three of his five senses. He even went into what could be described as a zone-out, something which only occurs in true sentinels."

"Have you asked him about it?"

Blair shook his head. "Jim doesn't trust easily. I'm afraid if I ask him, he's going to run. In fact, I have a feeling he's been struggling with his heightened senses for a while now and he's afraid to talk about them. He might even think he's going insane."

"Leave it to you to find the only paranoid sentinel in the world."

"Hell, he's probably the only sentinel in the world. The paranoia's just a bonus." Blair rubbed his whisker-rough jaw, flinching slightly at the tender skin beneath.

Simon came around to stand in front of Blair and leaned close to study the side of his face -- the side which was slightly swollen from Jim's right hook. "What the hell happened to you?"

Blair flushed. "I tried to wake Jim when he was having a nightmare."

"He did this to you?"

The younger man held up his hands to calm the fuming captain. "He was still asleep. He felt like shit after he realized what he did."

"I don't like this, Sandburg. Not one damned bit. This man could be a stone cold killer, for all you know."

Blair recognized Simon's fury as genuine concern. "No. He's not like that, Simon. He's a good guy, really."

The captain folded his arms across his chest. "And how do you know this? Did he tell you?" Sarcasm oozed from his words.

Blair fisted his hands at his sides. Sometimes he hated Simon's overprotectiveness. "You have to trust me on this, Simon," he stated through clenched teeth. "Wasn't it you who told me I have to trust my gut? My gut tells me Jim is not one of the bad guys. He had a nightmare. I touched him to wake him up. He reacted instinctively. End of story."

Simon scrutinized him for a full minute, then sighed and his whole body seemed to sag. "Let's say he is a sentinel; do you think you can convince him to let you study him?"

"Good question." Blair picked up the box of files, relieved the interrogation was over. "I'm going to head home. I promised the girls I'd be back in time for lunch."

"If you need anything, call me," Simon said.

"Like what?"

Simon shrugged, and the hint of a sparkle lit his dark eyes. "I don't know -- maybe a babysitter?"

Blair grinned. "You're such a softie, Simon."

The police captain snorted. "No need to be insulting, Sandburg." He clapped Blair's back. "Good luck. And don't go waking people having nightmares anymore."

Blair grinned, accepting Simon's form of an apology. "I won't." He left the captain's office and strolled through the bullpen, stopping only at his desk to see if there were any phone messages. There weren't.

As he rode down the elevator, Blair found himself smiling. It felt good knowing there was someone at home waiting for him -- someone like Jim.

Much to Blair's relief, Jim and the girls were still at the loft when he arrived home. Jim had moved to a chair to better watch the girls, who were sitting on the floor on either side of the coffee table playing Go Fish.

"Did you get your work done, Sandburg?" Jim asked, his voice and expression neutral.

Blair flashed him a smile as he set his box on the table. "Not even close, but that's the way the job goes."

Jim rose, keeping his injured arm close to his side, and joined Blair.

"How's the arm doing?" Blair asked.

"Hurts." He motioned to the box. "What's that?"

"Homework," he answered Jim's question. "Seems I always have homework, whether it be police-related or from class."

"You're going to school on top of being a cop?"

"Only one class. I'm working on my doctorate."

Jim scowled. "Being a cop and working on your Ph.D. must take most of your time."

"Pretty much, but I've learned to balance the two. Sort of," he added sheepishly.

"Why did you take us in if you're stretched so thin already?"

Blair fixed him with a steady look. "Because I couldn't not help you."

Jim appeared uncomfortable by his admission. The detective had a strong hunch no one had ever cared enough to put the older man ahead of everything else. That theory would also explain why Jim hid behind an impassive mask. In some ways, he and Jim were more alike than either realized. Only instead of stoicism, Blair hid behind words.

"So, what's your doctorate about?" Jim asked.

Blair could tell Jim had changed the subject because of his discomfiture; however, the new subject was bound to be even more unsettling. "Sentinels -- tribal watchmen with five enhanced senses."

Though Blair had expected a reaction, he wasn't prepared for the loss of color in Jim's face or his harsh gasp. And even without sentinel vision, the younger man saw the trembling in Jim's limbs.

He stepped forward automatically, wrapped an arm around Jim and lowered him to a dining room chair. Blair quickly got him a glass of water and remained silent while Jim drank it all.

"How long?" Jim didn't mince words.

Blair didn't like the accusatory edge to his question, but consciously kept his voice even. "I figured out you had three of the five senses enhanced and when you blanked out this morning, it had to be a zone-out, something not uncommon for an unguided sentinel."

Jim stared at him, his blue eyes diamond sharp. "Zone-out? Sentinel? Unguided? I've never heard of this crap."

Undaunted, Blair pulled a chair around and plopped down in front of Jim, their knees nearly touching. "That's because it's not common knowledge. In fact, Richard Burton, the anthropologist not the actor, is the only one to have done any research on sentinels. I have his book and I've read it at least a hundred times." He grinned self-consciously. "It's believed the sentinel genes became latent because they weren't needed in the modern world. My doctorate is to prove that sentinels are alive and well in today's society."

"So?" Jim prompted, leaning forward so their knees touched intimately.

Blair frowned and splayed a hand through his hair. "I hadn't found one. Until you."

Jim stood abruptly and his chair tipped over backward as bitterness clouded his handsome features. "You still haven't."

The girls rushed to Jim's side, their faces filled with apprehension.

"Uncle Jim?" Haley asked timidly.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Jim reassured the twins, his voice now gentle. "I'm going to get dressed, then we're leaving."

"No!" Blair jumped to his feet. "Don't go."

Abruptly, Jim's anger fled and his face sagged with exhaustion and defeat. "Look, I owe you a debt, Sandburg, and I swear I'll pay it back someday. But we have to leave."

Blair grabbed Jim's shoulders, his fingertips digging into hard muscle. "You don't have to leave. I won't bring up the sentinel thing again, I swear. Just, please, don't go." He knew he was pleading, but he couldn't bear the thought of them out of his life forever. And if they left now, Jim would ensure he and the girls would never be found by him or any other cop.

"There are things about me you don't know, Blair," Jim said, his voice rough with emotion. "Things you don't want to know." He closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them, naked anguish shown in their depths. "Things I don't want you to know."

"They can't be that bad," Blair cajoled with a weak smile.

"They are that bad." Jim turned to the girls. "Go put your things in the backpacks Mr. Blair gave you."

"But we don't want to go," Holly said plaintively.

Jim squatted down in front of her. "I'm sorry, honey, but we knew we couldn't stay."

The pain in Jim's voice stabbed Blair. Wasn't there some way he could convince him to stay? Think, Sandburg, think. You're usually full of words. But Blair's mind was blank.

He watched as Haley and Holly trudged into their room and Jim went upstairs to dress. Numbly, Blair followed the girls. They worked together silently except for Holly's sniffles -- each one a physical blow to the detective. Once their backpacks were filled with their new clothes, coloring books, and cards, Blair zipped them shut. He gazed at the girls, each one holding her stuffed animal. He could still smell the faint scent of smoke embedded in the toys.

"I'm glad you were able to save your friends from the fire," he said, wanting to say something to prolong their company.

"Uncle Jim saved them for us," Holly said.

"You mean he went back into the fire for them?" Blair asked.

Holly nodded vehemently.

Gods, the stupid sentinel had risked his life for two raggedy stuffed animals.

"That's 'cause he's the bravest and strongest man in the world," Haley stated defiantly, as if expecting Blair to disagree.

"You like him, don't you?" Blair's voice echoed his own form of hero worship.

"We love him," Holly said emphatically.

"He takes care of us," Haley stated.

"What about your mother? Didn't she take care of you?" Blair asked.

"She was always doing things with men," Holly said in a small voice.

Though not surprised, Blair still felt his stomach churn. "I bet that hurt, didn't it?" He remembered his own childhood and the nights he was alone when Naomi disappeared with some man, leaving him with a friend of a friend. He hated to ask the next part, but had to know. "Did she ever do things with your Uncle Jim?"

Anxious looks were exchanged between the somber girls, making Blair's heart stumble. Had he been wrong about Jim?

Finally the twins looked at Blair, and Holly said in a voice so low he had to lean forward to hear her. "Mom wanted t-to, b-but Uncle Jim said no. She did -- " Holly gulped and her sister's hand slid into hers and they held on tightly. "She did things to him, things he didn't like, like r-rubbing him -- . He would l-look at us, like he was s-sad and mad at the same time."

"She wanted him to give her money for drugs," Haley added, her little chin tilted upward. "But he wouldn't."

Blair could hardly breathe. No wonder the girls looked at Jim like he was some kind of hero. To see their own mother offering her body to a man for money right in front of them ... For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick.

"So -- " Blair's voice broke and he cleared his throat. "So Uncle Jim took care of you while your mother was gone?"

"Uh huh," they said together.

"Did Jim ever leave you alone?"

"Not alone," Holly replied. "When he worked, he left us with Mamie."

"Who's Mamie?"

"She lives in a 'partment. It has rugs and windows and real furniture, kinda like this but not as nice."

"We used to have a home like that," Haley interjected. "Before Mom -- " she broke off, dropping her gaze to her busy hands.

"Where does Mamie live?"

"Don't know."

"Where did Uncle Jim work?"

"Don't know," Haley repeated.

"He washed dishes," Holly supplied.

Blair's brow creased. The enigma was growing. "Did he work during the day or at night?"

"At night," Holly replied. "He didn't like it, but he was scared to be outside during the day."

Haley jabbed her sister in the ribs. "Uncle Jim isn't scared of anything."

"Is, too. I heard him tell Mom one time when we were supposed to be sleeping."

Blair leaned forward. "What did he tell her?"

Holly's forehead scrunched up. "He was scared of some men from -- I can't remember."

"From the police?"

"No, but he didn't like them neither." Suddenly her expression brightened. "The hospital."

Blair's heart missed a beat. "He was scared of men from a hospital?"

Holly nodded. "He didn't wanna go back."

That explained his refusal to go to one when he was injured. But what kind of hospital would be looking for him? Possible scenarios bombarded him. If Jim were truly a sentinel, he might have thought he was going crazy with all the sensory input, and he either committed himself or someone had done it to him. Or an unethical doctor decided to use Jim to advance his own career -- learning the genetic secrets of a man with five enhanced senses was Nobel Prize winning material.

"It's time to go." Jim's deep voice startled Blair and he whirled around to see the tall man standing in the doorway, the room dwarfed by his appearance. He held two blue plastic bags in a hand. Blair was glad to see Jim was taking the things he had bought for him.

Had he been listening to their conversation? Since Jim hadn't told him about a hospital, he clearly didn't want anyone to know. How far would he go to keep his secret?

Troubled but knowing Jim would never harm him, Blair helped the girls slip on their backpacks, then turned to face the other man's granite mask. "I can help you if you'll let me."

"Nobody can help me, Sandburg."

"But -- "

"No," Jim cut him off. "Just forget you ever met us." There was a flash of aching vulnerability in his pale blue eyes. "It'd be better for you."

Blair wanted to argue, but knew he'd lose. However, he had no intention of forgetting Jim or the twins. "Remember to take your pills."

Blair brushed past him, his skin tingling where his arm grazed Jim's. He walked into the kitchen, pulled a glass from a cupboard, and wiped it with a towel before filling it with water. Then he shook a pill out of the bottle and handed it to Jim, along with the water. "Take your second one now."

Although Jim was glaring at him, Blair didn't back down. Finally, Jim accepted both and washed the pill down with the water, then set the glass back on the counter.

Blair held out the bottle of antibiotics. "Take these with you and remember, four a day until they're gone."

"Jesus, you're bossy, Sandburg," Jim growled.

Blair's sternness faltered. "That's only because I care, man."

Jim's startled gaze settled on Blair, then he closed his eyes briefly. "God, I wished I'd met you a few years ago."

"You can make a fresh start, Jim," Blair pressed. "You and the girls can move in permanently and they can go to school and you can do whatever you want."

"In exchange for what -- being your doctoral subject?" The cynicism returned to the older man. "No, thanks. I've had enough of being a lab rat to last a lifetime."

Blair's heart hammered in his chest. So Jim knew what he was and so did someone else -- someone Jim didn't want to find him. Icy cold rage slid through Blair's veins as he imagined Jim at the mercy of unscrupulous scientists trying to dissect his sentinel secrets.

Jim walked to the door, Holly and Haley close behind him. Blair hurried after them and found he didn't know what to say.

"Good-bye, Sandburg. Thanks for everything," Jim said, his voice rough. "I swear I'll pay you back someday."

"I don't care about that. Those are only things. I just want you and the twins to be safe," Blair managed to say. "And you can't promise me that out there."

"We don't belong here," Jim stated, all doubt gone from his frosty voice. "Say thank you to Mr. Blair, girls."

"Thank you," Haley said dutifully as her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you," Holly echoed. Her chin quivered and tears tracked down her pink cheeks.

Blair squatted down and pulled them into his arms, hugging them close. His throat felt tight and he could barely speak. "You're welcome. Remember, if you ever need help, you can come to me."

Haley drew away first, but Holly clung to him.

"Come on, Holly," Jim said, gently drawing her away from Blair. "Thanks for everything, Chief," he said, holding out his hand.

Blair closed his fingers around the other man's strong hand and Jim squeezed it firmly, but a handshake was too stiff and impersonal for what Blair felt for this man. Knowing he had nothing to lose, Blair wound his arms around Jim's waist as he laid his cheek against his chest. Jim tensed, as if he were holding back his emotions by sheer force of will. A few moments later, Jim's arms came around his shoulders. The embrace was initially awkward, then Jim tightened his hold on the younger man and rested his cheek on Blair's head.

"You'll always have a home here," Blair whispered, his voice thick.

Jim pressed his lips to Blair's crown. "Thank you." He released the younger man and ushered the girls out of the apartment and down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, Jim paused and turned, meeting Blair's eyes. "I remembered what I smelled right before the warehouse burned. It was poison."

Then he and the girls disappeared around the corner and Blair closed the door softly, even though all he wanted to do was slam it as hard as he could -- to mete out his frustration and loneliness.

He leaned against the door and bowed his head, shocked to find his face damp. Savagely wiping away the moisture, he pushed away from the door. He walked over to the counter where the glass Jim had drunk from sat. Keeping his fingers on the rim, Blair picked it up and placed it in a paper bag. Soon he would learn who Jim was.

And why he was so afraid of men from a hospital.

An hour later, Serena Chang in forensics told Blair that because of the weekend, they wouldn't get the fingerprint results until Monday. If she put a priority rush on them, they would get a quicker reply, but it would also create questions Blair didn't want to have to answer. So he tried to forget about Jim and the girls by immersing himself in the arson files for the rest of the day and into the night.

By two o'clock Saturday morning, Blair had gone through each file twice, but nothing new leaped out at him. The arsonist torched only condemned warehouses and the two deaths had been incidental to the arson. Their perp wasn't setting fires to kill people, but that's what ultimately happened and would occur again if Blair didn't stop him.

But how?

Nobody had seen a thing. The accelerant used to start the fires was too common to track down. A stakeout would be useless -- there were too many empty warehouses along the waterfront and scattered around the city to cover them all. Their first thought had been that the arsonist was hired by the warehouse owners to burn the building so the owner could collect the insurance. They discounted that theory after talking with the owners. They also ran a list of known firebugs who had recently gotten out of prison, but nothing turned up there either.

What did they know about the arsonist? He committed the crime in the middle of the night, under the cover of darkness. Did he stay to watch his handiwork? Probably, since most arsonists received some kind of "high" or release, either emotional or sexual, from watching the flames -- the destruction.

Destruction. Maybe every time he burned down a building he was destroying something from his past.

Or maybe he merely got off on the sight of an uncontrolled fire?

Restless, Blair wandered into the kitchen to brew a cup of tea. He continued to pace while the water heated on the stove.

Jim had said he smelled poison right before the warehouse fire. What kind of poison had it been? And why would there be the smell of poison? It didn't make sense.

Blair froze, his mind clicking rapidly. There was a perfume called Poison. Maybe that's what Jim had meant. What if the arsonist was a she? The occurrence of a female arsonist was rare, but not unheard of. But even if it was a woman, they were still back to square one.

Or maybe not.

The teakettle began to whistle and Blair turned off the burner. He tossed all the files back into the box, and within minutes, he was driving across nearly deserted streets to the station, a theory rapidly forming in his brain.

At his desk in the quiet bullpen, Blair booted up his computer and commanded a search for all women released from a Cascade hospital burn unit in the past six months. As the computer ran its search, Blair wandered into Simon's office. He didn't bother to turn on a light, but sat in a chair in front of the desk. Leaning his head back, he stared at the pattern on the ceiling created by the window's slatted blinds. A slowly revolving light atop a nearby high rise lent the room a blue hue on each rotation.

Blue like Jim's eyes -- filled with haunting poignancy. Had Jim been under medical scrutiny before hiding on the street? And if so, who were those people? Who the hell would want someone with sentinel abilities? The answer came like a kick in the belly -- CIA, FBI, NSI, or any one of a dozen covert groups hidden within the government's maze of alphabet soup.

Or was Blair's imagination merely going into overdrive? It wouldn't be the first time. He had been blessed -- or cursed, however he wanted to look at it -- with an overactive imagination. It had developed during his childhood when he had created a friend who was always with him, no matter where Naomi dragged him in her travels. Whenever Blair had been lonely as a child, all he had to do was close his eyes and picture him.

He tried to bring to mind his illusive friend, but he could no longer do so. Instead, Jim's face swam into view. Given half a chance, Blair knew Jim could become his best friend and possibly more. He shied away from the last thought, afraid to hope for more than just seeing him again.

His computer beeped, announcing the end of its search and prompting Blair to rise and return to his desk. He scanned the screen, noted the nineteen names listed and hit the print button. For the remainder of the night, Blair ran background checks on each woman and, using a profile he constructed, narrowed the list to five names.

Simon Banks was the first to arrive in Major Crimes at six fifty-five a.m. He came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Blair at his desk. "I thought you were going to take the weekend off, spend it with your houseguests."

"They left," Blair answered. "But Jim told me he remembered something the night of the fire: a scent."

Simon came over to Blair's desk and crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "As in an odor?"

Blair nodded. "He said it was Poison."

"What kind?"

"That was my first reaction, too, until I started thinking about it. There's a perfume by the name of Poison."

Simon's eyes widened. "A woman?"

"Yes, sir. When I realized that's what Jim might have meant, I came here." Blair explained what he'd done for the last four plus hours. "As soon as I have some breakfast, I'm going to talk to these five women."

"Take Taggert with you," Simon ordered.

"I don't -- "

"Who's captain here?" Banks asked.

"You, sir," Blair replied reluctantly.

"And I'm ordering you to take Joel with you after you run home and take a shower."

"Are you saying I stink, sir?"

"I'm saying there's potential. Go. Shower. Drink your green shake. Then come back and see if you can close this case."

Blair stood and saluted not-so-sharply. "Yes, sir."

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, the young detective bounced out of the bullpen, certain the arson case would be solved today. Thanks to Jim's sentinel abilities.

Six hours later, Blair and Joel Taggert returned to the station with their arsonist. Helen Quilby had confessed not long after Blair and Joel had begun questioning her. Ms. Quilby had been sexually abused by her father since she was eleven years old. During a visit home from college, her father had tried to crawl back into her bed. Helen had fought back and a candle had been knocked over. Helen had been seriously burned over forty percent of her body, including the left side of her face, and her father had died. The trauma had pushed her already fragile psyche over the edge.

And Helen Quilby's perfume of choice was Poison.

As much as Blair wanted to hate her for killing two homeless people and nearly burning Jim and the girls, he couldn't. Instead, all he felt was pity and overwhelming exhaustion.

When he finally arrived home Saturday night after the formal booking and interrogation, Blair was overtired and couldn't sleep. Midnight found him wide awake and standing in front of the balcony windows. Crossing his arms, he looked out across Cascade's night lights. He could barely make out the waterfront from his vantage point. He wished he had asked Jim what he saw when he gazed out this same window.

His stomach twisted at the thought of Jim and the twins out there someplace. Were they safe? How was Jim's arm? Did the older man think about him? Or had he dismissed Blair from his thoughts entirely?

Blair rested his forehead against the glass pane. "Why can't you stop running, Jim? Who's chasing you?" His breath misted the window, obscuring his view. "Why couldn't you trust me?"

Jim stifled a hiss when hot water splashed across the dirty bandage around his arm. He knew he should change the dressing, but the money he earned was used for food, not bandages. Which was why he was back at Bucky's Diner washing dishes for five dollars an hour.

Bucky had been mad as hell at him for not showing up for two nights. Jim had stood there and accepted the profane upbraiding without a word. Bucky had been a sailor and his extensive vocabulary held words and phrases Jim had never heard before, and he had been an Army Ranger.

Fortunately, Bucky had simmered down and tossed Jim a stained apron and told him in no uncertain terms if he wanted the job, he damn well better stick around. Next time he wouldn't be so forgiving.

With his forearms buried in soapy water for the second night in a row, Jim wasn't so certain keeping this job was a good thing. But he didn't have any options. Bucky paid him with cash after every night's work so there was no paper trail, and Jim had his money in hand when he left. Usually it was only twenty-five or thirty dollars, but it was a helluva lot better than nothing.

Tonight, Jim allowed the memory of Blair to keep him company while he performed the mindless task. He thought about the night he had held Blair in his arms while they'd slept. He wondered what would have happened if he had dared to kiss him.

*Blair's mouth opened beneath his and Jim swept his tongue inside the welcoming warmth and taste. Blair's body pressed flush against his own and hard flesh met hard flesh. Jim whimpered at the contact -- it was both too much and too little. He swept Blair's shirt aside and carded through the younger man's coarse chest hair. He lowered his head, traced a dark nipple with his tongue and watched in awe as the nubbin pebbled.

"Jim, please. More," Blair murmured on needy little wisps of air, then latched onto Jim's neck, sucking on the sensitive skin.

Jim groaned. "Oh, God. Yes .... "

Blair continued to lick and lave Jim's neck while he opened the older man's shirt. Blair moved down his chest, raining hot kisses across the smooth expanse, and latched onto a hard nipple. Then the detective's hands were on Jim's waistband and a mischievous grin was on his sexy lips -- *

"Are you about done?" Bucky demanded. "I'm closing up."

Blair's face disappeared beneath the icy splash of reality. Jesus, he had been so intent on his erotic daydream, he hadn't even heard Bucky's approach. "Uh, give me a minute to finish this pot."

"One minute," Bucky said and went through the swinging door into the dining area.

Jim shifted uncomfortably and willed his erection to diminish, but the feel of the soft cotton underwear against his sensitive skin only made him harder. Since they had left Blair's home, his headaches had returned and the damned senses were once more spiraling out of control.

Suddenly, the smell of grease inundated Jim and the water felt too hot, even though it had cooled to lukewarm. He jerked his hands out of the stream and quickly turned on the cold water tap. After a few moments of soothing coolness, the water turned icy, biting at Jim's skin even worse than the hot water had done. He grabbed a towel and brushed at his hands to dry them, but the material irritated his skin.

"C'mon. I wanna get the hell outta here. Got me an itch tonight," Bucky shouted, his annoyance chafing Jim's too-sensitive ears.

Jim half dried the clean pot and hung it on a metal hook. He threw off his dirty apron and hurried out, then stood beside Bucky on the dark sidewalk as the man locked the greasy spoon diner. The ex-sailor handed Jim twenty-five dollars, but didn't release it when Jim's hand closed around it. Instead, Bucky rubbed his stubby finger across Jim's wrist. "You want to make twice that much in five minutes?"

Jim, still floundering with his senses, missed the signals. "What do I need to do?"

Bucky shifted, jutting out his hips beneath his bulging belly and eyeing Jim with a look he couldn't misinterpret. "Take care of me."

Shocked, Jim jerked his hand away from the man, but remembered to hang onto the twenty-five dollars. "No!"

"Hell, why not? You need the money. I'm willing to give you some if you do this little thing for me."

Jim took a step back as his nostrils twitched with the odor of the man's sour sweat and arousal. His skin crawled with loathing. "No amount of money is worth that."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you've never done it before. I can tell."

Jarred by his words, Jim watched him with growing revulsion even as his senses continued to spike and fear expanded. Yes, he had given and been the recipient of a few blowjobs in his life, but never for money. And never with someone he hadn't felt some attraction toward. The thought of doing the fat ugly man made him want to puke.

Squaring his shoulders, Jim headed down the alley.

"Don't be stubborn, Jimmy. It won't be so bad. Hell, I might even return the favor for free," Bucky called.

Jim's stomach rolled and he broke into a run, away from Bucky and his obscene offer. He finally slowed his pace when he was a few blocks away and took stock of his surroundings. He turned and headed toward Mamie's where he'd left the girls. He was anxious to see them, more so than usual. He wanted to give each one a hug and have their innocent baby powder scent obliterate Bucky's stench.

Shuffling footsteps in the alley made him automatically duck into a hidden alcove. A woman hobbled past as she mumbled to herself about imagined dinner parties and menus. It was only Flossie, and Jim breathed a sigh of relief. Twin glowing lights caught his attention and he stared into a pair of gold feline eyes. They glittered, catching the single streetlight on the corner and Jim's sight took that moment to spin out of control, and the golden light sucked him into a dizzying vortex.

Jim zoned.

EARLY MONDAY MORNING

Blair jerked awake, then groaned at the kink in his neck. Damn, he'd fallen asleep on the sofa again. For the past two nights, he had only been able to toss and turn in the bed he had shared with Jim for one night. And even though they had done nothing but sleep, the memory taunted Blair.

He glanced at the glowing numbers on the VCR beneath the tv -- 3:11 a.m. He had to be at the station in less than four hours. But the good thing was there was a strong possibility he would learn Jim's identity today.

He stood and scuffed into the bathroom to use the toilet. When he came out, he headed toward the stairs leading to his bedroom, but changed direction and flopped back onto the couch, not even bothering to remove his clothing. Sleep was long in coming.

Blair woke again as the sun tickled the horizon. He sat up and scrubbed his hands through his mussed hair. The vivid dream he'd had for the third time disturbed him. He'd dreamed of a black panther and wolf again. The panther had been caught in a trap and couldn't escape. It howled and cried until only a whimper remained. Then a large gray wolf had arrived, but weak as the black cat was, it still wouldn't let the wolf near enough to help him. It kept lashing out at the wolf, so afraid to trust that it would die before allowing the other animal close.

A shiver passed through Blair, followed by a nagging foreboding not unlike the feeling he'd had the night of the last fire, when Jim and the girls had barely escaped the warehouse where they'd lived. Had something happened to them again?

And why did the panther in his dreams possess Jim's troubled blue eyes?

"You look like hell, Sandburg," Simon Banks said as Blair entered the Major Crime bullpen a few minutes after seven Monday morning. "What'd you do -- celebrate all weekend?"

"If you're asking if I got drunk, the answer is no," Blair grumbled as his butt found the chair and he leaned back to gaze up at his boss. "I haven't been sleeping well."

Simon perched on the edge of Blair's desk, careful not to dislodge the ordered chaos. "Does this have anything to do with your former guests?"

The young detective raked a hand through his hair, frowned and found a leather tie in a pocket. He gathered up his long hair and tied it back. "Yeah. I have this feeling Jim's hiding on the street to keep away from some people who were studying him."

Simon's eyes widened in surprise. "Because of the sentinel thing?"

Blair nodded. "I think so."

"And you think he was being held against his will?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me anything. He just, well, implied it."

"What if you're reading this all wrong, Blair?"

The younger man smiled weakly. "I'm not. Intuition, man."

Simon appeared troubled. "Maybe your emotions are clouding your judgment."

"C'mon, Simon." Blair stood and with his boss sitting on the edge of the desk, the two men were at eye level. "You've trusted my instincts before. Why not this time?"

"Because you're personally involved."

Blair clenched his hands into fists. "I'll Debra and give her the good news about our arsonist."

Simon studied him for a moment. "After you do that, why don't you head on home? Take some time off. You earned it."

Blair had no plans to leave the station until he found out who Jim was. "We'll see."

Simon merely nodded, then stood and walked back to his office. He turned in the doorway and said quietly, "They'll be okay, Blair."

He couldn't meet Simon's compassionate eyes. "I wish I could be as certain."

Just as Blair was reaching for the phone, it rang. "Sandburg," he replied.

It turned out to be Debra who congratulated him on catching the arsonist, and told him she wished she could've been there for the arrest. All in all, it was a nice ending to the arson chapter. After the phone call, Blair attended the weekly staff meeting which wasn't very exciting on the best of days. Today it seemed to drag on forever.

The feeling that something was wrong buzzed at the back of his mind all through the meeting, and he knew it had to do with Jim and the twins. Once the meeting was over, Blair checked the night patrol logs for the area where he'd originally seen them, but there was no reported activity that jumped out at him.

Plopping onto his desk chair, he dropped his face in his hands and sighed heavily. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten any breakfast and it was nearly noon.

His phone's ring made him jerk and he automatically nabbed the receiver. "Sandburg."

"Hey, Blair. Serena. I've got the results on that fingerprint search for you."

"Great! I'll be down in a minute." Before Serena could answer, Blair slammed down the phone and raced out of the bullpen. Two minutes later, he stood in Serena's lab. "Well?"

"Where did you get these prints?" Serena asked, her expression somber.

Blair's internal alarms started clanging. "Why?"

She held out a computer printout which Blair grabbed. He was barely aware of her damning silence as he scanned the sheet. It showed a grainy but recognizable picture of Jim in an Army uniform with the name Major James J. Ellison beneath it. "He is in the Army," Blair murmured, remembering Jim's slip of the tongue.

"He was being held in a psych ward in a military hospital for evaluation when he killed an attendant and escaped," Serena said.

Blair's heart skipped a beat as the blood drained from his face. "No. No way," he said faintly. "Jim's not crazy." He looked up at Serena, and his voice grew stronger, "And he's not a killer."

"According to this, he's unstable and extremely dangerous," Serena stated.

"No! You don't know him."

"Look, Blair, I don't know how you know him, but the U.S. Army has a federal warrant out on him. I wouldn't be surprised if our search was picked up by their monitoring program."

Blair gasped. "Shit. That means they'll be coming to Cascade." By the concern on Serena's face, he knew he looked like a lunatic. "If anyone calls you or asks you about this, direct them to me. Only me. Please, Serena, I'm begging you to help me out here."

She crossed her arms, her face thoughtful. "You really believe this Ellison is innocent?"

"I'd stake my job on it."

"That's exactly what you'll be doing," Serena said quietly.

"I know, but this is wrong. Jim Ellison is no murderer and if he was in that hospital, it wasn't his choice."

He could tell Serena had more questions, but she refrained from asking them. "All right, but be careful, Blair."

He flashed her a trademark smile. "Careful's my middle name." He kissed her cheek and breezed out, clutching the sheet of paper.

He stopped at his desk in Major Crime to inform Simon he was taking him up on his offer and he'd be out the rest of the week. Simon readily agreed and Blair left before his boss could question his abrupt change of mind.

Blair wandered about the blackened remains of the warehouse where Jim and the girls had lived. He wished he had Jim's senses. Maybe he could find a clue to point him in the direction of where they might have gone. He spotted something that looked familiar and dug into the blackened rubble to pull out what remained of a hardcover book's spine. Recalling how enthralled Jim had been by all his books, an idea struck Blair. He raced back to the Expedition and made a call on his cell phone.

Five minutes later, he parked in front of the closest branch of the Cascade Public Library. His heart thrummed in his chest as if he could actually sense Jim's presence.

He pushed through the glass doors and paused, wondering where they might be. He glanced to the left and saw the large children's section. Wandering in, he spotted hidden alcoves and nooks where both child and adult furniture was set up. Perfect for somebody who was trying to hide.

When he was at the far back end of the section, he spotted them. His knees trembled at the sight of his family. Thank gods they were safe.

Jim sat in an old comfortable stuffed chair, a book propped in his lap but his chin touched his chest and his eyes were closed. His face was pale except for a bruised cheekbone and a swollen lip. Someone had hurt him. Again. Blair closed his eyes, fighting the rage building within him. Hadn't Jim Ellison been hurt enough in his life?

Blair managed to get his crushing emotions under control. Besides the new bruises, it looked like Jim hadn't slept since he left the loft. For a moment, all he wanted to do was hold him safely within his arms.

He dragged his attention away from Jim to observe Haley and Holly sitting side by side on the floor by a low table. A picture book lay open before them and the two girls were sharing it as they turned the pages.

Blair swallowed the lump in his throat. All he had to do was convince them to return to his apartment. He stepped closer and Jim suddenly jerked his head up, his eyes wide. And for a moment, Blair would have sworn he was staring into his dream panther's eyes.

"Blair," Jim breathed.

"Mr. Blair." The girls rose and ran toward him.

His heart in his throat, Blair knelt on the floor and caught them in his arms. Their warmth and aliveness flooded his senses and made him dizzy with relief. Finally, they eased their grips and Blair was able to shift back so he could look into their shining faces. "I am so glad to see both of you," he said, his voice shaky.

"We're glad, too," Holly said. She drew away from him and looked back at Jim, her expression too serious for a five-year-old. "We missed you, and so did Uncle Jim."

Blair stood and his gaze locked onto Jim's exhausted and pain-filled eyes as the older man came stiffly to his feet. It looked like his face wasn't the only thing beaten, and Blair had to combat another wave of fury. He neared Jim, but stopped a couple feet away. His hand rose on its own and he cupped Jim's wan cheek, feeling the rasp of whiskers against his palm. Jim leaned into his touch and Blair's throat closed with tenderness. The odd bond between them thickened and strengthened. Jim stepped forward and Blair's arms encircled him.

Blair hugged Jim carefully, as if the big man were a frail child in his arms. He swallowed once, then again, and tried to speak, but a whispered, "Jim" was all he could manage.

Jim was the first to loosen his embrace and Blair moved away reluctantly.

"How'd you find us?" Jim asked, his voice husky.

Blair managed a cocky, albeit wobbly, grin. "I'm a detective. And I noticed you liked books."

"I thought I was being so careful."

"You were." Blair took a deep breath. "Come back to the loft. Please."

Though the girls didn't say anything, Blair saw the apprehensive excitement in their young faces. They wanted to, but would do what Jim said.

The older man gazed down at the twins, his look one of sadness and affection. Then he looked back at Blair and the younger man's heart skipped a beat. No curtains hindered Blair's view of the man's soul through startling blue eyes. He saw sadness, bitter regrets, and resignation.

"Come home," Blair added tenderly.

After a minute which lasted an eternity, Jim nodded. Huge smiles covered the girls' faces. They quickly gathered their backpacks and the one remaining blue Wal-Mart bag which Jim carried. Holly took Blair's hand while Haley held on to Jim's and the four walked out of the library together.

Five minutes later, Blair glanced in his rear view mirror to see the twins already asleep in the back seat. "They're tired."

Jim rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "They haven't been sleeping much."

"Neither have you," Blair commented softly.

Jim kept his gaze aimed straight ahead as Blair kept shooting concerned looks at his austere profile. "They slept a little bit at Mamie's while I worked."

"You washed dishes?"

Jim nodded. "I did that Friday and Saturday nights. We stayed in a corner of an abandoned tenement building, but there were too many people around so I couldn't sleep."

Blair shivered, imagining Jim remaining awake all night to guard his two young charges, determined to protect them in spite of his own weakened condition. "What about last night? Did you work?"

"No." Jim's voice was so low, Blair had to strain to hear it.

As certain as he was that Jim was a sentinel, Blair was sure something had happened. "Why?"

"Let's just say the owner and I had a parting of ways."

Though there was anger, there was also a sharp edge of disgust and self-hatred in Jim's voice and expression. Blair's stomach twisted. Whatever had happened, it had shaken the older man badly. But now wasn't the time to discuss it. Jim and the girls needed food and sleep.

"By the way, we caught the arsonist, thanks to you," Blair said.

Jim appeared startled. "How?"

Blair chuckled. "After I figured out you meant Poison the perfume, and not a type of poison, I checked hospital records for women treated for burns in the past six months. We narrowed it down to a few and when we went to talk to them, the guilty party confessed." The detective shook his head sadly. "The woman had been sexually abused as a child."

Jim turned to gaze out the side window, his jaw muscle clenching and unclenching. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me, too. By the way, how did you recognize the perfume?"

"I was engaged to a woman who used to wear it."

"You were engaged?" Blair asked, startled. Had he been wrong about the seeming attraction between himself and the older man?

Jim nodded. "Veronica and I seemed to click but, well, it didn't last." He glanced away.

Taken aback by the news, Blair pulled into a Wonderburger's Drive-Thru lane. "Do you like Wonderburgers?"

The older man smiled, chasing the shadows from his eyes. "They're one of my weaknesses."

Blair laughed quietly, not wanting to wake the girls until they arrived back at the loft. He ordered five Wonderburgers and two large orders of fries. As he drove to the pick-up window, he said, "I've got milk and sodas at home."

Blair paid for the meal and handed Jim the bag. "Try to restrain yourself until we get home," he teased the older man.

"I'll try," Jim said dryly.

Suddenly the joke didn't seem so funny. "When's the last time you ate?" Blair asked.

Jim looked away, his cheeks flushing. "This morning."

Blair knew he was lying; he could feel it along every nerve in his body. "Bullshit. When was it?"

Jim clamped his lips together, but Blair had patience when he needed it. And he needed it with Major James J. Ellison. He waited as he drove away from Wonderburger; he waited as he stopped for a red light; and he waited as a group of pedestrians walked across the street in front of them.

"Haley and Holly ate this morning," Jim finally said.

"What about you?"

"I had an apple. Yesterday."

"That's it? Just an apple?"

"I only made twenty five bucks a night and I -- " the big man's voice broke. "I lost the second night's pay."

Blair could see his desolate expression reflected in the glass. "What happened?"

Jim took a long shuddering breath. "I-I had one of those zone-outs. When I came out of it, two men were beating me up. They stole the twenty-five dollars."

Blair's empathy cried for the strong man who had been made weak by something he had no control over. For a man like James Ellison to lose control would be akin to rape -- an abject violation against his will. "Is that how you got the bruises?"

Jim nodded.

Blair squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. A wide strong hand moved over his clenched fingers and clasped them, but he couldn't look at Jim. Rage filled Blair, screaming at him to punish the bastards who had hurt the sentinel. His sentinel.

"Why did you come looking for us?" Jim asked after a few moments.

"I was worried about you."

Jim tipped his head. "Why else?"

Blair recognized the gesture and the pieces clicked together with a startled gasp -- Jim was listening to his heartbeat. "We'll talk later. But first, you and the girls need to eat."

They managed to rouse the girls when they arrived at 852 Prospect and herded them up to the loft. The trip up the stairs and the smell of the fast food woke them completely. After everyone had washed up, they sat down to burgers and fries, as well as a salad and grapes which Blair hoped would help counter the burst of cholesterol in their systems. Haley and Holly each downed a glass of milk, as did Jim, which pleased Blair. They needed all the nutrients they could get.

After they'd eaten their fill, Blair suggested Haley and Holly lie down on the couch. They went willingly and Blair found Nickelodeon on the tv and set the volume on low. He rejoined Jim in the kitchen and together, they cleared the table.

"How's the arm?" Blair asked.

"Still sore, but the infection has cleared up."

"Good. Do you think you could stay awake long enough for a hot soak in the tub?"

Jim's face brightened, making him look years younger. "Even if I can't, I will."

Blair chuckled softly. "I'll get the bath running if you want to go upstairs and strip, then put on the bathrobe. When you come back down, I'll take that filthy dressing off your arm."

Blair started the tap and added some soothing oil which had little fragrance but would help ease Jim's muscle aches and pains. If Jim didn't mind, Blair would give him a massage after his bath.

Blair was in the kitchen when the older man came down the stairs, and he put a finger to his lips as he motioned to the girls who had fallen asleep on the sofa. Jim smiled affectionately, then followed Blair into the bathroom. The younger man took his arm and guided him to sit down on the toilet lid.

Blair knelt down in front of him and unwrapped the injury. He was relieved to see it was healing with no sign of infection. "Did you take your antibiotics?"

"They made me sick, but I took them."

"That's because you took them on an empty stomach." Because of his worry, Blair's words came out sharper than he'd intended. He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry, Jim. I just wish you would've come back -- "

Jim captured Blair's hands in his and caressed his knuckles. Though his touch felt good -- right -- Blair was alarmed by Jim's pallor.

"Talk to me, Jim. What happened out there?" Blair asked gently.

Jim lowered his head and stared down at their clasped hands. "Remember the little disagreement I told you I had with the diner owner?" Blair nodded, his apprehension growing. "Early Sunday morning when he locked up, he made a proposition." Jim laughed, a harsh bitter sound. "He said he'd give me fifty bucks if I gave him a blowjob."

Blair's breath stuck in his throat as his eyes burned. "Oh, God. You didn't, did you?"

"No."

Blair let out the air he'd unconsciously been holding. "Thank the gods."

"But if you hadn't found us, I probably would have," the older man whispered hoarsely. His breath turned into a ragged sob.

Blair leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Jim, holding and sheltering him like he'd ached to do earlier. Awful ratcheting sounds came from someplace horrible and dark within Jim, and Blair tightened his embrace. To think a man as strong and unique as James Ellison would even consider degrading himself for a few bucks was criminal -- appalling -- impossible to imagine. But Jim had reached the end of his rope and the knot was slipping. He would do anything -- even sell himself -- to give the girls food and a safe place to sleep.

Blair rocked him, crooning softly and even when his back and arms cramped, he clung tight to the older man. He was awed by Jim's trust in him. There was something between them, something intrinsic which could neither be explained nor denied.

Blair forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Jim had been a fucking hero seven years ago when he'd been the only survivor of a helicopter crash that killed everyone else in his unit. He survived in a Peruvian jungle on his own for eighteen months. And now the military which he'd given so much to, said he committed murder. He still had to tell Jim that he knew who he was, but the big man had been through enough for now. After he rested, Blair would confess.

Finally, the older man eased out of Blair's embrace. His face was tear-streaked and flushed, and he wouldn't meet Blair's eyes. "Shit, I'm sorry, Sandburg. I haven't cried like that since I was a kid."

Blair cupped Jim's chin and raised it so their eyes met. The younger man smiled gently. "Then it's time you did." His expression sobered. "After everything's that's happened, you're entitled. I'd like to help you and the girls, if you'll let me."

"You already have." Jim brushed a stray curl back from Blair's forehead and his fingers lingered.

"I want to do more."

Jim's gaze met Blair's eyes. "You're doing it," the older man whispered.

Caught by the tender passion in Jim's eyes, Blair forgot his earlier doubts about Jim's sexuality and leaned forward, his lips seeking and finding Jim's. The kiss was slow and tender, with neither man pressing for more than the simple rightness of the act.

Blair eased away and Jim rested his forehead against the younger man's shoulder, his breathing harsh and uneven.

"You need to soak for a little while, then I'll give you a massage, if you'd like," Blair said.

Jim smiled. "I'd like." He gave Blair another tender kiss before rising and tugging the younger man to his feet. "I'll leave the door unlocked."

"Thanks." Blair, his body tingling like a low voltage wire, left the bathroom with his doubts banished. Jim may have been engaged to a woman at one time, but it was clear his passions weren't ruled by gender, and the attraction wasn't one-sided.

Blair took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. The awareness he held for Jim hummed through him, clear and compelling. Whether it was love, hero worship or a combination of the two, Blair didn't know.

All he knew was that Jim Ellison had taken permanent residence in his formerly vacant heart.

Jim sank down into the steaming water until only his head remained above the surface. His muscles took turns contracting and jerking, moving from his back down his legs, and back up through his arms and shoulders. He rode out the spasms, forced himself to relax and allow the heat to remove the tightness.

He hadn't expected it to be so difficult to return to street life after they'd left Sandburg's. After the comfort of running water, a warm bed, and real meals it had been impossible to revert back to washing in public restrooms, sleeping in condemned buildings, and foraging through supermarket dumpsters. But it was more than that; it was the steadying effect Blair had on his senses, and the sense of "home" he had gifted them with which Jim missed with an intensity which shook him.

Awareness made his body tingle, and without looking up, Jim knew Blair stood in the doorway. He watched the younger man slip into the bathroom, glance at him, look away nervously, then perch on the tub's edge. "Are you doing okay?" Blair asked.

"Never better," he replied, realizing it was the truth. He continued to study the detective, his eyes caressing the mass of curls which framed a face given only to angels -- and Blair Sandburg definitely qualified. Who else but an angel would have taken them in, opened his home and heart to three strangers? Cynicism had always been one of Jim's finest defenses, but around Blair it proved ineffective.

"Do you like the tub?"

The anxiousness in Blair's voice brought a little smile to Jim's lips. "As tubs go, it's all right."

"Just all right?" The younger man arched his eyebrows over twinkling dark blue eyes.

"I'd like it better if you were in here with me." At his words, Jim heard Blair's heartbeat skyrocket.

"The object is for your body to relax."

"I know a great way to relax every muscle in my body." Jim said without thinking, then glanced away, embarrassed.

"So do I." Jim jerked his gaze back to Blair and was captured by sparkling eyes filled with mischief. "A massage. After you're done in here."

The thought of Blair's hands on his bare skin made Jim's cock twitch. Blair's gaze dropped to his groin, then traveled to his face. Desire flared in the younger man's expression and he slowly went to his knees beside the tub. He leaned in close to steal a soul-searing kiss. Jim groaned and plunged his damp fingers into Blair's hair and clenched the silky tendrils within his fists. As their lips and tongues mated, Jim felt the water shift around him and fingers tentatively encircled his erection. Lightning streaked through Jim's over-sensitive nerves. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him with gentle loving instead of cold impersonality; so long since his senses were tame enough to accept an intimate touch without cringing from overload or pain.

Blair closed his fingers around him and the overwhelming sensation caused Jim's climax to strike without warning. He pulled away from Blair's lips to cry out from the intensity. He sank back into the tub, his body limp, and his face hot with humiliation. But his senses, usually his enemies, now became his allies. Colors danced with life; sounds created an aural rainbow; Blair's scent whispered through his veins; and his skin hummed under the younger man's continuing caresses.

When Blair withdrew his hand, Jim caught it in his own and brought it to his lips. Closing his eyes, he kissed the center of the damp palm, tasting Blair and the faint tang of himself. He savored the delectable flavor, then whispered with a husky voice, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Jim could hear Blair's smile in the two words and when he looked up, his breath caught at the tenderness in the detective's expression. And in that moment, James Ellison recognized that which he never thought he'd find -- love. Somewhere in the past week, he had fallen in love with Blair Sandburg.

But there was too much that stood between them.

Blair pushed himself to his feet and Jim couldn't help but notice the bulge in his jeans and the rich scent of his arousal. Embarrassment colored Jim's face again. "You didn't -- " he began, reaching for Blair's belt buckle.

Blair backed away and caught Jim's hand, placing a light kiss on a skinned knuckle. "No. This was for you." He gave Jim a gentle tug. "What do you say we head upstairs so I can give you the other massage?"

Unable to speak because of his choking emotions, Jim nodded and allowed Blair to help him out of the bathtub. He didn't protest when Blair toweled him dry as though he were made of fragile china. Blair held the robe and he slipped into it obediently, then tied the belt around his waist. Taking Jim's hand, the younger man led him to the living room where Haley and Holly slept peacefully even though it was only three thirty in the afternoon.

Jim brushed his fingertips across Haley's, then Holly's smooth brows. This was the first time he'd seen them completely at rest since they'd left Blair's. He swore to himself that no matter what happened, he wouldn't drag the girls back onto the street again. If he was found and returned to the hospital, Blair would ensure they'd be taken care of. He had no doubt the younger man cared for them a great deal, just as the twins trusted him in the short time they'd known him.

He straightened and his legs wobbled like Jell-O. Between his exhaustion, muscle soreness, and the mind-blowing orgasm, he was running on empty.

He rejoined Blair and climbed the stairs. While Jim stood by the bed, Blair untied the robe's cloth belt and slipped the garment from Jim's broad shoulders. "Lie on the bed, face down."

Jim couldn't not obey his gentle command. A few moments later, the faint smell of apples and cinnamon teased his nose, then the mattress dipped and Blair straddled his back. The first brush of Blair's oiled hands on his shoulders nearly made Jim come again from the sheer sensuality.

"Dial it down, Jim. Remember the dimmer switch?" Blair's whispered words caressed his neck.

Jim found the dial more easily than he imagined and carefully turned down his tactile sense. The overwhelming sensation faded until there was only warmth where Blair's hands moved across him. Lethargy stole over him as self-preservation instincts recognized the safety of this place and the security of Blair's touch. Eyelids flickered shut and Jim began to drift. Suddenly his eyes shot open and his heart raced. He turned his head so he could look Blair in the eye.

"I think I'm a sentinel, Blair," Jim murmured, knowing he had to confess. "All five senses ... heightened."

Blair's hands stilled and Jim held his breath in fear. Then he felt the feather-light brush of lips between his shoulder blades. "I know. Sleep now. You're safe."

Relief made Jim's body sag into the mattress and slumber embraced him within seconds.

Blair continued to massage Jim even after the older man had fallen asleep. As he rubbed the oil into the criss-cross of faded white scars which marred Jim's back, he felt each and every strike the older man had endured. If Jim's senses were heightened at the time of the beating, the pain would've been magnified, but knowing Jim, he wouldn't have cried.

A warm droplet splashed onto Blair's hand, and he raised his arm to wipe away the unbidden tears. He poured more oil into his palms and continued massaging Jim's back and tight buttocks, then down his muscular thighs and legs. He took first one foot and rubbed oil into it, then did the same to the other foot. When he was done, he carefully covered Jim with a soft blanket.

He stroked Jim's face lightly and kissed him. "I love you," he whispered to the sleeping man.

Blair paused at the top of the stairs to drink in Jim's features, so innocent and boyish as he slept. He would give anything to turn back the hands of time and be there for Jim when the boy had needed a friend.

Taking a deep breath, Blair tiptoed down the steps and gathered the dirty clothes from the girls' backpacks and Jim's bag. He found the clothing Jim must have been wearing when he was beaten -- rust-colored spots stained the shirt and pants. Before tossing them into a washer in the basement laundry room, he sprayed the blood drops with a stain remover, hoping the clothing could be salvaged. Blair wouldn't mind buying him new clothes, but he knew Jim's pride had already been taxed to the limit.

Returning to the loft to find everyone still sound asleep, Blair set up his laptop on the table. He leaned back in his chair, his mind wandering again to Jim and his predicament. Had the Army been keeping him prisoner in a hospital as they conducted tests on him? If so, they were violating Jim's rights.

Nervous energy made Blair rise and pace the kitchen. That had to be why they concocted the story about Jim murdering someone. If Jim told his story, their game would be over. So why hadn't he? Why hadn't Jim told someone?

Duh, Sandburg. He doesn't trust anyone.

So now Jim had a murder hanging over his head with the military hot on his trail. And Blair had led them right to Cascade and his front door with the fingerprint search.

Oh gods! He picked up his cell phone and called Forensics. Serena picked up on the second ring.

"Chang."

"Serena, it's Blair. Has anyone been asking questions about our project?"

There was a moment of silence, then Serena, bless her heart, replied, "The project seems to be on the backburner for now. No interest."

Blair sighed. "Good. If anyone wants to know about the project, point them to Captain Banks. I wasn't there and I didn't run the prints. Okay?"

"Captain Banks. Got it." A pause. "How's the first day of your vacation?"

"Everything I'd hoped it would be. Thanks, Serena. Bye."

He quickly punched in Simon's number.

"Banks," came the curt greeting.

"Simon, Blair."

"I thought you were going to stay away from the office for the rest of the week."

"Hey, I'm not there, am I?"

Simon chuckled. "Good point. Did you find them?"

Blair grinned. "Yep." His smile faded. "But we have a problem and I need your help. If anyone asks you about a James Ellison, tell them the details are part of an ongoing investigation and you can't discuss it. And please don't give them my name."

"What're you talking about?"

"I ran a set of Jim's fingerprints through the computer. He's in trouble and needs help."

"What've you gotten yourself into, Sandburg?" Simon demanded.

Blair moved the receiver away from his ear while his boss bellowed. "That vein in your forehead's gonna pop if you don't take a few deep breaths and calm down. I promise I'll explain everything tomorrow morning. Please, trust me on this, Simon."

Long tense silence filled the line.

"You owe me, Simon," Blair said, even though he hated to use the three-year-old debt as leverage.

"Damn it, Blair. I hope you know what you're doing."

"I hope so, too."

"All right," Simon said reluctantly. "But I'll expect a full report first thing tomorrow morning."

"You got it. And bring muffins and donuts. Thanks." Blair pushed the off button and closed his eyes.

Now all he had to do was tell Jim ... and hope he didn't lose the older man's hard-won trust.

The girls woke at six that evening and Blair filled the bathtub for them, complete with Mr. Bubbles, which had been left behind. While they bathed, Blair folded the load of clothes from the dryer and put the lasagna he'd thrown together earlier into the oven.

"We're done, Mr. Blair," Holly called out.

Blair returned to the bathroom and helped the girls towel dry, then told them to put on their freshly laundered pajamas. Despite their long nap, he knew they'd be falling asleep early. While they did that, he slipped upstairs to check on Jim and found him still sound asleep. He had curled onto his side with one hand tucked beneath his cheek and the sheet followed the curve of his right hip and leg. A cute little snore punctuated each of his exhalations, though Blair would never tell Jim he thought his sleep snuffles were "cute".

Thinking of how close he'd come to never seeing Jim and the girls again, Blair's legs wobbled and he dropped to the second step. He gave in to the temptation to merely drink in Jim's appearance. Long dark lashes brushed his pale cheeks and his smooth chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. In slumber, his face was relaxed, free of his usual worry and concern. Blair narrowed his eyes, his vision blurring Jim's features and for a moment, he could see the young boy he had once been.

Blair leaned his head back against the brick wall. His intense attraction to Jim should have frightened him, but there was only calm acceptance, as if his love for the sentinel was the most natural thing in the world.

Quiet scuffing noises caught his attention and he spotted Haley and Holly climbing the stairs. Blair pressed a finger to his lips and the girls joined him, Haley on the top step and Holly sharing Blair's.

"Uncle Jim is really tired," Blair whispered.

"Why do bad men keep hurting him, Uncle Blair?" Holly asked as she leaned back against his chest.

He blinked, shocked by what she'd called him. Unable to speak for a moment, he wrapped his arms around her small torso. "I don't know, sweetheart," he finally replied. "But I want to make sure nobody ever hurts him again."

Blair and the twins sat together in silence for a couple more minutes, content to merely gaze at the sleeping man who meant so much to each of them.

"Uncle Blair?" Haley asked timidly.

"Yes?"

"Can we stay with you for a little while? Just until Uncle Jim is all better?"

Blair hugged both girls close. "You can stay as long as you want. I like having you here."

"Truly?" Holly asked.

Blair drew an imaginary X over his heart. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Holly's blue eyes widened and she pressed her small palm against his mouth. "No. I don't want you to die, too."

Blair's heart missed a beat and he kissed Holly's forehead. "I don't plan on dying for a long time, sweetheart." He brushed a hand across his suspiciously blurry eyes. "I think the lasagna is ready."

"Lasagna?" Haley wrinkled her nose.

"It's kind of like spaghetti but with really big noodles."

"Oh, okay."

Smiling, Blair took one last look at Jim's peaceful features, then ushered the two girls down the stairs.

Blair sat on the couch with Holly in his lap and Haley against his side. After they'd eaten and washed and wiped the dishes, they had settled in the living room to watch tv.

Blair gazed down at the bleary-eyed girls and smiled fondly. "I think it's bedtime."

The twins didn't argue, but merely struggled to their feet and allowed Blair to guide them into the small bedroom. They crawled onto the futon and Blair tucked them in. "Good night," he said softly, brushing a hand over Holly's, then Haley's brow.

"Tell us a story," Holly begged.

"Uncle Jim always does," Haley added.

He smiled at the mental image of big, tough Jim telling a bedtime story. "What kind of story?"

"The one about Panther and Wolf," Haley said.

"That's our favorite," Holly added.

Blair's breath caught in his throat. His dreams the last few nights had been filled with a panther and a wolf. Coincidence? He cleared his throat nervously. "I can tell you one about a panther and a wolf, but it probably won't be the same story."

"That's -- " Holly yawned widely. " -- okay."

Blair crossed his legs and folded his hands on his knee. "Once upon a time there lived a beautiful and courageous black panther. This panther became a leader because he cared for the others and always protected them. But one day, Panther started seeing and hearing and smelling things that weren't there. When he told the other panthers about it, they thought he was making it up and called him a liar. Finally, all the sounds and sights and scents overwhelmed Panther and he started lashing out because he was in so much pain. None of the others could understand what was wrong with him. They only knew that he couldn't be trusted anymore, so they banished him to live in the middle of the deep dark forest all by himself. Panther was very sad, but he understood why they did it, because he, too, was afraid he might hurt one of his friends someday.

"All the animals that lived in the forest were warned of crazy Panther and told to stay far away from him. As the weeks and months went by, Panther got used to being alone, but he was still very lonely and often cried himself to sleep. One day, Panther was hunting like he always did when his paw got caught in a trap. The pain was horrible and he roared so loud the whole forest shook, but nobody came to help him. He tried to get the trap off, but he couldn't. He kept calling for help, but all the other animals were too scared to get close to him."

"Where's Wolf? He's supposed to help Panther," Holly whispered, her eyes wide.

Blair stared at the girl. "How do you know?"

"I just know," Holly replied. "Go on, Uncle Blair."

Swallowing his uneasiness, Blair continued. "Suddenly a gray wolf appeared, but Panther had been in the trap for a long time and he was in so much pain that he swiped his claws at Wolf. Wolf moved far enough back that Panther couldn't hurt him, but Wolf wanted to help. He couldn't stand to see Panther hurting so bad, but he knew Panther might accidentally hurt him if he got too close. So Wolf laid down on the ground and rolled onto his back, showing Panther he wouldn't hurt him.

"Finally, Panther calmed down and let Wolf get close enough that he could take the trap off his paw. Wolf licked Panther's wound to make it better and stood guard over the sleeping Panther, keeping him safe from the men who had set the trap to catch him. When Panther woke up, he couldn't figure out why Wolf was still there. Everybody else was scared of him. Wolf told him he didn't want to leave, that he wanted to stay with Panther and help him. Panther liked Wolf, too, and was happy for his company."

"And Panther and Wolf lived together happily ever after for the rest of their lives protecting all the other animals," Holly finished.

"Is that like the story Uncle Jim tells?" Blair asked hesitantly.

Haley nodded. "Except Uncle Jim tells us about Wolf who loved to travel and help others and how everybody liked Wolf."

"And Panther?"

"Wolf was brave enough to help Panther because he knew Panther was scared and lonely."

Blair's heartbeat double-timed. He had felt some odd connection to Jim from the moment he saw him, but this ...

"You're Wolf, Uncle Blair," Holly whispered. "You can help Panther."

"Who's Panther?" Blair held his breath.

"Uncle Jim, silly," Holly replied as if he were an idiot.

Blair managed not to gape in astonishment. That was what he had been afraid to presume. How had the girls put he and Jim in the wolf and panther roles? Did he and Jim share the same dream?

"I was just checking," he said with a shaky smile. "Now it's time to go to sleep."

"G'night, Uncle Blair," Haley said, her eyes closing.

Blair kissed her brow. "Goodnight, Haley." He did the same to Holly. "Sleep tight, Holly."

"Goodnight, Uncle Blair," Holly murmured.

Blair sat there until both girls were sleeping soundly, their arms wound around their stuffed animals: a black cat and a dog.

Panther and Wolf.

This was getting weirder by the minute. He shook aside his confusion and returned to the living room. He gazed up at the bedroom and could make out Jim's still figure. How could someone he hadn't even known existed a month ago become so integral to his life -- his very self -- so quickly? Or had he known of Jim's existence -- a sentinel's existence -- the moment he read Burton's monograph? Which meant what?

The scant information Blair had garnered in his years of researching made vague references to the spiritual aspects of a sentinel's life. What if being a sentinel -- and consequently, a sentinel's guide -- meant a greater connection to the spirit world?

His mind racing, Blair booted up his computer and surfed the Internet for anything related to spirit animals and shared dreams. By the time he shut down, it was past two in the morning, and he had even more questions and fewer answers. But one thing was certain, there was something between himself and Jim -- something beyond the explainable; something not fettered to the physical world.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon when Blair awakened on the couch. After his marathon session on the Internet, he had shed his shoes, jeans, and shirts before curling up amidst the hastily made bed on the sofa. Silence met his ears and panic blindsided him. Had Jim and the girls fled again?

He cursed inwardly as he extricated himself from the pile of blankets and hurried up the steps on bare feet. The gentle radiance of the sunrise strayed through the skylight, lending a coral glow to Jim's bare back and serene face. Blair leaned against the brick wall, breathing deeply to ease his momentary panic.

"Blair?"

Jim's worried voice startled him, and Blair looked down to see the older man gazing at him in concern. "I'm okay."

Jim sat up against the pillows and patted the mattress beside him. "Come here."

Blair perched on the bed, clasping his hands together to keep from touching the sentinel's bare chest.

"Your heart was beating so fast, it woke me up," Jim said softly.

Blair's face heated. "I'm sorry. I thought you had left again and I had to see you to make sure."

Jim wrapped an arm around Blair, bringing their upper bodies together. "I wouldn't leave without telling you. I promised."

"But you will leave." It wasn't a question because Blair didn't want to know the answer.

Jim rubbed Blair's arm. "I wish I didn't have to."

The younger man sank into Jim's embrace, reveling in the feel of the warm, muscular body. "Then don't."

Blair felt Jim's sigh deep in his gut. "There are things you don't know -- "

It was confession time. No matter the consequences, he had to tell Jim he knew his name. And his past. He twisted around and settled cross-legged on the bed. "I know."

Jim blinked, startled. "What?"

"I know who you are," Blair whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Jim inhaled sharply. Blair closed his eyes, hoping and praying he hadn't destroyed their fledgling feelings before they could take root. He listened to the early morning traffic on Prospect, wishing he could read Jim's mind.

Finally, the older man's body sagged. "I guess I expected it."

The defeat in Jim's voice alarmed Blair. He framed Jim's face and raised his head to meet his desolate eyes. "I won't hurt you, Jim. I care for you too much."

"Do you need a lab rat that badly?" Jim's question burned like acid.

"No! It wouldn't matter to me if you were a sentinel or not -- I care about you."

Rage filled Jim's features, and Blair prayed it wasn't aimed at him.

"I was in the Army for fifteen years. I was taught to obey without question, but when they started doing those tests on me, I couldn't take it anymore." Jim's outburst died, leaving only embers of shame. "I ran, Blair, and I haven't stopped running."

Blair's chest ached as he drew Jim into a hug, wishing he could safeguard him from the world. The sentinel's anguish and humiliation rolled across Blair in excruciating waves. "I'm sorry, so sorry," he murmured over and over, rocking the larger man gently in his arms.

Then the comfortee became the comforter as Jim kissed Blair's forehead tenderly. "It's all right. Shhhh, it's okay. That's in the past. I'm done running. It's time I stand up to them."

"We'll stand up to them," Blair said fiercely. "The bastards made up some bogus charge -- they say you murdered someone."

Jim froze as his face paled. "I didn't kill anyone. I swear."

"Don't you think I know that? Jesus, Jim, you're the most honorable, courageous man I've ever met. There's no way in hell you could've murdered anyone."

Jim's expression filled with astonishment. "You don't believe the charge?"

"Of course not, big guy, not even for a second. Blair Sandburg does not fall in love with murderers." He froze, realizing his monumental slip. "Shit, I'm sorry. Gods, you have enough to worry about without me -- "

Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own and didn't draw away until they both needed oxygen.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" Blair asked breathlessly.

"It was the fastest way to shut you up," Jim replied with a crooked grin, his own lips slightly swollen.

"Uncle Blair?" one of the twin's voices sounded from downstairs.

"I'm up here, sweetheart," Blair called down.

"We'll talk later." Jim kissed Blair's lips lightly. "I promise."

The two men moved apart as the sound of two pairs of feet on the steps heralded the arrival of Haley and Holly. Smiles wreathed their faces when they saw Jim was awake. They jumped onto the bed and he hugged them close. Blair sat at the foot of the bed, watching the exchange fondly.

"Were you good for Uncle Blair?" Jim asked.

"Yep," Haley reassured.

"He told us the story about Wolf and Panther last night," Holly nodded.

Jim sought Blair's eyes. "How did -- ?"

Blair grinned and lifted his hands in an I-have-no-clue gesture.

"I told you Wolf would find you," Holly said, her blue eyes bright.

Jim gaped first at Holly, then at Blair.

"The dream started the first night you were here," Blair explained. "I had no idea what it meant. When the girls mentioned the bedtime story about the wolf and the panther you told them, I was just as shocked as you are." He paused nervously. "It's probably related to your being a sentinel."

"I have no clue, Chief. All I know is my senses have been off and on ever since I was a kid." He met Blair's gaze steadily. "Only you've been able to help me control them."

Did that mean he was Jim's helper -- the one who watched his back and guided him? The one who remained at the sentinel's side? Was that the reason he was the wolf and Jim the panther?

Did he have a choice? Did he want a choice? The thought of someone else taking care of Jim filled him with a possessive jealousy he'd never felt before. No, nobody but himself would ever guide Jim ... touch Jim.

Blair levered himself off the bed, disturbed by the fierce emotions. "Would you girls like to help me make breakfast?"

"Yes," they answered, their young voices full of excitement.

"First thing you have to do is wash up and get dressed."

Blair watched them go downstairs, a smile on his face, then turned to Jim. "Do you need any help this morning?"

"Actually, I'm feeling pretty good. The massage helped," Jim replied.

"That and fourteen hours of uninterrupted sleep," Blair teased. Suddenly feeling shy, he started toward the stairs. "I'll go get breakfast started."

The next thing he knew Jim's arms were wrapped around his waist and his back was against Jim's chest. Lips pressed against the side of his neck and Blair tipped his head to the side to allow the older man more access. He shivered with more than desire, more than passion. More ...

Love. There was no other word for the emotions stirring through him, heating his blood ... his heart ... his soul.

"Did I ever thank you?" Jim whispered, his warm breath fanning across Blair's cheek.

"Once or twice." Blair's attempt at flippancy failed as his voice came out husky. He turned in Jim's arms and pressed against the older man's magnificent nude body with only Blair's underwear separating skin from skin.

"Jesus, Blair, you've saved our lives twice. How can I ever repay you?"

Blair caressed Jim's face with trembling fingers. "I only caught you when started to fall." He raised up on his toes to kiss Jim then gazed into his brilliant blue eyes. "I love you, Jim Ellison." Even though it was one of the most difficult things Blair had ever done, he eased away from the larger man and trotted down the stairs. "Shake a leg, big guy. We got us a breakfast to make."

Flustered by Blair's second proclamation of love, Jim watched the younger man leave, his gaze moving down to Blair's enticing backside which was covered only by thin flannel boxers. Desire rippled through him, startling him anew. There was no doubt he'd fallen fast and hard for Detective Blair Sandburg. But how was it possible that Blair could fall in love with someone like him -- a freak with a murder charge and court martial hanging over his head?

Jim spotted the sweatpants and sweatshirt Blair must have set on the dresser the night before. Inhaling deeply, he recognized the detergent as the special one Blair had bought because it wouldn't irritate his skin. Was there nothing Blair wouldn't do for him?

He grew somber as he tugged on his clothing. He didn't want Blair involved in his trouble with the Army. Jim had been too independent for too long to be comfortable with someone -- even Blair -- helping him clean up his mistakes. However, the Army major recognized the fact that he did need Blair's assistance with his senses. The younger man's voice could pull him out of one of those zone-outs when nobody else's could. Was Blair his "guide"?

Dressed except for shoes, Jim went downstairs, surprised by how good he felt. His arm, which had been left unbandaged overnight, was somewhat stiff, but appeared to be well on its way to recovery. The bruises he'd received Saturday night had been eased by the hot bath and soothing massage. Remembering how Blair had touched him in the bathtub and his immediate climax brought the heat of humiliation to his face. Any other person would have ridiculed him, but not Blair. Somehow, Blair always understood.

Jim walked into the kitchen where Blair met him with a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," Jim said, his fingers lingering a few moments longer than necessary on Blair's.

The younger man blushed. "You're welcome." He turned back to the counter and continued chopping a sweet onion. Comfortable silence surrounded them, although Jim suspected Blair had something on his mind.

"There's something else I have to tell you," the detective finally said.

Jim leaned back to look into Blair's face. "What's that?"

"My boss, Simon Banks, is coming over this morning. I told him about you."

"Why?" he bit out.

Blair's hands trembled and he set the knife down. Placing his palms on the counter, he hung his head, his long hair hiding his expression. "You didn't ask me how I figured out who you were."

A ball of ice formed in Jim's gut. "How?" he managed to ask in a strangled voice.

"I ran your prints through the computer."

Betrayal rose like bitter gall in Jim's throat and he slammed his cup down, sloshing coffee over the sides. He pushed away from the counter, fury vibrating through him. "Son of a -- Do you realize what you've done? They'll find out where the search originated and send a team here to pick me up." He glared at the younger man, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Goddammit, Sandburg, you had no right!"

For a long moment, neither man moved. Then Blair lifted his head, stalked over to him and stood toe to toe with the taller man. Two red blotches appeared on the younger man's pale cheeks, but raw anger sparked his eyes. "Maybe I was wrong in running your prints, but you wouldn't tell me anything. Maybe I was wrong in not asking you if I could tell Captain Banks, but I know what your answer would've been. Damn it, Jim, this--this conspiracy is so far beyond our ability to deal with it, we need all the help we can get to fight them. They already had you for months without anyone checking into your disappearance. Hell, they could waltz right in here and take you again, but this time they'd bury you so deep nobody would ever find you." Blair leaned impossibly closer, until he and Jim were practically breathing the same air. "And I am not going to let that happen, Ellison."

Feeling as if he'd had the breath knocked out of him by a sucker punch, Jim struggled to breathe. He stared at Blair, noting the full lips which were pressed together and the eyes bright with fury.

Blair would fight for his life with everything he had, and nobody -- not a single person in Jim's thirty-some years -- had ever done that for James Ellison.

Jim went from rage to desire in the space of a heartbeat. He lifted his hand and brushed Blair's cheek with his fingertips. Blair blinked and his eyes, so full of defensive indignation a second earlier, became heavy-lidded and seductive, reflecting Jim's arousal so completely the two men could've been sharing one body.

Jim's fingers splayed within the detective's long silky curls, then clutched the strands in his fists. He brought his lips down upon Blair's, and their tongues dueled and their teeth clicked with the fierceness of the kiss.

Blair's heartbeat filled Jim's mind; his fresh herbal scent twined through his nose and lungs; and his taste was like the most expensive champagne -- bubbly, erotic, and completely decadent. Jim's vision blurred around the edges and a sane part of him recognized the first sign of oxygen deprivation. He forced himself to ease away from the addiction which was Blair Sandburg and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him close and bringing their bodies flush from chest to thigh. The erection which pressed into Jim's thigh was no less hard than his own.

Jim brought his mouth close to Blair's ear. "I'm sorry. It's just that -- " he broke off.

"Blind trust is a lot to ask," Blair said knowingly, his strong, sure hands gliding up and down Jim's back.

"You don't ... you can't." Jim took a deep, raspy breath. He closed his eyes, fighting the past demons that taunted and laughed at his pain.

"Trust me."

Those were the two most frightening words in Jim's world. How often had he heard them, only to be betrayed? A year ago he had told a man he thought was his friend about his senses. The next thing Jim knew he was a prisoner in a hospital. He never saw his so-called friend again. Blair knew about his senses; hell, he had even read about these preternatural senses in some book.

Would this man in his arms betray him, too?

Wolf wouldn't betray Panther, but could Jim stake his life on a child's tale ... the impossibility of a shared dream? Only it wasn't impossible. It had happened. With Blair.

"Please," Blair whispered, his hushed intensity shattering Jim's formidable defenses.

Jim nodded. He would give trust one more chance. Either Blair was truly worthy of his trust or he would betray him -- it was that simple ... and that complicated.

"Thank you." A radiant smile lit Blair's face.

His heart thundering out of control, Jim groaned and leaned in for another kiss.

Haley and Holly, dressed in their laundered overalls, skidded into the kitchen. "Can we help?" Holly asked.

Jim and Blair separated abruptly. The loss of the younger man's touch was almost agonizing, but Jim managed to stifle the pain by listening to Blair's rapid heartbeat.

"You sure can. How about setting the table?" Blair suggested with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Show Uncle Jim where the dishes and glasses are, and he'll get them down for you. And we have a visitor joining us, so set an extra place."

Drawing in deep draughts of air to calm himself, Jim followed the girls.

Just as Blair was turning off the burner beneath the scrambled eggs, someone knocked on the door. Jim's muscles went rigid and he automatically opened his senses. The caustic scent of cigars sent him into a coughing fit.

"What's wrong?" Blair demanded, a hand on Jim's back as the older man braced his hands on his knees.

"Cigars ... whoever's out there smokes ... cigars," Jim managed to say as he wheezed.

"It's Captain Banks, my boss." Blair's relief was dampened by his concern for Jim. "Dial down your sense of smell, buddy."

Jim concentrated on Blair's hand on his back which gave him a centering focus, then followed his directions and breathed deeply, flushing his lungs of the acrid odor. He straightened. "I'm okay now."

Blair gave his shoulder a reassuring pat and headed to the door.

"What took so long?" Simon stepped inside, handed Blair a bag from Panino's Bakery across town, and hung his overcoat on the rack by the door.

"C'mon in and make yourself at home, Simon," Blair said as he sent Jim an amused smile.

Simon glared at Blair, and Jim's hackles rose, his protective instincts triggered by the police captain's scowl. He reminded himself that Blair trusted Banks.

"Chill, man," Blair said to Simon as he ushered him into the kitchen. "I want you to meet my guests. Haley and Holly, meet my good friend and boss, Simon Banks."

Banks' blustering expression disappeared and he squatted down in front of the girls as he smiled gently. "It's nice to meet you." He shook their hands.

"Are you really a friend of Uncle Blair's?" Haley demanded.

"I sure am. I knew him even before he was a policeman," he replied, keeping his voice soft.

Blair gave Haley's shoulder a fond squeeze, then motioned toward Jim. "Captain Simon Banks, Jim Ellison."

"Major Jim Ellison," Jim corrected. He watched surprise flare then retreat in Banks' eyes.

The two men shook hands, each one gauging the other. Jim respected his firm grip and steady gaze, but Banks was a cop and cops weren't high on Jim's "like" list. Blair had been the first police officer Jim felt anything but aversion; and what he felt for Blair now wasn't even in the same universe.

"Perfect timing, Simon," Blair said, placing the box of muffins and donuts in the center of the table. "Simon, could you pour the juice? Jim, please get the butter. Haley, Holly, go ahead and sit down."

Finally, everyone was seated and the food was passed around. They talked of the weather, the Cascade Jags and the state of the world in general -- everything but the most obvious.

Once everyone was done eating, Blair bribed the girls into the living room with the promise of Disney's "Tarzan", which he had bought over the weekend, hoping they would return. He left the girls hugging their stuffed animals as they curled up on the sofa watching the movie, and found the table already cleared by Jim and Simon.

"Thanks, guys," Blair said. "I'll put on another pot of coffee."

With Jim washing, Simon drying, and Blair putting the dishes away, it didn't take long to clean up the kitchen. Finally they were seated around the table once more, a fresh cup of coffee in front of each of them.

"Thanks for your help on the arson case, Ellison," Simon began. "We wouldn't have caught her if not for you."

Jim shot a look at Blair. Had he told his boss about his senses, too? "I'm just glad it worked out," he said tersely.

"It's okay, Jim. Simon knows all about my dissertation. I told him about your senses, but he swore he wouldn't tell anyone. You can trust him," Blair reassured.

Jim took a deep breath, determined to get past his mistrust and insecurities. If Blair said Simon could be trusted and if Jim trusted Blair, then he had to believe he and the girls were safe.

"So why is he in trouble?" Simon asked Blair.

The detective opened his mouth but a familiar hand on his arm halted his words.

"Let me," Jim said.

Blair nodded and gave Jim's hand a gentle squeeze.

When Jim looked up at Banks, he noticed the captain's attention on their joined hands, but there didn't appear to be any censure. Only mild curiosity.

"Fifteen years ago I joined the Army and was approved for Ranger training. My assignments were sometimes covert." He smiled wryly, turning Blair's hand in his to absently stroke his knuckles with his thumb. "Most of them were. About six years ago, my men and I went down in a helicopter crash in Peru. I was the only survivor." He paused and swallowed hard, surprised to find the pain still so fresh. "For eighteen months I survived with some help from a native tribe called the Chopec."

Blair's eyes widened and his heartbeat shot up. "The Chopec? Wow! Do you know how many anthropologists would give their firstborn to study them?"

Jim smiled ruefully. "I don't remember much about that time. What I did remember later was that my senses were a lot sharper down there. I guess at the time it didn't seem so odd because the Chopec didn't treat me like I was a fr -- different."

Blair leaned forward. "Native tribes in South America presumably had sentinels living among them. Sentinels and their guides were revered because they kept the tribe safe from enemies, as well as warned them of natural phenomena, such as bad weather and earthquakes. It sounds like the Chopec treated you with the respect you deserved."

Jim caught Blair's affectionate gaze and love for this man made his chest tighten. "Thanks, Chief." He smiled at the twin blossoms of red in the young detective's cheeks.

"This still isn't telling me why you're in trouble," the captain said somewhat impatiently.

"I'm getting to that, sir." Jim used the same tone he used with ranking officers. "My senses kind of disappeared for a few years after that. Last year I went on a solitary recon mission for two weeks. When I came back, my senses were off the charts and I had a headache damned near every day. I told a friend about it. I thought I could trust him." Jim heard the spike in Blair's heart rate. "He told my CO, who ordered me to have tests done."

"And they didn't find anything?" Blair guessed.

Jim nodded. "That's right. But somebody had heard or read something about enhanced senses and tested me for those. When they found all five senses were heightened, I guess they must've decided if they could figure out how to duplicate them in others, the Army could produce a unit of 'supermen'." Venom leaked into his tone. "So they confined me to a hospital and started running more tests to figure out how I ticked." Jim took a deep breath as he willed his trembling to cease. In spite of Blair's reassuring presence, Jim's nervous energy forced him to move. He released the younger man's hand and stalked over to the sink. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, surprised by the tremors which skated along his nerves. "I won't go into detail on the tests -- " His jaw muscle corded as he was unable to hold the nightmares at bay. "They forced me into a blackout one time -- when I woke up, I was weak and totally drained. I was told I'd been out for nearly a week. It was after that I decided I had to escape."

"They say he killed someone when he made his escape," Blair interjected quietly.

Banks' eyes widened. "Did you?" he asked Jim.

"No, sir," Jim said flatly. "I managed to escape without hurting or killing anyone."

"So you've been on the street ever since?" Banks asked.

Jim nodded. "I came back to Cascade because I grew up here."

"Wasn't that taking a big risk?" Blair asked.

"Maybe, but it was like something was calling me back." The major shrugged. "I can't explain it."

"That would make sense -- a sentinel is by definition a protector of his territory. Since you grew up here, this is your territory," Blair said.

"That's all wonderful and fascinating, Sandburg, but how the hell are we going to go up against the U.S. Army?" the captain demanded.

"Look, this is my problem, not yours," Jim broke in. He glanced at the girls and anguish washed through him. "I'll go and leave the girls here. That way nobody else will get mixed up in my mess."

Blair jumped to his feet and went to Jim's side. "You're not going anywhere, Ellison. We're going to fight this together."

"But if we lose, your career -- " Jim glanced at Simon. " -- both of your careers will be down the drain."

"I don't care," Blair said vehemently. "I care what happens to you."

Though warmed by Blair's words, Jim knew Banks didn't have any emotional stake in the gamble. "It wouldn't be fair to Captain Banks."

"Let me decide what's fair, Major Ellison," Banks said. "And personally, what the Army did to you was criminal. The bastards deserve to fall hard."

Jim stared at the adamant captain. "Sir? You don't even know me. What if I did commit murder?"

"Sandburg says you didn't and I trust his instincts."

Blair grinned at his boss. "Thanks, Simon."

The captain snorted. "Don't thank me yet, Sandburg. We're going to have to come up with a plan." He eyed Jim. "When they come around asking about you, they'll be directed to me. I can stall them for a little while. But they'll find you sooner or later. Do you have a lawyer?"

"No, but that's a good place to start."

"It'll have to be someone who's familiar with military law," Blair interjected.

"I have a friend who's a retired admiral. I'll call him and see if he can recommend someone," Simon said.

Jim's throat grew tight, amazed by the willingness of these two people to help him without demanding something in return. "What about money?"

Blair placed his hand on Jim's arm. "Don't worry about it. I've got some saved up."

"No. You've already given us too much." Including my life. Jim absently scrubbed his jaw. "As far as I know, my salary has been directly deposited into my checking account for the last year. I should have a fair amount of money in there if I can get to it."

"As soon as you have legal counsel, it should be safe enough for you to access your account," Simon said. He plucked his cell phone from his waistband where it was clipped.

As he punched in a few numbers and moved down the hallway, Blair wound his arms around Jim's waist and laid his cheek against the solid chest. After a moment of surprised hesitation, Jim returned the hug.

"Promise me you won't run again," Blair whispered.

The older man closed his eyes, wondering if he could give Blair this one thing, and realized he couldn't ... not without lying. "I can't do that."

Blair stiffened in his arms and his breathing stuttered.

Jim turned his head slightly, pressing his lips to the detective's soft, curly hair, loving the clean herbal scent and the feel of the silky strands. "If it looks like they're going to take me back to the hospital, I'm going to do everything in my power to escape."

"I'll go with you."

"No. Somebody has to make sure Haley and Holly are taken care of."

Blair froze. "Don't make me choose between you and the twins. Please."

Jim swallowed hard and released Blair to take a step back. He framed Blair's face in his palms and raised his head so their eyes met. "You're the only one I trust to take care of them."

Desperation clouded Blair's eyes. "We could all go with you."

Although it was one of the hardest things Jim had ever done, he shook his head. "No. The girls need a stable home. They need to go to school every day like regular children."

"They need you, Jim. I need you."

Jim ground his teeth, his jaw muscle jumping into his cheek. "And I need to know all three of you will be safe."

"And it's fair that we won't know if you're safe?" Blair's voice came out cutting and harsh.

Jim dropped his chin to his chest. He took a deep breath and met Blair's grief-stricken eyes. "Look, it may not happen, so let's not worry about it right now, okay?"

He didn't mention that even if he was found innocent of murder, there was a strong possibility he would be court-martialed for going AWOL.

Simon returned to the kitchen and stopped abruptly, his gaze moving between the two men. "Am I interrupting something?"

Blair shook his head, his expression grim. He didn't like what Jim had told him, but he couldn't stop the man if he was determined to run again. Drawing away from Jim both physically and emotionally, he asked, "What did you find out?"

Simon handed Blair a piece of notebook paper. "Here's the name and address of a retired JAG lawyer who's in private practice now. He's out of town today, but you have an appointment with him at 9:00 tomorrow morning."

Blair glanced at the name, recognized the firm, and nodded. "I've heard of them. They're supposed to be pretty good."

"Let me see," Jim said with a trace of impatience. He took it from Blair's extended hand, read it and glanced up at Simon. "So what do we do until tomorrow?"

"Lay low," Banks replied. "If anyone contacts me about you, I'll stall, but I have a feeling they'll just show up in Cascade. They'll want to find you themselves and make sure you don't have a chance to talk." He glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. "I've got a meeting with the commissioner in half an hour and a busy schedule the rest of the day, but I can come over tomorrow morning to watch the girls, if you'd like."

"Are you sure it won't be a problem, sir?" Jim asked.

"I've been looking for an excuse to take a day off."

Blair grinned, seeing past his brusqueness. "Thanks, Simon."

Banks strode to the door and shrugged into his long overcoat. "Good-bye, girls," he called out.

Haley and Holly dragged their attention away from "Tarzan" long enough to wave. Chuckling, Simon left with a promise to call if anybody came snooping around asking about Jim.

Alone again, Jim and Blair faced one another in awkward silence, their disagreement too fresh to discuss rationally.

"If you're going to see a lawyer tomorrow, I think you need a new suit or if you have a uniform -- " Blair said.

Jim turned and walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. "Want one?"

Glad to see Jim was feeling comfortable enough in the loft to help himself, Blair nodded. The older man tossed him a bottle, then leaned against the counter and unscrewed the top to take a long pull. Blair stood by the kitchen island and sipped his water, knowing Jim well enough to know he'd say what was on his mind in his own time.

"I have a uniform in a locker at the bus depot," Jim said quietly. "If I can get that and have it cleaned and pressed today, I can wear it to the lawyer's. I'll also need a haircut."

"All right. Why don't we take the girls and make a day of it? If you're feeling up to it."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"It's probably safer than staying here."

Jim finished his water and tossed the plastic container into the recycle bin. "You don't have to go with me, Sandburg."

"And I told you, you're not getting rid of me that easily," Blair said. "You may as well get used to me sticking to you like glue, big guy."

"Did I ever tell you you're a pain in the ass, Sandburg?" Jim's usually somber eyes twinkled.

"Only nine or ten times. It's a good thing I have such a healthy ego or that would hurt, man."

Jim suddenly appeared uneasy. "I was just -- "

The younger man chuckled. "Chill, Jim. I was only teasing."

"Oh."

Blair impulsively stepped forward and clasped Jim's hand. "Relax, Jim. Everything's okay." He released him reluctantly. "Let's round up the girls and head out."

The movie was just ending so Haley and Holly were anxious to embark on a new adventure. The two men helped the girls into their jackets, and donned their own. Jim appeared almost as excited as the girls about the excursion. Blair's heart lurched as he realized any outing they had gone on before probably entailed trudging through dirty alleys and sifting through store dumpsters.

"Would you like to drive?" Blair asked Jim once the girls were belted in the back seat.

Jim's eyes lit up like a child who just received a wished-for Christmas present. "You don't mind?"

"Why would I?" Blair narrowed his eyes. "You do know how to drive, right?"

Jim chuckled. "Oh, yeah." His expression darkened. "But it's been awhile. I, uh, don't have my license with me. It's in the locker with my uniform."

"Since I'm an officer of the law, I'll give you a break this time." He winked at Jim, whose dazzling smile made Blair's breath catch in his throat. That smile alone was reason enough for Blair to want to please this man every day for the rest of their lives.

The two men crossed in front of the Expedition and Blair pressed the keys in Jim's hand as they passed. The boyish excitement in Jim's face made Blair smile as he watched him start the SUV. Jim adjusted the rear view mirror, then cautiously checked before pulling into traffic. His pleasure seemed to infuse Blair who couldn't take his eyes off the older man.

"What?" Jim asked after a few minutes of careful, law-abiding driving.

"I'm just enjoying the sights."

Jim glanced at Blair, then quickly turned his attention back to the road. His face reddened, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he seemed to relax even more.

With a knowing smile, Blair turned to look at the girls in the back seat. "So what do you two think of Uncle Jim's driving?"

"It's funny," Holly said with a giggle.

"Keep both your hands on the wheel, Uncle Jim," Haley said seriously. "And a yellow light does not mean speed up."

"Yes, ma'am," Jim said.

Blair hid a grin behind his palm, recognizing the local tv advertisement for safe driving. Obviously the girls had watched some tv previously, more than likely at the mysterious Mamie's. "Who's Mamie?" he asked Jim.

"Someone I trusted enough to leave the girls with when I worked at the diner," Jim replied quietly. He put on his right blinker and made a smooth turn. "She was the first person I met when I got here. I was trying to blend in with the others on the street and she knew right off I didn't belong. She tried to talk me into facing up to my troubles, but I couldn't. Not then."

"She sounds like the motherly type."

"She's eighteen years old. Been living on her own since she was thirteen."

Shocked, Blair stared at Jim. "Why?"

Jim spared him a quick glance. "Why do most kids run away from home?" He shrugged. "Her story is unique only because she never became an addict or prostitute. She managed to find other kinds of work to give her enough money to live on her own. She just started studying for her GED last month. Once she gets her degree, she's going to make it, Chief."

Blair made a mental note to find this Mamie and see if she'd like some help. He used to enjoy tutoring ....

Jim pulled into an Unloading Only zone in front of the bus station. He shifted the SUV into park and turned in his seat. "Holly, could I see your cat?"

The little girl unhesitantly handed him Panther. Blair watched as Jim found a small hole in the back seam and worked a key out of the slit. He gave Holly back her stuffed toy. "Thanks, sweetheart."

"Smart idea," Blair complimented.

Jim grinned wryly. "Wait here. I'll be back in a minute."

Blair watched him stride into the bus station, blending with the crowd, yet Blair had no trouble keeping him in sight and it wasn't simply because of his size. There was a presence about Jim Ellison which set him apart from others. Or it was only Blair's perception of the sentinel -- a larger-than-life hero.

Sighing, Blair entertained the girls while they waited for Jim's return. Five minutes later Jim came out of the station, a white cloth bag in his hand. He slipped into the driver's seat and tossed the bag between Blair and himself. He clutched the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead.

Blair touched his shoulder. "Hey, Jim, you okay, man?"

After a moment, Jim roused himself and nodded jerkily. "It's just that the uniform ... The smells. They reminded me ... " A shudder passed through him.

"There's a one hour martinizing shop about six blocks from here. How about dropping it there?" Blair asked, sensing Jim didn't want his emotions laid bare in front of the girls.

"Sounds good, Chief."

Blair gave Jim the directions and ten minutes later, Jim left the uniform at the cleaners with the promise it would be done in one hour. The younger man remembered a barbershop across from a small park, which would give the girls something to do while they waited for Jim.

Before they got out of the SUV, Blair passed Jim a twenty dollar bill. "You'll need this."

Pride brought a flush to Jim's face as his jaw clenched unmercifully. "I, uh -- "

"I know," Blair said quietly.

Once all four of them stood on the sidewalk, Jim squatted down in front of the girls. "While I get my hair cut, Uncle Blair is going to take you across the street to play in the park." Jim straightened. "I'll come over there when I'm done."

Holding the twins' hands, Blair led them across the street and to the playground. Half an hour later, Blair glanced up to see Jim approaching. He stared at the older man, amazed by the change in his entire demeanor with his military brush cut. Jim's spine was stiffer, his shoulders drawn back, and he walked with the innate confidence and grace of a born leader.

Jim halted in front of him, the confidence he'd exuded in his stride faltering. Blair could only stare at his face, which a simple haircut had changed so profoundly. His blue eyes were now electric, highlighted by the short style and somewhat receding hairline. The haircut also gave his features more definition, from his angular jaw to the curve of his cheeks and the upsweep of his brow. He had thought Jim handsome before, but now he could only be described as striking, guaranteed to turn both men and women's heads. Blair swallowed and walked around him slowly. The older man's smooth nape tempted him to press his lips to the revealed skin, and he dropped his gaze away from temptation, only to have it land on his denim-encased ass. Damn. Almost dizzy with desire, Blair closed his eyes momentarily.

"Wow," he whispered when he came around to face Jim once more.

The older man's lips quirked upward. "Is that a good or a bad 'wow'?"

"Definitely good."

Jim relaxed visibly. "It feels strange, but right."

The girls joined them and stared up at him, their eyes rounded.

"Can we touch it?" Holly asked tentatively.

Jim laughed gently and hunkered down. "Go right ahead."

While Haley and Holly ran their small hands across his spiky hair, Blair punched his own hands into his coat pockets. He'd have to wait for his turn.

For lunch, they went to a 50's type diner where vintage automobiles in mint condition were exhibited. The waitresses wore roller blades, which fascinated Holly and Haley. After a meal of burgers, fries and malts, with a salad to redeem its nutritional value, the four of them drove back to the dry cleaners to pick up Jim's uniform. A side trip to the mall over Jim's protests resulted in Blair's purchase of roller blades, as well as helmets, and knee and elbow pads for Haley and Holly.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the park close to the loft teaching Haley and Holly to roller blade. Blair grabbed his own set of blades from the apartment so he could show them how it was done. At first, Jim was nervous, fussing over all three of them. But Blair reassured and convinced him the pads and helmets would protect them. It wasn't long before they were rolling down the paved path and Jim was left on a bench to follow them with his sentinel senses.

As Blair kept close tabs on the girls who were vacillating between laughter and screams, he enjoyed the rush of the air over his face and the vibrations of the roller blades which moved up the soles of his feet, through his legs and into his chest. He wished Jim had allowed him to buy him a pair of roller blades, too, but the big man had refused. However, this time Blair could tell it was less a money/pride issue and more a personal problem: Jim had forgotten how to play. That was one more thing Blair vowed he would teach the Army major.

A black blur at the edge of his vision caught Blair's attention and he turned his head, only to find nothing there. He would've sworn it was a large black cat. A panther? Unease rippled through him, expanding and enlarging to full-blown panic. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Jim kept his hearing focused on Blair and the girls as they rounded the corner of the path and disappeared into the dense foliage that lined their route. Heartbeats and respiration were all a little rapid, but their laughter reassured him it was only excitement, not danger, causing it.

"Major Ellison."

The words, though softly spoken, sent waves of agony cresting through Jim's head. He pressed his hands to his ears, cursing himself for letting someone sneak up on him. The pain gradually lessened and he lowered his hands as he raised his head. A slender man a few years younger than himself stood in front of him, his hands clasped loosely and a faint but cynical smile twisting his lips. Jim had seen him before, but couldn't remember where.

"I'm sorry if I surprised you." The man's tone said the opposite. "Do you remember me?"

Jim tried to focus and gradually the veil slipped away, revealing the remnants of a nightmare. "You de-briefed me when I came back from Peru six years ago. Agent Brackett. CIA."

"Very good." Brackett smiled like his slowest student had given a correct answer. "I was worried they might have irreparably damaged you."

With the throbbing in his head under control, Jim stood to look Brackett in the eye. "You were the one?"

Brackett shrugged, the motion falsely immodest. "I suspected what you were, but after the last interview it was clear your superior senses were gone again."

"So you bided your time," Jim said through clenched teeth.

"Haven't you heard, Major? Patience is a virtue." Brackett smiled coldly. "Having a colonel on my side helped. Your Colonel Oliver is an angry man, Major. He wanted to fly out here himself and escort you back to the hospital in irons."

"So why didn't he?"

"I was able to convince him my plan was a better one. Less chance the whole sordid affair would be revealed."

Anger hazed Jim's vision. "You're going to kill me?"

Brackett threw back his head and laughed. "Really, Major Ellison, you're much too valuable. I figured you would decide to return on your own, without any fuss or threats of exposure."

"And why the hell would I do that, Brackett?"

"It's really quite simple. If you don't, I shall kill those two beautiful little girls."

Jim staggered, his knees suddenly weak and his breath coming in harsh gasps. "You're lying. Even you wouldn't kill children in cold blood."

"I already have, Major." Brackett's eyes were black, bottomless like the depths of hell.

Wasn't this what Jim had feared would happen? By caring for the girls, he'd given his enemies a weakness to exploit. He'd broken his own cardinal rule. And what about Blair? What if something happened to him, too, because of Jim's failings?

"And that detective friend of yours, Sandburg, he could have a horrible accident befall him, too. A police officer's life is such a hazardous one," Brackett said, as if reading his mind.

The caustic taste of resignation coated Jim's tongue. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tomorrow, you will tell everyone that you did indeed kill a man when you escaped from the hospital. You will go to the Cascade Police Department where Colonel Oliver will meet you, along with two military policemen. You will allow them to escort you to your next destination with no fuss or trouble."

"The hospital," Jim said numbly.

"No. No more tests."

For a split second, hope flitted through Jim, then he saw the reptilian smile on Brackett's face. "We have a more secure position for the second phase," the CIA operative said.

Jim had a feeling the hospital and the tests were a cakewalk compared to the second phase. "You'll leave Sandburg and the girls alone?"

Brackett nodded. "You have my word."

Jim snorted, but knew he had no choice. "All right."

"I'll be seeing you soon then, Major." Obviously satisfied, Brackett sauntered away.

The sound of roller blades on the path made Jim turn to see Blair, followed by the girls roll into view. Beneath his helmet, Blair's face was pale.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked, grasping Blair's arm and stopping him. The girls each grabbed hold of one of his legs as they still stood unsteadily on their blades. Jim examined each of them with his senses. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, it was you. I thought you were in trouble," Blair gasped out. His ponytail hung limp with sweat beneath the helmet, giving him an even younger appearance.

Shocked, Jim could only stare. How had he known? No, he couldn't ... "What do you mean? I was just sitting here, waiting for you all to come back. I was getting a little hungry."

"Hungry?"

Jim managed a smile. "Yeah, you know, when your stomach growls?"

"But -- " Blair began, then released his hold on Jim's biceps and moved back slightly. His cheeks were gaining color, flushing with either embarrassment or exertion. "It was time to go anyhow."

Afraid to look at Blair again, Jim offered a hand to each of the twins, and headed back to the loft. He couldn't face him, knowing tomorrow at this time Blair would hate him.

After a few moments, he heard Blair follow them.

Blair watched Jim push the food around on his plate, occasionally forking a piece of chicken or a vegetable into his mouth, and chewing half-heartedly. There had been no word from Simon which meant no one from the Army or U.S. Marshal office had shown up at the police station. Although that was good news, they were left with waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Was that why Jim seemed more distant this evening? He was watching the girls closer, too, as if trying to memorize their features. But, then, maybe he was. The uncertainty of the future loomed in front of all of them, but Jim would be the one impacted the most by what happened in the days ahead.

Or was there more to Jim's preoccupation? The black foreboding which Blair had experienced a couple hours previous at the park remained with him. He had believed with all his heart that Jim had been in trouble. But when he'd found Jim, safe, by the bench where they'd left him, Blair shrugged the feeling aside. Now, however, his doubts returned.

Haley and Holly, too, were more withdrawn than usual. It was obvious they had picked up on Jim and Blair's nervousness, even though they weren't certain what caused it. When the interminable meal finally ended, Blair tried to keep up the pretense of normalcy and enlisted the aid of everyone in cleaning up the kitchen.

After Jim gave the girls a bath -- allowing them some time for the usual bubble battle -- everyone settled on one sofa in the living room to watch TV. The girls sat between Jim and Blair, but their presence didn't stop Jim from stretching out his arm across the back of the couch to rest his hand on Blair's shoulder.

Later, the men carried the girls into their small bedroom and tucked them into bed. Blair said goodnight and left the room, but leaned on the wall outside the door as Jim told them his version of the panther and wolf story. His low voice caressed Blair like a physical touch and he closed his eyes to savor the pure sensuality of his timbre. The story ended and Blair moved into the kitchen.

When the older man came out, he went into the living room and re-folded the afghan on the couch. He angled the throw pillows just so on either end of the sofa, and straightened the pile of books and papers on the coffee table. Blair had noticed how neat and clean he kept the bathroom, too. This compulsion for neatness was one more thing he learned about Jim.

Blair opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. He wandered into the living room where Jim was staring out the balcony windows. "Want one?" he asked Jim.

Startled, the Army officer nodded and accepted the cold bottle with a nod of thanks. He raised the bottle to his lips and drank over half of the contents before lowering it. Blair sipped his own, concerned.

Jim took another pull, nearly finishing the beer, then braced a forearm on the window's frame and leaned into it, looking outward into the night.

The two men stood side-by-side looking into the darkness, as if it held the key to world peace. "What do you see when you look out there?" the detective asked quietly.

Jim shrugged. "Same as you, just more of it."

"How far?"

"Too damned far." Jim pushed away from the window and began to pace the living room floor, like a wild cat's first day in a zoo. For long minutes, he traveled the same path, crossing hardwood floor and colorful throw rug without distinguishing one from the other: six steps, sharp turn, six steps back, another about-face, and again and again. "Why couldn't I have just been normal instead of some fucking freak?"

Jim's outburst startled Blair. Although Jim had been standoffish when they'd first met, Blair had never seen him so self-derisive; so angry at the very senses which Blair admired.

"You're not a freak and normal is relative." Blair kept his voice low and calm, a tranquil harbor for Jim's careening emotions.

Jim halted and glared at the detective. A lesser man -- or one who didn't know Jim Ellison so well -- would've flinched. "Only a freak would be imprisoned in a hospital with dozens of electrodes attached to him, reading his body's reactions to heat and cold and pain and pleasure. Only a freak would be reduced to wearing diapers because he couldn't control his own bladder or bowels anymore. Only a freak would scream until he didn't have any voice left because he couldn't take the sounds and the sights and the smells anymore." Jim's chest heaved in and out, as if he'd just run a marathon.

Tears burned Blair's eyes as he imagined with too-clear empathy what Jim had endured. Although Jim's body language yelled at him to keep far away, it was his tortured eyes which beckoned Blair. He moved into Jim's personal space, their bodies so close Blair could feel the heat of pain and frustration radiating off him. "You don't have to fight them alone anymore. You have me," Blair said softly, but with all the sincerity his heart possessed.

Jim stared down at him, his eyes pinpoints of silvery-blue. "For how long?"

"For as long as forever."

Jim spun away from the smaller man to retreat to the window once more. "Goddammit, Blair, don't do this to me!" His voice was muffled and watery.

Blair approached him and gently laid his hand on Jim's bowed back. Although Blair had thought it impossible, the older man's muscles tensed even more. He leaned in close to his friend ... his sentinel ... the man he loved. "Talk to me, Jim. What happened this afternoon?"

"I can't," came the strangled reply. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," Blair said firmly. "I'm not going to let you face this alone, Jim. Never alone again. Do you hear me?"

The empty beer bottle slipped from Jim's fingers and thudded to the floor. Jim turned and slid down the window until he was sitting beside the bottle -- the dead soldier. How fucking appropriate.

Jim wrapped his arms around his drawn-up knees and gazed up at Blair, his eyes glimmering with moisture. "He'll kill them and you if I don't."

Blair's heart skipped a beat, then thundered in his chest. He sank to the floor in front of Jim and gripped his knees. "Tell me, Jim. Tell me what he said," he said firmly.

Jim relayed what the CIA operative had told him in the park. When he was finished, his face was weary and pale.

Blair counted to ten -- in Swahili -- before he trusted himself enough to speak calmly. "So this Brackett threatened to kill the twins and me if you didn't go back peacefully with Colonel Oliver?"

Jim nodded. "It's not just a threat, Chief. Brackett's worse than a jackal -- he has no morals, and only his own insane set of ethics."

"Then we'll have to treat him like a jackal, figuratively speaking, of course." Although Blair kept his voice light, he couldn't completely hide his rage.

"I have to do what he said. I won't take the chance that you or the twins will be hurt or killed because of me."

Blair's brain kicked into gear. "Who's this Colonel Oliver?"

"He was my CO when our helicopter went down in Peru."

"The one where you were the only survivor?"

"Yes. Even though I could never prove it, I'm sure he was the one who sabotaged the chopper."

"It wasn't an accident?"

Jim stared at his Blair's hands covering his knees. "There was no proof, but I know it was him. He was covering his ass. The bits and pieces I was able to put together pointed toward illegal drug dealing."

"So you think Brackett either blackmailed Oliver into getting you into that hospital, or promised Oliver a nice pay-off for his help?"

"Oliver may have done it to get rid of me, too. We haven't been on the best of terms since I was rescued in Peru, and he knew I suspected him."

Blair shifted over to sit beside Jim, his back against the window and his shoulder pressed against his friend's. "Do you trust me?"

Jim snorted. "Stupid question, Chief. I've never trusted anyone more."

Blair had to swallow a couple times to get rid of the lump in his throat. "I have a friend who I think can get to the bottom of this."

"Who?"

"Jack Kelso. He's a former CIA agent. He retired because he got fed up with the double-crosses and under-the-table deals. He wrote an expos, which the agency didn't like, but couldn't do much about. Jack still has anonymous friends in some pretty high places. He could get the goods on Brackett, and probably Oliver, too."

"The 'goods'? You sound like a 30's gangster, Chief." Jim smiled for the first time that evening.

"And you sound like a bad John Wayne movie."

"No such thing, Sandburg."

The two men stared at each other, then began to laugh, and they laughed until their stomachs hurt and Blair was lying on his back and Jim on his side next to him. Blair gazed up into Jim's eyes and the anguish was gone, washed away by the release laughter had given him. Now there was something else heating his blue eyes and Blair recognized it immediately.

He raised his head as Jim lowered his, and their mouths met, their lips already open. Desperate hunger and the inevitability of this moment gave them little patience for the niceties of lovemaking. Blair probed Jim's mouth, tasting, devouring, as Jim's impatient tongue did the same. Hands scrabbled for purchase and Blair found Jim's hair, the short bristles amazingly soft and erotic against his fingers and palms.

He felt Jim's hands at tugging his t-shirt out of his pants and rucking up both shirts to his neck. The sentinel skimmed over the curly hair on Blair's chest, taking side trips to pinch the nipples which were already hard and needy. Blair arched upward, his body on fire, his brain short-circuiting.

"Yes ... oh, Jim ... oh, god ... more ... Jim." Blair writhed beneath the larger man, his own hands gliding up and down Jim's back.

Every place Jim touched him, new sparks traveled through him, heating his blood and making him forget everything except how good and right this felt. Large hands cupped his ass, fingers caressed the hidden crease, and liquid fire pooled in Blair's groin. Every stroke of Jim's strong, capable hands made the sweet ache in his belly coil tighter. He was close, so very close.

"Please. Please." Blair wasn't even certain what he was asking for, but he knew Jim would understand.

With a low growl, Jim lowered his hips to Blair's. His steely hard cock, encased in denim, rubbed across Blair's, crushing them together.

"You feel so good, so damned good," Jim said, his voice husky with passion. His gasps and pants were echoed by the younger man.

Blair wrapped his arms around his lover, drove his hips upward, and despite the layers of clothing between them, he felt the inexorable rise in his balls that heralded his orgasm. Then Jim's hands were clutching his ass, pulling him impossibly closer, and Blair was coming and gasping and moaning Jim's name like it was the most important word in the universe. Jim tumbled over the edge a second later as he ground his hips into Blair's and stifled the scream that rose to his lips.

Blair was barely aware of Jim rolling off him, but smiled when the bigger man drew him close. He rested his head on Jim's chest which heaved up and down as he struggled to regain his breath. Although they'd both been completely clothed, Blair had never come so hard in his life -- except for maybe the first time. But that had been an adolescent's body -- all raging hormones mixed with trepidation and excitement.

But this -- with Jim -- was a seamless blending of the physical, spiritual, and emotional.

"Wow," Blair finally whispered.

Jim's grin lit his handsome face. "Is that a good or a bad 'wow'?"

"Any better and even 'wow' would be beyond my vocabulary."

Jim's arm tightened around him. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Blair asked, suddenly worried. "Any trouble with your senses?"

"No." Jim seemed surprised. "It was good. Better than good. Perfect." He kissed the tip of Blair's nose.

Embarrassed, Blair merely wove his fingers through Jim's where their hands rested on Jim's flat abdomen. "I hope we didn't wake the girls."

Jim raised up slightly and tipped his head. "Still sleeping."

Blair smiled. "And who said those sentinel senses wouldn't come in handy?"

Jim's expression sobered. "I used to hate them. Still do sometimes. But, with you, they're more of a blessing than a curse."

"It's about control, Jim. Once you have that, you'll see how much of a gift they truly are." He shifted slightly and made a face. "I think we need to shower."

"Is that an invitation?" Jim waggled his eyebrows.

"I'd say yes, but I have to make some phone calls, and I doubt you want to wait that long."

Jim smiled sheepishly. "We did get a little carried away."

"We both needed and wanted it, love." Blair raised his head and kissed Jim.

Jim blushed. "Yeah, we did."

Blair stood, then lent a hand to his lover. "Go ahead and shower. I'm going to call Jack Kelso." He waited a moment, giving Jim a chance to disagree.

"Good idea, Chief." Jim headed to the bathroom.

"Jim," Blair called out softly.

The larger man paused and looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"Thank you for telling me."

Even without sentinel vision, Blair could see the cascade of emotions cross his face.

"I shouldn't have," Jim finally said. "But I couldn't lie to you, Blair. I don't know if I ever could."

"That's the first step."

Jim studied him a moment, then graced him with a shy smile. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him, but Blair noticed he didn't lock it.

Jim used his nose to find Blair's tea and made two cups while his friend -- lover -- showered. When Blair exited the bathroom amid a swirl of steam and tying the belt of his robe, the tea was ready. Jim offered a cup to the younger man.

Blair's face lit with a grin. "Thanks, man. My favorite." He took a sip and closed his eyes in ecstasy. "Just right."

Jim smiled and retrieved his own cup, then sat down by the dining room table. Blair joined him, his knee brushing Jim's thigh.

"Well?" Jim asked, unable to stifle his impatience any longer. "What did you find out?"

"Jack knew Brackett and he's more than willing to help take him down," Blair replied. "In fact, he said Brackett is a loose cannon."

"He's not with the Company anymore?"

Blair shook his head, damp curls dancing around his face. "Nope. He started doing a little too much freelancing. They cut him loose about six months ago."

"About the time I escaped from the hospital." Jim took a sip of tea to calm his fluttery nerves. "What about Oliver?"

Blair folded his legs beneath him on the chair. "Jack hadn't heard of him, but he was going to investigate tonight. He also said he'd try to find out more about the man you supposedly killed."

"If we can prove I didn't kill him, Brackett and Oliver won't have a reason to take me back." Jim rubbed the back of his neck, still slightly surprised when he found it smooth and free of hair. He hadn't realized how much he'd gotten used to the longer hair, but the short style felt more familiar, like he knew who he was again.

"Which is why they want you to admit killing this guy."

The two men sat in comfortable silence, content with their own thoughts for a few minutes.

"I called Simon, too," Blair said. "He'll bring Megan with him in the morning, and they're going to take the girls over to Debra's."

"The arson inspector?"

Blair nodded.

Jim's gut knotted. He didn't want to let Haley and Holly out of his sight. He wasn't sure he trusted anyone else, except Blair, to protect them. "Is that safe? Brackett's either watching this place himself or has someone else doing it for him. They'll see Banks take them out."

"True. But between Simon and Megan, they'll know if they're being tailed. And even if they aren't, they don't plan on taking a straight route to Debra's, who, by the way, lives with her father."

Uneasy, Jim placed his forearms on the table and leaned into them. "I don't know, Blair."

"We'll also have twenty-four hour surveillance on them."

The cold lump in Jim's gut thawed only slightly. "What else?"

"After we see the lawyer, we're going directly to the station, just like Brackett told you to do. But instead of turning you over to Oliver right away, we're going to keep you in one of our holding cells while we run through every trick in the book."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to tell Oliver we have a prior claim to you, that you're being held in connection with the death of a drug addict." Blair gazed at him steadily, telling him something that his words didn't.

Jim thought for a moment, then jumped to his feet when the answer was clear. "It won't work. She's been dead almost a month now."

"It's the only way we can legally buy some time without Brackett thinking you've reneged on your side of the deal."

"Will it give us enough time?"

Blair's expression clouded, then hardened into resolve. "If it doesn't, you've got yourself a shadow when you leave Cascade."

Jim lowered himself into his chair again and traced the handle of the tea cup with his forefinger, over and over. "I never expected this, Blair. I never expected to meet someone like you, or find out my senses can be controlled, or have someone help me fix the mess I made of my life."

"You didn't make the mess. Brackett and Oliver and the people who looked the other way did that to you. You're a victim here, Jim."

He had never thought of himself as a victim. A victim was someone too weak to defend himself. His father had always said a real man was strong enough to stand on his own two feet. Of course, his father had also called him a freak and had beaten and scarred him. So had he been a victim back when he was a child, too? A victim of a broken marriage and a domineering father's intolerance?

The concept of being a victim was so alien it was like looking into a mirror and seeing a face other than the one you'd been seeing for years staring back at you. Like everything was distorted, like those mirrors in a fun house, where each one made you look different: short and fat, tall and skinny, fat on top, skinny on the bottom, and a hundred other permutations. And you're left wondering which is the real image? Which one is the real you?

"Would you like another cup of tea?" Blair asked quietly.

Startled out of his unsettling thoughts, he managed a smile. "Thanks."

He watched Blair move around the kitchen, then closed his eyes, letting his ears and nose supply the picture. Cloth shifting over Blair's body as he walked; fingers on the canister and the twisting off of the cover followed by the rich fragrance of mint and chamomile and some other herbs he couldn't identify. Small scuffle sounds as Blair filled the tea ball with leaves and lowered it into the teapot. Skin brushing skin -- Blair's thighs -- as he crossed to the stove, opened the teakettle lid with a creak so quiet Jim doubted Blair even heard it. Then water poured into the pot and the stainless steel ball bobbing around inside of it.

Jim could see it so clearly without his eyes -- maybe not the same image he'd see with his sight, but that was only because it was "seen" with a different mirror.

A warm hand settled on his back and rubbed between his shoulder blades. "Are you all right?" Blair asked softly.

Although Jim was loath to open his eyes, he did. Blair's face was inches from his own, and sight mated with smell, touch, and hearing to give him another image of his lover, one which comforted him, warmed him, made him feel safe. He raised his arms and grasped Blair around the waist, then gently maneuvered the younger man around to sit on his lap. Blair went willingly and wrapped his arms around Jim's neck, drawing the older man's head against his chest.

Jim closed his eyes once more, content to breathe in Blair's scent and listen to the soothing rhythm of his guide and lover's heartbeat beneath his ear. "I was just thinking about what you said, about being a victim."

"What about it?" Blair asked as one hand stroked Jim's hair.

"I don't like it." Jim took a deep breath. "But I think I've been one since I was a kid."

"I'm sorry." Blair pressed his lips to the top of Jim's head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"But you will."

"Yes." Jim gathered the tattered ends of his childhood memories and tried to plait them into words. "My mother left when I was a boy. I don't remember much about her, only that she liked jasmine perfume. Even now when I smell it, I feel safe and loved." His voice broke on the last word and he cleared his throat. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

He felt Blair's head shake in denial. "No, not stupid. Human. Everyone searches for safety, security, and love all their lives, whether they realize it or not."

Jim's arms automatically tightened around Blair's waist. "Yeah, I suppose they do." He paused. "My father was always too busy to spend much time with Steven and I, and the time he did take, he used it to pit us against each other. Stupid things, like whoever got the best report card could go with him on his next business trip, or he'd let the winner drive his classic car. He knew all the strings to pull and we moved like damned puppets."

"You wanted your father's attention. Every child does."

Jim blinked, startled by Blair's non-judgmental attitude, but the younger man didn't understand -- couldn't understand what it had been like. "I did some pretty rotten things back then, Chief. Things I'm not real proud of."

"I pushed a kid in front of a bicycle," Blair said. "He used to call me names and I tried to ignore him, but one day I just lost it. I saw my shot at revenge and didn't even think about it. He ended up with a broken arm."

"And you were sorry as hell right after."

Jim could "feel" Blair's grin. "So when did you start reading minds?"

"Only yours, Chief," he said. Jim nuzzled close to Blair, trying to burrow into his chest. "God, you feel so good."

"You don't feel so bad yourself, big guy."

Even though Jim couldn't see his face, he knew mischief twinkled in Blair's eyes. Jim inhaled the sweet scent of his unique muskiness. The warmth of the compact body seeped between their robes. His senses were more acute, but Jim didn't have the too-familiar fear of losing control, and it was all because of the man who held and sheltered him within his arms.

"My father wanted to send me to a mucky-muck business college so I would be ready to take over the company when he retired." Jim snorted. "As if I wanted anything to do with that son-of-a-bitch ever again. Instead, I chose my own college and joined ROTC to pay for my education."

"What did you major in?" Blair asked curiously.

"Criminal Justice and History."

"What did your father think of that?"

Jim shrugged. "I have no idea. I haven't seen or talked to him since I was eighteen."

Blair gasped and Jim heard his heart stumble. "And that's been what, twenty years now?"

"More or less."

"Is he still alive?"

"Oh, yeah. He still belongs to the country club and pretends he's the greatest dad in the world by parading Steven around in front of all his buddies. I read where Steven took over the business about five years back."

"You said you grew up here. Do they still live here?"

Jim nodded. "Same house I grew up in. I went there one time after I was rescued from Peru. I thought maybe it was time to let the past go, but I just stood on the sidewalk outside the house. My feet wouldn't move. I turned around and went back to my motel."

Jim smelled a faint salty tang in the air and he opened his senses. Blair's breaths were a little shorter and a little shallower with funny little gasps in between. Concerned, Jim raised his head to find two tear tracks down Blair's face. "Jesus, Chief, I'm sorry. I shouldn't -- "

The younger man's eyes flashed. "Don't you fucking say it, Jim. Not talking about it doesn't make it any less horrible." He scrubbed a forearm across his cheeks. "What I don't understand is how a man like you who was abused by his father and screwed by the Army didn't end up being completely asocial. You adopted a family on the street then promised to take care of two little girls when their mother died." Blair framed Jim's face between his palms. "You'd be a very special man without your sentinel senses, James Ellison."

Jim blinked away the unfamiliar sting in his eyes. He felt like his emotions were exposed -- raw and new -- and he didn't know what to do with them. His customary practice of locking them away wasn't going to work this time.

Blair eased away from him and stood. "Let's go to bed."

Jim nodded and watched Blair check the locks then turn off the lights. When the younger man returned to his side, they reached out for one another and climbed the stairs to the bedroom hand-in-hand.

At the top of the steps, Jim's breath faltered. "I can't promise you anything beyond tonight."

"But you can promise me tonight."

Blair led him to the bed then removed his robe. Jim could smell the younger man's arousal, and his belly grew heavy with need.

"Sit down," Blair whispered, gently pushing him down onto the bed.

Jim obeyed and watched as Blair took off his own robe. Although there were no lights on, Jim could see Blair clearly and he thanked the gods for his sentinel vision. He reached up and his fingertips grazed Blair's thick, curly chest hair. Blair sucked in his breath and the scent of his arousal surrounded Jim. His half-hard cock filled and lengthened, as he watched Blair, too, grow hard, wanting him -- Jim Ellison.

Gazing at Blair's beautiful cock, Jim felt a moment of panic. Except for the two frantic releases with Blair, Jim hadn't had sex in over a year. What the doctors had done to him in the hospital wasn't anywhere near intimacy -- it had simply been a test of his tactile sensitivity. Bile rose in Jim's throat and he thrust aside the nightmare, unable to even think the word to describe what they'd done to him. Besides, that memory held no power over him here, in Blair's home, in Blair's bed, in Blair's arms.

No more a victim.

But what if he couldn't last long enough to please Blair? What if what happened the last two times was now "normal" for him? What if he zoned out? His desire dissipated and his erection faded.

Then Blair was leaning close to him, so close Jim could feel each molecule of his breath against his neck. "What's wrong?" the younger man asked, concern etching his brow. "Are you afraid?"

"No," came Jim's immediate response. Blair merely waited patiently, love shining clear in his eyes. "Yes," the older man whispered hoarsely. "What if I can't -- " He motioned to the bed, unable to speak his fears aloud.

Blair smiled. "You'll be fine," he said with calm certainty. "I promise."

And just like that, Jim knew, too.

Thoughts vanished as they both lay down on the bed, hands and mouths touching and tasting and drinking for minutes, maybe hours. Then Jim was on his stomach, a pillow beneath his hips, and Blair was finally entering him. And it felt good, so damned good. Never had he relinquished control like this before. But Blair was his and he was Blair's. No barriers. Nothing between them but love and trust and respect.

They moved together, and Blair was filling Jim with everything he had ever wished for but never expected to receive. His name was on Blair's lips, a prayer, a chant, and a promise; and Blair's name was on his lips, accepting and giving and promising. Their worlds exploded at the same moment, fragmenting and mixing and forming something wonderful and indomitable and forever.

Later, Jim lay with his head on Blair's heart and Blair held him, sheltering him from the storm. Although Jim was tired, he didn't join Blair in slumber. Instead, he opened his senses to this man who gifted him with what Jim thought he'd never possess and memorized every sensory detail for the inevitable lonely days and nights ahead.

Jim awakened to find himself alone in bed, although the sheets were warm where Blair had slept beside him. He heard his guide's low tones and glanced over the railing to see him on the phone. The sun hadn't even cleared the horizon.

Jim rose and winced slightly as he pulled on his boxers and sweatpants. The combined scents of himself and Blair wafted around him, and he breathed deeply to savor the lingering evidence of their lovemaking. He went down the stairs gingerly, but relished the pleasant ache.

As Jim stepped off the bottom step, Blair placed the phone on the coffee table. He turned and spotted Jim, then sent him a crooked smile which looked damned adorable beneath his mop of curls. Jim opened his arms and Blair rose and walked into them without hesitation. The sentinel embraced the warm, vibrant body and breathed deeply of their combined musky aroma. Blair tipped his head back and Jim accepted the invitation, kissing the full lips in a proper greeting.

"Good morning." Blair's husky voice brought delicious heat to his belly.

"Morning." Jim stole another kiss, his tongue sweeping into Blair's mouth to reacquaint his senses with the taste of his guide. He felt Blair lazily rubbing his groin against his thigh, and Jim pressed his stirring cock against the smaller man's belly.

Blair drew away and managed a weak laugh. "You make me feel like a horny teenager."

Jim grinned. "And that's a problem how?"

"If you haven't noticed, it's after six thirty and we've got a lot to do today." Although Blair kept his voice light-hearted, Jim understood all too well what he meant.

Jim reluctantly released Blair, the dark thoughts he'd put out of his mind last night returning. "So, what's going on?"

"Use the bathroom first if you need to, then we'll sit down with coffee and talk."

Jim frowned, not liking the seriousness in Blair's eyes. He quickly took care of business, then joined Blair in the kitchen. Without asking, the younger man handed him a cup of steaming coffee. Jim leaned against the counter and took a sip from a mug with McGruff on it. "So talk."

Blair mirrored his pose by the kitchen island. "That was Simon on the phone. He went in to his office early to get a few things done before coming over here. There was already a message from Colonel Oliver saying he'd be in to talk to Simon later this morning."

The coffee burned like acid in Jim's gut. "I guess our time's run out."

"We still have our original plan to keep you in Cascade for a few more days. Granted, it will be in a holding cell, but Oliver and Brackett won't be able to touch you." Blair glanced at the clock on the stove. "Simon said he and Megan would be here about eight fifteen. That leaves us a little over an hour to get organized."

"And to get ready for my meeting with the lawyer."

"Our meeting with the lawyer," Blair corrected. "You get the girls up while I make some breakfast. While they're eating, we can shower." Blair's eyes twinkled. "Separately."

Jim smiled in spite of his worries. "Sounds like a plan." He pulled Blair into another hug and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, knowing it might be the last time. "I love you," he whispered.

Blair's arms tightened around him. "I love you, too."

Jim released him and roused the sleeping girls. By the time they were cleaned up and dressed, Blair had breakfast ready.

"Morning, sleepyheads." He greeted the twins as he plopped two fluffy pancakes on each of their plates.

"Go ahead and shower, Blair," Jim suggested. "I'll eat with them."

The younger man nodded and dashed upstairs to grab some clean clothes. Once Blair was in the shower, Jim gave his entire attention to the girls who were each working on their third pancake. His throat felt tight and his chest seemed to have a ton-weight resting on it, but he managed a passable smile. "Do you remember Miss Debra?"

"The lady who stayed with us when you got your arm fixed?" Holly asked.

Jim nodded. "That's right. How would you like to spend a few days with her and her father?"

Two pairs of cornflower blue eyes widened.

"Do we have to?" Haley asked.

"I thought you liked her."

"We do. But we like you and Uncle Blair better."

"We love you and Uncle Blair," Holly said with a firm nod.

Jim swallowed, hard. "And we love you, too, but there's some grown-up things we have to do. Once everything is taken care of, you can come back to live with us."

"Does she know the story about Panther and Wolf?" Holly asked.

Jim brushed her fine hair away from her face. "I don't think so, but I bet you could teach her."

Haley and Holly stared at the remnants of their pancakes smothered in syrup, then as if they'd come to an unspoken agreement, they looked at Jim and nodded.

"All right," Haley said. "But just for a little while."

Jim let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Okay."

Although the girls cleaned off their plates, they didn't do it with their usual enthusiasm.

Blair came out of the bathroom, his hair wet and stringy, but dressed in indigo denim jeans and a red V-necked sweater with a white t-shirt below it. Blue, gray, red, and black argyle socks covered his feet. To Jim he looked incredibly sexy, but then Blair would look incredibly sexy wearing nothing.

I definitely have to put that image out of my head, Jim thought as his unruly cock surged upward. It wasn't so long ago that Jim thought his libido was permanently out of action. Less than a week with Blair Sandburg and everything was working too well.

"How were the pancakes?" Blair asked.

"Fine, Uncle Blair," Holly replied perfunctorily.

Blair glanced at Jim with eyebrows arched.

"I told the girls about their visit with Miss Debra," Jim answered the unspoken question.

"We'll go pack our stuff," Haley said.

"Remember to wash your hands first," Jim said.

They nodded, slipped off their chairs, and went into the bathroom. Jim listened to them use the sink then towel dry their hands.

"I take it they didn't like the idea," Blair said quietly.

Jim stood and carried the dirty plates to the sink. "That's putting it mildly."

Blair dropped into a chair. "This sucks."

"Yeah." Jim made one more trip to the sink, and headed to the bathroom. "I'm going to shower."

The hot water pounded against Jim's skin, washing away most of the Blair scent from his body, as well as the dried sweat. He shampooed what little hair he had left and quickly rinsed, but remained leaning against the tiles as the water beat down upon him. He put everything out of his mind, except the feel of the water striking his skin, the sensation like tiny little fingers massaging every square millimeter of his body. He imagined the three molecules -- two hydrogen and one oxygen -- breaking apart as each droplet struck him, and moving through his pores and into his veins ...

"Jim, hey man, you've got ten minutes," Blair called from the other side of the door.

Jim jerked out of his zone and flinched at the now cold water sluicing down his chest and legs. He quickly turned off the shower and climbed out, shivering as he dried himself with a soft towel. He berated his inability to control his senses. If Blair hadn't called to him, he might have stood frozen for hours -- a victim of his damned senses. What was it about Blair that enabled the detective to draw him out of the blackouts? Was it the same reason they'd fallen in love so quickly?

He couldn't think about those things now. His mind had to be on his defense and how he was going to stay out of Oliver and Brackett's clutches.

Jim was upstairs donning his uniform for the first time in months when he smelled the telltale cigar odor. "Hey, Chief, Captain Banks is here." He sniffed and his nose wrinkled. "And a woman wearing too much perfume."

He heard Blair chuckle as opened the door. Banks had his fist raised to knock.

"How'd you do that, Sandburg?" Simon demanded.

"I, uh, heard you," Blair replied, aware of Megan's presence. "C'mon in."

The tall, red-haired inspector from Australia preceded Simon into the apartment and immediately walked over to the table where Haley and Holly were sitting and coloring.

"Hello there," Megan said gently.

"Hello," Holly replied.

"You wear too much perfume. Uncle Jim said so," Haley said, glaring at her.

Blair covered his mouth with his hand to stop the bubbling laughter. Jim took that moment to trot down the stairs, and Blair's amusement died in his throat as his mouth lost all moisture. Jim's dark green Army uniform molded perfectly to his broad shoulders and tapered waist to hang perfectly straight at mid-thigh. A lighter green dress shirt and a tie was worn beneath the jacket, complementing the jacket and sharply pleated trousers. Jim's shoes were so shiny Blair figured he could use them as a mirror.

Blair was peripherally aware of Megan staring open-mouthed at the handsome soldier, and a wave of possessiveness made him move to Jim's side and lay a hand on his arm.

"Inspector Megan Conner, this is Major Jim Ellison. He's in the Army," Blair introduced.

Jim shook Megan's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Inspector."

"Megan, please." Her smile was too bright. "Are you stationed here in Cascade?"

"No."

"Where are -- "

"Would you and Simon like some coffee?" Blair interrupted.

"No, thanks. Debra's expecting us in half an hour," Simon replied.

"Go get your backpacks," Jim said to the twins. Although their expressions fell, they climbed off their chairs and went to retrieve their packs. Jim turned back to Simon and Megan. "Don't take any chances. If you think you have a tail, take them directly to the police station. They'll be safe there until we can come up with another plan."

Simon fingered the unlit cigar between his lips. "Is there anything else, Major?"

Blair flinched inwardly at his boss' sarcasm. "He's got a point, Simon," he said. "Don't take any chances with them."

"I've been a cop for a couple of years; I think I know a little about it, Sandburg."

At least his sarcasm was aimed at him now and not Jim. "Yes, sir."

Holly and Haley rejoined them, their packs on their backs, and their stuffed animals clutched in their arms. Jim squatted down in front of them, facing away from Blair, Simon, and Megan. He wrapped an arm around each of them. "I want you two to listen to Miss Debra and do as she tells you."

"Unless it's something bad," Holly said, as if by rote.

"That's right." Blair heard the smile in Jim's voice. "Uncle Blair and I have to take care of some things and I'm not sure when we'll be able to visit you, but we'll try."

Haley stamped her foot. "I still don't see why we can't stay here."

Blair crossed his arms to keep from hugging the girl in reassurance. He understood all too well what it was like to be dragged away from someplace safe.

"We want you to stay with us, too, with all our hearts," Jim said, his voice so patient and gentle Blair fell in love with him all over again. "Remember those bad men who tried to take you away from me?" Both girls nodded. "Well, I'm afraid that might happen again if you stay with me. They don't know where Miss Debra lives, so they won't find you there."

Holly leaned close and Blair could barely make out the words whispered in Jim's ear. "Is it the bad men from the hospital?"

Jim nodded slowly. "That's right, sweetheart. Uncle Blair and I have to make sure they won't come back again." He smiled. "Give me a hug and a kiss."

Haley and Holly threw themselves against his chest and their short arms clutched him. Jim held them and kissed their crowns tenderly. He said something, but Blair couldn't hear the softly spoken words. However, he suspected what those words were, and he looked away, his emotions too close to the surface.

Jim stood and glanced at Blair, his eyes bright with moisture. "Say good-bye to Uncle Blair."

The detective squatted down and was hit with two bundles of warmth. He hugged them close, kissed them, and whispered, "Don't worry. Wolf will take care of Panther."

His words seemed to lessen their sadness and their tears abated. As gentle as Blair had ever seen him, Simon took the girls' hands and led them out of the loft. Blair closed the door behind them and leaned his forehead against the solid wood. He felt two arms slip around his waist and he turned within Jim's embrace. For a long minute, they merely held one another in the fragile silence.

Then, with unspoken agreement, they separated. Blair retrieved his jacket from the hook by the door. "Ready?" he asked the sentinel.

Jim nodded and they left the loft, not knowing when or if they would ever return together.

They exited 852 Prospect and Blair held the car keys up to Jim in mute question. The older man shook his head and climbed into the passenger side. As Blair drove, he kept glancing at stoic expression.

"I'm okay, Chief," Jim said without turning toward the detective.

"You're not acting like you're okay."

Jim clenched his teeth and his jaw muscle jumped into his cheek. "I have to keep things separate in my head, Blair. You and the girls are one world; the Army is another."

Blair didn't want to understand, but he did, and it frightened him. He knew James Ellison, the man who'd been living on the street; he didn't know James Ellison, the soldier. At a stoplight, Blair studied Jim, noting the black beret set at a cocky angle over his granite-hewn features and cold blue eyes. This was Major Ellison, the man who'd been a Ranger and killed in the name of his country. This was the soldier who'd survived eighteen months in a South American jungle. This was the man who'd been engaged to a woman.

The light turned green and Blair was glad for the respite from his dark thoughts. Ten minutes before nine, he pulled into the law office's underground parking lot and turned off the ignition. He remained seated, clutching the steering wheel and staring ahead but seeing nothing. "Which world would you choose if you had a choice?" Blair asked, turning to Ellison.

Jim met his gaze and Blair was shocked to see disappointment lurking behind the icy blue. "You shouldn't have to ask," he said, then got out of the truck and strode toward the entrance.

Blair leaped out and ran after him. He caught his arm, yanking him around so they stood face to face. He regarded the bland mask Jim had donned. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid question."

Jim looked past him as he said, "Yeah, it was." Then the Jim Ellison he knew was back and the older man smiled as he tucked a stray curl behind Blair's ear. "I forgive you."

Blair wanted to kiss him, but there were too many curious eyes. "I love you," he said sentinel-soft.

"Ditto," Jim said. He took a deep breath. "Let's get this over with."

The lawyer, Todd Morrow, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a confident, but not overbearing, manner. He had less hair than Jim, and what there was had turned a distinguished gray although Morrow appeared to be only about ten years older than Jim.

After Jim and Blair were served coffee and seated in front of Morrow's rosewood desk, the lawyer leaned back in his chair, his keen eyes reading Jim's uniform ribbons and medals.

"You were a Ranger?" Morrow asked.

"Yes, sir," Jim said, instinctively knowing this man had been a high-ranking officer.

"I was a SEAL myself, before I worked in JAG. We had some good times; some bad times, too."

Jim nodded solemnly. "I can relate to that, sir."

Morrow stared at him as if trying to figure something out. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "You were the one on the cover of the magazine a few years back. The soldier who lost his men in a helicopter crash in Peru."

In spite of Jim's stiff military posture, Blair saw him tense even more.

"That was me," Jim said without inflection.

Morrow seemed to understand and didn't pursue the painful subject. "When Simon called, he didn't give me any information. He just said you needed a lawyer familiar with military law."

Jim's sigh was so quiet, Blair doubted Morrow heard it.

"That's right." The sentinel glanced at Blair, who nodded slightly, letting him know he wasn't alone. "A year ago, I was having some medical problems. I went to see a doctor. He couldn't find anything wrong with me, but started running all sorts of tests. He found my senses were more sensitive than other peoples', and moved me to a military research hospital where I spent the next five months basically a prisoner."

Morrow, who'd been taking notes on a yellow pad of paper, paused and peered at Jim over reading glasses perched on his nose. "Are you saying you were held prisoner in a research hospital because your senses were a little better than other peoples'?"

"Yes, sir. They wanted to find out the secret to my genetic advantage, as well as test my limits. What they did -- " Jim took a shaky breath and dragged a hand over his short hair. "It's not something I like to think about." He went on to tell Morrow how he escaped without hurting anyone, but how the Army said he murdered someone.

"How can they expect to get away with this?" Morrow demanded, his hazel eyes flashing with anger. "Being in the military doesn't negate your civil rights, yet they made you a virtual prisoner."

"I think they were counting on his loyalty to the Army not to tell anyone," Blair interjected.

Morrow removed his glasses and pinned Blair with his intelligent gaze. "What's your relationship to Major Ellison?"

Blair felt his face heat, but he raised his chin. "I'm his friend. Major Ellison was living in an abandoned warehouse, taking care of two little girls whose mother died of a drug overdose. An arsonist I was investigating burned the warehouse last week and I offered the major and his wards someplace to stay."

"Are those girls related to you?" Morrow asked Jim.

"No," Jim replied.

"Did the mother of the children have any family?"

"I don't know."

Blair knew Jim was lying by the curtness of his reply.

The lawyer narrowed his eyes; obviously he recognized the lie, too. "I hope you're not withholding any information vital to your defense."

"I'm not," Jim said flatly.

"For your sake, I hope you're right." Morrow glanced down at his handwritten notes. "I'm going to need names, dates, and places."

Just as Jim started on the list, Blair's cell phone rang. He stood and went into a far corner of the large office. "Sandburg."

"We dropped the girls off at Debra's," Simon said. "We didn't spot a tail, but took a roundabout route anyhow."

"Good. How were they?" Blair asked.

"Not very happy. I promised them you'd call later today."

"I planned on it."

"How's it going with the lawyer?"

Blair sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's rough. It's hard for Jim to talk about everything."

"He'll be okay, Sandburg," Simon reassured. "We're headed back to the station now, so when you and Jim get here, come straight to my office."

"What if Oliver's there?"

"I'll get word to you and have you take Jim into one of the interrogation rooms."

Blair nodded. "All right. I'll see you in a little while."

He flipped his phone closed and slipped it back into his jacket pocket, only to have it ring again. "Sandburg."

"Blair, it's Jack Kelso. I've got something for you."

Blair's breath caught. "What?"

"The man Ellison supposedly killed is alive and well in Oakland. He separated from the Army a week after Ellison escaped."

"Shit, you're kidding."

"I was shocked, too. Brackett would never be this sloppy, and from what I've learned about Colonel Oliver, he's arrogant and thinks no one can touch him. I wouldn't be surprised if he figured he could handle Ellison and keep anyone from investigating the so-called murder."

"That's crazy." Blair shoved his fingers through his long hair. "This is making less and less sense, Jack. Why would someone as smart as Brackett partner with Oliver?"

"There's something else going on here, Blair. Brackett hasn't been seen or heard from since the CIA dropped him six months ago."

"He talked to Jim at a park yesterday," Blair confided in a low voice.

"What did he want?"

"He told Jim he would kill the two little girls Jim's taking care of if he didn't give himself up to Oliver today."

Jack swore vehemently, surprising Blair who had never heard the mild-mannered man curse before. "I'm going to talk to my contacts in the area and see if they've seen or heard anything."

"Good. Give me the name and address of the guy Jim supposedly killed." Blair jotted down the information on a little notepad he kept in his breast pocket.

"One other thing," Jack added. "There's a strong possibility Oliver is involved up to his ears in the South American drug pipeline."

"So Jim was right. He suspected Oliver ordered his helicopter shot down in Peru because he was scared Jim and his team would learn about his dealings down there."

"Let me do some more checking at my end and I'll get back to you when I have anything else."

"Thanks, Jack. I owe you big time."

"Actually, exposing military corruption is more than reward enough."

Blair grinned as he closed his phone. Things were definitely looking up.

"Major Ellison, Major Ellison," Morrow was saying.

Blair's smile disappeared as he rushed to Jim's side to find him in a zone out. He insinuated himself between Morrow and Jim, then framed Jim's face in his palms. "Listen to my voice, Jim. Feel my hands on your face. C'mon, Jim, you need to come back now."

Jim jerked and inhaled sharply. "Chief?"

"You zoned, big guy," Blair murmured.

"What's going on? What happened to him?" Morrow demanded.

"It's the stress," Blair obfuscated. "He hasn't been sleeping well for a long time and he goes into this fugue thing every once in a while."

"Shouldn't he see a doctor?"

"Maybe later," Jim said. "What's going on, Sandburg?"

Blair recognized Jim's own form of obfuscation. "How would Jim's defense look if the guy he killed is actually alive and well and living in Oakland?"

"How did you find this out?" Morrow asked.

"A confidential source. I have the supposed victim's name, address and phone number." He turned his notebook so Morrow could jot the information in his own notes.

Jim appeared shell-shocked, his face pale and his pupils dilated.

"Hey, Jim, c'mon, don't freak out on me here," Blair said in a low voice.

"Why?" the sentinel asked.

"Why shouldn't you freak out or why is the guy still alive and well?" Blair grinned and squeezed Jim's arm. "Obviously, someone thought you wouldn't fight back."

Jim's lips curled upward in a caricature of a smile, though to Blair it looked more like a panther's snarl. "Without a murder, they can only get me for being AWOL."

"And if we can prove you were held against your will, they'll be smart to drop the AWOL charge," Morrow said grimly. "I need to get a copy of your arrest warrant from the Army, then I need to call this so-called murder victim. Once I present the evidence he's still alive, the murder charge will be dropped immediately."

"How soon can all this happen?" Blair asked.

"If I can get what I need right away, Major Ellison won't be a murder suspect at the end of the day."

Blair bubbled with relief. "Isn't that great news, Jim?"

The major smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Yeah, good news, Chief. But we still have Colonel Oliver waiting at the station for me."

Morrow frowned. "A colonel himself came to escort you?"

Jim nodded.

"That's odd. Usually military personnel are picked up by U.S. Marshals, who transport the prisoner to the post where they're to be tried in a military court of law." Morrow rose. "I'm going to the police station with you after I get my assistant started on your case. Excuse me a moment."

Once the door closed behind Morrow, Blair gave up his pretense of calm. "This is really good news, Jim," he said, bouncing lightly in his chair.

Jim grinned. "Yeah, it is." His smile faded. "But it doesn't make any sense."

"I know, I know," Blair said, sobering. "Like Jack said, Brackett is too smart to have come up with such a flimsy frame."

"So it was probably Oliver's ineptitude."

"Makes me wonder how someone like him got so high in the military hierarchy."

"The Peter Principle applies in the military as well as the civilian world. Sometimes more so."

"'In a hierarchy every employee tends to rise to his level of incompetence,'" Blair quoted and shook his head in disgust. "Jack also thinks Oliver is connected with the drug pipeline from South America."

Jim snorted. "No surprise there. It's the evidence we're missing."

"At least you can't be tried for murder," Blair said.

"Yeah, and Morrow seems pretty sharp. We might get our miracle yet, Chief." Jim brushed his thumb across Blair's cheek.

Morrow returned. "LeeAnn's working on it. She's going to do some digging into the military research hospital and see what she can come up with there, too." He picked up some papers, shoved them into a leather attach case, and smiled at the two men. "There's really nothing I need in here, but lawyers are expected to carry one. It's supposed to inspire confidence."

Blair chuckled. "Do you want to ride with us to the station?"

"I'll follow in my car so you don't have to make a trip back here," Morrow said.

Jim and Blair waited for Morrow by the entrance of the police station. The drive from the lawyer's office had been quiet, but the two men held hands the entire trip. Physical contact with Blair always made Jim's senses sharper and clearer. He dreaded what would happen when he was locked in a cell without his lover near by.

"What did you zone on in Morrow's office?" Blair asked.

Jim glanced away, his cheeks coloring slightly. "Your heartbeat. It speeded up and I focused on it. Next thing I know, you're standing in front of me."

"That's the second time that's happened. We're going to have to work on it. A zone out occurs when you use one sense exclusively, so you'll have to catch yourself when you start focusing too hard, and engage some other sense. Maybe you could rub your leg or pick out a scent."

"Your shampoo," Jim said. "It's always there but I just sort of block it out."

"That's good, Jim. If it's my heartbeat causing the zone out, use your other senses on me, too."

Jim's smoky eyes and lazy smile nearly undid Blair. "I like that idea, Chief."

Morrow joined them and the three men rode the elevator up to the seventh floor and entered Major Crime. Heads turned and some of the detectives called out greetings to Blair. It was obvious the young detective was well-liked and respected among his peers.

Captain Banks appeared in his office doorway and motioned them over. Blair led Jim and the lawyer through the maze of desks. Banks shook Morrow's hand vigorously and slapped his back. "How're you doing, Todd? It's been too long."

Morrow playfully punched his stomach. "And whose fault is that? Irene and I keep asking you over, but you always find some excuse to stay away."

Jim could see embarrassment in Simon's dark face as the police captain shrugged sheepishly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Next time you ask, I'll come. Scout's honor," Banks said.

"Saturday night. Seven o'clock."

"I'll be there."

Once the three men were seated in a half circle in front of the captain's desk, Banks held up a fresh pot of coffee in question.

Jim and Blair accepted cups, but Morrow shook his head. "I've already had my share of caffeine for the day."

"I don't know how you survive on one cup a day." Banks sighed and took a drink from his cup. "Okay, let's get started."

Blair opened his mouth to speak, but Morrow beat him to it. "First off, Major Ellison is not a murder suspect, since there's been no murder committed."

Simon's mouth gaped and Blair shared Kelso's findings.

"This changes everything," Banks said, the fingers of one hand tapping the edge of his desk. "What can he be charged with now?"

"Being absent without leave," Morrow replied. "But if I can prove he was being held against his will at the hospital, we're going to have the Army backing down so fast your head'll spin."

"And if you can't prove it?" Jim asked.

"We will," Morrow assured solemnly. "But I think our main problem right now is ensuring this Colonel Oliver doesn't immediately take custody of you."

"We've already got a plan to stall him," Banks said.

The lack of sound from the outer office caught Jim's attention and he focused his hearing beyond their closed room. A touch on his arm brought his control back in line and, without looking, he knew it was Blair. Regimented footsteps and the whiff of a familiar cologne made his heart pound.

"It's Oliver. He's here," Jim said.

"How do -- " Morrow began.

"His timing sucks." Simon stood. "I'll take care -- "

Suddenly his office door swung open and Jim's breath stammered at the sight of the colonel framed in the doorway with two MPs behind him.

"Well, well, Major Ellison. You've led us on a merry chase," Oliver said with a cruel smile. "But now it's time to face the music."

Captain Banks strode over to Oliver and planted himself directly in front of him. "You have to stand in line. Major Ellison is in our custody."

Oliver's oily grin died. "Why?"

"It's possible he knows something about an ongoing investigation."

"A federal murder warrant supercedes local jurisdiction."

Morrow joined Banks. "Let me see the warrant."

Oliver's eyes flashed. "Who are you?"

"Todd Morrow. I'm Major Ellison's legal representative."

"This is a military matter."

"I'm a retired admiral who worked in a JAG office for ten years."

Jim took satisfaction in Oliver's blanching complexion.

The colonel reached into the breast pocket of his olive green uniform and handed Morrow the official looking piece of paper. The lawyer opened it slowly, and Jim was aware of Oliver's increased heartbeat and respiration.

"This states Major Ellison murdered a man by the name of Lance Nelson." Morrow lifted his gaze to Oliver's. "Is that correct, Colonel?"

Oliver nodded curtly.

"Then this warrant is obviously not worth the paper it's printed on. Lance Nelson is living in Oakland, California; a residence he's maintained since he separated from the Army six months ago. In fact, I believe it was a week after Major Ellison supposedly killed him that he left the military," Morrow stated, sotto voce.

With his senses trained on Oliver, Jim couldn't miss his skipped heartbeat or the salty tang of sweat filling his pores.

"It seems to me you don't have a legal leg to stand on," Morrow concluded.

"Even if the murder charge is false, which I still don't buy, there is still the matter of Major Ellison being AWOL for six months," Oliver stated.

"Why did you come all the way to Cascade yourself to pick up Major Ellison?" Morrow pressed. "Why didn't you follow procedure, which is to allow the U.S. Marshal office to take care of pick up and transport of a federal fugitive?"

A droplet of sweat rolled down Oliver's face. "Major Ellison was under my command and I took his defection as a personal affront."

Jim leaped to his feet and crowded in front of Oliver. "You son of a bitch! You were the one who ordered me to be kept prisoner in that fucking hospital. You issued a federal warrant on me for a murder that didn't even happen. You killed seven men when you had my chopper shot down. And I swear, you're going to pay." Jim stabbed his forefinger into Oliver's chest.

Blair jumped up and wrapped his arms around Jim's waist, tugging him away from the colonel. "C'mon, Jim. This isn't helping."

"It's helping me, Chief," Jim said, his voice low and anger-filled. He glared at Oliver over Blair's shoulder. "You're going to hang yourself, Oliver, and I'm going to be right there when you do."

Oliver stared at him with cold, flat eyes. "It would be in your best interests to accompany me peacefully, Major Ellison."

His warning was clear -- he was reminding Jim of Brackett's threat.

"Hold it together, man," Blair whispered for sentinel ears only.

His lover's voice eased the sharp ache Oliver's words caused.

"You heard Captain Banks. I'm being held by the Cascade Police Department. There's nothing I can do," Jim stated evenly, although his insides quaked.

"We'll see about that, Major," Oliver said, then turned to Banks. "How long will you be holding Major Ellison?"

"It's hard to say. Some investigations take only an hour or two, while others take days and weeks, even months." Banks smiled without an ounce of sincerity. "It's really hard to say."

Oliver glared at the police captain and pivoted on his heel. He marched out of the office, the two MPs following with confused expressions.

"That went well. Not," Blair said. He glowered at the door where Oliver had stood. "He flat out threatened blackmail."

"He may be stupid, but he has balls," Morrow added grimly, surprising the other three men. "But it's his arrogance that's going to be his downfall."

"Who's watching the girls?" Blair asked Banks.

"Brown and Rafe. They'll be relieved by Strom and Huggins at five o'clock," Simon replied.

"Are you sure you want to stay on the case?" Jim asked the lawyer. "I wouldn't put it past Oliver to try to stop you."

Morrow grinned. "Are you kidding, Major? This is the most fun I've had since my last SEAL assignment."

The others laughed.

"I just want to make sure you know who and what you're up against," Jim stated.

"It takes more than a crooked colonel to scare me," Morrow reassured. He turned his attention to Banks. "So were you serious about this investigation?"

"Close enough," Simon said. His gaze encompassed Blair and Ellison. "A month ago, a female Jane Doe was found in a warehouse on Champion and Tenth Street. She died of a drug overdose. She was approximately twenty years old, blond hair, light-colored eyes, and thin to the point of starvation."

Jim walked over to the large window in Simon's office and stared out across the city. A flock of pigeons caught his eye and he followed their flight until he teetered on the edge of a zone and abruptly pressed his fingernails into his palms. "Her name was Diane Potter. She went by Dee. She was single with two little girls named Haley and Holly. She was also a crack addict. I got her off it once for about two weeks, but she went back to it; she said she needed it to forget her past and to get through the nights while she serviced her johns."

Attuned to his guide and lover, Jim felt Blair's empathy and compassion roll across him.

"I'm sorry," Blair whispered.

"She's happier where she's at now," Jim said. "But I promised I'd take care of her girls."

"I thought you were their father," Simon said.

Jim turned away from the window to find Simon's accusing look focused on Blair. "It's not his fault, sir. I, uh, mislead him, too, when we first met."

"Do you realize this creates a whole other set of legal problems?" Morrow asked quietly.

Jim's chin dropped to his chest. "Yes, sir, but there was no one else, and I do care for them."

"I've seen how much the little girls love him, too," Simon said, then cleared his throat. "Did she ever tell you where she was from?"

Jim shook his head. "No place specific, but I got the impression it was Montana or Wyoming."

"I'll have Megan check the missing persons from those states."

"So what happens now?" Blair asked his boss, though he kept his concerned gaze on Jim.

"Are you going to place my client in a holding cell?" Morrow asked.

"Since there appears to be no felony charge against him and he has cooperated fully with us, I will release him into Detective Sandburg's custody," Simon said, his eyes twinkling behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "Is that acceptable, Counselor?"

"Very, Captain," Morrow shot back, grinning. "And Simon, if I were you, I'd put a call in to the Marshals office telling them the situation with Major Ellison. When Colonel Oliver returns, let him know that the major will be transported by the book back to his post."

"Can the colonel override the marshals?" Blair asked.

Morrow shook his head. "Since this should've gone through that office to start with, I don't think you'll have any problem." He glanced at his watch. "I'm going back to my office to see how LeeAnn's doing with the background work, then give her a hand. I want this mess cleared up as quickly as possible." He approached Jim. "How do you want me to handle this? Would you like a separation from the Army or do you still wish to remain in the service?"

"No," Jim said without hesitation. "I want out, preferably with an honorable discharge, if that's possible."

The broad grin on Morrow's face didn't bode well for the U.S. Army. "That's more than possible if I can crack the conspiracy. The Army's going to do everything in their power to keep this quiet, including restoring you to full active duty status without any black marks on your record, then allowing you an early retirement. What number can I reach you at, Major?"

Blair jumped in with his home and cell phone numbers.

"I'll call with my progress later today." Morrow headed to the door.

"I'll walk you out," Simon said, and joined him.

Jim took a deep breath and rubbed his pounding temples. "I feel like I've been through a battle."

Blair reached up and took over massaging Jim's brow. His cool fingers felt heavenly.

"You have." Blair shivered. "I don't know how you put up with Oliver. He gives me the creeps."

"Yeah, me, too. I knew he was rotten, but it's even more than that now."

"He radiates evil -- I could feel it."

"Brackett's even worse." He moved away from Blair and began to pace. "Do you think we should bring the girls back to the loft?"

"Your need to protect them is driving you crazy, isn't it?" Blair sighed. "They're safer away from us right now, and as long as there's a twenty-four hour guard on them at Debra's, they should be fine."

"'Should be.' That's what scares me, Chief. What if they aren't?"

Blair didn't have any words of reassurance.

Although they'd wanted to stop by Debra's to see the girls, Jim and Blair knew it wasn't a good idea. They couldn't detect anybody tailing them, but the risks were too great. After they returned to the loft, Blair used his cell phone to call Debra and each man talked to Haley and Holly.

"They sounded good," Jim said, leaning back on the couch, his stocking feet on the coffee table.

"Better than when they left this morning," Blair agreed. He glanced at the clock -- 5:20. His class started at 7:00 but he decided it would be better to stay with Jim in the event Oliver or Brackett tried anything. He picked up the cordless phone.

"Who're you calling?" Jim asked.

"A friend of mine. I was just going to tell him I won't be in class tonight."

Jim plucked the phone from his hands.

"There's no reason for you to miss it," Jim said firmly.

"Yes, there is. I'm not going to leave you here alone."

"I'm a big boy, Chief. I can take care of myself." He paused. "Unless you still think I'm only a victim."

Blair stared at him. "I don't think of you that way."

"Sure you do. You called me a victim last night."

Blair refused to be hurt by Jim's frustration. "You were a victim. You're not anymore."

"Yeah, well, that's what you say now. But the next time you look at the scars on my back or see me in one of those damned zone outs, you'll only be seeing a victim."

Blair's mouth fell open in shock. "Where the hell is this coming from, Jim?"

Ellison strode into the kitchen where he pulled a beer from the fridge. He twisted the cap off viciously and took a long swig. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe it's because no one trusts me to take care of two little girls or even myself. Or maybe it's because I didn't blow the whistle the minute I escaped from that fucking hospital and I let the bastards win by hiding on the street like some cowardly victim. Or maybe because I didn't tell anyone my dad was beating on me like I was his personal whipping boy." Jim closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall back. "Sometimes I hate myself worse than I hate Oliver or Brackett."

Blair approached Jim like he was nearing a wild animal. "You did the best you could, Jim. That's all anybody can do."

Jim's nostrils flared. "You're scared of me," he said flatly. "I can smell it."

"No. Not scared. Worried." Blair stroked Jim's forearm. "You've been on a roller coaster this past week. So much has happened. It's hard to keep it all together when you feel like everything's falling apart. But it will get better, Jim. After everything we learned today, you have to believe that."

Jim brought his head up and met Blair's gaze. "Maybe that's the problem. It seems like when one problem is solved, another takes its place."

"A friend of Naomi's used to say don't go looking for trouble, it'll find you all on its own."

"Naomi?"

Blair drew away and grabbed a beer for himself. "My mother." He wandered back into the living room and plopped on the sofa. He braced his feet against the coffee table and held his beer between his bent knees.

Blair knew all about Jim, yet how much did the older man know about his lover? For all of Blair's openness, he never talked about himself. Jim joined him and wrapped an arm around Blair's sturdy shoulders. "Tell me about her."

Blair tipped up his beer and drank, then began speaking in a low undertone. "It was only my mom and me when I was growing up. She never told me who my father was." He shrugged, hiding his hurt behind the nonchalant gesture. "Maybe she didn't know. She moved around a lot. Sometimes we lived in a commune, sometimes with a friend, sometimes with the flavor of the month." Jim's arm tightened around him. "When I was sixteen, I started college and Naomi and I went our separate ways, but she always came back to visit. Sometimes for a day, sometimes for a month. I never knew until she showed up at my door."

He took a deep shuddering breath and met Jim's gaze. "Three years ago she was raped and murdered by a serial killer here in Cascade when she came to visit. I had just gotten my master's degree and was accepted into the Ph.D. program, but I dropped everything to help Captain Banks catch the son of a bitch who killed her. Then Simon talked me into becoming a cop and here I am."

Jim's heart ached for the younger man but he had never been good with words. Instead, he tucked a wild curl behind Blair's ear, then cradled his cheek in his palm. "I'm sorry about your mother."

Blair managed a wan smile. "Yeah, me, too."

Jim enfolded Blair within his arms and the younger man pressed his face into Jim's chest. Jim buried his nose in Blair's silky hair, and listened as their heartbeats altered until they beat as one. It was both incredible and scary as hell.

"I won't lose you, too," Blair suddenly said fiercely.

Jim brushed his lips across Blair's forehead. "I don't plan on leaving if I can help it."

Blair shifted, curling against Jim's side and resting a hand over his heart. "Nobody ever plans to leave, but it always happens. Nobody hangs around forever."

Although the matter-of-fact words and tone tore at Jim, he couldn't dispute them. He swallowed hard, surprised to find himself fighting emotions long buried. "That was the past, Chief. We make our own future."

Blair raised his head. "Do you really believe that?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be here. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Blair filled all of the sentinel's senses and Jim merely soaked in the soothing presence of his guide and lover.

The refrigerator motor kicked in and hummed happily in the background. The swish of cars on the street below and the muted sounds from the adjoining apartment couldn't detract from the circle of serenity surrounding the two men. Blair's muscles tightened almost imperceptibly and if Jim hadn't had hypersenses, he wouldn't have noticed.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"Whatever happens, I'll never desert you, Jim. I swear."

Suddenly, Blair was kissing him and Jim tasted the beer he'd drunk and his guide's own tangy essence. Jim concentrated on the banquet of Blair's mouth. He traced the inner contours of Blair's cheeks and the roof of his mouth. Jim imprinted his guide's taste upon his senses as his hands plunged into the soft nest of curls and clung to the silky strands.

Taste. Smell. Touch. Hearing. Seeing. All his senses joined in to revel in Blair's presence. How could he survive without this man?

Reality tossed a bucket of cold water on the sentinel and he forced himself to surrender Blair's mouth. Cupping Blair's head, he drew the younger man back down to rest on his shoulder. Blair's body trembled and Jim whispered soothing words in his ear, gently stroking him as his guide had stroked him earlier.

"I'll go with you to your class," Jim said after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Besides, it'll give me something to do besides worry."

"The professor's pretty dry."

"I'll bring a bottle of water."

Blair lifted his head to gaze at Jim, and a smile tugged at his sensuous lips. "Smart ass."

Jim pinched the younger man's butt. "Cute ass."

Laughing, Blair lifted his head and they kissed. "And it's all yours, big guy."

The tang of Blair's arousal struck Jim, intensifying his own desire. "You're killing me here, Chief," Jim said, feigning agony. "Class time."

Blair dropped his forehead to Jim's chest and groaned. Jim chuckled and rubbed the smaller man's back, then kissed his hair. "Up and at 'em, Chief."

"You're a cruel man, Jim Ellison."

"Look who's talking. How do you expect me to think straight when I can smell your pheromones?"

Blair raised his head. "You can tell that I'm turned on by the way I smell?"

Jim grimaced. "Real romantic there, Sandburg."

"Seriously, you can detect pheromones?"

Jim lifted Blair off his lap. "Yes. And, no, we don't have time to test it." The older man stood beside his friend and leaned close enough that he could nibble Blair's ear ... and did. "Be prepared for a pop quiz later, though."

"Maybe we'd better study."

The erotic brush of Blair's tongue on his skin made Jim's jeans increasingly snug. He retaliated by tickling Blair's sides, and the younger man dodged away from his lover, a grin lighting his face. "First dibs on the shower." He dashed down the hallway, but paused and looked back with a 'come hither' expression. "Care to share?"

Jim debated for two seconds.

After a very stimulating -- and relaxing -- shower, Jim and Blair tossed on fresh clothes and headed out the door. When Blair held up the car keys this time, Jim snatched them and Blair's hand, which he didn't release until they had to pile into the Expedition. Blair rested his palm on Jim's thigh, and the older man laid his over it as he drove to the university.

Just as Blair predicted, the class was long and stuffy. Every so often, Jim would raise his water bottle and quirk an eyebrow, and Blair fought to keep his laughter from spilling out. The inside joke made the two-and-a-half hours pass swiftly.

"Who's your friend?" Karen Sutter asked after class. Her dark eyes roamed up and down Jim's body appreciatively.

Blair wondered why he had wanted to sleep with the brunette. But then, after making love with Jim, Blair didn't want anyone but him in his bed. Or his heart. "Karen, this is Jim. Jim, this is Karen."

"Nice to meet you, Karen," Jim said politely. He could've been greeting an elderly grandmother.

"Do you attend Rainier?" she asked.

Jim shook his head and his eyes twinkled with deviltry. "I just came with Blair."

Blair, who'd been taking a swig of Jim's water, spat it out on Karen's blouse.

"Blair!" she cried, brushing ineffectually at the soaked fabric. "Look what you've done."

"Geez, I'm sorry, Karen," Blair said, wishing he could fake a little more sincerity.

"I was going to see if you wanted to go out for a couple drinks, but now I have to go home and change," Karen whined.

"Maybe next time," Jim said, although his flat tone implied otherwise.

Karen narrowed her eyes as she studied Jim, then Blair. "For some reason, I doubt it." She spun around and flounced away.

"That was -- " Blair began.

"Adolescent," Jim finished, crossing his arms.

Blair mirrored his pose and nodded. "Yep. Adolescent."

The two men looked at each other, then broke into laughter. Alone in the classroom, Jim looped an arm around Blair and tugged him close to his side. Blair shrugged his backpack onto his shoulder, and wound his free arm around Jim's trim waist, his hand burrowing under his jacket and sweater to rest on his body-warmed t-shirt.

Enjoying the closeness, they strolled out of the anthropology building toward the parking lot. The security lights in the lot glowed weakly, and a few of them were out, but Jim's sentinel vision had no problem keeping both of them from tripping.

Blair stopped, forcing Jim to do the same. The guide pointed upward to the bowl of stars. "What do you see when you look at them?"

Jim tipped his head back while Blair kept his arm around him, grounding him and giving him his support with his touch. "They look more like our sun, but not nearly as bright. I can see weird tongues of light coming off them. I'm not sure what they are."

"Solar flares?" Blair ventured.

Jim shrugged. "Maybe." He blinked and focused on Blair. "It's strange. I mean, stars are supposed to be star-shaped."

Blair laughed softly. "Another myth debunked."

"What about romance under the moonlight?" Jim asked with a husky voice.

"Definitely not a myth." Blair smiled up at his sentinel, seeing the moon in his eyes and passion lurking in the silvery blue. His heart thumped against his ribs, and he suddenly wanted to kiss Jim with an intensity that bordered on obsession. He raised himself up on his toes and Jim met him halfway, their lips converging in tenderness and love.

They continued to the SUV, arms around one another, and the night filled with promise and passion.

Suddenly, Jim's hands flew to his ears and he dropped to the ground, writhing in agony.

Shocked, Blair could only stare in horrified fascination, then fell to his knees beside his lover and grabbed his arms. "Jim, what's wrong? What is it?"

Jim ceased twisting and the pain etched in his face began to ease.

Something jabbed into Blair's back and he flinched.

"Raise your hands, Detective Sandburg."

The almost hypnotically low-pitched voice brooked no arguments and Blair lifted his arms. A rough hand prodded under his jacket at his waistband, and his service revolver was plucked from its holster. Another search and his handcuffs were taken and tossed on the ground in front of him.

"Cuff Major Ellison's wrists behind his back," the voice ordered.

"Who are you?" Blair demanded, not making any attempt to pick up the cuffs.

"The handcuffs, Detective, or Major Ellison will suffer for your disobedience."

Blair was tempted to ignore the command, but he couldn't risk a repeat of what the man had already done to Jim. He took the cuffs and gently eased Jim's hands from his ears and rolled him onto his side. "I'm sorry, Jim," he whispered, sentinel-soft. "But if I don't do this, he's going to hurt you again."

Jim nodded almost imperceptibly.

"So who are you?" Blair repeated.

"Ask your sentinel."

Blair's eyes widened. Only a handful of people knew about Jim's abilities, and he had a feeling their captor wasn't one of the good guys. "Brackett?"

"So Major Ellison told you about me. Why am I not surprised? A sentinel confides in his guide."

Jim stirred and struggled to push himself upright, but with his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn't manage it alone. Blair took hold of his biceps and helped him to a sitting position.

"How're you doing?" Blair asked quietly.

"I feel like I've been run over by a garbage truck," Jim replied. "There was a sound. Hurt like hell."

"A dog whistle," Brackett volunteered. "Simple yet effective on a man with hyperactive senses."

"What the hell's going on, Brackett?" Jim demanded.

Blair shifted around so he knelt slightly behind and to Jim's left, but maintained contact with a hand resting on Jim's shoulder. Brackett was younger than he had expected, and handsome in a roguish way.

"Oliver is an idiot," Brackett said as though he were discussing the weather. "He can't even stage a frame without messing up. Still, I would've thought you cared enough about those cute little girls to play by the rules."

Jim snorted. "Your rules? Forget it, Brackett."

Brackett sighed dramatically. "If a rule is broken, a penalty must be paid."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Blair asked, feeling Jim's muscles tense beneath his hand.

"I can see where you would be a good guide for the major. He needs someone who's just as stubborn as he is. Of course, the lover part is also another cementing aspect of a sentinel and guide relationship." Brackett motioned with his gun. "Come along. We have a meeting to attend."

"We aren't going anywhere with you," Jim fired back, venom in his tone.

Brackett merely smiled. "You will if you want to see Haley and Holly again. Cute names for cute little girls."

Blair felt all the air leave his lungs. "You wouldn't," he whispered.

"That's for me to know and you to find out. Let's go."

Leaving his backpack on the ground, Blair helped Jim to his feet, then kept a steadying grip on him as they staggered to a dark nondescript van with no windows. Blair swung open the back door and assisted Jim up into it. The major sagged onto the floor and Blair jumped in behind him.

"Put your hands behind your back, Detective Sandburg," Brackett ordered.

Blair did so, and felt manacles lock around his wrists, then a snick as the handcuffs were attached to another chain that was fastened to the van itself. Helplessly, Blair watched Brackett immobilize Jim the same way. Brackett had thought this out.

"You knew Jim wouldn't go with Oliver, didn't you?" Blair asked.

"I suspected. I knew Oliver was a weak link, but he was the only person I could use at the time." Brackett smiled coldly. "A professional is always prepared for every eventuality."

"We'll put that on your tombstone," Jim said.

Brackett laughed. "I'm so glad to see you escaped any permanent damage, Major. I would've hated to see your sharp wit destroyed." He slammed the doors, leaving Jim and Blair alone.

"Do you think he knows where the girls are?" Blair asked.

"I wouldn't put it past him. He knew where we were tonight."

"Damn. This is so not good." Blair tugged on his shackles, but there was no give. "If something happened to the girls, Simon would've called me on my cell phone."

"If he knows."

The driver's side door opened and Brackett climbed in. "Miss me?"

Blair and Jim remained mute.

Brackett only chuckled and started the van. Jim and Blair tried to find comfortable positions, but they felt each and every bump on the road. They didn't talk, not wanting to give Brackett any ammunition to use against them. Besides, it was the ex-CIA agent's show ... for now.

It was less than an hour later when Brackett parked the van. "We're here," he called out.

"Where's here?" Blair asked.

"You'll see in a minute."

"We're close to water, Chief. Probably near a pier. There's old buildings around here, too." Jim wrinkled his nose. "I can smell the rot."

Brackett appeared in the door at the back and unlocked the shackles that held each man to the van, but left the handcuffs in place. Jim and Blair awkwardly climbed out. Brackett ushered them toward a warehouse which still appeared to be in use. A weathered sign which read Wheeler Imports and Exports hung above a door.

They entered the warehouse and Jim took the lead, his eyesight automatically adjusting to the dimness. The sound of more heartbeats and people breathing caught his attention and he tilted his head to listen more closely.

"What is it?" Blair asked.

"People. Five, maybe six adults and two -- " Jim broke off and he ground his teeth.

"Very impressive, Major," Brackett congratulated with genuine admiration. "Finding your guide definitely enhanced your abilities."

They were prodded up a set of stairs to a lighted office, where six adults and two blond girls awaited them.

Jim surged toward Haley and Holly's still forms. "Goddamnit."

Brackett raised a long thin whistle to his lips and Jim's expression erupted in agony. He fell to his knees, unable to escape the mind-piercing squeal. Then he felt Blair's touch and the pain receded enough that he could breathe without wanting to throw up.

"They're only sleeping," Brackett reassured. "As are those who were 'protecting' them. You see, I'm not a cold-blooded killer."

"Only when it suits your purposes," Blair argued.

The excruciating pain was fading for Jim, but the migraine remained. He forced himself to open his eyes; to see who else was in the room. His nose recognized Oliver's cologne. He focused his gaze on the three men standing around the girls who were slumped against one another in the large desk chair.

Richey, the Cascade peddler of young flesh, and his two goons.

Some things were worse than death.

"You son of a bitch. You're not taking them," Jim growled at Richey and struggled to his feet.

"Don't try it, Major," Brackett warned.

Blair frowned. "Who are they?"

"He is an entrepreneur. Didn't the major tell you about Mr. Richey?"

Blair's confused gaze fell on Jim.

"He sells young boys and girls to perverts all over the world," Jim explained, glaring at Richey.

Blair gasped. "God, no." He blinked. "He was the one beating you up in the alley when I first met you. He was trying to take them then."

Jim nodded curtly, hatred and rage hazing his vision.

"You're not so high and mighty now, are you, Major?" Oliver drew out "Major" as if it were an insult.

"At least I haven't sunk as low as you," Jim said, giving Oliver an unhealthy dose of his loathing.

Oliver didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry it came down to this, but you were stupid, Ellison. If only you'd played by the rules, we wouldn't have had to do this."

"Shut up, Oliver," Brackett said, his tone bored.

Jim shifted his gaze from Richey to the two men standing off to the side, partially hidden in the shadows. But Jim didn't have any problem memorizing their features. "Who're your friends?" he asked Brackett.

"Business acquaintances," the ex-agent replied.

"It's Bobby Lucifer," Blair whispered to Jim. "He controls most of the drugs sold on Cascade's streets. I wonder if he and Oliver -- "

"I think it's time for farewells," Brackett said. "See, I'm not totally unfeeling, Major. I'm letting you say good-bye to your loved ones."

Jim's body tightened like a bowstring and his stomach cramped with dread. "No! Don't let Richey take them! Goddamnit, don't let him take them!" He struggled to his feet, his red-hot anger giving him impetus.

"If you're going to carry on so, Major, I'll just have Mr. Richey leave now." Brackett nodded at the filthy purveyor of flesh.

Richey gave his two goons a signal and each one picked up a girl. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Brackett."

They started toward the door.

Jim surged upward and charged the three men. "Noooooo!"

The whistle's shriek, silent to everyone but Jim, exploded in his skull. He struggled a few more feet, but crashed to the floor, unaware of anything but the growing pressure in his head.

"Stop it! You're killing him!" Blair shouted at Brackett, fear for Jim overwhelming all else.

Brackett ignored him, took a breath and continued torturing the fallen sentinel. Blair scrambled to his feet and rushed Brackett, his head down. He hit the agent in the chest, knocking him off-balance and tumbling them both to the floor. Blair was peripherally aware of Richey and his entourage escaping with Haley and Holly, then a pair of hands jerked him to his feet and shoved him against the wall. Barely conscious, Blair registered the sound of a gunshot, then there was only darkness.

Blair wanted to open his eyes -- wanted to with a vengeance -- but his brain had another plan, one that involved peaceful oblivion. No, there was some reason he had to rouse himself. What the hell was it?

Jim!

The name invoked a surge of adrenaline and brought consciousness rising to the surface. He battled the welcome haven of darkness and managed to lift his eyelids. More darkness greeted him and panic threatened. Forcing the hysteria down, he focused and was able to see spidery strands of light. Okay, so he wasn't blind ... not completely. Awareness filtered into his brain in tiny degrees and he felt a rough surface beneath his cheek. A dirty floor.

Data downloaded into his brain and he remembered everything.

"Jim," he said hoarsely. His aches and pains were barely noticed as concern for Jim overruled all else. He bumped against something behind him, and although it was solid, it wasn't an inanimate object. Blair twisted around and his gaze fell on Jim's motionless figure. For a terror-filled moment, Blair thought he was dead.

He cursed the handcuffs and turned slightly so he could touch Jim's face. Cool, but not cold. Using his fingertips, he stroked Jim's cheek. "C'mon, buddy, come back to me. I know things are pretty messed up right now, but if you come back, I can help you fix them."

Jim twitched and groaned. "Blair?"

"I'm right here," Blair said, slumping with relief. "How're you feeling?"

"Don't ask. Where the hell are we?"

"Don't know. I just woke up myself a few minutes ago."

Blair managed to help Jim up so he was sitting with his back against a wall, and he slid back to join him.

"Haley and Holly," Jim said, his body tensing. "Jesus, we have to get out of here."

Blair's mind raced, searching for a plan. He shifted and felt a lump in his pocket -- Brackett hadn't taken his cell phone! "My phone," he said excitedly. "I still have it." With his hands cuffed behind him, he couldn't reach his pocket. "It's in my left jacket pocket."

Jim slid his backside around until he could dig into the pocket and pull it out. "Now what?"

"Can you speed dial one?"

Jim craned his head around to see the phone and awkwardly pressed some buttons.

"Nicky's Pizza. Is this for pick-up or delivery?"

Blair's face flushed. "Uh, can you call the police? We're being held captive by -- "

"Yeah, yeah, and I bet Prince Albert is stuck in a can, too. Geez. Kids." The person ended the call.

"That wasn't speed dial one, unless Captain Banks is running a pizza joint on the side," Jim said with a scowl. He managed to press the end button and tried again.

Cascade P.D. Please press the extension you would like at this time. If you don't know the extension of your party, please listen to our menu and choose the appropriate one. The unisex voice began to list the departments.

"Major Crime is 701," Blair said.

Jim gnashed his teeth as he tried to press the correct buttons.

"Banks, Major Crime."

"Jackpot," Blair said.

"Sandburg, is that you?"

"Yeah. Jim and I were kidnapped by Brackett and Oliver."

"Damn. We've been trying to get a hold of you for hours. Haley and Holly are missing."

"We know," Jim spoke up, his voice tight. "A man by the name of Richey has them."

Simon swore vociferously. "I've heard of him."

"If we don't find them ... " Jim's voice broke.

"Where are you?"

"Brackett brought us to an old warehouse. The sign said 'Wheeler Imports and Exports'," Blair replied. "We were both knocked out so I'm not sure we're still there."

"We are, Chief," Jim interjected. "I can smell the same stale water and Oliver's cologne." He coughed. "Damn it. There's blood, too. Lots of it."

"Can you tell whose it is?" Blair asked.

"Oliver's," Jim replied grimly.

"Brackett must've shot him. I thought I heard a gunshot right before I lost consciousness. Did you hear that, Simon?"

"Yeah, I heard, Sandburg. How many people are there besides Brackett?"

"Richey and his two men left with the girls, and there were two more men besides Brackett and Oliver," Jim said, his helpless rage almost palpable.

"Bobby Lucifer and one of his men," Blair added.

"Did you say Bobby Lucifer?" Simon demanded.

"One and the same."

"Okay, Taggert just handed me the address to the warehouse. We'll be there in ten minutes, fifteen tops. Leave your cell phone on so we can run a trace just to be certain we have the right address."

"Got it," Blair said.

"Hang on."

They heard Simon holler out to someone to leave the line open while it was being traced, then he was organizing the strike team and making another call on another phone.

"If they don't get here soon, we're going to lose them," Jim said.

"Can you tell how many people are in the building?" Blair asked, partly to give Jim something else to think about. "Concentrate on the heat where we're touching and use that to ground yourself, then let your hearing out, search for voices or movement."

Blair kept up a low, almost inaudible monologue while Jim used his senses.

"I hear two voices. One is Brackett and the other I don't know," Jim said.

"What are they talking about?"

"Deliveries and guarantees. Looks like Brackett is taking over Oliver's position in the drug deal."

"It's probably Lucifer with him. Anybody else?"

"Three heartbeats."

"The third one is probably Lucifer's bodyguard, just like we figured."

Jim took a deep breath and cocked his head. "Sirens. On their way here."

"If Brackett uses that whistle on you again, we have to be prepared," Blair said.

"How? It damn near kills me every time he blows it."

"Remember the dials? You have to be able to dial it down and out as soon as you hear it."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one being ripped apart from the inside."

"Damn it, Jim, you have to try or Brackett's going to have the edge. Can you still hear the sirens?"

Jim nodded.

"Tune them out. You hear them, now turn the dial down on them but continue to listen to my voice. That's right. You can do it, just go slow and easy," Blair said.

"It's working, Chief." There was incredulity in Jim's voice.

"Good. Now remember how you did it and the moment you hear the whistle, tune that sound out. It's just a matter of control."

"Captain Banks and his men are surrounding the warehouse." He tilted his head and Blair rubbed his arm. "They're coming through the door. Brackett and the others are running."

He brought his head to his knees as his muscles spasmed.

"C'mon, Jim. Remember what I said. Filter it out. Turn the sound off," Blair urged, knowing Brackett had pulled out his secret weapon.

The door was shoved open and crashed against the opposite wall. Light streamed in behind Brackett, and Blair felt the change in Jim almost immediately. He launched upward and butted Brackett in the gut with his head. The whistle skittered across the floor and Jim sharply brought his head up, catching Brackett beneath the chin. A loud crack sounded. Brackett snapped backward, his fingers catching the door frame, holding him upright.

Jim kicked with a scissor-like motion, striking Brackett in the groin. The ex-CIA agent doubled over, clutching his genitals, and Jim swung his leg, knocking Brackett's feet out from under him and tumbling him to the ground. Footsteps pounded up the stairs and Jim fell into a crouch.

"It's me, Captain Banks. Ellison, Sandburg, you two okay?" Simon called out, his revolver in his hand.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just get us out of here," Blair said breathlessly, as if he had fought Brackett.

Two minutes later, Jim and Blair were freed and the unconscious Brackett shackled.

"You were right. We found Oliver's body in the office. A gunshot to the heart. He was killed instantly," Simon said. "Forensics will check the bullet that killed him with Brackett's weapon. If they match, we can hold him for kidnapping and murder."

"What about Lucifer?" Blair asked.

"He was trying to escape with his hired gun, who was shot in the arm. He'll live. Lucifer is claiming he didn't know anything about you two being held against your will or Oliver's death."

"His high-priced lawyer will have him out in less time than it takes us to do the paperwork," Blair said in disgust.

Brackett groaned as consciousness returned. Jim grabbed his lapels and tugged him to his feet. "Where the hell did Richey take the girls?" he demanded, his face inches from Brackett's.

Brackett managed to smile, though it resembled a twisted grimace. "How would I know? He paid for the merchandise. What he does with it is his business."

Blair grabbed Jim's arm and tried to pull him away from Brackett, but the man was making like an oak tree. "If Richey hurts those girls, I'm going to take pleasure in killing you slowly," Jim uttered, his face cold and implacable. "And nobody will ever find all the pieces."

Brackett didn't even blink. "I've been threatened before, Major."

"Not by me." Jim shook him once and released him. Brackett staggered back into Brown's arms.

"Get this piece of shit outta here," Simon ordered.

"With pleasure," Brown replied. He jerked Brackett around and none-too-gently tugged him down the stairs.

Jim followed them.

"Where are you going, Ellison?" Simon demanded.

"After Richey." Jim continued down the stairs.

"Stay with him, Blair," Simon ordered.

"That's the plan."

Blair trotted down the steps and caught up to Jim, who was standing outside the warehouse in the darkness, his hands propped on his hips. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration.

"Your senses tell you anything?" Blair asked quietly.

Jim appeared startled. "What do you mean?"

"Use your eyes and nose, Jim."

"I don't -- " Jim began impatiently.

Blair held up his hands, placating him, as he employed his guide's voice. "Relax, Jim. I know there's been a lot of activity around here, but really look. Use your sentinel vision."

Jim's jaw muscle jumped, but he did what Blair said. He expanded his vision, always aware of Blair's low voice guiding him. An object on the ground in the deepest shadows of the building caught his sentinel eyes. He loped toward it, hearing Blair's footsteps close behind him.

"Holly's Panther," Blair said when he spotted it.

Jim picked it up and the powder scent of the girls surrounded him, lured him ...

"Jim, c'mon, man. We don't have time for a zone out." Blair stroked his bicep.

The sentinel blinked and rubbed his throbbing brow. "Yeah, okay. I'm okay."

"Look around. See anything else?" Blair asked.

Although Jim was struggling with his controls, he couldn't deny that they were definitely an asset. He sharpened his vision and searched the ground around them. He spotted three small drops of oil on the ground. Squatting down, he touched it. Fresh. "If Richey's car was parked here, he's got an oil leak."

"That's great. You can trail him by following the oil drops," Blair said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Jim rose and stared down at Blair. "Are you crazy?"

"No, you can do this, Jim. I can drive and you'll follow the trail. It'll lead us right to them."

Jim shook his head. "I don't think -- "

"You have a better idea?" Blair demanded.

The older man frantically considered and discarded ideas, and finally replied, "No."

"Then let's go."

Blair confiscated Brown's nondescript sedan and used one hand to drive and the other to ground and guide the sentinel.

"Take a left," Jim said.

The two men rode in silence as Jim concentrated, finding small drops every couple hundred feet or so. He gave Blair directions even as his palms dampened with sweat. What if he was wrong? What if some other car was leaking oil, too?

Suddenly he realized he hadn't seen an oil drop in well over six blocks. "Damn it. I lost them."

Blair made a U-turn in the less-than-respectable part of town. "We'll backtrack, see if we can pick it up," he said. In spite of Blair's outward calm, Jim could hear his telltale thundering heartbeat.

Jim focused on the dirty street as his head pounded. His stomach grew queasy from the headache, but he pushed himself, trying valiantly to pick up the trail.

"Pull over, Blair," Jim suddenly said.

Blair obeyed and Jim stumbled out of the car into an alley where he lost the contents of his stomach. Cramps rolled through his gut as he heaved until there was nothing left.

"I'm sorry," Blair was repeating over and over as he stroked his back.

Jim struck the crumbling brick wall with his fist. "Damnit! I promised Dee I'd take care of them."

"You did your best," Blair said quietly.

"My best wasn't goddamned good enough, was it?"

"Don't, Jim!" Blair gripped Jim's wrist. "You couldn't have stopped him. This isn't your fault."

He could see Jim's internal battle as he digested Blair's words. "If I hadn't been running from the Army, I would've never put them in danger. It was because of me they were taken."

"So you think if you hadn't befriended the twins and their mother, none of this would've happened?"

"Damned right."

Blair's nostrils flared with contained anger. "Tell me this then. What would've happened to Haley and Holly when their mother died if you hadn't been there? Or when their mother was hooking? Do you think they would've been better off without you in their lives? Without someone who loved them and took care of them?"

Jim's skin was taut against his cheekbones. "I just feel so damned helpless, Blair," he whispered hoarsely. "Do you know what'll happen to them if we can't find them?"

Blair nodded, feeling sick. "Yeah, I do."

Jim glanced at him, turned his hand within Blair's and intertwined their fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a dark shadow. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

Jim spotted it again and this time it had a shape -- a large cat. It ran across the street toward a strip club called Scarlet Letters. The garish red neon sign blinked off and on, except for the second T in Letters. The cat stopped in front of the club and stared straight at Jim, then roared and disappeared around a corner of the building.

"Do you trust me?" Jim asked.

"You know I do."

"I think the girls are in there." He pointed at Scarlet Letters.

"How -- " Blair cut himself off. "Listen for them, Jim. Can you hear their voices?"

Jim extended his hearing and heard Haley scolding Richey.

"What'd you hear?" Blair asked in a low undertone.

"Haley." Jim allowed a slight smile. "She's pissed."

"That's our girl." Blair grinned. "I'll call for back-up." He flipped open his phone, only to find the battery dead. "Shit. We'll have to call from a corner phone."

"No time."

He could tell Blair wasn't happy, but the younger man checked the rounds in his weapon, then stuck the gun in its holster at his back. "Let's go."

Keeping low, the two men scurried across the street and between vehicles as they worked their way to the rear entry. The streetlights were dim, casting little illumination and Blair grabbed hold of Jim's jacket. In the alley behind the building, it was even darker and Jim clasped Blair's hand to better guide him. They found the door and Jim tried the knob. It turned in his hand.

"Use your hearing to see if there's anyone on the other side," Blair whispered.

Jim nodded and stretched out his hearing. "There isn't anyone near by."

Blair held his revolver between his palms. "I'll go first."

"No way, Sandburg."

As Jim stepped past him, Blair yanked him back. "Damn it, Jim, you're not a cop. Stay behind me."

Jim growled, feeling an innate sense of wrongness. He should be protecting Blair, not vice versa. But he allowed the detective to lead.

They stepped into the dim interior and pressed themselves against the wall. Jim could hear the low hum of conversation.

"The main room is straight ahead, about seventy-five feet," Jim said, his mouth close to Blair's ear. "There's a room about thirty feet ahead. I can hear Richey talking to Haley and Holly."

Jim started creeping down the hall, but Blair grabbed his sleeve. "Is there anyone else?"

Music exploded and Jim, already weakened by the dog whistle's effects, clapped his hands over his ears and doubled over.

"Shit," Blair muttered. He leaned over Jim's bent form and rubbed his back. "Dial it down, Jim. I know you had your hearing wide open, but you can do this. Concentrate on turning it down."

Two tense minutes later, Jim recovered enough that he was able to lower his hands. However, even in the dim lighting Blair could see how pale he was. Blair leaned over his still-bowed back and awkwardly hugged him. "I know you're hurting, Jim, but you can dial that down, too. Find your pain dial. Can you do that, love?"

A few more minutes and Jim's shakiness dissipated and some color returned to his face.

"Better?" Blair whispered in his ear.

Jim nodded and the detective drew away so Jim could straighten.

"Filter past the music and focus on the girls. Can you still hear them? " Blair asked softly.

Jim tilted his head. "Yeah. Richey's getting ticked. He's threatening to -- " He broke off, looking ill. "Let's move!"

Jim raced down the hall and Blair had no choice but to follow. Before Blair could stop him, Jim kicked the door in. Cursing stubborn sentinels, Blair jumped into the office.

Richey was rubbing his shin where it was obvious one of the girls had kicked him. It would've been funny if his two goons -- who were reaching for their guns -- weren't with him.

"Freeze! Cascade P.D." Blair shouted, covering the hired muscle.

One obeyed; the other didn't. As he jerked his weapon up toward Blair, the young detective squeezed the trigger of his revolver. The shot exploded in the room's small confines and he was vaguely aware of a girl's shriek. The thug's face was almost comical in surprise as he stared at the hole in his chest, then he sank to his knees and fell face forward onto the floor.

Bile rose in Blair's throat, threatening to choke him. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, but his cop training kept him upright. He kicked aside the fallen man's gun, and took the other thug's gun from the shoulder holster where it resided.

As he kept Richey and the other man covered, Blair heard Haley and Holly shout, "Uncle Jim!" Out of his side vision, he saw the girls launch themselves at Jim.

The sentinel opened his arms and gathered them close, kissing their cheeks. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Jim asked, unobtrusively checking them for injuries.

"No. He just wanted us to do bad things and we told him no, just like you taught us," Haley explained, glaring at Richey.

"Uh, Jim, could you give me a hand here?" Blair asked, and cursed his trembling voice.

Jim gently shoved the girls toward the door, far from Richey. "Wait here."

Blair tossed Jim a pair of handcuffs. "Cuff them together."

Jim cuffed Richey's wrist first, threaded the handcuffs between the wall and a pipe, and snapped the other bracelet on the hired gun. Once they were restrained, Blair squatted down beside the fallen man and pressed two fingers to the man's carotid artery.

"He's dead," Jim said softly, hunkering down beside him and laying a hand on Blair's shoulder. "You didn't have a choice."

Blair pulled away from Jim and stood. "I'll call Simon and have him send a squad car and the coroner's wagon." He managed a reassuring smile and pat on the head for Haley and Holly, then made his call, keeping his tone terse and professional.

"You don't have anything on me, Ellison," Richey stated. "I just found these girls and was trying to help them find their home."

Jim fisted his hands at his sides, but Blair's palm against his chest stayed him. The detective finished his call and glared at Richey.

"You're right. We may not have you for kidnapping, but we do have you as a murder accessory. You were with Brackett when he killed Oliver," Blair spoke to Richey, his voice cold. "Did you know men who hurt children are the lowest of the low in prison? It's amazing how fast knowledge like that spreads among inmates."

Richey's face lost all color. "You wouldn't."

"Give me a reason not to."

Richey remained silent.

Jim and Blair ushered the girls out of the office, away from the dead body.

Holly tugged at Blair's shirt. "You and Uncle Jim saved us."

The detective's throat felt tight and he couldn't speak. Instead, he knelt and hugged both girls. Tears threatened as he closed his eyes.

A familiar hand clasped his shoulder. "You saved all of us," Jim said quietly.

"I killed a man," Blair finally choked out.

"He stole children and accepted money from perverts who bought them for their own sick games."

"I know." Blair merely buried his face in the girls' blond curls. "I just don't want to talk about it now, Jim."

The sound of sirens grew louder as the police arrived, giving Blair the distraction he needed to get through the next few hours.

Simon leaned against the elevator's shiny wall as he rubbed his gritty eyes. He usually hated dealing with the FBI, but this time he welcomed the agents' presence, as well as the arrival of the two U.S. Marshals. The paperwork involving the Army, the CIA, Ellison, Brackett, Oliver, and assorted local drug dealers and perverts was a nightmare of the nth degree. Simon had managed to foist most of the paperwork off to the federal officers and let them argue about who had jurisdiction over who.

The elevator doors opened and he stumbled down the hallway and into the Major Crime bullpen, which was blessedly quiet at four thirty in the morning. The prisoners had been booked and their lawyers called. The federal officers had taken residence in an interrogation room to sort out charges. The only things they had agreed upon thus far was that Jim Ellison be allowed to remain free, and the investigation into the Army research hospital across the country be put into motion. That consensus had transpired due to Todd Morrow's intervention. The lawyer had come down to the station in the middle of the night without a single complaint when Jim explained what had happened.

Simon entered his office and halted as he stared at the heart-tugging sight on his couch. Jim and Blair sat side by side, each one holding a sleeping girl within their arms.

"What's happening?" Blair asked quietly, his face haggard and blue eyes shadowed.

Simon mentally shook himself and perched on a corner of his desk. "The usual bureaucracy bullshit -- who gets the glory and who gets the blame." He shrugged. "I don't care, as long as Brackett and Richey are put away for the rest of their miserable lives."

"Will that happen, sir?" Jim asked in a low voice.

Simon studied the Army officer, noting the dark circles beneath his eyes and the creases in his brow. At first, he'd been uncertain of Ellison and suspected Blair's judgment. But now he could see Sandburg had been right -- Jim Ellison was a good man who found himself in a nightmarish situation.

"If the feds don't do anything with them, we will," Simon said firmly. "We've got enough to put them away for a helluva long time." He turned his gaze to Blair. "You've got a meeting with IA tomorrow -- today. Three o'clock."

"Yes, sir," Blair said.

The young detective's flat tone didn't surprise Simon. When he had talked Sandburg into joining the force, he had hoped the sensitive young man would never have to kill someone in the line of duty -- hell, most cops made it through their careers without discharging their weapons. "It's only a formality," Simon said, trying to reassure him.

Blair's eyes flashed. "I understand. A man's dead because of me and it's only a formality."

The bitterness shocked Simon, but God knew, he understood. He glanced at Jim and found an ally -- the man appeared as upset and helpless as he felt. With a slight tug of jealousy, Simon knew if anybody could help Blair through this, it was Jim Ellison.

"Why don't you two go home? Get Haley and Holly to bed, then get some sleep yourselves. It's been a helluva night," Simon said.

"What about the charges against me?" Jim asked.

"We'll know once the feds work everything out. I'm sure the Army will send somebody here to cloud up the waters even more." Simon managed a slight smile. "But I have a feeling Todd will have them apologizing to you once everything is sorted out." He pushed himself to his feet. "Go on."

The two men rose a little awkwardly, not wanting to jostle the girls. Jim went through the door first, but Blair paused.

"Thanks, Simon," he said quietly. "I know you're doing all you can to keep Jim out of jail."

Simon had the insane urge to give the younger man a paternal hug. He crossed his arms. "Get out of here and get some sleep, Sandburg."

A tiny smile tugged at Blair's lips. "Yes, sir."

Blair followed Jim out of the bullpen. Simon sighed and wondered if he should run home and get a few hours of shuteye. Or at least a shower. Getting a whiff of himself, he grimaced and nodded. Definitely a shower.

Switching off the lights in his office, he locked the door and dragged himself out of Major Crime, feeling each and every one of his forty-two years.

Jim removed Haley's shoes and stockings while Blair did the same for Holly, then they tucked the covers around the sleeping children. By unspoken agreement, the two men gazed down at the girls for a long minute, each one offering a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

"I'm going to have some tea. Would you like some?" Blair asked after they left the small bedroom.

"Sure. You want me to make it?" Jim eyed Blair, searching for a sign of the guilt and remorse which had dogged the younger man since the shooting.

"Nah. It'll give me something to do."

Jim leaned against the kitchen island as he watched Blair fill the kettle and set it on the stove. Then the younger man got two cups and a tin canister down from the cupboard. He filled a tea ball with dried leaves and Jim opened his sense of smell -- chamomile and citrus.

"That's an odd combination," Jim said, motioning with his chin toward the tea.

"How -- " Blair smiled weakly. "It's good for insomnia."

"Don't you think you can sleep?"

"I'm over-tired. I feel like I've been through hell week at the university."

Jim noticed the dance around the real reason for his anxiety. He moved up behind him and wrapped his arms around Blair's waist. Resting his cheek on Blair's head, he rubbed his flat belly soothingly. "It's okay, Blair. I understand."

Blair tensed, but remained silent. The kettle whistled and he escaped Jim's embrace to let the tea steep in the smaller teapot.

Jim frowned, uneasy with Blair's reticence. Usually, it was Blair getting him to open up, not vice versa.

Once the tea was ready, Blair handed Jim his cup, then took his own. He moved past Jim into the living room and sat down on the couch. Jim joined him, ignoring the invisible barrier Blair had placed around himself.

"Good tea," Jim commented.

"One of my favorites," Blair said.

"I never used to drink tea, until I found this great blend in Bali. I think you'd like it."

"When were you in Bali?"

Jim shrugged, recognizing Blair's skillful diversion of the conversation. "About six years ago. Right after I was rescued from my eighteen-month tour in Peru." He glanced into the murky depths of his cup. "I did some things I wasn't real proud of there; things I would never have done if I hadn't been so lonely."

"Loneliness does that to a person." Blair set his empty cup down on the coffee table and stared past Jim, out into the darkness of the early morning.

"You don't strike me as a person who'd have that problem."

Blair snorted, a cross between a laugh and something else. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Jim's heart lurched and he wrapped his arm around Blair's shoulders, tugging him close to his side. "Never gonna happen, Chief." He kissed the soft curls tickling his cheek. "I never thought I'd find anyone like you."

"You don't know me."

"I know all I need to know."

Gradually, Blair relaxed against him. His arm crept across Jim's waist as he pressed his cheek against his chest. "What're you going to do once you're cleared?"

"Get out of the Army," Jim replied without hesitation. "I never used to let myself think about a future."

"And now?"

"I don't know. The only thing I'm certain about is I want you in my life, any way I can get you."

"I feel the same way."

They sat on the sofa, listening to the silence of the pre-dawn. Blair's breathing grew steady and his body sank into Jim's. Smiling tenderly, Jim leaned close to his ear. "Let's go to bed, Chief. We're both exhausted."

Blair mumbled something Jim couldn't understand, but roused himself enough to stand.

"Go on up. I'll take care of things down here," Jim said.

Rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child, Blair nodded and trudged up the stairs.

Jim checked the locks on the door and windows, stepped into the girls' bedroom for a minute to ensure they were sleeping, turned off the downstairs lights, then joined Blair. The detective had fallen on the bed without removing his shoes or clothes.

His chest tight, Jim merely gazed at Blair's precious face. Inordinately pleased he could take care of Blair this time, he managed to take off the younger man's shirt, jeans, shoes, and socks, and tuck him into bed. Jim stripped down to his underwear and slipped into bed beside Blair. He wrapped his arms around his guide and Blair flowed into him as naturally as water flowed downstream.

Jim kissed his brow. "Love you."

The sentinel followed his guide into slumber.

Jim awakened with a start, and blinked in the brightness. He automatically opened his hearing to listen for Haley and Holly. They were still asleep. His next reaction was to search for Blair, who was no longer pressed against his side. He turned his head to see him curled up in a fetal position on his side of the bed. Jim was certain he wasn't sleeping.

He listened to the uneven breathing of his lover and realized Blair was trying valiantly to stifle his sobs. His heart felt pierced, but he wasn't certain Blair wanted his comfort. Then a wretched sound escaped the younger man and Jim released his restraint. He rolled toward Blair, but the stiff set of his body stayed Jim's urge to hold him.

"Blair?"

The detective's body stiffened even more. "I'm okay." The quaver in his voice told Jim otherwise.

"You don't have to be embarrassed. I understand."

"Yeah. I'm sure you cried like a baby the first time you killed a man," Blair said caustically.

Jim flinched, unaccustomed to this harsh side of Blair Sandburg. "You're right. I didn't cry." He paused. "I got drunk, started a brawl, and the hangover lasted three days. Yeah, I handled it real well."

Blair rolled onto his side to look up at Jim. His cheeks were shiny with tears and his eyes were red and swollen. "I'm sorry."

Jim straddled the younger man and planted one hand on the mattress on the other side of him. He brushed a strand of damp hair from Blair's face. "Don't apologize. Everyone has his own way of handling things. I -- " Jim's throat tightened. "I just don't want you to shut me out."

Blair's gaze searched Jim's face. "Even when I got my badge, I never really believed I'd have to kill someone. I mean, I knew in my head the possibility was there, but my heart refused to acknowledge it. I was raised to believe every life is unique and no one has the right to take that away."

"In most cases, you're right. But sometimes a life has to be forfeited to save another or even more than one. It's a choice you and I were obligated to make when we put on the uniforms of our services. I hated the killing, but I understood the need for it. If I had the chance to change the past, I would if there was an alternative. If there wasn't, I'd kill again."

Silent tears streaked down the side of Blair's face into his hair. "It hurts, though."

Jim thumbed away a moist trail. "If it didn't, we'd be no better than those we've had to kill."

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and pulled him down beside him.

The two men lay within the circle of the other's arms until Jim heard the girls awakening.

"Haley and Holly are up," Jim whispered. "You ready to face the day?"

Blair nodded against his neck. "As ready as I'm going to be."

Jim shifted upward so he could gaze into Blair's face. "Why don't you shower first while I make something to eat? I make some pretty mean scrambled eggs."

"Sounds good. It'll be nice to eat someone else's cooking." Blair pressed his palm against the other man's chest. "I love you," he whispered, his breath cascading across Jim's lips like a lover's caress.

Jim did what came as naturally as breathing: he kissed Blair and hoped the younger man understood all the words spoken in the intimate gesture. As Jim drew away, Blair smiled gently and Jim knew he did understand.

His heart light, Jim tumbled out of bed and gave Blair a hand, tugging him out of the nest in the large bed. "Go shower, babe," Jim said, slapping the younger man's butt.

Blair yelped playfully, but tugged on a robe and headed down the stairs. He paused and glanced up at Jim. "Later, Ellison, your ass is mine."

Jim smiled as he listened to his lover dash into the bathroom. Always, Blair. Always.

While Blair was at the station for his interview with Internal Affairs, Jim called his bank and discovered the balance in his checking account was over thirty-five thousand dollars. The military had continued to directly deposit his pay every month without fail. Fortunately, he'd kept his account in a Cascade bank and there was a branch two blocks from Blair's home.

The November air was cool and Jim bundled up the girls in the coats Blair had bought them, and the three of them walked to the bank. When they left half an hour later, Jim had counter checks and five hundred dollars cash in his pocket. The next order of business was to stop at the grocery store and buy the ingredients for a special meal. He wanted to have dinner waiting for Blair when he returned.

He allowed the girls to pick out two flavors of ice cream, as well as some fruit pieces in the shape of dogs, cats, horses, and pigs. By the time they finished shopping, Jim had to call a taxi to take them and the pile of groceries back to the loft. Haley and Holly helped carry in the groceries and as they emptied the bags, the girls repeated each food name. To Haley and Holly, this was like a fantasy come true.

For Jim, just having the girls safe and alive was enough. What if he and Blair hadn't found them? What if they had been sold into a life of slavery? A shudder passed through him.

What now? Could Jim adopt the girls? Would Blair agree? If he and Blair decided to commit to one another, the path of their lives would be a difficult one. Would it be fair to Haley and Holly to subject them to ignorance and prejudice? Hell, would a judge even allow two men living together to adopt two young girls?

How could he choose between them and Blair? But it might come down to that in the end.

Pushing the dreaded thoughts aside for now, Jim searched for a roasting pan to bake the roast. He gave the girls the task of scrubbing the carrots, while he cut up two mild onions and washed potatoes. Once the vegetables were piled around the roast, Jim added some seasonings and put the pan in the oven.

Jim, Haley, and Holly played a few games of Go Fish, then turned on the tv so the girls could watch Nickelodeon. He glanced at his watch and frowned. Six thirty and no phone call from Blair. What if Internal Affairs decided Blair didn't have enough reason to shoot the suspect? No, that wouldn't happen. Blair had saved three lives including his own by killing the son of a bitch.

As the clock crawled toward seven and the smell of roasting meat and vegetables filled the loft, Jim's worry expanded. He had never been a very patient person and disliked being in the dark, especially with something that affected someone he cared for.

The phone rang, startling Jim. He nabbed the receiver. "Blair?"

"Todd Morrow."

Jim sagged in disappointment. "Any news?"

"There's already been enough suspicion raised at the research hospital to warrant a full-blown investigation. They want to question you and in exchange for your cooperation, the AWOL charge will be dropped."

Jim dropped his chin to his chest in relief. "Sounds like a decent deal."

"Decent, but not good enough. A barracuda laugh escaped Morrow. "I'm also demanding an honorable discharge with a hundred thousand dollar severance payment."

"They won't go for it."

"You'd be surprised, Major. I happened to mention that certain publishing institutions would pay you well for information of this magnitude."

Jim laughed. "I thought I had balls. So did they agree?"

"After a discussion which lasted two minutes, they agreed. They'll want to talk to you tomorrow, then the paperwork will be done in an expedient manner. By Thanksgiving, you'll be a civilian with a nice bank account."

Jim's face warmed as he realized he didn't even know the date. "When's Thanksgiving?"

"A week from today. By the way, I'd like you, Detective Sandburg, and the twins to join Simon, my wife and I for dinner Saturday evening."

Jolted by the invitation, Jim's tongue tripped on the words. "Uh, well, we'd like that, but I'll have to ask Blair first. He had a meeting with Internal Affairs this afternoon."

"So that's why you thought I was him. I'm sure everything went fine. The police just have to cross all the t's and dot all the i's."

"I hope so."

"Call my office tomorrow to let me know if you can make it to dinner. Relax, Major Ellison. Everything will work out."

"I'll try." Jim stood and walked into the kitchen, so the girls wouldn't hear him. "I want to adopt Haley and Holly."

Silence filled the line.

"It won't be easy," Morrow said slowly. "A single man and two young girls.

"What about a man and his male lover?" Jim's heart pounded so hard he figured Morrow could hear it.

"Even more difficult, but not impossible." To Morrow's credit, he didn't make any comments. "Do the twins have any living relatives?"

Jim paused. "Dee, their mother, mentioned a sister a couple times. Her name was Susan or Sarah. Something with an S."

"I won't lie to you, Major. The odds of you and Detective Sandburg gaining custody of the girls aren't very good if their aunt is alive and willing to take them."

Jim's chest felt like barbed wire surrounded it. "And if she isn't?"

"Even then it'll be an uphill battle."

"Damn." Jim leaned his forehead against the smooth wood of a cupboard.

"I'll do some more checking into this for you. After I find out a few more details, I'll let you know." Morrow paused and Jim could hear him fiddling with something, probably rolling a pen between his fingers. "If it's any consolation, I think you and Sandburg would be good parents."

Jim smiled tremulously. "Thanks."

"Let me know tomorrow if you can come Saturday evening." Morrow ended the call.

Jim pressed the off button and straightened. Maybe he had jumped the gun asking Morrow about the girls, since he hadn't even talked to Blair yet. Hell, he didn't even know what he would be doing next month ... next week.

He studied the girls, watching their faces as they giggled and pointed at something on the screen. Even from this distance, his sentinel vision could plainly see the sparkles in their eyes and their flushed cheeks. They had bloomed in the past two weeks, behaving more like children their age rather than life-weary adults packed into five-year-old bodies.

However, living on the street had had one benefit: nobody had tried to separate them.

Too impatient to wait for the elevator, Blair raced up the stairs to the third floor. He strode down the hallway and the door opened just as he reached out with his key. Jim stood there, a smile lighting up his handsome face and Blair's chest expanded and tightened at the same time. God, he loved this man.

He stepped up to Jim and hugged him, tilting his head back to kiss him. "Hey, Jim."

"Hey, yourself." With one arm around Blair's waist, Jim pulled the younger man inside while closing the door with his other.

"It smells great in here," Blair said, his gaze hopping to the kitchen, then to the table where four places were set and two candles were lit. "Oh, wow, it looks great. Thanks."

Jim embraced him and Blair allowed his body to sink into his lover's. "You're welcome," the older man whispered, his breath stirring Blair's curls. "How did the meeting with IA go?"

Blair leaned back so he could gaze into Jim's eyes but remain within the circle of his arms. "I was cleared."

"Thank God. I was getting worried when it got so late."

Blair shifted guiltily. "I'm sorry. I should've called. After the IA interrogation, Simon wanted to talk to me."

Jim tensed. "About what?"

Blair laid his palm on Jim's chest. "About you having the instincts and abilities to be a cop."

"Me a cop?"

"Have you ever thought about it?"

Jim shrugged, but there was excitement in his face and eyes. "Yeah, a little. Actually, it would be something I could probably do pretty well, especially with my senses."

Blair nodded. "And with your background, Simon thinks he could get you the abbreviated version of the police academy and move you into Major Crime immediately after graduation." Blair ground his hips against Jim's as he gave him a sultry smile. "And I just happen to be partner-less right now. You know anybody who might be willing to take me on?"

Jim appeared dazed. "Jesus, Blair, I-I don't know what to say."

He swept his tongue across his dry lips and Blair didn't even try to resist temptation. He leaned forward, capturing Jim's lips with his own.

"I know you haven't been cleared yet with the Army or been discharged, but Simon thinks everything will work out," Blair finally said.

"Todd Morrow called." Jim related to Blair what the lawyer had told him.

"One week and you'd be free?" Blair managed to ask.

"That's what he said." He shrugged. "I have a feeling Morrow can do it." Jim's expression appeared worried, almost nervous.

"What else?" the detective asked with narrowed eyes.

Two little hands tugged on Blair's wrists, and he glanced down to see a twin on either side of him. He peered up at Jim. "We'll talk more later."

Jim nodded and seemed relieved. He released the older man and allowed the girls to lead him to the sofa. They pressed him back onto it, then scrambled up to sit on either side of him.

"We missed you, Uncle Blair," Holly said, leaning against his left side.

"You were gone forever," Haley added from his other side.

Blair placed an arm around each of the girl's shoulders, and they snuggled closer. "I missed both of you, too."

"And Uncle Jim?" Holly asked, her bright blue eyes gazing at him innocently.

Blair glanced at Jim and his heart rolled in his chest at the warm smile aimed at him. "Uncle Jim, too."

"We went groc'ry shopping, and we got ice cream, and animal fruities, and Cap'n Crunch," Holly said.

"Cap'n Crunch, huh?" Blair's stomach recoiled, but he hid it from the girls. A slight chuckle from the kitchen told him Jim had sensed his reaction. "With crunch berries?"

Haley wrinkled her nose. "Those are icky. We got the peanut butter ones."

Blair could only nod, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Jim's shoulders shaking in silent laughter as he lifted a pan from the oven.

"What else did you get?" Blair finally asked, steeling himself.

As Holly launched into an amazingly precise list, including the kind of apples -- Braeburn -- Blair wondered where Jim had gotten the money for the groceries.

"Dinner's ready," Jim announced.

Haley and Holly each took one of Blair's hands and led him to the table. A succulent roast almost overwhelmed by vegetables sat on a platter in the center, while dinner rolls and a Caesar salad took up two corners.

"Not that I'm being nosy here, but how did you pay for this?" Blair asked, waving at the food.

"I called my bank and found out I've been getting my pay deposited the whole time I was in the -- place. I went in and withdrew some money." Jim motioned for everyone to sit down.

The food tasted as good as it smelled, and Blair leaned back in his chair twenty minutes later, beyond sated and moving into stuffed. "That was great. Thanks."

"We cleaned the carrots," Holly said proudly.

"And helped Uncle Jim set the table," Haley interjected.

"You did a very good job, too," Blair said. He looked at Jim who sat at the opposite end of the table. There was heat lurking in his blue eyes as he studied Blair like he was dessert. And maybe he was. Or maybe Jim was.

Warmth flared within Blair, settling in his groin. He had the momentary urge to lay Jim on the table and taste him. Once the girls were settled for the night ...

Blair volunteered to do dishes while Jim readied the girls' bath. By the time Blair was done in the kitchen, Haley and Holly were clean and in their pajamas. Tonight they asked for a story from Blair and he obliged, speaking quietly until they were both sound asleep.

He tiptoed out of their room and left their door ajar. The downstairs was dark except for the single light over the sink and a lamp glowing in the loft. His heart tripped, but his body had no qualms -- the blood was already rushing to his cock. He forced himself to check the windows and door, then slowly climbed the stairs. His palms dampened and his jeans were suddenly two sizes too small.

He paused at the top of the stairs to see Jim -- nude -- lying on his stomach. His face was turned toward the steps and his eyes burned into Blair's. "You said something about owning my ass?" Jim said with a husky voice.

"Are you willing to give it to me?" Blair whispered back, surprised he was able to speak coherently at all.

"Always." Jim rolled onto his side, exposing his hard and leaking erection. "What're you waiting for?"

Blair's mouth lost all moisture, and it took a second for his hands to get the message. He stripped out of his clothes, aware of buttons rolling across the floor and not caring. Stripping his jeans and underwear, he finally stood naked, his own passion obvious.

Jim held out a hand and Blair grasped it. The older man gently tugged him down onto the mattress beside him and laid him on his back. "Just relax, love. I'll take care of you tonight."

Jim trapped Blair's curls within his hands as his mouth tasted every inch of his guide. The rough whiskers on the younger man's cheeks and jaw provided an erotic contrast to the smoothness of his lips and brow. His sense of touch notched upward, but not where it threatened to bring on a zone.

He nuzzled the thick curly hair on Blair's chest, sniffing the sweat and musk that made up this man he loved. He bit one nipple and Blair moaned and arched upward even as his square strong hands held Jim close to his breast. Then Jim moved to the other, surprised to find a hole within this one -- he idly wondered if Blair usually wore a nipple ring, and the possibility that he did made Jim's cock throb.

Jim continued to lick and suck Blair's torso, unable to get enough of his taste and touch. The scent of their combined precum made him dizzy with need and lust, and he rocked his hard erection against Blair's thigh.

"Jim ... oh gods. Don't stop. Feels so good," Blair murmured, his words almost a physical caress. "Jim ... lover ... make me feel ... so much ... love you."

Blair's last two words caused Jim to thrust one last time then he was coming -- his passion slicking their skin. "Blaaairrrr," he cried out and continued to hump gently as the aftershocks spilled through his body.

Blair wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulders and the two men shared a deep, thorough kiss as the younger man began to drive his groin against Jim's belly. "I want you, Jim," Blair whispered.

Jim merely kissed him one more time then turned on his left side and bent his right leg. "I want you, too."

Blair skimmed his palms down Jim's back, feeling the flex of smooth muscle. He massaged Jim's muscular buttocks, watched them flex and unflex as Jim growled in a low tone. Blair leaned forward and kissed, then nipped Jim's butt, moving from one cheek to the other and back, until Jim was squirming and panting. He slid his hand over Jim's hip and found his cock already half-hard again.

"I want you to come when I'm inside of you, lover." Blair's voice flowed like silk.

"C'mon, love, do it!"

Blair squeezed some lube onto his fingers, and slid them down the warm, soft crease until he came to Jim's opening. He circled the pucker carefully and felt Jim's muscles contract. He eased the tip of one finger into the tightness and he nearly moaned himself at the hotness within. Jim shoved back and Blair's finger slipped completely inside the passage. He opened Jim, adding a second finger, then a third, until Jim was fucking his fingers and begging for more. Blair rolled a condom onto his hard, leaking cock, then slicked up the latex surface with more lube. He grasped Jim's hip in his hand and guided his cock to Jim's ass. "Ready, lover?"

"Yes, dammit."

Blair would've laughed if he hadn't been so turned on. He eased the head into the snug hole and pushed. The crown popped inside and Jim gasped. Blair froze. "Too much?"

"Not enough. All of it, Blair. Please."

Shaking with his emotions and his burning need, Blair eased in an inch at a time until his balls were against Jim's butt.

"Move," Jim growled.

"Your wish is my command," Blair said, his voice breathy. He began to move, easing himself in and out of Jim's hot tight sheath. Reaching around, he wrapped one hand around Jim's hardness and used his thumb to spread the precum.

"Oh, geezus, it feels so good. Fuck me, Blair," Jim cried aloud.

Blair shifted the angle of his thrusts and he nudged Jim's prostate with each stroke. The pressure in his balls grew and he felt Jim harden impossibly more within his hand. "Come for me, Jim," he whispered with a passion-husky voice.

Blair hit his prostate one more time and Jim hollered out with a hoarse voice as he came a second time. The contractions from Jim's orgasm massaged Blair's cock and he gave two more powerful shoves into Jim's depths, then climaxed.

Blair collapsed against Jim's sweaty back, his forehead between Jim's shoulder blades. He panted as he felt and heard Jim doing the same. He wanted to tell Jim how much he loved him, but his lungs were too busy finding all the air they'd lost and didn't have any spare to speak.

Finally, after long minutes, Blair eased his softened cock out of Jim and removed the condom. He propped himself up on an elbow and gazed down at Jim's flushed body. His own body throbbed once at the sexy sight, but that was all he could manage. He stared into Jim's contented blue eyes as he trailed a finger down the older man's bicep and across his forearm to his wrist until finally he intertwined their fingers. "I've never loved anyone like this before," he whispered to the sentinel.

Jim brought up his free hand and laid it against the side of Blair's face. "I know I have to make some decisions about my life in the next week, but there's one decision already made. I love you, Blair Sandburg, and I don't want to lose you."

"You won't. Ever."

Jim rolled onto his back and gathered Blair in his arms. It only took a few minutes for the younger man to fall asleep with his head resting on Jim's chest.

Jim caressed Blair's hair as he laid awake, his body sated but his mind uneasy. "I hope you're right, Chief. Dear God, I hope you're right."

The next two days flew by. During the day, Jim and Blair took the girls shopping, to the zoo, to the library to get their very own library cards, and to the park twice daily. Jim had his question-and-answer session with the Army and the feds. After that, his honorable discharge paperwork had been put into motion. Morrow had been right -- by Thanksgiving, he'd be a civilian with a healthy bank account.

Because he now had the money, he insisted on paying Blair rent and buying groceries. Blair hadn't wanted to take it, but Jim had semi-seriously threatened to find a place for himself and the twins if he didn't accept the money. He had also bought Blair a gift -- a silver nipple ring which had shocked the younger man. But when he'd tried it on Friday evening, Jim had found it a definite turn-on and their lovemaking had gone from mutual blowjobs to a second round of Jim entering Blair for the first time.

Even now, as he and Blair readied themselves for dinner at the Morrows, Jim couldn't stop the rise of passion at the thought of the silver ring Blair was wearing beneath the silky blue shirt. The girls were downstairs in the living room "reading" their library books while he and Blair were upstairs dressing.

As Blair tucked his shirt into his black jeans, Jim moved up behind him and slipped a hand around to where the ring was hidden from view, but not from Jim's sentinel vision. Blair sucked in his breath and leaned back against Jim's chest as the older man fingered the ring, bringing a hushed "oh, my god" from his lover. Jim's other hand strayed down to the front of Blair's jeans where the hard mound told him Blair was as turned on as he was. He rubbed the bulge as he played with the ring and rubbed his groin against Blair's rounded ass.

Blair's head fell back, exposing his neck to Jim and the sentinel latched onto the sweet flesh with his lips and teeth, worrying the skin gently.

"J-Jim, we can't. No time," Blair rasped out between pants. "Besides, the girls might come up here."

Jim sighed, knowing his lover was right. He relinquished his hold on Blair, turned him around and gave him a soul-stealing kiss. "Later, love," he whispered.

Blair's eyes were slightly glazed as he nodded. "Oh, yeah."

Jim deliberately turned away from Blair so his body would cool off. He couldn't seem to get enough of his lover -- it had to be the kind of love only a fortunate few found in their lives. Nothing else could be this powerful. He donned a sweater over a pale blue shirt and turned back to Blair. The younger man was studying him with hungry eyes, but averted his gaze when Jim caught him.

"Like what you see?" Jim teased, thrusting out his hips slightly.

"That's the problem. I like it too much," Blair said with a shaky laugh.

Jim chuckled and wound an arm around Blair's sturdy shoulders. "We'd better go before temptation wins."

"I think it already did," Blair muttered.

The two men walked down the stairs with Jim's hand resting against Blair's back.

"Ready to go?" Blair asked the girls.

They jumped off the couch and smoothed their hands over their new clothes. They had gone to the mall yesterday and Jim had been suckered by two pairs of blue eyes into buying overpriced name brand clothing. The girls had been allowed to pick out their own outfits -- Haley's was lime green and Holly's neon orange. Jim had to dial down his sight when he looked at them. But they were happy, and that was all that mattered.

Twenty minutes later, Jim pulled into a parking space in front of a Victorian house which had been restored. He gazed at the home and its large enclosed yard. Perfect for children.

"Simon's already here," Blair said, pointing to a dark sedan.

Jim nodded, and they clambered out of the SUV. Haley clung to Jim's hand, while Holly did the same to Blair. Jim could smell their fear and feel their trembling.

"It's all right, girls. Mr. Morrow is the man who's been helping me," Jim assured.

The door opened as the group stepped onto the wide veranda which held a glider swing.

"Come on in," a woman called out. She was an inch or two over five feet with friendly eyes and a welcoming smile. "I'm Irene Morrow."

"Jim Ellison, and this is Haley, Holly, and Blair Sandburg," Jim introduced. He immediately liked the woman and could tell the twins did, too, as they smiled up at her.

After Irene shook everyone's hand, including the girls', she ushered them inside. A high flat ceiling and arched entrance into the formal dining room met them. Irene took their jackets into a room off to the side -- it looked like a den.

"Todd and Simon are in the front room. Come along, I'll show you." Though she was in her late forties, Irene bustled ahead of them with a lively step.

They entered a huge great room with large portraits scattered across the walls and heavy furniture arranged in such a way that conversation would be possible without yelling or getting a stiff neck from turning.

"The rest of our guests are here," Mrs. Morrow announced.

The men shook hands and Haley and Holly relaxed even more when they recognized Simon. Everyone was served drinks -- beers for Jim and Blair, and juice for the girls, while Morrow and Simon opted for single malt scotch. Dinner was served at a table that could've accommodated twice their number, and despite the seeming formality of the Victorian interior, the meal was casual and Jim could see the girls were at ease with Irene who talked with them as if they were adults.

After everyone was done eating, Irene suggested the girls go down to the family room to play with the toys they kept for their grandchildren when they came to visit. Haley and Holly glanced at Jim, who nodded his permission.

"I'll go down with them to make sure they'll be okay," Blair volunteered.

"You just want to try out all the toys, Sandburg," Simon kidded.

"My secret's out." Blair laughed and followed Irene and the girls downstairs.

Jim listened to his guide tease Irene, Haley and Holly, and the feminine giggles which followed. He smiled to himself.

"They're good girls, Jim," Morrow said. "And you're obviously like a father to them, but I'm afraid you're going to have a battle ahead of you."

Jim's good humor fled as he fisted his hands at his sides. "I know. In a way I'm surprised nobody from social services has come to take them away."

Simon cleared his throat. "I called in a favor or two. They're willing to let things stay like they are until the investigation into their mother's background is completed."

"Thank you, Captain," Jim said with heartfelt gratitude.

"Call me Simon. Captain's too damned formal."

Jim smiled. "All right, Simon. I appreciate your doing that."

"Sandburg is a tough person to refuse."

"I shouldn't be surprised."

"No, you shouldn't," Simon said. "Have you two talked about your future plans?"

"A little. Blair mentioned something about me being a cop." Jim grinned crookedly.

"I've been meaning to hire an investigator," Morrow put in. "Seems to me you'd be a good candidate for the job."

Jim raised a hand. "You don't have to -- "

"I don't feel sorry for you, Ellison," Morrow said. "I've seen your service record. It's damned good. Plus you have integrity and loyalty."

"Which means he'd be a great asset to the department," Simon interjected.

"I'll think about it," Jim said tactfully to Morrow, even though he'd pretty much decided to become a cop. To be his lover's partner both at work and at home was a chance he never thought he'd get. "Has there been any progress finding Dee's sister?"

Morrow glanced at Simon who looked away nervously. Jim didn't like what he figured that meant. "You found her." It wasn't a question.

"Conner spoke with a woman yesterday from Wyoming. Her name is Sandra Boyd and she claims to be the sister. Her and her husband are flying in tomorrow," Simon said.

"And you were going to tell me when?" Jim demanded, anger surging through his veins.

"I was going to tell you tomorrow morning," Blair said as he came up behind them. "I'm sorry, Jim, but I didn't want to spoil your time with the girls."

The sentinel wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He was guilty of his own lie of omission -- he hadn't gained the courage to talk to Blair about adopting the twins. Everything had been going so smoothly since Richey and Brackett were tossed in jail. He'd hated to upset the peacefulness, even though it had only been an illusion.

"Jim, Jim, can you hear me?" Blair's voice floated into his awareness.

"Wh-what happened?" Jim asked, planting a hand on Blair's shoulder to steady himself.

"You zoned," Blair said quietly. "What was it?"

"I was thinking." He knew his answer didn't satisfy Blair, but he didn't have a better one. "What time tomorrow?"

"Their flight comes in at 12:45. Megan's going to meet them and take them to a hotel. They'll call and arrange a meeting after they identify the body," Blair explained.

Numb, Jim nodded. It was only a week ago that he and the girls had been back on the street. Jim had worked his last night at Bucky's exactly one week ago. Now, he was almost a free man with enough money to be comfortable for a year or two, and he had the man he loved at his side. The only thing he didn't have was the certainty of Haley and Holly staying with him.

"Maybe we should go," Blair suggested.

"Yeah," Jim agreed.

"You wait here, I'll get Haley and Holly."

"For what it's worth, Megan said the woman sounded genuinely upset about her sister, and glad her nieces were doing well," Simon said.

"With all due respect, sir, I don't give a rat's ass," Jim said through clenched teeth.

"Call me Monday and let me know what you want me to do about the adoption proceedings," Morrow broke in tactfully. "I haven't done anything yet except read some precedent cases involving adoption by non-family members."

Jim nodded, then pasted on a smile when Haley and Holly came into the room ahead of Blair and Irene Morrow. Thank you's were given and received, and good-byes said, then Jim and Blair led the girls back out to the SUV in the cool night air.

Not wanting to upset the twins, Jim and Blair didn't speak of anything but how good the food was and how nice Irene was. Haley and Holly readily agreed, already counting Mrs. Morrow as one of their best-est friends. After arriving back at the loft, the girls changed into their pajamas and played one game of Go Fish. Jim ended up with storyteller duty and Blair made two cups of tea while he listened to Jim's voice rise and fall with the tale of Wolf and Panther.

When the tea was done, Blair carried the cups into the living room and set them on the coffee table to await Jim. The older man emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later and Blair rolled his head to gaze at his shadowy figure. "Are they asleep?"

"Yes." Jim wasn't surprised he was there.

"I made some tea."

Jim wended his way to the couch and sat beside Blair, leaving a few inches between them. He sipped gratefully. "I want to adopt them," he finally spoke in the near-darkness.

"No surprise there," Blair said with a little smile. "I want that, too, but it's not going to be easy."

"Not much worth having is, Chief." Jim tilted his head back against the couch. "What do you know about Sandra Boyd?"

"She's twenty-eight years old and works as a counselor at a women's shelter in Laramie. Her husband's a pediatrician. They live on a small ranch about twenty miles out of town."

Helplessness screamed in Ellison. "How can we fight them if they want the girls?"

"I don't think we can," Blair said, his voice low and quavery.

They drank their tea in silence, each lost in their own troubled thoughts. Moonlight slanted in from the balcony windows, but Jim could see everything crystal clear in the dimness.

"I don't want to lose them, Blair," Jim whispered.

"I know." Blair shifted closer and gathered the larger man in his arms. "I'll fight as long as we have to."

Jim nodded against Blair's chest. He knew Blair would feel the same way even though he'd known the girls a much shorter time. That was just how Blair was -- he gave of his heart so quickly, so fully.

He loved Blair Sandburg more than he thought it possible to love anyone. Even Haley and Holly, though that was a different kind of love. If he lost the twins, his heart would bleed, but he would heal in time. But if he lost Blair, he lost his soul.

Jim shifted around until his arms encircled the solid muscular body of his lover. He traced Blair's face with a sensitive fingertip, feeling the tiny increments of temperature differences across his skin, as well as the more obvious textures of whiskers, full lips, and winged brows. Without his sentinel senses, he could never experience the sensual differences so intimately.

Without Blair, he wouldn't have the control he needed to explore his gifts. Yes, they were gifts, just as Blair Sandburg was an unexpected gift.

"You're so beautiful, Blair," Jim said softly, then whispered kisses across his eyelids and cheeks, to settle on his lips. He tasted the younger man -- the prime rib and potatoes au gratin they'd had for dinner, as well as the Fat Tire beer he'd drunk. But beneath it was pure Blair -- tangy and sharp and masculine.

Jim forced himself up, then extended his hand to Blair. "Let's go to bed."

Blair accepted the invitation and Jim tucked him close to his side as they climbed the stairs to their bed and the lovemaking that awaited them.

When the phone rang the next afternoon, both Blair and Jim stared at it as if it were a deadly snake. Blair took a deep breath and picked it up on the fourth ring. "Hello."

"Sandy, it's Megan. Mrs. Boyd identified our Jane Doe as her sister. She and her husband want to see their nieces."

Blunt and to the point.

"When and where?" Blair asked, rubbing his eyes.

There was a hushed conversation as Megan discussed it with the Boyds.

"Could you bring them to the hotel lobby at four thirty?"

"Hold on." Blair covered the phone and asked Jim, "Hotel lobby at four thirty?"

Anguish flashed through Jim's eyes and Blair squeezed his shoulder, wishing he could offer more.

"Yeah," Jim replied curtly. He strode into the kitchen where the girls had their crayons and coloring books spread across the table.

Blair turned away to stare out the window. "That'll be fine, Megan. Which hotel?"

She told him, then added, "They seem like good people, Sandy."

Blair scrubbed his face with his free hand. "I know you mean well, Megan, but Jim loves them, and I care for them. It's going to kill Jim if he loses them."

"I know." Megan's voice was more subdued. "Do you want me to be here when you arrive?"

"Nah, that's all right. I'm sure you have better things to do on a Sunday afternoon."

There was a long pause. "I like your Jim, Sandy. I hope everything works out."

My Jim. He liked the sound of that. "Thanks, Megs."

"You're welcome."

Blair ended the call and set the phone on the end table. He crossed his arms and watched Jim watch Haley and Holly. If he didn't know about the older man's dilemma, he would've thought there was nothing wrong. Jim teased the twins, touching them often on the head or back. Blair remembered thinking when he first met Jim that a stone would've had more expression than he did. Since then, Blair had come to understand he was a man of few words; instead, Jim used touch to show his feelings. Was it because he was a sentinel or because of his childhood? Or a combination of the two?

Blair shook his head as he realized he was falling back on logical scientific processes because he didn't want to deal with the emotions. But this wasn't something he could just ignore until it went away. No matter where the twins ended up, Jim was going to need him.

"Which hotel?" Jim asked.

Startled, Blair found Jim's gaze on him. "The Palace d' Arms on Wentworth."

Jim took a deep breath, then a smile's caricature formed on his face as he seated himself on a chair between Haley and Holly. "I've got some good news for you."

Two curious and expectant faces turned toward the older man.

"Your mother's sister wants to meet you. Isn't that great?" The agony in Jim's eyes didn't match the upbeat voice and words.

Blair's breath caught and his throat tightened. He didn't want to watch, but like a car accident, he couldn't seem to look away.

Haley tipped her head to the side. "Mom's sister?"

Jim clasped his hands and set them on the table but not before Blair noticed their trembling. "That's right. Like you and Holly are sisters."

"Do they look alike, too?" Holly asked, a small finger picking at the crayon's wrapper.

"Probably not as much as you two because they aren't twins."

Haley scrunched up her face. "Why?"

Jim clasped her small hand. "Why what, sweetheart?"

"Why does she want to meet us?"

Blair saw his lover's Adam's apple move up and down before Jim replied. "Because you two are her nieces."

"Why didn't she ever come see us before?" Holly demanded, her lower lip jutting out.

"Because your mother never told her you were here," Jim replied, his voice husky.

"Why?" Haley asked.

Jim brushed his forefinger across her knuckles as he stared down at her tiny hand in his large one. "She left home because of something bad that happened to her and she didn't want to anyone to know where she was."

"Is Mom's sister bad?"

"I -- " Jim's voice broke and he cleared his throat. "I don't think so, honey. I think that maybe she missed her sister and wants to get to know her nieces."

Blair's eyes misted and he fought the block in his throat that threatened to graduate into a sob.

"What if we don't want to see her?" Holly asked defiantly.

Jim nodded slowly. "I'd understand, Holl, but don't you think you should give your aunt a chance?"

"She's our aunt?"

"That's right. She would be your Aunt Sandra. She's married, too, so you have an uncle, too."

"But you and Uncle Blair are our uncles. We don't need another one," Haley protested.

Jim's smile wobbled. "Remember when you first met Blair, you didn't like him, but now he's your uncle. I'll bet the same thing happens with your new uncle."

Although Haley and Holly didn't appear convinced, they seemed to accept Jim's argument.

"We'll leave here in about fifteen minutes to meet them. Why don't you two put away your coloring books and crayons then wash your hands and faces?" Jim suggested, keeping his voice light.

The twins slipped off their chairs and trudged into their bedroom. Only when they couldn't see Jim did he allow his face to lose its artificial animation.

As if drawn by an unseen string, Blair went to Jim and wrapped his arms around his lover's shoulders. Jim's arms wound around Blair's waist and he laid his cheek against his guide's chest.

"What the hell did I just do?" Jim murmured.

"The right thing," Blair whispered.

Blair found a parking space on the street less than a block from the hotel and the small group was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked to their destination. Although the twins couldn't know their future was in the balance, Haley and Holly had been nervous enough to bring their stuffed animals with them, and Panther and Wolf were clutched to their chests. Blair wished he could say something to ease the somberness but nothing he came up with seemed appropriate.

Jim hesitated only slightly at the door. He opened it, ushering Blair and the girls in ahead of him. The Palace d' Arms was an old hotel which had been renovated to look like it still belonged in the early twentieth century. Floral patterned chairs, loveseats, and couches were scattered in a large area to their right, spaced in groups of two or three with small tables bearing Victorian-type lamps completing each grouping.

Blair could smell violet with a faint trace of cleaning chemicals beneath it. He glanced at Jim and found his brow creased and hand held over his nose. He gripped Jim's forearm and leaned close. "Dial it down, Jim. Don't let the scents overwhelm you."

After a few moments, Jim's expression eased and he nodded. "Thanks, Chief."

The girls huddled close to Jim and Blair, pressing against their legs as they looked around with saucer-wide eyes.

Blair spotted a petite blond woman and a man about Jim's size with dark hair and brown eyes. The woman was staring at the girls. He nudged Jim with his elbow. "I think that's them."

"Yeah." He'd already picked them out.

The couple approached them.

"Major Ellison?" the man asked.

Jim nodded. "That's right. You must be Dr. Boyd."

Boyd smiled, but the expression was shaky. "Call me Mark. And this is my wife Sandra."

"This is Detective Blair Sandburg," Jim introduced. "The man who saved our lives."

Blair blinked in surprise and opened his mouth to protest, but Sandra stepped up to Jim and met his gaze.

"Thank you, Major Ellison, for being there for Dee and her daughters. And you, Detective, for helping them." Her voice was strong, but it wavered at the end. She glanced down at the twins.

"Haley, Holly, this is your Aunt Sandra and Uncle Mark," Jim said stiffly.

Sandra went to her knees in front of the girls and held out her hand. They glanced up at Jim and he gave them a nod. Holly shook her hand first, then Haley.

"You both look very much like your mother," Sandra said with a kind smile, but Jim could smell her nervousness. "You're just as beautiful as she was." She leaned in to get a closer look at their animals. "Would you introduce me to your friends?"

Holly held up her cat. "This is Panther." She pointed to Haley's dog. "And that's Wolf. Do you know the story about Panther and Wolf?"

Surprise flashed across Sandra's face, but she didn't voice it. "No, I'm sorry I don't, but maybe you could tell me it."

Holly and Haley exchanged careful looks, but their fear had faded. Jim laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Why don't you take your aunt over to a couch and tell her about Panther and Wolf?"

"Okay," they agreed.

"Thank you," Sandra whispered to Jim as she passed him.

Once the girls and their aunt were situated on a sofa about twenty feet away, Jim turned to the doctor. "She looks like Dee, but healthier. Happier."

"Dee was an addict?" Dr. Boyd asked softly.

Jim nodded. "I helped her stop once, but she went back to it. It ended up killing her. I tried to protect Haley and Holly, though."

"It looks like you did a good job," Boyd said with a grateful smile.

Blair shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wanted to know what the Boyds' intentions were toward Haley and Holly.

"I love them like they were my own," Jim stated, holding Boyd's gaze.

"I can see that." Boyd didn't waver. "And if the girls want to live with you, Sandra and I won't fight you for them."

Jim's eyes widened in shock. "What?"

Boyd shrugged and turned his gaze to his wife and nieces. "Sandra and I talked about it. We both lived in foster homes as children. Our foster parents loved us and we loved them. If someone had tried to take us from those homes, we would've hated them." He faced Jim again. "I was in an abusive family situation and Sandra was sexually molested."

Blair flinched inwardly.

"Did you know why Dee ran away?" Jim asked.

"Not at the time. Sandra didn't have any contact with her mother or stepfather until she was twenty-four. It was then she figured out what had happened." Mark's eyes filled with sorrow. "Dee was also molested by their stepfather, but she didn't get out until it was too late. The twins are her stepfather's children."

Blair put a hand to his mouth. He had suspected as much, but to hear the truth sickened him.

"Yes," Jim confirmed, his brow creased with deep lines. "She swore she would never let happen to her children what happened to her. But she couldn't handle it. She took drugs to escape the memories and then had to prostitute herself to support her habit. But while she was high or working, she left Haley and Holly open to the damned jackals on the street." Jim's jaw clenched.

Blair knew he was thinking of Richey.

Boyd's face paled. "If only we'd known where she'd gone. We started looking for her right after we found out what happened -- for four years we searched. Then we got the call." Boyd swallowed as his gaze swept back to Sandra who was smiling at the twins. "Although we hadn't given up hope entirely, we knew the odds of finding her alive were slim to none. To find out she had twins and they were healthy was a blessing." He glanced at Jim and Blair. "And it's you and Detective Sandburg we have to thank for that miracle."

Jim closed his eyes momentarily. "Do you have children?"

Boyd brought his attention back to Jim and spoke in a nearly inaudible voice. "Sandra was ... damaged inside when her stepfather raped her. She can't have children."

Blair pressed his lips together. Damn it, he didn't want to like these people or empathize with them. Yet he did. The fact they wouldn't fight for the girls in court was something else he hadn't expected.

"So what's next?" Jim asked hoarsely.

"We want a chance, Major Ellison. We have a small ranch with a huge yard, and cats, dogs, and horses. It would be a good place to raise children," Boyd replied. "We want all of you to fly back to Wyoming with us and be our guests over Thanksgiving. If the girls want to come back here with you after the week, you'll all leave with our blessings. But if they want to stay with us, we'd be overjoyed to raise them as our own."

"You could've said no."

Jim flinched slightly at Blair's soft voice. The younger man's curly hair tickled Jim's chest as it rose and fell with his sigh. Jim rubbed his lover's back in slow, circular motions. "No, I couldn't have. Haley and Holly have the right to know their mother's sister."

"The right to choose to live with them and not you?" Blair's warm breath wafted across Jim's neck.

Jim froze. "I don't have the right to make that decision for the girls."

Blair pushed himself up on an elbow so he could gaze into Jim's face, though he could see little in the night. "They're only five years old. How do you expect them to make a decision like this?"

"Because it's their lives." Jim threw off his covers and grabbed his new bathrobe, pulling it on over his broad shoulders.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked, his arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees.

"Downstairs." His head throbbing, Jim escaped and found himself standing in the doorway of the twins' bedroom. The darkness was no hindrance to his sentinel vision as he leaned against the door jamb with his arms crossed and his gaze tracing Haley and Holly's sweet, innocent faces. Haley breathed through her mouth and he could hear a snuffle each time she exhaled. Holly's arms were wrapped tightly around her stuffed cat and she was curled into a little ball beside her sister.

How often had he done this while they'd been living on the street? He would lay on his pallet on his side, watching and listening to their familiar presence. They had soothed him and kept him sane longer than he had expected. But now it was Blair who kept him anchored and in control -- Blair, whose touch and love had given him a second chance at life.

What about the girls? Did he have the right to keep them from a real home where they could grow up like normal children? Normal, like his father had tried to make him. Is that what he wanted for the girls -- a "normal" childhood? Maybe he wanted to have his father play granddaddy to the twins, too. Yeah, that would make everything just perfectly fucking normal.

Pain arrowed through his brow and he ducked his head to rub his forehead. His stomach churned and he fought the rise of bile in his throat. Before his senses came on-line a year ago, he worried about his assignments and his men, but those were worries he'd been trained for. Deciding the path of two innocent five-year-olds and making a life commitment to a man were definitely out of his area of expertise. Add the sentinel shit and he was in so far over his head, he needed a damn bulldozer to dig him out.

A beloved scent alerted him to Blair's approach. He felt arms encircle him from behind and hands he knew intimately flattened against his chest. Jim covered the precious hands with his own.

"I'm sorry," Blair whispered between his shoulder blades. "I know how much this shit is bothering you. I had no right to make you feel worse."

Jim's headache eased its pounding as he focused on Blair's heartbeat. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's me who's --"

"Don't apologize. You've had so much change in your life in the last year -- hell, in the last two weeks -- that I'm surprised you didn't blow up earlier." Blair's lips brushed his back.

Jim tightened his grasp on Blair's hands. "I'm just so mixed up right now. There's a part of me that wants to take the girls and disappear."

Blair's heart accelerated and Jim cursed his thoughtless words. He lifted Blair's hands from his chest and turned to face his guide's stricken expression. "But I could never leave you. God, Blair, I love you so much it scares the hell out of me sometimes."

Blair hid his face in Jim's chest and when he spoke, it was with a muffled voice. "My mother used to disappear. A man she'd be living with would get serious, and the next thing I know she'd pack us up and we'd be gone. Most of the time I didn't care, but some of them treated me like I was their real son and I hated it when she took me away. But I survived and learned. Every time someone I was dating would get serious, I'd back off, afraid they'd leave me like Naomi left all of her boyfriends." He raised his head and Jim was shocked to see tears filling Blair's eyes. "I let you in all the way, Jim. You have my heart and soul -- if you leave, I-I don't think I'd ever recover."

"Oh, babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. If I took the girls and disappeared, I'd have to kidnap you, too." Jim smiled tremulously.

Blair's eyes brightened. "It can't be a kidnapping if the kidnappee hangs on and doesn't let go."

Jim laughed softly, then leaned over, slanting his mouth over Blair's. The younger man returned the pressure, his lips soft, but never weak. Love and tenderness flowed between them as their tongues mated and their bodies grew warm with arousal.

"Upstairs?" Blair asked when Jim relinquished him so they could breathe.

Jim framed Blair's face in his palms, kissed his eyebrows, then his nose and chin. "Lead the way, love."

Blair took Jim's hand and the two men returned to their bed where their caresses escalated until both men were skin to skin. Blair lay atop Jim, his groin grinding against his lover's until first Jim, then Blair's passion exploded between their slick bodies.

Five minutes later, the two men lay asleep in one another's arms.

Jim, Blair, Haley and Holly met Mark and Sandy Boyd at the airport at one p.m. the following day. As the twins spoke with Sandy, Mark moved closer to Jim and pressed four plane tickets into his hand. Jim glanced at them. All four were round trip tickets, scheduled to come back the Saturday after Thanksgiving.

"No pressure, Jim," Mark said quietly. "We only want what's best for Haley and Holly. If that's you and Blair, we'll accept that. We only ask that you let us come visit every few months."

Jim's throat felt thick and all he could do was nod. Half an hour later they boarded the plane and the twins were given the window seats. Holly sat next to Sandy with Mark next to her. Haley had the window seat across the aisle with Blair in the middle and Jim on the end so he could stretch out his long legs.

The plane's engines pulsed through Jim and the voices, usually muffled, were shrill and sliced through him. Trying to be unobtrusive, Jim covered his ears with his hands.

"Jim, are you okay?" Blair's concerned words made their way past the chaotic din.

"Loud. I can feel the engines," Jim murmured.

Blair stroked the inside of Jim's forearm and even through the two layers of clothing, Jim could feel his guide's soothing touch.

"Relax. Slowly breathe in and breathe out." Blair fell into his assuasive, guide's tone, the timbre seeming to massage Jim from the inside. "Find the dial for your hearing, Jim. On a control of one to ten, what's it on?"

Jim focused inwardly. "Seven."

"Bring it down to a three. Find that dial and turn it down, Jim."

The sentinel concentrated on decreasing it.

Seven. Six. Five. The pressure eased; the sounds lessened.

Four. Three. The drums in his head quieted until they were only a rhythmic pulsing.

Jim turned and found his nose buried in Blair's silky hair, a pleasant sensual experience. "It's better. Thanks, Chief."

Blair's concerned expression didn't lessen. "Have you flown since your senses came on-line?"

Jim considered for a moment, then shook his head.

Blair's frown deepened. "The air pressure difference is going to play hell with your senses. I'll try to help you, but I'm kinda flying blind here."

"Cute one, Darwin."

Blair blinked, then realized what he'd said. He grinned sheepishly.

Jim brushed his lips across the younger man's ear, bringing a blush to Blair's cheeks. "Love you," he whispered. Jim straightened only to find Mark's curious gaze on them and he instinctively met his eyes with a cool look. Mark seemed to shake himself and smiled at him.

Puzzled, Jim turned his attention back to keeping his dials down for the two and a half hour flight.

In spite of Blair's guidance, Jim hadn't been able to control his senses completely on the long flight. By the time they disembarked in Laramie, Jim barely managed to make it to the men's room before vomiting. While Haley and Holly stayed with Mark and Sandy, Blair helped Jim, wiping his pale face with a damp cloth and assisting him back into the terminal. Mark wanted to either take Jim to the hospital or be allowed to examine him at home. Blair thanked him, but refused both recommendations.

The Boyds had a four wheel drive Suburban which they'd left in the airport parking lot and the six of them fit in the vehicle, along with their luggage. Arriving at the ranch, Blair glanced around the surroundings which looked like a western movie set. Jim's well-being, however, took precedence and he took him into the room which Sandy said would be the older man's while they were there. Mark suggested Blair stay with him, and Sandy readily agreed without batting an eyelash. Blair closed the curtains to dim the room and stripped Jim to his underwear, then helped him into the bed. He sat with him for an hour, massaging his brow and managing to get his senses under control. Exhausted, Jim fell asleep. Blair spent the next couple hours touring the neat mini ranch and reassuring the girls Jim would be fine.

Blair tiptoed into the large bedroom and brushed his fingertips across his lover's brow. Jim's eyelids flickered open and his gaze settled on Blair. The younger man sat on the bed and continued to stroke Jim's face. "How're you feeling?"

Jim managed a smile. "Better. Thanks." He glanced around. "Are we here?"

"We got here a few hours ago. You were in pretty bad shape. The flight played hell with your senses."

"Yeah, I remember some of it. Where are the girls?"

"Playing with the cats in one of the barns. Mark and Sandy are with them."

"Hard to compete with cats," Jim said wryly.

Blair leaned down and kissed Jim. "No competition. You win paws down."

Jim cupped the back of Blair's neck to bring him down for a longer, more thorough kiss. "Right answer, Chief."

Blair, feeling a hundred percent better because Jim was recovering, grinned. "When do I get my prize?"

"Tonight." Jim's eyes glowed with sultry promise.

The younger man shifted on the mattress as his jeans grew tighter. "Would you like a tour?"

"I suppose." There was a decided lack of enthusiasm. Blair stood and Jim climbed out of bed. "Is this my room? Or our room?"

"Ours. Mark suggested it."

Jim grunted. "I think he knows, Blair. He was watching us on the plane."

Blair sighed. "I suspected as much. Will it be a problem?"

"Good question. But he did say we could share a room."

"He's probably a liberal, open-minded guy." Bitterness bled into Blair's voice.

Jim frowned at his tone. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I suppose, but I keep looking for something to dislike about them, and they're making it damned hard." Blair expected Jim to laugh, but he didn't.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Jim wrinkled his nose. "I smell like the plane. I'm going to take a quick shower."

"Need some help?" Blair asked, rolling on the balls of his feet as he smiled wickedly.

"If I said yes, we'll never get out of here." Jim dropped a kiss on his nose. "Give me fifteen minutes, babe."

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Jim and Blair left the large and comfortably furnished bedroom on the second floor. The home was built of logs, and the upper floor with its three bedrooms overlooked a huge living room and kitchen. Native American blankets, pictures of mountains, horses, and wintry scenes covered the walls. A huge fireplace made of field rock instead of brick encompassed half of one of the walls. The heavy mission style furniture which populated the living room appeared both comfortable and tasteful. All in all, it was a home which spoke of comfort and safety and ... homeyness.

"Let's go outside. Haley and Holly are worried about you," Blair said, tugging Jim out the front door. He recognized the desolate look in Jim's eyes -- he was comparing this place to Cascade, and back home was coming up woefully short.

Blair pointed out the two dogs in the kennel. "Fred and Barney. Humane Society mutts." He grinned. "The best kind."

"I bet the girls liked them."

Blair didn't bother to reply. Instead, he led Jim into the barn. Haley and Holly were sitting on the straw-covered floor, each one dragging a piece of straw in front of the cats and giggling as the animals stalked and pounced.

Sandy walked over to his side and smiled. "I'm so glad you're feeling better."

Haley and Holly spotted Jim, and they jumped to their feet, startling the cats, and raced over to him. He knelt down and caught them in his arms, smelling their baby powder scent beneath new odors of cats and barn and dogs. After a few moments, the hug ended and the girls stood back to look at him.

Holly touched his cheek. "Are you all better now, Uncle Jim?"

"Almost as good as new, sweetheart," Jim replied.

"Uncle Blair said you got sick from the airplane," Haley said.

Jim glanced at the detective. "That's right. Have you two been having fun?"

Twin pairs of blue eyes lit up like a clear summer sky. "We got to play with the dogs and the cats, and we petted the horses, too," Holly said.

"Uncle Mark and Aunt Sandy said we can't ride until we're older, though," Haley spoke up.

"And we can play outside whenever we want, too."

"There's a swing made out of a tire."

"Aunt Sandy says it's going to snow tomorrow so we can make a snowman."

Jim held onto his fraying emotions by a thin thread. Less than a day, and the girls were already enchanted by the ranch. He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.

Supper was a casual affair. Sandy, with Haley and Holly assisting her, made a macaroni salad, green salad, and beans. As Mark grilled the hamburgers and hot dogs, Sandy set out a plate piled high with chips with a big bowl of salsa in the middle.

Although Jim thought his appetite had fled, he found himself snarfing down the chips and accepting the bottle of Molson beer that Mark handed him before heading to the grill. Blair was outside talking to Mark about the nutritional value of hot dogs. Mark informed him the ones they bought were the real McCoy -- pure beef wieners.

Haley and Holly were given the task of setting the big round rustic looking table with plates and silverware, leaving Sandy and Jim alone in the kitchen.

"So what do you think of the place?" Sandy asked conversationally.

Jim nearly choked on a chip. "It's nice," he replied stiffly.

Sandy leaned against a counter, glanced into the dining room at the girls, then gave Jim her attention. "You're thinking we only wanted to get the girls here so we could bribe them into staying with us."

Jim shrugged. "The thought crossed my mind."

"Maybe that's part of it," she admitted. "But it was more to show you and Blair where and how we live. You've protected them, cared for them for over six months. It's only natural that you see us as a threat."

"And how do you see Blair and I?"

Sandy's smile crept into her blue eyes, so much like Dee's had been. "As a very loving couple who have more than enough love to share with two orphan girls."

Jim's muscles tightened like a bow string. He hadn't planned on announcing his and Blair's commitment to the world, hoping to spare Blair and himself from the prejudices which still existed. Besides, there was a depth to their relationship which was separate from their love -- the bond of sentinel and guide, which seemed to be growing each day they were together.

"It doesn't change anything," Sandy said. "I've helped gay couples adopt children. The laws are finally recognizing that love is love, no matter what sex the couple is."

Jim didn't detect any sign of subterfuge in her words. If she and her husband weren't vying for Haley and Holly, he suspected they could all be good friends. "Blair's a cop, and I don't want him to be hurt because he chose to love a man instead of a woman."

Sandy nodded in agreement. "I'll bet you're just as protective of him as you are of Haley and Holly."

Jim allowed himself a crooked smile. "It's who I am."

Sandy reached out and clasped his hand. "I don't want us to be enemies, Jim. We both want what's best for the girls and working together, I think we can give them just that."

She reminded him so much of Dee when she'd been free of the drugs -- the same kindness and compassion. And Jim had loved her like a sister. Was it so surprising that he found himself liking Sandy the same way?

The smell of roasting turkey awakened Jim Thanksgiving morning. He lay in the four poster bed with Blair nestled against his side and his head resting on Jim's shoulder. A smile tagged Jim's lips as he gazed at the wild curls which framed Blair's beautifully sculpted face. He wrapped a springy tendril around his forefinger, reveling in the satiny texture. He opened his sense of smell, and the scents of the previous night's lovemaking stirred the banked fires in his belly. No matter how often he and Blair made love, Jim was always eager for more with his heartmate.

The past three days had flown by. Once Jim decided it wasn't a competition for the girls' affections, he found himself enjoying Sandy and Mark's company. He liked watching Blair debate modern medicine and herbal remedies with Mark; he liked seeing Haley and Holly with Sandy as they fed the menagerie of pets; he liked the card games the six of them played in the wintry evenings with a cheery fire dancing in the fireplace.

Sometimes he even wondered what it would be like to buy a place in Laramie for himself, Blair, and the girls so they could get together with Mark and Sandy and spend family times together. It was a nice fantasy, but Cascade was his and Blair's home. It was where he'd returned after he'd escaped from the hospital. It was where Jim belonged.

Mark and Sandy had their lives in Laramie, and he and Blair had theirs in Cascade. There was no way to compromise -- Haley and Holly would have to make their decision by Saturday.

But that was two days away. Today was Thanksgiving and, in spite of the hardships of the past year, there had also been many blessings -- Haley, Holly, and most importantly, Blair, the man who saved his sanity and showed him the true meaning of acceptance and love.

Jim buried his nose in Blair's bed hair and ... sneezed. Blair shifted and groaned, then squinted in the coral light.

"Bless you," Blair murmured.

You do every day just by being beside me. Jim smiled and traced his cheekbones with a fingertip. "Good morning, babe."

Blair's eyes closed again, but an impish grin tugged at his full lips as he gently nudged Jim's balls with his knee. "How good?"

Jim slid his hand down Blair's warm stomach and over his boxers, feeling the steely shaft hidden beneath them. He cupped Blair and the younger man arched into his palm. "Is that good enough?" Jim's sexy whisper nearly scorched him.

"Not quite," Blair replied as he opened his eyes. He glided his hand across Jim's chest, tweaking the nipples through his t-shirt. Jim's answering moan brought a smile to Blair, and he lowered his mouth to suck the hard peaks through the cotton. He tongued Jim's navel, then alternated kissing, nipping, and licking the smooth skin revealed as he pressed Jim's t-shirt upward.

The heat in Jim's groin expanded and he reached under Blair's tank top, slid his fingers through his thick chest hair and found the nipple ring which Blair now wore all the time. He tugged at it and was rewarded with a moan from his lover, who had to stop his ardent ministrations of Jim's neck and jaw. Blair's head fell back, exposing his throat and Jim pounced. He nibbled on the skin between Blair's neck and shoulder, adoring the taste of pure undiluted Sandburg.

The passion spiraled upward and Jim could smell his lover's arousal -- rich and pungent. The scent bewitched him, drew him down to the source. He removed Blair's boxers and tossed them aside. Unable to hold himself in check, Jim opened his mouth and took all of Blair's impressive cock down his throat. The bitter saltiness from the previous night's lovemaking struck his taste buds and he almost zoned from the overload.

Blair bucked upward, almost unseating Jim and bringing him out of his near-zone. The sentinel pinned Blair's hips to the mattress and began to suck and lick his prize.

Blair's hands scrabbled at Jim's broad shoulders. "Turn around, lover. I want you, too."

Jim's cock twitched, and he quickly shed his boxers. He shifted around and lay on his side so Blair could pillow his head on Jim's thigh. Jim did the same, turning up his sense of touch and smell so he could enjoy his lover fully. Blair's musky scent filled his nostrils, coiled in his belly and moved lower to his cock, which was getting licked and sucked by Blair's hot mouth.

He could feel Blair's passion rise, his cock growing impossibly harder and Jim's body reacted to his guide. Suddenly, the two men were completely in synch, swallowing and massaging each other with the same erotic rhythm. Jim felt his balls draw up with his impending orgasm at the same time Blair's cock began to throb. The floodgates opened as they came at the exact moment. A connection opened as the ecstasy flowed between them, and Jim couldn't distinguish his emotions from Blair's as they melded, both body and soul.

Long minutes later, Jim stirred and raised his head from Blair's sweaty leg. He planted a kiss on his lover's thigh, and moved to gather Blair in his arms.

"That was pretty intense," Blair said softly.

Jim kissed his damp brow. "Yeah."

Blair sketched circles on Jim's sweat-sheened chest. "It felt like you were in me and I was in you. I-I've never felt that with anyone ever."

"Me neither."

"It's a little scary."

"A little, but since it was you, I wasn't scared." Jim huffed a little laugh. "Overwhelmed maybe, but not afraid."

Blair took a deep breath and his eyes glowed with love and tenderness. "Do you believe in soul mates?"

"Do you want my pre- or post Blair answer?" Jim smiled gently.

Blair's answer was a kiss that stole Jim's breath and sense. His passion ignited once more.

"Are you trying to kill this old man?" Jim asked huskily.

Blair squeezed the sentinel's growing erection. "Old? I don't think so, Ellison."

And Blair proved Jim wasn't nearly as old as he thought he was.

Jim chuckled as Holly and Haley chased Blair around the couch in the spacious living room. It had been two hours since they'd eaten their Thanksgiving dinner and Jim still felt like a stuffed turkey. He'd planted himself in a corner of the loveseat to allow his meal to digest.

However, sitting was a bit tricky after their second bout of lovemaking that morning. He smiled to himself, remembering how Blair had lovingly prepared him then stroked him until he was begging for Blair to fill his ass. And his lover did, with almost heart-stopping slowness. He had fucked him with the same deliberateness, striking his prostate with random strokes until Jim thought he was going to lose his mind. And he very nearly did before his orgasm finally struck. Jim shifted again on the couch, but this time it was from the sensory memories of the morning.

Holly and Haley caught Blair between them and wrestled him to the rug. Blair retaliated by tickling them until their giggles turned to squeals and all three lay on the floor, gasping for air.

Love and contentment swelled within Jim, tightening his throat and chest with the miracle of his new life. A year ago he had been a virtual prisoner in the military hospital, subjected to horrendous tests which had nearly stolen his sanity. Six months ago, he'd been living on the street with a young addict mother and her two children, his senses taking him on a downward spiral into hell. Two weeks ago, he and the girls had lost everything, only to gain the love of one Blair Sandburg, which was infinitely more precious than anything they'd lost.

Everything was almost too perfect. Nothing so good could last forever. Jim's senses spiked and he forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly as Blair had taught him. He focused on his guide's heartbeat to further anchor him. Sounds lessened, lights grew tolerable, smells didn't gag him, and his clothes stopped rubbing like coarse sandpaper. But his apprehension remained, a nagging niggle at the base of his neck.

Blair sat up on the floor and gazed at Jim with concerned midnight blue eyes. How had he known? Was it the link they'd opened that morning while they'd made love? If so, Jim wanted to encourage and savor the extraordinary connection with his ... soulmate.

Jim concentrated on sending his lover reassurance and affection, and saw the moment Blair felt it. The younger man's expression relaxed and he smiled at Jim, then turned back to Haley and Holly who were finally rousing.

Sandy sat on the couch with her head resting on Mark's shoulder as he held her close to his side. The love between them was almost tangible. Jim glanced back at Blair, not bothering to hide his devotion to his own lover. Although he knew Sandy and Mark didn't mind, he still felt awkward displaying any type of affection for Blair. But today -- Thanksgiving -- he suddenly wanted to show the rest of the world how much this special man meant to him. How much Jim Ellison loved Blair Sandburg, and how grateful he was for him in his life.

The girls dumped the box of Lincoln logs which Mark and Sandy had given them onto the floor. They began to build their own ranch, complete with plastic horses and corrals.

Blair pushed himself to his feet and moved toward a chair.

"Why don't you sit over here, Chief?" Jim asked.

Blair paused, glanced at Sandy and Mark who were smiling. "Uh, okay." He lowered himself to the sofa, leaving a socially acceptable distance between Jim and himself.

Jim wrapped an arm around Blair and towed him closer. "Was it something I said?" he teased in a voice pitched for Blair's ears only.

Blair hesitated for only a moment before plastering himself against Jim's side, his arm snaking around his sentinel's waist. Jim kept his arm around Blair's shoulders and lazily played with his curls.

"It's about time," Sandy said with feigned exasperation. "Sheesh, I didn't think you two were the shy types."

Jim and Blair laughed and relaxed in their friends' company.

"How did you meet Dee and the girls?" Sandy asked after a few moments of companionable silence.

Jim laced his fingers through Blair's and gazed thoughtfully at their joined hands. "I had just arrived in Cascade and was looking for a place to spend the night. I-I wasn't feeling well and was in an alley being sick. I heard voices -- men's voices -- and a woman screaming at them to leave her babies alone." Jim shrugged as he stroked Blair's knuckles with his thumb. "I went to help her. When it was over, the three men were gone and I had some cuts and bruises. Dee, Haley and Holly insisted they take care of me until I was healed. I ended up staying with them." Jim finally looked up and met Sandy's moisture-glazed eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't save your sister, Sandy. So damned sorry."

"You did more than anybody else," Sandy said huskily. "Thank you for being with her at the end. It's a-a comfort ... knowing she wasn't alone when she died." She glanced at the girls who were engrossed in their building project. "And you gave us a priceless gift in Haley and Holly."

Jim's throat constricted and his gaze automatically found his lover, who peered up at him with empathy and compassion.

"When do you have to go back to work?" Blair asked Sandy, changing the subject as if sensing Jim's discomfort.

"Monday," she replied.

"I was lucky to get so much time off this week," Mark said. Although he had gone to the hospital every day, he hadn't had to work his usual long hours.

"I'm thinking of cutting back to part time," Sandy commented, her gaze on the girls.

"Have you talked to the girls?" Mark asked Jim in a low voice.

Jim shook his head. He was very good at ignoring what he didn't want to face.

"Are you worried that they'll choose to stay here?" Sandy asked softly.

"That they won't," Jim replied. He was aware of the three shocked gazes on him. "This is a perfect place to raise children. I'll be starting at the police academy probably after the first of the year and Blair has to get back to work as soon as we get back." He didn't add that it would break his heart to leave the twins with their aunt and uncle.

"What has that got to do with anything?" Sandy demanded. "Much as I want them to stay with us, I believe you and Blair would do just as good a job of raising them as we could."

Blair smiled, but it lacked humor. "I never thought I'd see the day where you'd both argue for the other to keep the girls."

Jim's wry grin reflected his own amazement.

Mark leaned forward and hung his clasped hands between his knees. "I think Haley and Holly need to be asked and soon."

"Jim," Sandy stated. "You need to talk to them. You're the closest to them."

Jim tensed and Blair squeezed his hand. "I'll help if you'd like," the younger man said.

Jim accepted the strength his guide offered with his eyes and touch. "Why don't we all talk to them now?" he suggested. "Then if they have any questions, we're all here to answer them."

Mark glanced at Sandy then they turned as one and nodded. "All right."

Jim trembled inwardly, but forced his voice to remain light. "Haley, Holly, would you please come over here?"

After Haley placed a chimney on the Lincoln Log house and Holly put another horse in the corral, they joined the adults. Blair moved to the other end of the loveseat and patted the cushion. The twins scrambled up, and sat sandwiched between the two men.

"Are you having a good time here?" Jim asked with a smile.

Blond heads nodded in tandem.

"What do you think of your Aunt Sandy and Uncle Mark?" Jim continued.

Smiles graced their pixie faces. "We love them almost as much as we love you and Uncle Blair."

Jim's heart tripped into his throat. "If you'd like, you could stay and live with them."

"We can stay here for always?" Holly asked excitedly, as Haley's eyes glowed with delight.

This was it. They'd already made their decision. "For always," Jim confirmed, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as badly as his insides.

"And we can keep our rooms?"

Jim nodded, the block in his throat expanding.

"And you and Uncle Blair can keep your room?" Haley asked.

Jim glanced up at Blair in surprise. "Uncle Blair and I have to go back to Cascade, sweetheart. Uncle Blair works there and pretty soon I'll be working with him."

Haley and Holly's enthusiasm disappeared.

"Don't you want us with you?" Holly asked, her lower lip quivering.

Jim enfolded her in his arms. "Oh, honey, of course, I want you and Haley to live with us, but your Aunt Sandy and Uncle Mark would like you to stay with them, too."

"We love Aunt Sandy and Uncle Mark, too, but we want to stay with you." Haley's eyes glimmered with tears.

Jim drew Haley into a three way hug with her sister. "We want you to live with us, too, but we won't be mad if you stay here."

"No!" Holly shouted. "We want to live with you and Uncle Blair."

"Please Uncle Jim, don't make us stay here," Haley pleaded.

His own eyes filling with tears, Jim gazed helplessly at Blair over their heads. Blair moved closer and leaned toward the small family he'd fallen in love with at first sight. "Shhhhh," he murmured, rubbing the girls' backs as they clung to Jim. "No one's going to make you do anything you don't want to do. If you want to come back with us, we'd love to have you live with us. We'll fix up your bedroom and buy you new beds, bunk beds if you'd like."

After a few minutes of Blair's reassurances, the girls' sobs lessened and their bodies relaxed in their uncles' arms.

Jim glanced over at Sandy and Mark, only to find the sofa empty. He opened his hearing and heard Sandy crying in their bedroom. Mark was speaking to her in a low voice and he could hear skin against cloth as he held her, trying to comfort her.

Jim felt like crap. He had hoped -- and prayed -- that Haley and Holly would choose to stay with him and Blair, but he found the victory more than a little bittersweet.

Calmed down and assured they'd be flying back with Jim and Blair on Saturday, Haley and Holly went back to playing with their toys. They had noticed Mark and Sandy were missing, but didn't say anything. Blair, however, shifted closer to Jim. "Where'd they go?"

"Their bedroom. Sandy's taking it pretty hard," Jim explained.

"Shit. I never expected to like them so much," Blair said, echoing Jim's thoughts.

"I wish there was some way we could do this where nobody would be hurt."

But the two men knew that could never happen, not the way things stood now. Jim and Blair cuddled on the sofa, gathering comfort from one another as they watched their girls play.

Some time later, Mark and Sandy rejoined them. Sandy's eyes were puffy and red, and Mark's face wore bleak acceptance. No one mentioned the subject.

But Thanksgiving had lost its sparkle.

The phone rang late the next afternoon as Sandy, Haley and Holly were baking chocolate chip cookies. Jim and Blair, who'd been observing from the table as they sipped coffee, straightened when Sandy handed Jim the phone.

"This is Ellison," Jim said.

"Todd Morrow. Good news. Your discharge papers arrived by special courier. You're officially a civilian."

Relief flowed through Jim. Though he was told it would happen, he wasn't going to truly believe it until it was done. "That's really good news, Todd. Thanks."

"There was also a deposit slip for one hundred thousand dollars into your checking account. You can finally move on with your life."

Jim grinned. "I already have." He sobered. "About the other matter -- it looks like it'll happen."

"Congratulations. I can get the adoption ball rolling at my end if you'd like."

"Thanks, Todd. We fly home tomorrow. Can we meet on Monday?" Morrow gave him a time. "Sounds good. I'll see you then."

He hung up the phone to find Blair's curious gaze on him.

"I'm a free man," Jim said with a wide grin.

Blair threw himself into Jim's arms and the older man swung him around the spacious kitchen as Haley and Holly giggled.

"What's going on?" Sandy appeared puzzled, but was smiling at their antics.

'My discharge papers just came through. I'm officially out of the Army," Jim replied, slinging an arm over Blair's shoulders. He had explained to Mark and Sandy what had happened, but stopped short of telling them he had all five senses heightened.

Sandy let out a whoop and hugged Jim, kissing his cheek. "Congratulations, Jim." She released him and picked up the phone. "I'm going to have Mark pick up a bottle of champagne on his way home."

"You don't have -- " Jim began, his face flushing.

"Of course we do. Mark and I consider you family." She turned her attention to the phone, which had obviously been answered by his voice mail. "Mark, it's Sandy. Jim's discharge is official. Bring champagne. Love you." She punched it off and looked at the twins, who were still rolling cookies with Blair now helping them. "I think a special dinner is called for, too. Girls, would you like to help me make a celebration dinner for your Uncle Jim?"

Their enthusiastic yeses were more than answer enough.

Sandy shooed Jim and Blair out of the kitchen, bribing them with a plate of warm cookies and re-filled coffee cups. Grumbling good-naturedly, the two men settled on the sofa in the living room to enjoy the bribe, the gentle snowfall and crackling fire.

Half an hour later, Blair lay on the couch, his head resting in Jim's lap as they each read paperbacks they'd found on the Boyds' bookshelves. Blair rested his book on his chest and gazed up at his lover. "After Sandy's childhood, it's amazing how wonderful she turned out. It's too bad Haley and Holly's mother didn't have the chance Sandy did."

"Yeah. I wish to hell we could come up with a way they could share custody of the girls," Jim said. "Sandy's so good with them and it'd be nice to have Dee's sister in their lives."

"Not to mention their own personal pediatrician," Blair added with a little smile.

Jim brushed a curl behind Blair's ear. "It's not going to be easy with both of us cops and trying to raise two children."

"Like you said, nothing worth having is ever easy." Blair reached up and cupped Jim's jaw. "As long as we're together, we can handle anything."

"Together." Jim lowered his head to seal the vow with a kiss.

"To Jim and his new lease on life," Mark toasted as he raised his champagne glass.

"Here, here," Blair and Sandy said, lifting their fluted glasses.

Haley and Holly were amusingly serious as they clinked their matching glasses -- filled with sparkling apple cider -- against the adults'.

The effervescence tickled Blair's tongue as he sipped the Dom which Mark had brought home. Blair had expected a decent champagne, but not the extravagance of Dom Perignon. The fact Mark remembered to pick up the cider for the girls spoke highly of the doctor.

Sandy and the girls had prepared squash with pecans and brown sugar, mashed potatoes, a garden salad, and for dessert an apple cobbler which had tempted Blair's taste buds for the past two hours. Mark and Jim, wearing parkas as the snow feathered their heads and shoulders, grilled thick steaks on the grill. Blair had refused to partake in the insanity -- grilling involved shorts, t-shirts, and cold beer, not gloves, earmuffs and hot coffee.

Once everyone had toasted Jim, they sat down to eat. The teasing and joking which had become customary at the shared meals brought laughter ringing through the cozy house. After the meal, everyone joined in to clear the table, but Sandy and the girls insisted on doing the dishes themselves.

Mark led Jim and Blair into the living room where they settled on the cozy furniture with cups of coffee. Blair didn't hesitate to sit beside Jim. It felt good to be able to display their feelings and not worry about judgmental looks.

"Sandy and I have been talking," Mark began as he fingered his coffee cup. "We want to be able to see the girls more often than a couple times a year."

Blair felt Jim tense and their anxiety blended, each feeding the other's alarm. So it had been too good to be true -- Mark and Sandy weren't nearly as understanding as they'd pretended.

"And?" Jim prompted, his tone flat.

Mark managed a dry chuckle. "Don't worry. We don't plan on kidnapping them or anything like that."

"Then what?" Blair asked, confused.

Mark set his cup and saucer on the coffee table. "Sandy and I both grew up near Laramie, but it's never really been home." He shrugged. "Our childhoods didn't give us the luxury of warm, cuddly memories. Besides, it's never been the place as much as the people." He met first Blair, then Jim's eyes. "We want to move to Cascade."

Jim's mouth fell open and Blair was certain he looked just as shell-shocked as his partner. "But what about your position?" Jim asked. "And Sandy -- what about her job?"

Mark shrugged. "We can find new jobs. I have a friend working in a hospital in Seattle. I called him and he's going to ask around. Sandy should be able to find a part time counselor position easy enough with her credentials."

"But I thought you loved this ranch," Blair interjected.

"It's only a collection of buildings." Mark twisted his hands together. "Haley and Holly are the closest we'll come to having our own children, but they're also yours and Blair's, too. If we have to move to Cascade to remain in their lives, we'll do it gladly." He grinned and his brown eyes twinkled. "Besides, Sandy and I consider you both family, too."

Blair and Jim exchanged relieved and delighted smiles.

"We feel the same way," Blair said. "What can we do to help?"

Mark's stiff shoulders eased. "We could use some help finding a place. What we'd like is something like this with a few acres close to Cascade. Big enough for our entire family to gather on the holidays."

Blair reached for Jim's hand and clasped it, feeling Jim's contentment reflecting and multiplying his own. "I think we'd like that. A lot."

THANKSGIVING, ONE YEAR LATER

Jim stood in a corner of the cathedral-ceilinged living room of Mark and Sandy's home, watching his friends fill their plates and find places to eat the Thanksgiving feast. The house was even bigger than the one the Boyds had owned in Laramie. Now it was occupied by Simon and Daryl Banks, Joel Taggert, Megan Conner, and Todd and Irene Morrow who had all been invited by Sandy and Mark to celebrate the holiday. The dining room table, large enough for twelve people, was piled with food which was a combination of pot luck and traditional turkey day food. On a side table, there sat a colorful cake which read "Happy Anniversary."

One year ago, Jim's discharge had come through. But to him, the cake made by Sandy represented more than his separation from the Army. It was his rebirth. Instead of James Ellison: Army officer, covert ops leader, and loner, he was now Jim Ellison: sentinel, cop, parent, and Blair's partner in every sense of the word. The people gathered in this house were his family. It didn't matter that his brother and father lived in Cascade -- they had refused the one overture Jim had attempted toward reconciliation. No loss. Jim was happy -- more than happy -- with the life he'd found.

The year had been filled with ups and downs. Their official adoption of Haley and Holly occurred on Valentine's Day. Blair's doctorate proposal -- "The Closed Society of an Urban Police Department" -- was accepted in March. Mark and Sandy made the move to Cascade in April. Blair was wounded by a suspect in June. Jim almost died when he inhaled uncut heroin in August. Jim and Blair made their commitment official with a trip to Hawaii in September -- Haley and Holly were their ring bearers; the Boyds their only other witnesses. While Jim and Blair honeymooned, Sandy and Mark entertained Haley and Holly on the big island.

His best friend and lover joined him, slipping an arm around his waist. "Is something wrong?" Blair asked quietly, his dark eyes probing.

Jim wrapped both arms around him and kissed him deeply, sweetly. "Everything's perfect."

A few wolf whistles, the loudest being Conner's, interrupted their hug.

"Don't tell me those two are at it again," Daryl said, rolling his eyes as only a fifteen-year-old boy could do.

Jim chuckled, still amazed by how accepting their friends and coworkers were of his and Blair's relationship. Simon, though personally comfortable with it, took a "don't ask, don't tell" stance at work. Cop partners weren't supposed to be involved intimately, but because of Jim and Blair's sentinel/guide relationship, Simon kept quiet. Besides, they had the best arrest record in Major Crime, and Simon wasn't about to mess with their partnership. Although Joel and Megan teased Jim and Blair off-duty, they didn't at the station, recognizing the need for discretion.

"You're all just jealous," Blair shot back, his eyes twinkling.

Haley and Holly skipped over to them, and with Holly holding Blair's hand and Haley grasping Jim's, the girls tugged them over to the cake.

"H-A-P-P-Y. Happy," Haley began.

"A-N-N-I-V-E-R-S-A-R-Y. Anni--," Holly struggled with the word.

Blair squatted down beside her, his arm around her waist. "Anniversary."

"Happy Anniversary," the twins exclaimed, pulling the two men into a group hug.

Blond and dark curls tickled Jim's nose and the combined scents of his family made his heart swell into his throat. These were the sights, sounds, and scents that defined home. He had vowed to give his children the love and acceptance he had never been given by his own father, and with Blair's unwavering support, they had provided the kind of home both Jim and Blair had been denied when they were children.

"You'd better come and eat or they won't be anything left," Mark called out with a wink.

Haley and Holly wiggled out of their parents' arms and darted between the adults to join their Uncle Mark and Aunt Sandy, who helped them fill their plates.

Standing behind Blair, Jim draped his arms over his shoulders. Blair leaned into the familiar body, trusting Jim completely, and sighed. "You realize we're going to have to lock them up when they hit puberty and not let them out until they're eighteen," he said. "Maybe twenty-one."

"Or we'll just have to be cleaning our guns when their boyfriends pick them up," Jim said matter-of-factly.

Blair's laughter vibrated through him and Jim couldn't resist dropping a kiss on his curly head.

"Let's go eat, love," Blair said, and added sentinel soft, "You're going to need your strength for what I have planned for you tonight."

Desire heated Jim's blood, even as he knew Blair's passions were rising in direct proportion. Their link, too, had grown stronger in the past year. Each could sense strong emotions in the other, and when they made love, they experienced a complete union of body, soul, and heart.

Jim took Blair's hand and his fingers found the gold and silver band that matched the one he wore. They'd exchanged the rings when they'd sealed their vows in Hawaii. Jim opened his sense of touch and he could almost feel the inscription on the inside of his band, Blair's promise of love: My Jim. My Heart. Always.

Jim, never very good with words, had pondered and worried what he could inscribe that would define what Blair meant to him. He'd recalled the night he first met Blair and the night he'd offered his home to a lost man and two young girls. Then the moment Blair had found them in the library and how he'd opened his arms. Jim had walked into them without hesitation and accepted the safe harbor within them. It was that moment Jim had fallen in love with him. It was the moment which defined his love for the generous, kind, beautiful man who'd miraculously become his soulmate.

The words had come easily then -- simple words which bespoke of everything his lover meant to him.

Blair. My Heart's Harbor.

End Harbor of My Heart by Romslinger: romslinger@yahoo.com

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