author's notes: I've written fanfic before, I've written slash, but I've never written Sentinel slash. Until now. I was inspired by a picture I found on a site, I forget which one. Anyhow, you probably know which picture I'm talking about. Blair standing behind Jim while Jim's crouched, firing his gun...Blair's hair blowing around his face, looking just as beautiful as a man gets...you'll recognize it when you see it.

A Millennium crossover here. (call it a plot device :) CC, come and get me! You may have blocked the unofficial Millennium website, but you'll never stop the fanfiction!

I don't have any beta readers (if you think I need them you might volunteer) so any mistakes are my own. I do have a little POV problem, just so you're warned...and I seem to have developed this obsession with unnecessary tag lines...

All songs, or bits of them (and the title), are from Depeche Mode 101. I can't say enough about those guys. You want depressing mood music -- especially related to sex -- this is the band for you.

This story is about Blair and Jim, *not* the actors who play them. I don't know them well enough to write about them...but if they're volunteering I could stand to learn.

One more quick note: this is dedicated to another (*much* taller) Blair, my first real boyfriend. We grew up friends and he got me taught me how to kiss, and I'll never forget him. You know, I was really mean to him when I dumped him for Brian...but that's another story. He'll most likely never see this, but; To You, Blair. My mother still asks your mother about you and tells me what she says and it sounds like you're happy. I'm glad :)

Understand Me

Blair heard the phone ring and then Jim's curse as he stumbled down the stairs in the dark. Blair had turned off all the lights to foster his latest attempt at sleep.

"Dammit." Jim cursed quietly and Blair got up. He was still dressed, so he just went on out to face the music.

Jim was nursing a stubbed toe, having turned on the kitchen light, the phone to his ear.

Blair waited, feeling the heaviness of dread gather in his stomach, settling into an immovable, energy-sapping lump.

Jim's facial expression was all he needed to see. Wearily he got his boots from his room and slipped them on and ran a pick through his hair. In deference to Jim -- and tired of being teased about it -- he clubbed it back into a tight tail at the base of his neck, using a liberal amount of gel and a black ribbon to hold it in place. He usually just used the gel when he wanted it to look nice and not fly around, but it would do this, too.

Jim glanced at him when he came back out, still on the phone. His expression said 'you've got to be kidding' and Blair wondered what he'd done this time.

Jim hung up the phone, information safely written in his planner.

"Ribbons, Chief? That's not going to help you at the station."

Blair felt himself flush. He wrapped the trailing ends of the ribbon around the base of the tail several times, tying it tightly so that nothing trailed behind. His hands were shaking and he didn't understand why.

Jim looked him over critically.

"Better."

"Thanks, dad." Blair snorted sarcastically. "Another one?" he had to ask, to hear it out loud.

"Yes."

"I'm ready when you are." Blair waited for Jim to dress. Seeing him in his boxers was a particular kind of torture he'd been trying to avoid more and more lately.

They arrived at the crime scene less than an hour later. On the outskirts of town, near the water plant and manufacturing district. On an old winding road that served as a shortcut for the factory workers who drove out here every eight hours like clockwork and didn't want to be bothered with the highway and its rules.

Jim studied the scene, Blair beside him. It was lit with big searchlights, this road wasn't important enough for street lights.

Blair fell into Guide mode.

"First sense is smell." he said softly, his voice taking on that hypnotic quality that soothed Jim into a light trance-state. "Sift out what you know belongs here."

Jim did, letting his brain process the information, then he nodded.

"Now the police smells. The cars, the ozone from the lights..." Blair paused. He knew that Jim knew this, but Jim had told him that being talked through it helped keep him from zoning. Gave him something else to focus on.

This was harder. What belonged and what didn't? He'd already dropped the grass and dead leaves and animals smells...he focused tightly, catching just a whiff of something painfully familiar, recently learned.

"I smell it." he whispered, afraid to break his concentration. Blair gave him a worried glance.

"Is it strong enough to follow?" Jim had tried that at the last one and had zoned twice before tracking down the evidence.

"It's so distinct..." Jim grunted in disgust. "Just let me go - a little deeper, Chief..."

Blair lay a hand on Jim's arm as he began walking, eyes closed, steering him around obstacles as they circled the outer edge of the scene. Fortunately the cops were too busy to really notice them. Simon saw them pass but said nothing, understanding what they were doing.

Jim felt Blair's hand as his body grew distant. All he knew, his entire world, consisted of that scent...so strong now, so harsh, so sad...

"Jim. Jim!" Blair shook him and he realized that he'd stopped, losing himself in the scent. "Stay with me, Big Guy." he opened his eyes long enough to meet Blair's, dark worried blue, noting the lines of trees around them, the dark circles from lack of sleep, almost dispassionately. He knew, in the back of his mind, that it was important for him to note these things, but right now he was too focused on that scent to know why...

"JIM!" this time Blair's hissed whisper would have cut glass. It cut through Jim's fog. "This isn't worth it. They're not going to get anything from it anyhow. He's too smart, he knows what he's doing."

"I have to try, Chief." Jim shook his head to clear it, trying to hold onto the scent and still find the will to talk.

"Maybe there are just some things you aren't meant to do." Blair spoke slowly. "You're not a bloodhound, Jim. You can't put your nose to the ground and track like one. They'll scour the area. They'll find it."

"I can do this." Jim met Blair's eyes and now the things he'd seen moments before registered. Blair looked like hell. "You always say that to me. You make me say it to myself. One more try."

Blair glanced around. There were about twenty yards from the scene. It was dark here, the blackness of the night cutting off the lights abruptly a few feet back. He was essentially blind.

"Let me get a flashlight."

"No...I'll lose it, Chief."

"Okay." Blair gave in grudgingly. For some reason this was making him more nervous than usual. Jim beat down his concern for his partner and concentrated on the job at hand.

Blair couldn't see and Jim had to shut his eyes to follow the faint scent trail.

"The blind leading the blind." he heard Blair mutter as they both stumbled over a pile of dead branches. "What exactly are you focusing on?"

Jim answered, trying to split his attention.

"The one scent that really, really doesn't belong here. It's sharp, I can pick it up under everything else..."

"The latex?" Blair guessed. That was what had led him at the last one.

"No...too far away for that. The spermicide in the condom." Jim answered haltingly. "Not far now." he caught Blair's arms as they both stumbled again, his strength keeping him upright.

They found it almost a mile away. The real crime scene. The place this unknown, possibly unmourned girl had really died.

Jim opened his eyes, sniffed the air.

"It's going to rain." he said softly. "He did it again, Chief. Planned it so the rain would wash away anything he left before we could find it."

"Like I said, he's good. But he didn't count on Sentinel abilities." Blair said. "Can we go back and get the others now?" he shivered, though it wasn't particularly cold.

But he was only wearing a flannel shirt, though he probably had a t-shirt on beneath it. Jim had seen him shed two or three shirts on one or two occasions and knew he dressed in layers of what Jim termed 'academic grunge'.

"You cold, Chief?" he wrapped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders as they trudged back, this time guiding him with his advanced night vision. If Blair pressed a little closer to him than necessary, he didn't notice it.

They went over the crime scene for the rest of the night. Jim caught Blair yawning, almost asleep standing up, a couple of times. When he'd finished his bit he sat in truck and wished desperately for sleep, but it wouldn't come.

As the first hint of dawn was crawling up to meet them Jim climbed into the truck beside him.

"You okay, Chief?"

Blair nodded absently. Jim's presence never failed to soothe him, at least a little.

"I've got an eight o'clock class." he said it evenly, not even sighing.

"You're exhausted. Call somebody to cover it." Jim started the engine."

"No, I gotta be there. It's the review for mid-terms. I need to be sure they get all the information so they can't complain after the test." he sounded grumpier and...and...Jim tried to place that tone. Disillusioned?

Blair? The eternal schoolboy? Seeing the glow of academic life fading?

"You sleep while I drive." Jim suggested. "I'll feed you this morning and get you to school on time."

Blair gave him a sideways glance.

"Don't condescend to me, Jim." he snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself and getting where I need to go."

"Whoa, Chief, sorry. Didn't know I was treading on any toes there." Jim bit back a harsh reply, telling himself that Blair was exhausted, and he still wasn't used to things like this.

Things like underage prostitutes raped and murdered and dumped miles from nowhere all around the town.

He though about it as he drove. They needed a break. Both of them. When this case was over he would prevail upon Simon for some time off and they would do something. Go camping. Maybe to the coast for some scuba. Jim grinned to himself, remembering one particular swim he'd taken in front of Blair. He knew his friend had looked, but it didn't bother him.

A glance showed him that the younger man had dozed off, relaxed by the motion of the truck. Jim shrugged mentally when Blair curled over onto the seat and pillowed his head on Jim's leg. If it helped him sleep...

Jim was aware of Blair's warmth riding above his groin and it felt good. Not enough to get him aroused, just a pleasant sensation of warmth and trust that he returned in his heart, even if he couldn't anywhere else.

Blair met him at the station after his classes for the day were done. He'd insisted on doing all of them, telling Jim about the last time he'd let someone give a review for him. The woman had skipped an entire section of the notes and half the class had failed, and then screamed 'unfair!'. He'd had to grade on a curve, and he stressed to Jim how much he hated that. He'd gotten a scholarship without it and felt everyone else should work as hard as he had.

He was a few minutes late for the briefing. Simon gave him a hard look when he slipped into the office and perched on the arm of Jim's chair with a studied shrug. Jim blinked at that. He'd never seen Blair do anything quite that - rude.

"Same MO as before." Simon was saying. The M-E was getting ready to say her piece.

"We've got the same significant findings as on the first two victims." she said. "The girl - we have no name for her yet - was menstruating at the time of her death. She was unconscious at the time of her death, and a large quantity of Xanax was found in her bloodstream, again. There was no sign forced ingestion, she probably took it voluntarily."

"Was she raped after death?" Jim asked.

"Just like the others. But again, either he didn't ejaculate or he took that condom with him."

"Maybe he can't." Blair said quietly. "He's probably too tired after all those late nights."

Simon gave him a sharp look.

"We're talking about a murderer here, Sandburg. Don't forget that."

Blair just stared at him without blinking and then dropped his eyes to his hands, hanging between his splayed legs. Clenched to keep them from shaking. But he didn't say anything else for the duration of the meeting.

Simon stopped them both when the others left. Jim frowned at Blair, not wanting to be chewed out for something he'd done.

"You feeling okay, Sandburg?" Simon sat behind his desk and tried to look patient with Jim's unofficial partner.

"Just tired, sir." he mumbled. Simon looked at Jim.

"Take him home and don't bring him back until he's gotten some rest."

"You got it." Jim agreed. "C'mon, Chief. We've got to hit the strip tonight, so you've got to rest."

Blair followed him out without a word.

Jim listened closely. He didn't want to intrude on Blair's privacy, but he needed to know if he was sleeping. With the door closed he couldn't just glance. He suspected that's why Blair had closed it so firmly.

He heard the younger man's heart pounding, his breath labored. What was wrong? What was he doing in there...? Jim abruptly turned down his hearing, thinking he knew what Blair was doing and embarrassed to listen to it.

In his room, without a light, Blair tossed in the throes of a fierce nightmare. He woke suddenly, sitting and reaching for the lamp, fumbling the clock off the nightstand as he turned it on.

He picked up the clock. He'd been asleep less than an hour. He knew what sleep depravation did. He'd studied a tribe of Aborigines who practiced it as part of their passage to adulthood, a sort of vision-quest. People dropped into REM sleep more quickly when they didn't get enough of it. He must have done that, gone almost directly to it to have a dream that quickly.

He sighed. Jim must have heard his breathing. It was still labored, but evening out. Why hadn't he come in and woken him up? He'd done it before.

He got up laboriously. It felt like he was walking through molasses.

He wasn't going to get any more sleep now. With a heavier sigh he turned on his laptop and tried to concentrate on the Anth.101 midterm he still had to finish writing. He knew there were still copies of the last one floating around, thanks to an enterprising assistant who'd sold it, so he had to write a completely new one this semester.

He hoped it made sense.

In the living room, trying to catch a nap on the couch with a game on, Jim heard the whine of the computer and frowned. Now what was he doing?

Blair was propositioned seven different times on the first street. It kind of annoyed Jim, he could tell.

"It's just the way I am." he shrugged when another sweet young thing in hot pants and high heels sauntered up and offered him a discount. "I'm sure they like you too, but you smell like a cop."

"Now who's got the senses?" Jim queried dryly.

"What are we looking for?" Blair wasn't clear on what they were doing out here after dark.

"Trying to pinpoint the next victim." Jim answered. Blair bit back his astonishment and just asked.

"And how are we going to do that?"

"You're not. I am. You're going to keep me from zoning while I do it."

To demonstrate he closed his eyes and concentrated, but Blair interrupted him.

"What are you trying to smell?"

"I can tell when a woman's got her period, Chief. It's easy."

"Oh." Blair glanced down as a young man in ripped jeans strode by, then stopped to give him a second look. Blair looked away, trying not to appear interested.

"You guys looking for a party?" his voice was high and Blair looked up again, trying to determine his age.

"Not with you, sweetheart." he heard Jim's words and flushed, glad his friend was looking at the chicken and not at him right then. "We want a girl. A young one. Guaranteed not pregnant, if you know what I mean?"

The boy nodded.

"I know what you want. I got a friend, over on forty-second. She can find it for you."

Blair kept his eyes on the ground. The kid's voice rose and cracked on the last sentence, betraying him. Maybe fourteen, fifteen. Too young to be out here.

"What's her name?"

"Birdie. Just ask anyone over there and they'll send you to her."

"Thanks." Jim answered and Blair saw him move, looked up. Jim was pulling money out of his pocket and handing it to the boy. "For the help." he said.

"Cool." the boy didn't count it, but Blair knew how much it was. He'd seen Jim separating it into little piles before they'd left. Folding each set of bills so they could be easily accessed and slipped out into waiting palms.

Fifty bucks. The price of a blow job or maybe an hour's fun. Enough, maybe, to get the kid off the street for the night. Jim had tucked away six folded sets of tens and twenties. Three hundred dollars of his own money.

Blair felt a rush of love for the man and knew he'd felt the increase in his heartbeat when Jim glanced at him sharply.

They began to walk off, but the boy walked with them.

"Hey. I got some free time now. If you're interested." he was talking to Blair, who wouldn't look at him. "Just for funsies."

"Sorry. Not tonight." Jim nodded at him, slinging a possessive arm over Blair's shoulders, feeling the tremor that racked him. Disappointed, the boy turned away.

"Sorry." Blair said as they went around the corner and Jim removed his arm.

"For what?" Jim said gently. "It's not like you're wearing a sign. More girls are hitting on you than boys."

Blair shrugged. He was suspicious of Jim's easy acceptance of his sexual preferences, which were varied, to say the least. He'd kept them a secret for the first year he'd lived at his place, but eventually Jim had figured it out. Blair came home smelling of semen and sex and men, even after he washed, and sometimes he didn't have time to do that. Often he came home smelling of perfume and woman as well.

Jim had broached the subject over dinner one night, casually.

"Chief. I know you're doing more than chasing *women* out there at night."

Blair had jumped, startled, and almost spilled his tea. His blue eyes had widened, meeting Jim's, worried.

"I just want to know that you're being careful." Jim had looked down at his plate and taken a bite. "This is good."

"I'm careful." Blair had answered slowly. "I didn't always used to be, but I am now."

"I'm glad." Jim had continued eating and that had been the only time it was mentioned.

Until now.

Blair shivered and Jim looked at him, worried. Was he coming down with something?

They got over to forty-second. Talking to someone wasn't a problem, they just asked the first girl to hit on Blair.

"Humph." she made a disgusted noise. "Why you want something messy like that, baby? I kin give you better. Nice and clean." the girl, maybe sixteen, maybe not, slid her short skirt up her thighs, revealing the straps of a garter belt.

"No. We want Birdie." Blair said calmly.

"She be at the third light." the girl flounced away before Jim could pay her for the information.

"She must be new out here." Jim commented.

Blair just looked at him. This was all old hat to Jim, he'd seen it all when he worked Vice. But it was a whole new sordid world to Blair, who'd never even had to consider paying for a bedmate.

They found Birdie at the light. True to her name, she was a tiny, birdlike creature wearing a ton of brightly-colored makeup and topped with a feather boa probably longer than she was tall. She made Blair feel tall.

"I got just what you want." she said cheerfully. Then Jim pulled out the pictures of the victims and asked her to look at them.

"These those girls that were killed?" she asked, worried. "I didn't have anything to do with it. I take good care of my girls."

Blair looked over the group clustered a few feet way. He was certain there wasn't one in the batch over fourteen, and the youngest could have been twelve. He snorted and she got indignant.

"They get time off with me. They don't get hit and they can leave whenever they want. I give them better than anyone else ever done."

"I'm sure you're an enlightened pimp." Blair snapped back. Only Jim's restraining hand gripping his arm tight enough to hurt shut him up.

"I'm no pimp." Birdie huffed and fluffed her boa, trying to look taller.

"If you could just look at them." Jim asked, grinding his teeth together with the effort to be polite, keeping his grip on Blair's arm.

She took the pictures and walked over to her brood, passing them around under the street lamp.

One of the girls nodded when she got the second picture, bringing it back to Jim, ignoring Blair.

"I remember her. She was working thirty-eighth and Broad. I sat with her in that coffee shop there last week." She didn't seem to care at all that the girl she was talking about had been murdered. "She was working independent." She grimaced as if to say 'how stupid', and continued. "I think her name was Cindy or Sandy or something like that."

"Cindy or Sandy? That's all you remember?" Jim pressed.

"Hey, I had a good night that night. I was pretty stoned." the girl said. "You're lucky I remember that much."

Blair looked at her eyes, seeing the deadness there, the lack of light, the intelligence faded. He wasn't surprised she turned to drugs to feel something.

"Just one more thing." Jim said as Birdie motioned to her to come back. "Did you happen to talk about your monthlies?"

The girl stared at him owlishly.

"How'd'ya know that? She was complaining about this regular guy she had. He liked to, uh..." she was embarrassed by it, which amused Blair vaguely.

"To go down on her then." Jim supplied.

"Uh-huh. She said he really earned his redwings."

Blair grimaced at the slang term, but Jim just reached into his pocket and pulled out another neatly folded packet of bills.

"Thanks, honey. You've been a big help."

She took it and scurried back to the group, handing Birdie the money. Jim and Blair watched while the woman took half and handed the rest back.

"You knew it was going to her." Blair complained as they walked, headed for the coffee shop at thirty-eighth and Broad. "Why'd you give it to her?"

"The money's one of the reasons they'll even talk to us, Chief. If we didn't pay up they'd stop trusting us and we'd never get anything out of them."

"This is what you did in Vice? Handed out money to hookers?" the scorn in Blair's voice grated on Jim's nerves, already strained by circumstances. He grabbed the smaller man's arm and turned him roughly.

"Look, Chief. This is who these people are. This is their world and we have to play be their rules. You want to save them, you can always volunteer for one of the shelters or the missions or the runaway foundation. That's their job. And this is ours."

Blair looked at the hand holding tightly to his arm, and then back at Jim's face, half-hidden in shadow. He thought he saw pain in those eyes, but he couldn't be sure.

"Jim. Hey, you're hurting my arm." he said it softly, but Jim released him like he'd been burned.

"Sorry, Chief." Like most big men Jim was usually very careful of his strength around those smaller than him, but he'd forgotten himself with Blair tonight. "I'm just upset about this case."

Twice, Blair thought, surreptitiously rubbing the bruises he felt forming on his bicep. He'd done it twice.

"I understand." he said in his best Guide voice. "Now where do we go?"

They got home just before dawn again. Blair didn't protest when Jim suggested he take a nap before class and offered to fix breakfast. The anthropologist was barely able to stumble to his bed before his eyes closed.

Jim sat and listened to him sleep. He hadn't closed the door this time, he'd been too tired to do more than pull off his boots.

And they hadn't gotten much for that two hundred bucks. He'd shelled out another hundred, first at the diner and then at a rooming house nearbye. They had a first name and the suggestion that Sandy had come from Texas about six months ago.

"That narrows it a bit." he said aloud. At least they might be able to identify her before she had to be buried. She might have family that would grieve for her loss, a brother or sister who would miss her. He took a swig of his beer. It was early, but late for him. Simon didn't expect him into the office until evening, they were assigned to nights until they'd exhausted this line of investigation. They were the only ones working the street on it, Simon was afraid the perp would hear about it and leave town before they caught him.

Late for them, he amended as he picked up the increase in Blair's heartrate. *What the hell?* he looked through the door and saw the younger man lying very still on the bed, his hands clenching the bedspread in a deathgrip.

*I've been an idiot.* Jim thought instantly. He should have remembered what Blair sounded like during nightmares. He'd had several of them after that episode with Lasher...*And I thought he was whacking off.* he rubbed his face and debated waking him. *No wonder he's so tired. He's not getting any sleep at all.*

After watching him for a few more minutes, hearing the increase in Blair's breathing, the pounding of his heart began to make Jim nervous.

*He's going to give himself a heart attack.* he remembered hearing somewhere that a person could die of fright. Probably from Blair.

"Okay, Chief." he said softly. "I'll pull you out of it."

He'd want Blair to do the same for him.

He entered the bedroom quietly, but Blair wouldn't have heard him if he'd stormed it. He was totally enthralled in the horrors of his mind.

Jim sat on the bed and touched his shoulder, shaking gently.

"Chief. Hey, Chief." the only response was a tiny, frightened whimper that escaped Blair's clenched lips. Jim tried again, shaking harder.

"Chief. Sandburg. Blair!" he shook him harder as he still got no response and Blair sat up suddenly, his arms swinging, catching Jim across the face hard enough to knock him off the bed, surprising Jim with is strength. Blair was small, but no wimp.

"Damn!" Jim scrambled to stand as Blair stared at him, unseeing. He reached to touch him again, more cautiously.

Blair blinked and his eyes cleared.

"Jim?" he sounded surprisingly calm. "Did I wake you?"

"I haven't been to sleep yet, Chief." Jim sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him with concern. Blair scooted over as far away as he could and Jim noted it, appreciated the effort to make him feel comfortable. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since this case started." Blair sighed and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. Jim suddenly had a vision of him as a sleepy, curly-headed child. *He must have been adorable.* He's have to get some pictures out of Naomi, if only to tease him with.

Blair was getting up. Jim heard his joints cracking and popping like an old man's.

"Maybe you should take something. To help you sleep."

"I don't need to put chemicals in my system, Big Guy." Blair's glance was affectionate. "I'll get over this as soon as we finish this case."

"At least spring break starts next week, so you won't have to do two jobs." Jim said helpfully.

*I hope I make it that long.* Blair thought, gathering clean clothes and heading for the door.

"You won't be taking a shower anytime soon, willya?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Nah. Go ahead and use it up." Jim answered, following him. "I'm going up to bed."

"G'night." Jim waited until Blair was in the bathroom, with the door closed, and then he went to his room. After a moment of thought he opened a drawer and pulled out a small prescription bottle. It was the sample of Xanax Simon had provided so he could learn the scent.

He went back down the stairs and set it in the middle of the empty kitchen table where Blair was sure to see it. Let him decide for himself.

After dressing and gathering his papers and laptop and books Blair saw the bottle on his way out the door. He shook his head ruefully, but picked it up. Just in case.

"We've got an identity on number two." Simon came out to their desks to tell them. His glance told Jim that he noticed Blair's unusual quietness as well.

They were up to four now. Four in four weeks. Spring break was over and Blair hadn't gotten any more rest. He'd started back to school this morning after another night of tossing and turning.

He'd tried the Xanax once. And Jim had woken him, at last, screaming from a nightmare he couldn't wake from on his own. He hadn't tried it again.

"Sandy Drescher. Fourteen. Dallas, Texas. Ran away eight months ago when her mother refused to let her date a college boy. The boy dumped her here, we've got his statement."

"What are you going to do to him?" Blair's voice sounded dull and scratchy. Jim wondered again if he was sick.

"Nothing. He didn't do anything illegal. Just cruel. He says he gave her bus money to go home on."

"Bastard." it was said with a startling lack of vehemence.

"Yeah." Simon agreed. He looked to Jim for help, unsure of how to deal with a subdued Blair.

Jim was studying Blair, all senses on full. Blair noticed it and frowned.

"I'm not a guinea pig, Jim." he didn't snap, the words seemed to roll sluggishly out of him.

"I remember saying that to you more than once." Jim tried a smile, but Blair didn't return it. "Are you sure you're okay, Chief?"

"I'm just tired." Blair turned back to his book, reading the same page for what must have been the tenth time. Jim stood and grabbed his coat.

"Let's go get some lunch. We can go to that deli you like and have Reubens." he made it sound like a good idea, but Blair resisted.

"I've got to get my notes together for this lecture." he said with a shrug. "There's been a lot of new information from that Middle Eastern dig and I have to work it all in."

"You'll work better on a full stomach." Jim touched his head, lightly, checking for fever through the thick curls. But he didn't feel any. If anything Blair felt a little cold.

Blair closed his eyes as Jim's hand rested in his hair, hoping if anyone noticed they would chalk it up to his exhaustion and not see the real reason.

It felt so good to have Jim touch him. He hadn't had sex in months, since before this case started. He wondered if Jim knew that, if he had sensed it.

It felt good to have anyone touch him. But especially Jim. He had to resist the urge to rub his head against that hand, purring like a cat, and it faded quickly.

He looked down at the book. The words on the page might as well have been gibberish. He couldn't seem to concentrate, and that bothered him. But not as much as it should have, and *that* bothered him. It repeated in this weird cycle...

He stood, Jim's hand sliding off, and found a small smile for him.

"That sounds good. With coleslaw and maybe some cheesecake...?" he added suggestively.

"Anything you want." Jim, promised recklessly.

*If only you knew what I want.* Blair thought, following him out.

Blair was picking at his sandwich, pulling out strands of sauerkraut and nibbling on them half-heartedly while Jim looked on, too worried to eat his own food.

"I guess I wasn't hungry after all." Blair looked up and met Jim's eyes. The worry in them registered in his brain and he focused on him with an effort.

"What?"

Jim put his hands on the table, fingers twined together. He looked at his hands, not at Blair.

"What?" Blair repeated, slightly more forcefully now.

"I don't know how to say this." Jim finally looked back at him, met his eyes.

"Just say it." Blair shrugged. Jim thought he was using that gesture way too often now.

"You're not yourself lately."

"Then who am I?" Blair didn't sound as if he really cared. He picked another stringy piece of pickled cabbage from between the layers of corned beef and nibbled it delicately between his front teeth.

"You're not sleeping, you're not eating. You wake up in a cold sweat whenever you go to bed..." Jim gestured helplessly, not wanting to put his fear into words, because that would make it real.

Blair tried to follow what he was saying, but it didn't seem as interesting as dissecting the sandwich. He continued to play with his food.

"Blair." Jim leaned over the small table and grabbed his chin, turning it up so he could look at him when he said the words. "When was the last time you had an HIV test?"

Blair shrugged and Jim's grip tightened. He knew he might be bruising him, but this was too important to ignore.

"You're tired all the time, you're irritable. You're not doing any of the things you like." Jim let his voice drop as he took his hand away, convinced he had Blair's attention now. "When was the last time you had unprotected sex with a man?" he hated asking this. It brought up mental images he'd rather not consider. Blair in the arms of a man, Blair groaning in pleasure as some guy fucked him, the way he'd once groaned in Jim's arms, drugged...he was sure Blair would play the submissive, maybe not all the time, but there was just something about him...Jim finally stopped that line of thought, with an effort, and focused on Blair's answer.

"1992. I was twenty." Blair said softly. "Then I did a paper on the structural dynamics of death and met a man dying of AIDS. I've used condoms every time since."

"And your last test?"

"Last year. I go to the clinic on campus every year. They give it free." Blair seemed to be getting just a little worried. "I've always tested clean, Jim. It shouldn't show up this late."

"Let me take you to a doctor." Jim said, almost pleading. "They have a new test now, a more sensitive one. Just in case. Just to be sure."

"Sure. If it will make you feel better." Blair sighed and began to reassemble his sandwich. "I'm just tired, Jim." he tried to ease his fears, and took a bite to prove it, trying to eat.

But Jim saw that he only took a few before he gave it up.

There was another one when they got back to the station. Jim's plan to rush Blair to the doctor was put on hold in the flurry of activity that followed.

"I think I recognize her." Jim said, studying the body. Blair was waiting by the truck, he really didn't like dead people. "Blair." he hated to ask him to do this, but he had to be sure.

Blair came over slowly, reluctance in every stride. One of the uniforms called out a gibe.

"Hey, hair-boy. Your head too heavy to carry now?"

Jim watched Blair self-consciously smooth his hair back behind his ears and shot the guy a dirty look, but the man just shrugged. The movement resembled Blair's new attitude.

Blair stopped and looked down at the body with an odd sense of detachment. Like it was a crumpled doll, a toy lying there in the mud, naked and white and cold.

"This look like one of Birdie's girls to you?" Jim asked, surprised by Blair's lack of reaction. Usually he got very hyper around a body, covered up his nerves with a string of bad jokes and tall tales. Now he was silent. Jim almost flinched when he shrugged, his narrow shoulders hunched under his leather jacket.

"Maybe. I'm not sure."

"You were watching them while I talked to her." Jim pressed.

"I said I'm not sure." There was an undertone of hostility in Blair's voice that Jim had never heard before. The smaller man whirled and walked away, plodding through the mud as if it were too much effort to lift his feet. Jim and the uniform stared after him.

"He okay?" the man who had teased Blair spoke up.

"He's still not used to this." Jim excused Blair's behavior to them, but not to himself.

He dropped Blair off at home to try to rest before going to the station to do paperwork. No one asked where his shadow was.

Blair groaned silently as the class began to empty. He wasn't sure he'd made any sense at all. And he was sure that at least ten students were going to show up at his office that afternoon and demand better explanations than he'd given in the past hour.

He slumped over the podium he'd been speaking from, too tired even to go turn off the slide projector. A collection of fetishes -- Navaho, Sioux, Australian Aborigine, Brazilian M'bondga -- sat serenely on the screen behind him.

"Hey, prof." he turned slowly at the voice. "Man, you don't look so good."

"I feel like shit." he wasn't even surprised to hear the words pass his lips. He never cursed, unless the situation truly deserved it. "I have pissed off some vengeful god, John." he recognized the student coming up behind him. John was smart and talented and unmotivated to do anything other than pass. Normally he would have been exactly the kind of challenge Blair relished, but now he was too tired to care.

"Nah. You're just doing too much. I know you work with the cops, too."

Blair nodded. It wasn't common knowledge, but word got around.

"For my dissertation."

"You want something, maybe?" now John sounded almost shy. "I mean, I've got some stuff. It will keep you going until things get easier. I use it whenever I'm run down. Like for finals."

Blair considered pointing out what John had made on his mid- term, but decided not to. What was the point?

John pulled a small bottle out of his coat pocket. Blair let him put it in his hand.

"It's speed, man. Keep you awake, help you concentrate."

"I don't think so." Blair tried to hand it back, but John was backing off.

"Keep it. I got plenty more where that came from." John's smile was friendly. "You might change your mind."

Blair put the bottle in his pocket reluctantly, then began the slow task of gathering his stuff up to go home.

No. To go to the station and then out on the streets to question Birdie and her girls.

He pulled the bottle out of his pocket in the car and looked at it thoughtfully.

He'd done it before, with no problem. Just this once, to get him through this day and Jim off his back...he opened it and swallowed two of the rough pills, swigging down warm herbal tea that he'd left sitting in the sunshine too long, making it bitter.

Jim was pleased by the change in Blair when he came in that evening. He was clean and neatly dressed -- he'd been letting that slide. And his face was mobile, he seemed to have found some of his energy again.

"Feeling better, Chief?" he asked, standing to go.

"Fell asleep on my desk. Must have got four hours in." Blair lied smoothly. "It made a heck of a difference."

"Must have." Jim smiled to see him back to a semblance of his normal self. "No dreams?"

"Nope." That was true, at least.

It took them two nights to find Birdie, who had apparently changed locales with no forwarding address.

When they did find her she claimed not to know the newest victim, but Jim could tell by her heartbeat that she was lying.

"I'm sorry." he said, motioning to Blair to get behind her. "We're going to have to take you in for questioning. All of you." he raised his voice and the girls squealed with fright, protested. Several turned, but Blair was there and didn't let them pass, though they didn't try very hard. They had been well- trained by Birdie to obey men, especially those in authority.

"Okay. She told you her name was Karen and she was from Denver." Jim made a note in the file while Birdie glared at him. "Did you know who her trick was two nights ago?"

"She didn't tell me nuthin. Just gave me my moeney and slept in my place. Kind of an independent spirit."

"She was thirteen years old." Blair snarled suddenly from his spot by the door. "Not what I call ready for that kind of decision-making."

Birdie shrugged. Jim stood and walked Blair out of the room.

"Listen, I know how you feel about this. But those girls won't be going back to the streets. They'll be turned over to social services, sent back to their parents or good foster homes."

"And she'll find new ones." Blair spat. "You don't know anything about how I feel, *Big Man*." he walked away, leaving Jim thinking that he'd never heard those words sound like an insult in Blair's mouth. Before now.

He looked across the room, but Blair had disappeared into the bathroom.

"He's still exhausted. A few hours sleep isn't going to fix everything." he muttered to himself on his way back to the interrogation room. *But maybe a few days would.* he hoped so. But he was still going to get Blair to a doctor as soon as he could.

In the cold anonymity of the bathroom Blair leaned on the sink, pressing his forehead against the slick cool of the mirror above it, rolling his head to feel it on his suddenly overheated skin.

No, Jim didn't know he felt. Jim could never know how he felt. Not if he wanted to stay friends with him, partners.

"I shouldn't have snapped at him." he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked flushed and a shard of fear pierced him. What if Jim was right? What if he had something horrible, like AIDS? The Gods knew he hadn't been careful when he was younger. Maybe AIDS was punishment for wanting it all.

He pulled his shirt up and touched the twisted silver ring that slid through his right nipple. He'd had that done at a cheap tattoo place one night when he was drunk...how clean had their equipment been? That had been right after he met Jim.

He grabbed the waist of his jeans and unbuttoned the front down enough to get a look at his navel. A second ring glinted there, in the soft fur that covered his flat belly, the mate of the first. Another cheap place after a binger last year, this time with a girlfriend who'd thought it would look good on him. She'd bought the rings, sterling silver. He liked the purity of them.

"Not many guys can pull off a navel ring, but you're just cute enough to do it." she'd convinced him, and it had been worth it when they'd gotten back to her place. She'd been so good to him he'd wondered if he shouldn't have gotten the other one she wanted, in a much more delicate place.

He was very glad now that he hadn't. He'd never want to have to explain *that* to Jim, not that he'd ever have the need to.

He seldom wore the navel ring, but he'd felt like it lately. He'd even considered getting a tattoo, but having JIM scrawled across his chest was probably a bad idea. It was hard enough remembering to keep a shirt on so he wouldn't see the silver in his belly.

"The pleasures of the flesh." he told himself, touching each ring with a hand.

The door opened behind him and he yanked his shirt down, turning too fast.

Mike McCurdy stared at him, a little amused. He was a friend of Jim's and had come over to play poker more than once, he knew Blair pretty well and liked him.

"Most guys do that in the stall, Sandburg." he was teasing, but only a little.

Blair realized that his jeans were still unbuttoned on top and blushed hotly.

"Well, I'm not most guys." he threw back, fastening it with shaking hands. He needed to take something to get through the rest of this day.

Mike frowned at the response, he clearly hadn't expected anything so hostile. He took care of his business, carefully turning his back to Blair, something he'd never done before.

Blair left quickly. Left the building, not answering when Jim asked him to stop and wait, to talk, but then McCurdy got hold of Jim.

In the Corvair he pulled out the bottle -- he knew better than to take it into a police station, for Godsakes'! -- and hastily shook out two more, popping them and washing them down with more bitter tea. It tasted stale now, too.

It was okay. He could try another Xanax tonight -- tomorrow morning? -- and hopefully they would balance each other out and he could get back on an even keel. Just until this case was solved.

Jim caught up to him as he climbed back out of the car, already starting to feel better.

"Sorry." he said shakily, wiping his face with one hand, an endearing gesture. "I think it's getting to me."

There in the parking lot Jim pulled his young partner into a swift hug, lifting him off his feet, *like he would a younger brother* Blair thought with despair, and then he set him back down.

"Simon's sent us home for the day. Let's go get some sleep."

*Sleep." Blair thought.

"I have class..."

"It's Saturday, Chief. Even you get a day off now and then."

Blair sighed in relief.

"It is, isn't it."

When they got home, the sun had been up for two hours. Jim fixed him some soup. Minestrone Blair had made and frozen ages ago, just for an occasion like this, it was good, even for breakfast.

"I'm going to call and make you an appointment for this afternoon." he told him as they ate.

"Can't it wait until Monday?" Blair groaned. "I only have two classes. I really just want to sleep, Jim."

Jim studied him. His face had color, his eyes seemed clear, and he'd slept the day before. His hand shook slightly when he lifted the spoon, but he was still tired.

"You can't work yourself like this, Chief. Even you young guys have limits."

"It's all important." Blair shrugged and finished the soup, earning a grin of approval from Jim. "I think," he stood and stretched, missing Jim's lingering look because his eyes were closed, "That I'll try the Xanax again. It should knock me out for the day."

"You want to risk the nightmares, Chief?"

"You'll wake me, right?"

Jim thought about it.

"You know, we're both exhausted. I don't want to be running down those stairs half-asleep. Why don't you come up and crash in my bed? It's big enough for both of us to sleep in, uh, comfortably."

Blair stared.

"I don't think so."

"Don't be stubborn, Chief. This way I can wake you up if I need to without risking my neck."

"Are you sure it wouldn't make you feel...awkward?" Blair phrased it carefully, looking at him with half-closed eyes that hid his real feelings.

"Not unless you roll over and try to ravish me in your sleep."

*You have no idea.* Blair thought but he smiled slightly and nodded.

"Sure. Your bed's probably more comfortable anyhow."

Jim supervised the taking of the Xanax, deciding that a man as small as Blair only needed a half. Blair swallowed it with tea, Jim had told him no beer.

"Doesn't it make you feel funny?" he asked as they went up the stairs. Blair had showered and changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off.

"What?" Jim was wearing nylon running shorts and a t-shirt, for his benefit, Blair knew he usually slept in his boxers.

"This medicine. It wasn't exactly prescribed for either of us. Isn't taking it -well, illegal?"

"I looked it up in the desk reference." Jim shrugged. "It won't hurt you, barring nightmares, and I'm not above bending the law occasionally for expediency."

Blair nodded and felt better about the other stuff he'd been taking.

He slept like a baby, curled carefully on his side away from Jim, hands tucked neatly to his chest, knees pulled up just a little, barely moving all day. Jim woke around eight that night and studied him, slightly worried by the depth of his sleep, but figuring he'd earned it.

He did stretch a couple of times as the night wore on and his sweatshirt pulled up. Jim saw the glint of metal and couldn't resist a closer look. Feeling silly, he peeked over and saw the ring in Blair's softly furred stomach. His own stomach rolled once at the sight and he sat back hastily.

That wasn't been disgusting or anything, why had his stomach done that?

Actually, it had looked kind of intriguing. He'd never been with the kind of woman who would have something like that done. He'd known about the nipple ring, having seen it many times, and the three in Blair's ear...where else might he have one?

The thought made him uncomfortable and he shied away from thinking about why, determinedly going back to his spy novel, trying to relax.

Blair woke and stretched, sitting, around midnight. He yanked his shirt down, wondering if Jim had seen, and felt a stir from his groin at the thought of Jim looking at him, and got out of the bed quickly, heading for the bathroom.

He couldn't jerk off, he'd stopped doing that here as soon as he'd realized Jim could hear him, *smell* him. But maybe a cold shower would do as well.

*Not hardly* he gasped as he stepped into the stinging spray, knowing Jim heard that as well.

Sure enough, he came to the bathroom door.

"Chief? You okay?"

"Just trying to wake myself up." he said. "That stuff has a powerful kick."

"Don't wake up too much. I want you to eat something and get back to bed."

They had egg sandwiches with cheese and sprouts. The fridge was practically bare, another victim of their current schedules.

"I'll move back to my bed now." Blair said as they cleaned up. "I didn't have any nightmares this time, and I think they're gone now."

"The case isn't finished." Jim pointed out as Blair munched on leftover sprouts. His appetite was back in force, and he moved on to what was left of the carrots.

"But I've got a handle on it." Blair said convincingly. "I just needed a break. And I think we'll get one in the case soon."

"Well, I'm gonna hit the all-night grocery and stock up on some basics." he shook his head at Blair's worried glance. "I did shop before you moved in, Chief."

"For potato chips, twinkies and beer. Let me make you a list."

Grudgingly Jim waited for him to write up a list at least a hundred items long.

"We don't need all of this."

"We do if you want to eat while we're working next week."

"Argh." Jim made a Charlie-Brown noise and got a smile from Blair.

He left him safely tucked up in his own bed.

As soon as he was gone Blair climbed out of the bed and back into the shower, to stroke himself with one hand, the other alternately pinching his nipples and pulling gently on the two rings while he imagined it was Jim's broad hands on him, Jim's hands roaming the down of his chest beneath the hot water.

He came so hard he almost fell over, catching himself with one hand on the wall, not wanting to explain to Jim what had happened if he did fall and hurt himself.

*Was this a side effect of one of the drugs?* he wondered. *Which one? And how long would it last?*

Just for good measure he did it again, and this time he *did* fall, bumping his head, but not hard enough to leave a mark.

He sat panting underneath the water until it got cold, and then he soaped up and scrubbed down, wanting to erase every trace of scent. Jim would know he'd taken another shower, but he wouldn't know why.

He hoped.

Jim found him sleeping peacefully when he got back, sprawled bonelessly across his small bed. He smiled and put the groceries away.

Slowly they worked up a profile of their killer. He slacked off over the next few weeks and it became a lower priority. Jim took other cases but still focused his nights on this one that had disturbed his young partner so much.

That partner managed his life balancing on a knife edge of drugs. Speed for the days, sedatives for the nights. The Xanax had run out but John had cheerfully supplied a substitute. It kept the dreams at bay almost as well as the Xanax and Blair dragged himself through his days hyped up and irritable, to spend the nights chasing after Jim through deserted downtown streets and back alleys, searching for clues in sights and sounds and smells, catching a couple of hours between lives and sleeping away the weekends.

It bothered him that he didn't feel anything when he looked at Jim now. Nothing but an almost desperate need to lie down and rest.

He hadn't had an erection in two weeks. That was flatly abnormal for him.

Jim made jokes about youth and endurance and Blair brushed them off, relentlessly keeping his grueling schedule, riding his personal roller coaster with flair, if not enthusiasm.

The he began to crack around the edges.

He snapped at a cop that teased him. Snarled at Jim when he woke him. *Shouted* at Simon when he downgraded the case again.

"You're getting too involved here, Sandburg!" Simon had yelled after him when he'd stormed out of the office. "When it comes down to it, you're just an *observer*!"

Jim winced at that and prepared himself for Blair's response, but was met with silence.

The whole room was silent. Even the phones seemed to realize the power of this moment and paused in their incessant ringing.

Blair stalked to his desk and began gathering up his things, snarling to himself. McCurdy drifted over and leaned to whisper to Jim, not knowing Jim could have heard him from across the bay.

"I never thought of him as violent, but he does have a temper, doesn't he?" he sounded almost admiring.

"He's not acting like himself." Jim made the mistake of saying it too loud and Blair turned on him.

"And how would you know? How well do you think you know me? You don't know shit!"

He threw his full bag over his shoulder and left in silent rage, feeling the eyes on him, burning holes into his back.

Jim went to Simon and asked to leave early, to follow him and find out what was wrong, but Simon refused.

"I think he just overstepped his bounds, Ellison, and I put him back in his place. He'll get over it or he won't. It's not like he's a cop."

He sat back and picked up a yellow post-it note stuck to the top of his desk.

"If the kid had waited I could have given him some good news. We may have downgraded the case but the FBI is interested in it. I sent the file to a friend of my son's who works in Violent Crimes and he sent it to a special office that deals with rituals and such."

"I thought that was Violent Crimes' specialty." Jim sat heavily in the chair beside the desk.

"Apparently this guy specializes in a specialty." Simon didn't smile. "I get the impression he's not really government, more of a private consultant. He'll be coming in the morning. I want you to meet him at the airport and take him for the day. It's all I can give you, Jim. This case is almost dead. We'll be turning it over to Cold Cases next week if nothing turns up."

"I appreciate this, Simon." Jim meant what he was saying. "Blair will too, once he calms down."

"I think there's something more serious bothering that boy." Simon said, hedging. Jim glanced up, not understanding and Simon sighed. He'd seen the signs before...if Jim was blind to them it would do no good to point them out.

This would have to play out to its logical conclusion.

He just hoped the kid was up to the rejection.

Blair was already in bed by the time Jim got home that night. He didn't think Jim would want to go out hunting for clues on was what was essentially a dead case.

He hadn't taken the sedative yet because he wanted to talk to Jim, who didn't know, of course, that he was still taking anything to sleep.

So he sat in bed, covers pulled to his neck as he shivered slightly, his body mechanisms all out of whack. It was time to start cutting back, time to wean himself off, he knew that, but he didn't look forward to it. He would start in the morning, with the speed. He was taking too much, he knew, but he'd needed it to get through these sleepless weeks.

His hands were shaking worse now. He buried them under the covers when he heard Jim come in.

"Chief?" he called softly.

"In here." his voice was steady when he answered and he was ridiculously grateful.

Jim came in and sat on the side of the bed because the chair was filled with books and files.

"You okay?"

"You ask that a lot, you know?" Blair said it gently. "I'm fine."

Jim asked what had been bothering him the most this last week.

"What is it about this case, Blair? Why has it hit you so hard?"

Blair shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. Jim quelled the urge to brush it back, and Blair left it there, hiding behind it.

"Do you know?" Jim urged him to answer.

"Yeah. But it's not something I can talk about." he shrugged. "It came back to me in the nightmares...I guess I'd buried it so deep I'd almost forgotten it."

"Is it better now?" he couldn't ask what he really wanted to. *Did someone hurt you? Hurt someone you loved?*

"It'll be okay." Blair sighed and lay back. "Give me some time and everything will be okay."

That sounded serious to Jim, but he knew Blair wasn't going to talk about it anymore.

He gave him a gentle smile and his hand reached to touch a lock of curly hair, briefly.

"Sleep well, Chief."

"Goodnight, Big Guy."

Blair waited until Jim was asleep before getting up and going to the kitchen to down the pills with a glass of juice.

He was at class the next morning when Jim went to pick up the consultant. He'd been glad Simon had called him in but privately doubted he'd be able to help much. There just wasn't much to go on. No semen samples, no skin or hair, some fibers and condoms that were too common to trace...

The specialist was a gravelly-voiced man with a face that looked like it had seen a hundred sorrows too many, but he had a smile that made up for it.

It touched Jim that the first thing he wanted to do when they got to the station was call his wife and tell her he got in safely and speak to his daughter, whose picture he had shown to Jim with shy pride.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Put Mommy back on." Jim turned down his hearing, trying not to listen, but it was hard in the close confines of Simon's office, lent for privacy.

"Catherine. I don't know how long I'll need to stay."

"Be careful." she sounded as lovely as her picture.

"I will be."

Jim noted that they didn't say goodbye, just an exchange of 'I love yous'.

They went over everything in the file and that took a good part of the day. When Frank asked to be taken to the actual murder sites Jim checked the time.

"My partner should be home by now. Do you mind if we swing by and pick him up?"

"Is he working another case?" Frank asked with quiet curiosity as they drove.

"Actually, Blair is a special case." he gave the man the official abbreviated version of their history, and then turned with surprise when he parked and Frank turned to him, his face serious, drawn in deep lines.

"There's something you're not telling me."

"What, are you psychic?" Jim joked, but the utter calm on the man's face unnerved him. "It's not for public knowledge." he said, finding that he needed to answer those eyes. "It has nothing to do with the case, I promise you."

"I believe you." Frank got out of the truck as if the exchange had never taken place, Jim looked at him with new eyes. *Psychic? Well, why not? I'm a Sentinel and I have a pre-ordained Guide...*

Blair was sitting on the couch, shivering, wrapped in two blankets, fighting the urges that ran rampant through him. He hadn't thought it would be this bad. His entire body shook with small tremors that escalated to full-body spasms. The light hurt his eyes but he was too tired to get up and turn it off...

He was so far gone in his misery that he didn't even realize they were coming in until Jim stood over him, concern in his voice and hands as he checked him for fever.

"Chief? Blair, what's wrong?" Jim knelt on the floor beside the couch and reached for him, but Frank's hand on his arm stopped him. Jim's eyes followed to where he was pointing and widened when they fell on the two small unlabeled prescription bottles that had fallen to the floor when Blair's hand could no longer grasp them.

Jim gasped as Frank picked them up, opening them.

The delicate smell of speed floated to his nose and he reached for the other one. Frank let him take it.

It was another smell he recognized. He'd spent weeks memorizing the scents of drugs, prescription and illegal, so he could sort them out from background smells, or ignore them when they were part of the background.

"Ativan." he breathed the brand name.

"An anti-psychotic sedative." Frank added. "Did you know about this?"

"no....I thought he was just tired, but he got better... Blair, ohmygod."

Blair heard Jim and tried to reach for him, but his hands weren't following his orders.

Jim caught the flailing hand in his own.

"I'll call an ambulance." Frank moved to the phone, but Jim called out.

"No! Wait...they'll bust him. He won't be allowed to work with me anymore."

"But he'll be alive." Frank said. "That's not something we can guarantee if I don't call."

"You don't understand." Jim's voice took on a strange intensity that reminded Frank of himself during a 'flash'. "I *need* him."

Frank didn't understand. But he heard the desperation in the voice and put the phone down, going instead to the kitchen to pour a glass of water and bring it over.

"Hold this." Jim took it on his free hand and stared while Frank measured out two tablets of the speed and crushed them between two spoons.

He stirred them into the water and it clouded.

"Can you get him to drink it?"

"But if he's addicted -- if he's going through withdrawals-" Jim objected.

"Doing it all at once is too much for his system." Frank said urgently. "Later you can help him cut back and then stop, but this may keep him alive for now."

"Help me." Jim moved, trying to balance the glass and lift Blair to a sitting position. Frank slid behind the small man on the couch and propped him up.

His shivering increased violently, but his eyes opened and he tried to speak.

"Jim...don't be mad...couldn't sleep...the dreams..."

Frank glanced at Jim, who was pressing the glass to Blair's slightly open mouth as he spoke.

"The case brought back memories of something he doesn't want to talk about. It gave him nightmares."

Until now Frank's hands had only touched the young man's clothes. Now he slid one hand down his arm, touching the Blair's skin, and jerked back at the horrible sensation of pain and violation he picked up. The accompanying image was too skewed to make any sense of and he pulled his hand away quickly.

"Yes, it would." he agreed, earning another strange look from Jim, who had missed the whole thing.

Jim whispered to Blair softly, coaxing.

"Blair. Baby, I'm not mad at you. You need to drink this, it will help you feel better." the endearment came from his mouth before he knew he was going to say it. He didn't know where it had come from. Blair certainly wasn't a baby, or a child, or even his *baby* in a romantic sense...but there is was, and it felt right on his lips. He didn't care what the man beside him thought of it.

Blair opened his mouth wider and Jim poured a little in, hearing him sputter and choke. The sound of his tongue against his teeth exploded in Jim's brain and then all he could hear was Blair's thundering heartbeat. It filled his brain.

"Oh no...oh god, no, not now, I can't..." Jim fought to bring himself under control. Frank watched his eyes cloud and then clear with, well, frank interest.

"Drink, baby, drink." Jim was begging now. Obediently Blair gulped the bitter stuff down, not tasting it, but the smell turned Jim's stomach.

They got it all down him and Frank lay him back on the couch. Jim held Blair's hand as the spasms eased and his breathing became slower, his heart settled into a more normal rhythm.

"What did you mean?" he asked Frank as they waited for him to wake. "About what happened to him. You can see it, can't you?" there was no doubt in Jim's face or voice. It was a total acceptance that Frank had rarely found and not expected in this ex-military cop.

"Sometimes." he admitted. "But he'll have to tell you. I can't give up his secrets for him."

"Oh, he'll tell me." there was anger in the big man's voice now that the immediate danger was past. "He will definitely tell me."

"He obviously needs to tell someone."

"Will you be able to do it at the crime scenes?"

"I can't promise anything."

"I appreciate you trying." Jim stroked Blair's hair back from his face while Frank watched.

"Does he know you love him?" the man asked suddenly. Jim's hand stopped in mid-stroke, hearing the nuance in the words.

"If that's what you picked up from me we've got a problem." he forced a laugh. "Of course I love him, but not...that way."

"If you say so." Frank agreed, seeing that he wasn't ready to face that within himself yet.

They waited almost an hour, until Blair was breathing regularly and seemed to be sleeping normally.

"I can't leave him here." Jim was fretting. They needed to get out to the crime scenes. "Do you need to wait until morning to look around?" It was past dark now.

"No." Frank answered simply. "I need to get to the scenes as soon as possible."

"I'll just put him in the truck." Jim decided aloud. He wrapped his young partner in the blankets he was lying in and lifted him easily in his arms. Frank opened the door and then went ahead to open the truck door so Jim could lay him in the back seat.

Jim cradled Blair close to his body as he carried him. Frank's earlier words echoed in his mind.

*I'm not in love with him.* he told himself, even as he felt Blair turn slightly in his arms and snuggle to his chest, seeking his heat like a puppy. *Or maybe he's trying to get closer to me, not just my warmth.* the thought disturbed Jim. He'd never considered that Blair might have a crush in him... *Get real, Jim. Blair doesn't have crushes. You've never seen him in anything other than a casual relationship. You wouldn't recognize it if he were in love. With you or anyone.*

They drove quietly. Jim planned to take him to the sites in reverse order, most recent first, to maximize the man's chances of picking up something Jim had missed.

The latest body, a thirteen-year-old hispanic girl, still unnamed, had been found in a patch of field on the east side of town. She'd been killed almost two miles away, near a small pond.

"The first ones were killed right before storms?" Frank asked as he slowly walked the site with the bright yellow sulphur flashlight. Jim noticed he found the exact perimeter the cops had set without asking. and he didn't ask why Jim wasn't using a light, either.

"We figure it was so the rain would wash away any evidence. It worked at the first scene."

"But you found the others." Frank gave him a speculative look.

*Maybe I should tell him. If anyone else could understand it's this guy.* Jim didn't know why, but he instinctively trusted the rough-voiced man. He'd learned, after becoming a Sentinel, to trust those feelings. *He'd believe me.*

But he wanted to talk to Blair about it first. Let Blair explain, he was better at making people understand.

Thinking that, he went to the truck to check on his friend, now sleeping fitfully in the backseat. He didn't seem to be having a nightmare, just not sleeping well. *Not surprising.*

Jim waited, watching Frank Black study the scene.

Frank stopped. This was the exact place the girl had been killed. He could feel it. Closing his eyes he got an impression of laughter...and rough male voices...a vision of a girl and a group of men, cooperating, not fighting them...pleasure and resignation.

He opened his eyes and walked over to Jim, leaning on the side of the truck, switching his attention from one man to the other.

"I need to see another site." Frank said quietly.

*Not 'the other sites'* Jim made the distinction. *Site.*

He wanted to ask if he'd found something, if he'd seen something, but decided that he should wait. The man would tell him when he was ready. He knew what it felt like when people pushed for information before he'd had a chance to sort it.

Frank saw him thinking and appreciated his quiet. This cop understood far more about him than he should. But there was no threat from him, Frank was sure he would feel that, just because he'd learned long ago to be a good judge of people.

It was slightly different at the second scene, but essentially the same. Frank returned to Jim, who was sitting in the back with Blair's head in his lap, trying to soothe the fretful sleep.

"He's getting worse." Jim said slowly. "I'm...I'm not sure what to do."

Frank stared at him, impassive.

"Of course." Jim nodded. "I'll take care of him." It was that simple. Frank nodded.

"Take me back to your place so we can talk."

Jim knew they should really take it to the station and was relieved the man didn't suggest it.

He got Blair settled in his bed, leaving the door open so he could watch him. Frank was brewing coffee in the kitchen. He seemed comfortable anywhere.

Or, actually, Jim thought, he *didn't* seem comfortable *anywhere*. It was an important distinction. Because of that Frank seemed at ease when he wasn't. He gave the impression of being relaxed when he was anything but. Only Jim's heightened se senses could have detected the physical proof of his ongoing tension.

*I bet he never relaxes anywhere but at home.* Jim could see that, in the way his voice and face had changed when he spoke to his family, spoke of them. His blood pressure dropped, his breathing became slower. *I bet he does that unconsciously even when he's just thinking about them.* It was one test Jim would actually have liked to try, but this time knew he couldn't. Blair would be disappointed he'd missed it.

Blair rolled again on his narrow bed and Jim hoped he didn't fall off.

Frank set the cup of coffee in front of him and took the chair opposite.

Jim sipped it, it was very hot. Then he wrapped his hands around the cup, the heat too fierce for his touch, so he tuned it down, concentrating briefly.

"What did you just do?" Frank spoke curiously but politely, indicating that he would understand it Jim didn't answer.

"Turned it down." Jim said, not explaining further. Frank just nodded again. He was a very quiet person, Jim had noticed. Spoke quietly, moved quietly, thought quietly. Was it a response to his own enhanced abilities?

He'd like the chance to discuss living like this with this man, but wasn't sure the subject would be welcome.

"Maybe later." Jim looked up, realizing he'd come very close to zoning as he thought, and that the man had answered his unspoken question. "We need to talk about the case now."

"Go ahead." Jim lifted his cup and listened, splitting his attention between the man in front of him and the man sleeping behind him. It was an effort but he was getting better at it.

"You've been going at it from the wrong angle." Frank started, his voice still quiet but somehow darker now. "You believe you have a serial killer."

Jim nodded as the man waited for his confirmation.

"You don't." Jim started almost imperceptibly. "There are several of them. A group, perhaps a cult. Or a gang. The girls are willing participants. I don't think they know they're going to be killed."

"I didn't pick up any extra scents at the scenes." Jim said and knew that Frank would know that was significant.

"Did you detect any overlying scents? Something that overpowered the others, perhaps?

"Something that could have masked body scents?" Jim thought about it, wishing Blair could help. "I wasn't looking for something like that..." he thought. "There was the blood, and the condoms and the sweat and spermicide...so many scents..." he stopped as Frank straightened, staring behind him.

He could feel Blair's heart, very close, smell his sweat and the sour tang of despair. He was awake!

Jim turned to see his partner standing in the doorway of his room. He'd been concentrating so hard on his memory that he hadn't noticed the changes in him.

"Still having trouble splitting your attention?" Blair walked over, walked carefully, as if everything hurt. He sat down and Frank got up to pour him a cup of coffee he accepted gratefully, not meeting Jim's eyes. "Ignore me. Go back over it again. Catalogue the scents according to scene. Try to find one you didn't identify that was common to all of them." Blair sipped his coffee and his voice switched to the guiding tone that often led Jim to answers. Jim let himself be led, closing his eyes and focusing inwards. Blair's problem could wait until later.

*Their* problem could wait until later.*

He sifted and sorted in his mind, knowing he was very close to zoning out, trusting Blair to bring him back if he did.

Frank watched in fascination as the young man helped the cop achieve a hypnotic trance. He didn't speak, understanding that distractions wouldn't help, but studied the boy as he sat, speaking soothingly.

He looked very pale and his hands were still shaking slightly. Silently Frank got up and went to the coffee table, where they had left the drugs. He brought both bottles back and set them on the table in front of him.

The flash of guilt that passed over him was unmistakable, but he nodded and opened the bottle, shaking out two tablets and looking at them, still talking to Jim, looking at Frank. For guidance? They hadn't even officially met. But Jim trusted him, so this boy did.

Frank shook his head, held up a finger. One. Blair nodded and returned the second tablet to the bottle, washing the first one down with coffee, pausing in his direction to Jim.

Then he stayed silent. Frank ventured to speak, watching him watch the cop.

"Is he okay?"

"He's zoned." the boy glanced at him. "I can leave him like this for a few minutes, but the deeper he gets the harder it is to get him back."

Frank didn't ask for an explanation. After maybe another sixty seconds the boy leaned over and put his hand on the larger man's shoulder. Frank could practically see the electricity pass between them. The cop was blind to the truth here.

"Jim." the boy's voice was louder. "Hey, Big Guy. Come back now. It's time to come back. Jim!" his voice got increasingly urgent but never changed from the soothing tone.

The cop finally blinked and opened his eyes.

"You let me go!" it sounded accusing.

"I thought you needed to, to find it." Blair started to shrug, decided not to.

Jim opened his mouth, caught himself, nodded.

"You're the Guide." he made it sound like a title.

"What did you get?"

"Nothing I can identify. Maybe...a sort of alcohol, acrid smell. I thought it was related to the M-E before, but now I'm not sure. We got to number four before she did, and it was already there."

"Can you identify it?"

Jim shook his head.

"Sorry, Chief. I've never smelled anything like it."

Frank broke in.

"It was a chemical smell?"

Jim nodded.

"Did it remind you of anything? A hospital, the coroner's office, a museum?"

Jim thought about it.

"More a hospital smell, I think."

"Was there any blood-smell attached to it?" Blair asked.

"Maybe. Sort of? There was so much blood at the scenes, you know I can't tell type from type."

"But it was definitely a chemical, hospital sort of smell."

Jim nodded.

"What good will that do?"

"It gives us a lead. Combined with what I found it narrows it down."

"What you found?" Blair turned his eyes to the man, curious now.

"I would look for a gang. This feels more like some sort of initiation rite." Frank didn't meet his eyes or answer his question. Jim understood that Blair wasn't to be trusted with his secret yet, even if it hurt him not to tell him.

Frank stood and went to the phone.

"I've got a room waiting for the night. I'll meet you in the morning at the station."

Jim checked the clock. It was about four a.m.

"Ten okay?" he wanted a chance to talk to Blair and catch some sleep.

"That's good." Frank dialed the cab number on the business card that was tacked to the wall beside the phone. He wondered why it was there. They both had cars, why would they call a cab so often they needed the number by the phone? That indicated that they needed it often enough to make looking up the number a nuisance, but not enough to memorize it.

Joining them at the table he picked up his coffee.

"They said it would half an hour."

"They're usually early." Blair spoke up and Frank looked at him, wanting an explanation. Blair shrugged. "I go out clubbing sometimes. If I can't drive home or get a ride I call Jim. Sometimes he calls me a cab, if he can't come and get me."

*He usually gets a ride.* Frank almost heard the thought as it passed visibly across the cop's face. There was resentment there. More evidence for his hypothesis.

They drank coffee and waited for the cab. Frank saw that Blair's hands had stopped shaking and he was showing signs of a slight buzz, moving restlessly. He couldn't know that was normal for him.

Jim walked him to the cab, leaning into the window when he shut the door.

"Thanks." he said awkwardly. "For your help with my partner, not just the case."

"He needs professional help." Frank said gently. "You're not going to be enough."

"He'll get it." Jim vowed. He straightened, and Frank grasped his arm gently, pulling him back, speaking intently.

"I've had some experience with cases like this." he said. "My wife is a social psychologist and she's helped me several times. Let me call her. She can talk to him, and he can tell her everything safely."

Jim stared at him, wondering what the man was picking up from him. Frank shook his head.

"It doesn't work like that. I only see...violence. Pain. Anything else I have to guess at, like everyone does."

Jim heard the pain in that statement. Moved, he covered the man's hand with his own.

"He'll be able to trust her." Frank said, still intent.

"How long are you staying?" the cab driver was giving them worried glances. His meter didn't start running until they left.

"Two more days. More, if you need me. Catherine can be here tomorrow."

Jim still hesitated.

"I don't tell her everything." Frank said. Jim nodded. "Just what I think she needs to hear."

"It must be hard."

"I'm going to tell her about you.

"It won't hurt her."

"She'll be interested."

"Yes." Jim decided. "Ask her to come."

"Good."

Jim watched as the cab drove off, wondering if he'd done the right thing.

Blair was still sitting at the table when he came back in. He didn't look up at Jim, just spoke softly.

"I'll be out tomorrow. If you want me to go."

"Shit, Chief." Jim sat heavily on the couch, not looking at him. "What am I supposed to say to that?"

*Say you forgive me and you want me to stay.* Blair didn't answer, just drank the last of his coffee, now cold.

Jim stood and paced, restless, confused. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to *do*?

"I want you to talk to somebody." he said at last, stopping on the other side of the table, leaning on the back of the chair Frank had sat in. "A professional. If you won't tell me what's bothering you, you'll have to tell her."

Blair nodded.

"I think maybe I should."

"You never have, have you?" Jim asked gently. "Talked about it."

Blair shook his head mutely.

"You have to."

"I know." Blair stood, pushing away from the table. "I'm going to sleep. Can we talk about this in the morning? If you're not going to make me leave."

"Of course I'm not going to make you leave." Jim rose and stood in front of him, stopping the smaller man with a hand on his chest.

Blair raised his eyes from the floor to Jim's. They were dull and cloudy, the bright blue hidden beneath weeks of pain and exhaustion. Jim winced.

He wanted to sweep him up in his arms and protect him, hold him until everything was good again.

So what was stopping him?

"You're going to have to stop." he said instead.

Blair nodded, once. His hair hung around his shoulders, dry and dull, lifeless. It was an appropriate metaphor for the rest of him.

"I shouldn't have tried to cut off cold turkey. Not while I was alone."

"I'll help you." Jim pulled his hand back as Blair stepped around him.

"I can do it." the voice of his Guide was so tired he didn't recognize it.

Frank called before eight the next morning, waking Jim.

"This is Blair." he'd ben up for an hour already, fighting the urge to pop a couple of tabs, his body rebelling from the self-denial. He was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket over his sweats, alternately hot and cold, shivering all the while.

"I need to speak to Ellison." he thought he knew the voice, but his memories of the night before were vague.

"Hang on." Blair set the phone down and spoke just loud enough for a normal person to hear him across the room. "Jim. It's for you."

He waited a minute, and then hung up, knowing Jim had heard him and answered on his extension without even checking.

That meant Jim would be coming down soon. Blair gathered his strength and staggered into the bathroom, planning on taking a hot bath. A long soak might help the spasms. Jim would forgive him for taking the hot water, this once. Maybe.

When Jim came down forty-five minutes later Blair was still in the tub. He'd heard the water running, and the scent of musk had filled the loft when he'd added the bath oil. He wasn't feeling too good, Jim judged by the variations in his body temperature and breathing, but he was awake and apparently functioning.

He stood outside the bathroom door and opened it a crack. He couldn't see the tub from this angle and was perversely grateful.

"Chief. You up to eating something?"

The small splash of Blair's wince was all he needed as an answer.

"We have to get to the station soon."

"You still want me there?" the voice was rank with guilt and self-hatred.

"Where else should my Guide be?" he tried to make it light, but it came out almost harsh.

"Stoned out of his mind on a street corner." Blair didn't snap, just answered slowly.

"Just come out soon so I can shower, okay?" Jim backed of, shutting the door. He couldn't talk to him like this. He'd wait until he felt better.

Blair was out in fifteen minutes, walking past Jim with head bent, a large bathsheet wrapped around his waist. Jim's eyes were again caught by the silver, but this time he let them study the rest of the smooth-muscled chest.

"I forgot to take my clothes in." Blair mumbled an apology before closing his bedroom door on Jim's face.

Jim's cold shower was probably a good thing, because he was sure he felt steam coming out of his ears.

Frank arrived at the station with his wife.

"She came in this morning." he told Jim after introducing her to both of them. Jim had shaken her hand and greeted her warmly, but Blair had only glanced at her and gone back to his textbook.

"Chief." Jim touched his shoulder lightly, prepared for his jump. He'd been like that since they got here. Loud noises, touches, he was as skittish as a frightened cat. "Frank and I are going to go over some possibilities in the case. Why don't you take Mrs.Black -"

"Catherine." she interrupted with a gentle smile.

"-Catherine out for a cup of coffee."

Blair looked at him, then slowly took in the faces surrounding him.

"Ah." he stood, hands gripping the book to control their shaking, closing it and holding it to his chest defensively. "You *want* me to talk to her, Jim?" he focused his tired blue gaze on the older man and Jim tried a smile, found that it came.

"Please, Chief."

"'Kay." Blair turned to Catherine, ignoring Frank, and met her eyes. "There's a place across the street that isn't too bad. It's usually not busy this time of the morning."

"That sounds good." she spoke quietly, gently. Jim was glad he'd taken Frank up on his offer. She seemed to be just the sort of person for Blair to talk to.

He led Frank to the file room and they linked to Frank's home computer and got to work.

"So, you're a headshrink?" Blair sipped his too-hot tea.

"I'm a child psychologist. I specialize in trauma cases."

"It may have escaped you, considering my size, but I'm not a child." there was no rancor in his voice, maybe a touch of amusement, as she was several inches taller than he. Catherine was happy to hear it.

"But you were a child once. And Frank tells me that your circumstances are unique, and call for a high level of, well, discretion."

"Unique. Yeah, I think so. There don't seem to be any more like Jim out there."

"Is this about your feelings for him?" she spread cream cheese on a bagel delicately. Blair watched her hands. Her fingers were long and slender, nails cut short, practical. Dichotomy.

He gave a little shrug.

"No. I dealt with that a while back."

"By ignoring it?" she sat back as the waitress came by to freshen her coffee.

"Jim's straight. I can accept that. I've fallen in love with men I couldn't have before." he stirred honey into the tea, watching it melt and vanish. "You deal with it by admitting it and then accepting the situation. It doesn't keep me up nights." *Much.*

"But you didn't live with them." she observed with a smile.

"Look." he met her eyes. "My feelings for Jim aren't the problem now. I'm not even sure how you're aware of them. I'm very good at hiding things."

"Frank's very good at finding things."

"There's something I don't know about him, isn't there?"

She nodded.

"I'm not going to ask. I've got enough to worry about."

"So tell me about it."

Blair set his cup down and studied the contents for a few minutes. Then he sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"I can't."

"It's okay. Take your time."

"You don't understand." he looked at her. "I *can't*. The words won't come. I have tried before."

"Does Jim know that?"

"He never asked."

"Is it because I'm a woman?"

"I like women." This time his grin was frankly teasing. "Didn't Jim mention *that*? I've been pretty hetero since I met him. We've even double-dated."

"Is that hard for you?"

He smiled at her quiet tone.

"You pry so politely." He shook his head before she could respond. "I know, it's your job. And I told Jim I would talk to you. But you need to understand. I don't fall in love with or become attracted to a person according to sex. It's the person, not the package. After studying so many tribes and so much history that made it clear that the package didn't matter so much in the past, it's easy for me to follow my natural inclinations." he was becoming more animated as he spoke, his hands making small expressive gestures.

"I understand that." she agreed, in theory, but wondered why anyone would make that decision in a society that frowned so harshly upon it. "So why can't you talk to me?"

"Because it won't mean anything to you." his eyes were darker now, pain showing clearly. "I'm just a case."

"No. I'm here because my husband took an interest in you and that makes it personal."

"You don't have a stake in it. You can turn and walk away afterwards."

"You want to talk to someone who can't."

"Someone who won't." Blair snapped his mouth shut. "I can't believe I said that."

"I think that's your problem." She ate her bagel while he sat in silence, thinking.

"But there will never be anyone who *can't* walk away." he said finally.

"So by that standard you'll never have to talk about it."

"I don't think I decided that deliberately."

"You were a child, Blair. Children make concrete decisions like that because they can't see all the possibilities."

"What does this mean?"

She leaned over the table and took his hand in hers.

"It means you need to talk to someone you trust. I can see that trust is hard for you, and I understand why."

He was shaking his head again, slowly, pulling his shaking hand from hers and hiding it in his lap.

"I don't think I trust anyone that much."

"Blair." Her voice was soft but he recognized the hypnotic quality so like his own when he Guided Jim. "I know it was horrible. I know. But I can see that you still haven't decided that it wasn't your fault."

He couldn't meet her eyes.

"No-one who loves you is going to turn their back on you, blame you for what happened. No one who's earned your trust could do that."

"It wasn't so bad." he shrugged, still not looking at her. "I've seen so much worse since I started working with Jim -- it makes what happened to me seem like a walk in the park."

"There's no measure of evil, Blair. No one evil is better or worse than another, because it's *all* still evil."

She saw the tears that gathered in his eyes and dripped down his face. He wiped them away roughly.

"I don't cry." he said firmly. "It doesn't help."

"Oh, Blair. Yes it does."

He gazed at her, his eyes fierce with determination. The tears dried up quickly.

"I don't cry."

"You should. You should find someone you love, someone who loves you, and cry with them for what was done to you and what was taken from you."

"I can't do that to anyone I love. Can't - expose them - hurt them. If they love me it will hurt them, won't it?" he seemed to be pleading for a reason not to try, but she wasn't going to give it to him.

"They will only hurt for you, not with you."

"Pain is pain."

"There are good pains and bad pains."

"Is that what you tell seven-year-olds?" he snapped.

"It's what I tell everyone. Even Frank. And he hurts a lot sometimes, but he has me to share it with. A pain that cleanses you is good. A pain you bury inside to fester is bad."

"I *know* that."

"Then why do you let this infect you?"

"I thought I was over it. I thought it was done. Buried in my past where it couldn't hurt me anymore."

"Sometimes things you bury come back to haunt you."

Blair was silent, finishing his tea. She watched impassively as he pulled out two brown bottles and took a pill from one of them, swallowing it dry. He didn't look at her until it was done.

"Is Jim going to help you with that problem?"

"He says he will. Jim always does what he says." *Except when he's promising to kill me.*

"If he can help you with that, then he can help you with the other. Why won't you let him?"

"I don't want to see his face when he realizes...when he knows...what I am."

"That's an interesting statement."

More silence. She tried another approach.

"You know that if you don't talk about this it's never going to go away."

"It went away before."

"You only get one shot at that. If it comes back you have to let it out."

He didn't look at her.

"I can do that on my own."

"That's what the nightmares are. Do you want to have them every night for the rest of your life?"

"I think we'd better get back. Before this wears off and I go ballistic again." he stood abruptly and put down money to cover the tab.

"You do, do you?" she asked with gentle amusement, but she stood and went with him.

He had the grace to blush.

"We have three groups of suspects and men have already been sent after them." Jim greeted him when they got back. Blair glanced at his watch with surprise. They'd been talking for over two hours.

Most of it had been silence, he knew.

"I would have gone with them, but I wanted to wait for you."

"I'm okay." Blair shrugged. "Did Frank go?"

"Yes." Jim was looking him up and down like he'd been hurt, like there would be bruises or something.

"I'm okay, Big Guy."

"Do you mind if I talk to Catherine alone for a minute?"

"You're asking me if you can talk about me behind my back? Be my guest." Blair shrugged and headed for the bathroom. Jim followed him with his eyes and sighed.

"Is there someplace more private we can do this?" she asked.

"Simon's out. We can use his office." Jim led her in and shut the door. The blinds were already down. He sat in the chair beside hers and turned it to face her.

"I can't say much that will help." she sounded apologetic. "He didn't really want to talk to me."

"He told me he would." there was a hint of betrayal in Jim's voice.

"He tried. He really did. But he doesn't know me and this is just too personal for him to talk to a stranger about. He needs to talk to someone who loves him."

"Then why won't he talk to me?"

She stared at him briefly, surprise written on her face.

*He really didn't know.*

"What?" Jim pounced verbally. She shook her head.

"I can't talk about it. That would be betraying a confidence."

"Don't give me that -!" he cut off a nasty word before it got out of his mouth. "I want to help Blair. You want to help Blair. How can telling me something that will help hurt him?"

"I admire your logic, Jim, but that's not going to do it." she smiled. "I'm just going to tell you that you have to talk to Blair."

"I've *tried* to talk to him!" he stood, agitated.

"Jim, sit down." her words were quiet, but clearly an order. After he did she continued. "I can discuss things you already know about him."

"How will that help?"

She ignored the question.

"I'm sure you're aware of his sexual preferences."

"What has that got to do with it? Abuse doesn't make people gay, no matter what kind it is. And anyhow, he's not gay ."

"Hush." she waited until he subdued.

"Blair loves people for who they are, not for their body or anything else. Right?" she challenged.

"Yeah. He's pretty open-minded."

"There you have it." she sat back, waiting to see if he worked it through.

He thought about it, but didn't say anything. His face was so well-controlled that she couldn't tell if he'd made the connection. Not even when he stood and thanked her before escorting her back into the main room, where Blair waited, book open on his desk, apparently engrossed.

"Simon says we can knock off early. He'll call us if there are any developments."

"Don't they need you?" Blair shut the book without marking the page. Jim knew he didn't need to, that he'd remember it when he went back to it. It was a talent he envied.

"It's basic police work from here on out, now that we have a lead." he nodded at Catherine. "I told Simon I have something I need to take care of."

"Something?" Blair snorted.

"Someone. I have *someone* to take care of right now." Jim amended. "Can I drop you at your hotel?" he asked Catherine.

"That would be nice, thank you. If this gets wrapped up we can go home tonight. I miss Jordan, even when I'm only away for a little while."

"I hope it does. But we shouldn't need Frank anymore. He's done the hard part."

"The hard part came long before he got here." she corrected.

They took her to the hotel.

The ride home was silent. Not just quiet, but filled with the silence of things left unsaid.

Blair kept waiting for Jim to start talking, to tell him how much he needed to talk to him, to rag on him for the drugs... something.

But Jim just made general everyday noises as they pulled up to the loft and he went about fixing dinner. Blair sat at the kitchen table and watched.

Jim talked about the food, about the basketball game he was going to watch on TV.

"You want to watch it with me?"

"I'm not very good company right now."

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you." Jim took Blair's untouched plate of pasta and dumped it in the disposal. "Help me out a little."

"Sure. Why not." Blair stood. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he handed Jim the bottle of Ativan. "Get rid of these for me?"

Jim took it, serious now.

"You sure?"

"It'll take a few more days to dump the speed, but I haven't really been taking much. I can do without this now."

"Okay, Chief." Jim set it on the countertop. Feeling Blair's eyes on him, he opened the bottle and poured the contents down the disposal with the food, and turned it on.

When it was done grinding he turned the water on and let it flush out before looking back at Blair.

"That's a good first step." he said softly, laying his hands on the smaller man's shoulders, pleased when he didn't flinch away. Gently, on the lookout for any sign of resistance, he pressed Blair to his chest and wrapped his arms around him.

Blair sighed and closed his eyes. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was probably as close as he was ever going to get.

He curled his arms to his chest, pressing his hands on Jim's, not returning the embrace, accepting the comfort Jim was offering with his head laid on his hands.

He felt Jim's hand drift up his back and settle on the back of his neck, fingers rubbing gently, soothingly.

Jim felt Blair's heaved sigh against him, heard it and smelled it in the brush of warm air that smelled of tea.

He released him a minute later.

"The game's getting ready to start. C'mon." he kept an arm around Blair, leading him to the couch.

They watched the game, Jim making his usual comments and suggestions at the screen, but not getting too worked up. After that they watched the news, and then he turned it to HBO to watch Twister, just because it was on.

Blair sat quietly through all of it, struggling to keep control of himself as his body charged toward an out-and-out revolt.

He wasn't aware of Jim studying him, keeping an ear to his breathing, monitoring his condition. He tried to hide the little movements his hands made, the twitches in his legs.

But they spread until he was twitching all over. it was like his skin was crawling with insects he was trying to shake off. The only image that came to mind was a horse he'd seen once, watching it shiver individual patches to shake off flies its tail couldn't reach. He'd thought it an interesting evolutionary development.

Now he just thought he wanted to die. Or at least be knocked out for the next twenty-four hours.

But since he'd had Jim dump the sedative, he only had two choices. Get drunk or ask Jim to hit him. They didn't have anything to drink and he didn't think Jim would go for it, no matter how much he pissed him off. He never had before, anyhow.

Jim watched the movie mindlessly. All of his senses were tuned to the figure quivering on the other end of the couch. *When would it get to be too much for him? Would he turn to Jim for help?*

He'd seen cases of withdrawal before, working Vice. Seemingly normal perps routinely locked in who flipped out hours later when they came down. Speed was one of the bad ones. Use it too long, too much, and your mind was destroyed. Many people never came back from it. Many died.

But Blair hadn't been using long, relatively speaking, and not much, with the same qualifier. Young and strong. He should be able to make it through this. But he'd probably need help.

Jim hoped fervently that Blair would turn to him for that help.

A particularly obvious spasm caught his attention, but he kept his eyes fixed on the screen, hearing the catch that was developing in Blair's breathing. It was affecting his lungs. That was bad.

He decided then. If Blair didn't turn to him he would make the first move.

He just had to time it right.

The movie was almost over when he got his chance. The muscle spasms had been increasing in strength and frequency for the past hour, becoming closer to convulsions, except that Blair was fully conscious and knew exactly what was happening to him, and why.

He'd begun to hyperventilate, trying to keep his lungs filled around the pain as the muscles of his chest and stomach cramped from the relentless activity. Jim finally glanced at him, and the concern was clear on his face, even in the dim light provided by the TV screen.

He didn't say a word, just came over to Blair and lifted him in his arms, into his lap. With a sound like a sob Blair wrapped his arms around him and clung to him as spasms rocked his slender frame.

Never before had Jim been as aware of Blair's size, his fragility. Not that he was really fragile, he was just smaller, and he felt so delicate in Jim's arms as he fought the pain.

He'd had women who were bigger than Blair.

Blair didn't make another sound, just clung to Jim as it got worse, a little bit at a time, dragging air into lungs that burned from the effort, struggling to control the pain that rolled through him in waves, muscles beginning to protest more and more strongly, more of them cramping every few minutes until he didn't think there was a place that didn't hurt. Even his face hurt. His *scalp* hurt.

A random thought brought an almost hysterical bark of laughter. Jim responded right away, tightening his grip on him and whispering into his ear.

"What's funny?" he was startled that Blair could find any humor in the situation.

"My - *hair*..." he stopped to pant through another lungful of oxygen. "My hair hurts."

"Damn. That's weird." Jim tried to answer in the same mildly amused tone. "Does this help?"

He raised both hands to Blair's head and massaged the scalp gently. Blair closed his eyes with a gasp and let his head fall back.

"Oh yeah...man..."

He didn't see Jim's eyes travel to the exposed line of his neck and his mouth twitch as he licked his lips.

"Lie down." Jim turned to lay him face down on the couch, one arm at his side against the back and the other trailing off onto the floor. The movie was off and there was a concert coming on. He figured it would do for background noise, but then wondered.

"Does the noise bother you?" he asked, leaning over Blair and speaking into his ear again, his hands going back to rubbing his scalp, tangling in the long curly hair. He had to sit astride Blair's legs to do it and he felt the muscles twitching. It was such a strong sensation he had to tone down his touch for a minute.

"It's - a distraction." Blair grunted, arching back just a little. "Distraction is good." he groaned softly as Jim's hands moved down his spine, digging in through the heavy material of his shirt. Jim tugged it out of his pants and urged Blair to sit so he could pull it off.

Blair did, reluctantly, turning over quickly, not wanting Jim looking at him.

Jim sat again on his knees over Blair's legs and just looked for a minute.

He'd seen Blair without a shirt before. It wasn't a big deal. So why did it affect him so much now?

Blair was slender but well-muscled. His years of hiking and rock climbing and dancing had given him a lean strength hidden in his deceptively small frame.

Jim went to work, his hands following the path of the spasms as they traveled from top to bottom and then back again.

The pads of muscle he was working on, so clearly defined, were twitching in a twisted version of St.Vitus' dance.

The reference made Jim stop what he was doing.

This did remind him of the illness that medieval people had mistaken for demonic possession and evidence of witchcraft. Sufferers then had often died at the stake or under the torture of church officials.

"Jim." the quiet voice was rough. "You zoning, man?"

Jim realized he'd stopped moving and shook his head, starting again.

"I was close, Chief. Thanks for catching it."

*I would do anything to keep your hands on me.* Blair thought as he stifled another groan prompted by the pain, not Jim's ministrations. The unending twitching, crawling feeling was going to drive him nuts. Already he felt himself getting unreasonably angry and knew it was because he had no control over this situation.

Jim wasn't really helping, but his hands felt good, and just knowing they were touching him made Blair feel better, even if he wasn't really aware of them on his skin. If it made Jim feel like he was helping, that was enough.

He tried to listen to the band on the TV. Jim had left it a bit loud but the words ran together when he tried to hear them. He recognized the style and then knew the band.

Depeche Mode. A favorite at some of the mixed clubs he frequented. He'd heard this song before, and liked it.

-Secret. Holy.
to put it into words, to write it down
that is walking on hallowed ground.
But it's my duty.
I'm a missionary.

So here is my confession
it's an obsession
I'm a firm believer
and a warm receiver.

And I claim my decision
this is religion
there's no doubt
I'm one of the devout

Trying to tell the story
of love's eternal glory.

Blair thought there were confessions he could make, if only someone gave him the chance. If Jim would ever give him the chance.

He shifted to ease the ache in his groin, an ache the result of muscle cramps and not unrelieved arousal. He didn't think he could get it up now if his life depended on it.

"Easy there, Chief." he felt Jim's hands for just a moment, resting lightly on his waist, as the spasms died down briefly. "Is it getting better?"

Blair shook his head. The spasms were coming further apart but they were getting more violent and spreading faster, and the pain was growing as lactose built up in abused muscle fibers and burned.

He felt Jim's hands in his hair once again and stiffened his neck, forehead pressed into the couch cushion, not caring if he could breathe, as long as he could feel Jim touching him. But that faded under a new onslaught of agony and he couldn't fight it as his upper body clenched up like he was held in a vice. He gasped and then it was over and he was panting for breath, waiting in trembling anticipation for the next one.

Jim felt Blair's body convulse. He leaned over him, tried to hold him against it, but it was too much and he knew he was going to have to try something else.

He swung off the couch and stroked Blair's head, kneeling beside him to speak, not sure if the younger man could hear him.

"I'm going to try something. I'll be right back."

There was no indication that Blair had heard him, but he was going to try it either way, so he left him, to run into the bathroom and turn on the water, hot enough to sting his hands with his touch dialed all the way down to normal, pouring in a liberal amount of the oil Blair liked, leaving the water running while he went back to the couch.

His mind registered the words of the moody song that was playing now in snatches.

-thank the lord for small mercies.

He rolled Blair over, seeing that he was clenched up tight, tighter than a body should ever be. The words of the song sank into his brain as he unfastened Blair's pants and began to tug them off.

-I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die, I expect to find him laughing.

The song hit a nerve. If God thought this was just, Jim might wonder. Some of the things he'd seen, he had to wonder.

Blair opened his eyes, clouded by pain and his hands covered Jim's, tugging weakly, trying to pull them away.

"No...Jim, no, don't..."

"It's okay, Chief. I just want to get you into the tub. The hot water will help.

"No..." Blair didn't seem to hear him. Uneasily Jim gathered both of his small wrists into one large hand and held them aside while he awkwardly got the jeans off one-handed. Blair didn't say anything else, just shivered and tried to roll away when they were off.

The song had changed.

-Come with me
into the trees
we'll lay on the grass
and let the earth pass

Take my hand
come back to the land
let's get away
just for one day

Let me see you stripped down to the bone
Let me see you stripped down to the bone

Jim felt a shiver run up his back. The song seemed eerily fitting now as he tried to roll an uncooperative Blair back over so he could carry him to the tub.

It wasn't a nice song.

-Let me see you stripped down to the bone
Let me see you stripped down to the bone

Let me see you make decisions
without your television
Let me hear you
screaming just for me, yeah.

"No, Jim..." Blair was digging himself into the back of the couch, fighting Jim as hard as he could in his condition. Worried, even a little frightened, Jim got down on his knees and wrapped himself around the young man from behind, his mouth close to his ear, speaking softly, his words the only way he knew to reach him.

"Blair. Baby, come on, you gotta let me help you. Don't fight me, I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you..."

The song went on behind him and he shuddered at the words, wishing he couldn't hear them.

-Let me see you stripped down to the bone
Let me hear you screaming just for me
Let me see you stripped down to the bone
Let me hear you crying just for me
Let me see you stripped down to the bone
Let me hear you screaming just for me
Let me see you stripped down to the bone
Let me hear you dying just for me

"Blair!" his voice became demanding, authoritative, hoping he would respond to that and he did, fighting harder. "Blair, please, calm down..." Jim softened again.

He didn't know what to do. The tub was going to overflow if he didn't get in there soon, but he didn't want to leave him like this. It was getting worse, he could feel the muscles rippling beneath his arms, hear the labored breathing as it whistled in Blair's lungs.

Jim closed his eyes, searching for an answer in his heart. There were times it was the only part of him that knew what to do.

The answer was there, clear and simple.

Jim leaned closer, and nuzzled his face into the long curly hair beneath it, and kissed the back of Blair's neck. Not too gently, he wanted him to feel it. He wanted to reach him through his fear and pain and shame.

He didn't know how he knew that Blair was ashamed. It might have been his earlier words or the way he had fought to stay clothed. But Jim thought he could smell it. Just a whiff of something he'd never smelled on Blair before. Emotions had different smells, he'd been exposed to most of them, but this was different...it made him feel embarrassed...*shame* was the only word he could find that described it.

Blair had done nothing to be ashamed of. Jim wished he could explain that to him, but figured he wouldn't understand right now. So the Sentinel nuzzled his hair and held him close and tried to tell him without words.

Blair stiffened in a way that had nothing to do with muscle cramps. Jim kissed his neck, a little ways down his back, and then up to his ear, tongue tugging lightly on the silver hoops there as Blair lay as still as he could, only the spasms giving him away.

If this was what it took to reach him Jim was willing to do it. He tried not to think about it, but soon found that it wasn't disgusting or even strange. The fact that Blair was a man wasn't important right now. All that mattered was that he was Blair, and he was hurting and his Blessed Protector couldn't do anything more for him.

Had let him get into the is condition in the first place.

"jim?" no-one else would have heard the tiny whisper, but he raised his head and looked into Blair's eyes as he turned back over, just a little bit.

"What?" he answered, just a tiny bit louder.

"Don't. *Please*." Blair's eyes were shining with something more than pain now. Tears? Jim couldn't be sure.

"Don't touch you? Don't kiss you? Don't help you? What is it you don't want me to do, Chief?"

Blair closed his eyes and Jim clearly saw a tear slip from under one eyelid. The whisper was even quieter than the first.

"don't look at me."

"Shit, Blair." he gathered him close again, the unresisting form still shaking and in pain. "Blair. Baby..." he didn't know what to say to that. "Let me just get you into the tub, I know it will help."

"Jim..." Blair's protest was little more than a sigh as Jim shifted and lifted him in his arms, cradling him close to his chest like a child. He left the jeans behind, but Blair still wore his flannel boxers.

"I won't look at you, Chief." he promised softly. "Just let me help you tonight, okay? Let me make this up to you."

As he carried Blair from the room he heard another song above the pounding in his heart. It seemed to follow them into the other room.

-I'm not going down on my knees
begging you to adore me
Can't you see it's misery
and torture for me

When I'm misunderstood
Try as hard as you can
I've tried as hard as I could
To make you see how important it is to me

Here is a plea from my heart to your
Nobody knows me as well as you do
You know how hard it is for me
to shake the disease
that takes over my tongue
in situations like these

A shiver caught him as the music stopped and the male singer's clear tenor rang out in the silence, haunting, beautiful.

-Understand meeeeeee
Understand me
Understand meeeeeee
Understand me

That's all he wanted, he thought as he gently lay Blair into the over-full tub, not even caring that water sloshed onto the floor in big puddles.

He wanted someone to understand him.

And Blair was the only one who did. The only one who ever would. His Guide.

Blair curled over on his side, fighting the worst spasm yet. He let his face slip beneath the surface and Jim knelt hastily on the wet floor and reached to lift it out and hold it when Blair couldn't, his other hand going to forcibly turn Blair to face the outer side of the tub so he could hold his head up and look into his eyes.

"Blair. Blair! Look at me, Chief. Are you still with me?"

The young man blinked several times, opened his eyes a slit.

"I'm here." he sighed and it became a moan as another spasm hit.

"Hang on, Baby. I think it's almost over." Jim encouraged softly, telling himself that if it got any worse he was calling an ambulance and they'd just have to deal with the fallout. Trying not to hear Blair's gasps of pain, the sounds of his muscles as they stretched almost to the breaking point, he tried to tune in to the music from the living room.

-Some people asking me whether we'll be together
Lovers devoted to each other forever
Now I've got things to do
As I've said before
And I know you have to
When I'm not there
In spirit I'll be there

Understand meeeeeee
Understand me
Understand meeeeeee
Understand me

Here is a plea from my heart to you
Nobody knows me as well as you do
You know how hard it is for me to
shake the disease
that takes over my tongue
in situations like these

Maybe he should look into getting some of their music. It wasn't the sort of thing he usually liked, but it had a certain plaintive strength, the words ringing true.

He felt Blair ease and turned his attention back to him.

"Blair. Look at me. Let me see you."

Blair obediently opened his eyes, mouth open as he panted.

"It hurts, Jim." he said, like a child.

"I know." Jim stroked his wet hair. "It shouldn't be much longer."

He hadn't seen any cases that went further than this. But he hadn't had that much experience, either.

Blair closed his eyes as he quivered, a sign that the next one was coming.

Jim watched, trying to remain impassive. It was a bit like childbirth, he imagined.

It was hard to believe just a few weeks of those drugs had led to this. What would have happened if he hadn't stopped taking them?

Jim suppressed a shudder. He knew. He'd had to take people out to the state mental hospital a couple of times. Memories of those empty faces had haunted for weeks afterwards.

Blair panted and then sighed. Jim felt him relax significantly, all at once.

"That should be it." he said. "I think it's over now."

"Why...why did it happen like this?" Blair was still groggy but was trying to understand.

"I think it's like resetting the parameters on your computer. You have to clear the hard drive before you can re- install the stuff you want." Jim grinned. "You just reprogrammed yourself."

"A warm boot." Blair said, sounding sleepy. Jim figured he'd be tired after the last few hours. The young man uncurled gradually, and then stretched gingerly. Jim flipped the switch that would let water drain out and turned the hot water back on.

"Ahhh." Blair sighed with feline appreciation, letting his head fall back into the water, soaking his hair, slipping down until it was over his ears.

"Hey." Jim caught his head, hands framing his face, and held him, not wanting him to go further under if a a last one hit.

Blair had his eyes closed and didn't seem to hear him.

*He's tired. I should let him rest.*

He was afraid to leave him alone, so he sat and let his own back cramp as he held Blair's head up until the hot water ran out and the water in the tub cooled.

"Come on, Chief." he tried to pull him up after the water had drained, not looking at his sleek body or the contours the wet boxers clung to.

Blair muttered something he didn't catch but didn't respond otherwise. With a sigh Jim realized he'd have to carry him again.

Where to take him? Blair's bed was covered with books and stuff, he'd noticed it in passing earlier. The couch was comfortable and close, but not that big and he wanted to be close to him in case he woke up or needed to.

That meant hauling him up the stairs.

Oh, well. Blair had saved his life the day they met. It was the least he could do to repay him.

He had to carry him up wet because he couldn't get a towel around him in the tub. Laying him on the bed, he grasped the waist of his boxers, intending to get him out of the wet things, but Blair woke suddenly from his drowse and pulled himself away.

"You can't sleep in them, Chief." Jim said with amusement.

Blair looked around. He was in Jim's bed. He started to get up awkwardly, but Jim's hands on his chest pushed him firmly back.

"You're staying here, where I can watch you." Jim efficiently yanked back the spread and topsheet and tucked him under them. Blair pulled them up to his neck, eyes still closed, not wanting to see Jim's face.

"Now hand me those wet things or I will have to take them off you."

Blair opened his eyes and stared, then reached under the covers. Jim could tell he was doing it by the way he wriggled. The movement caused the covers to slip down to his waist and Jim saw the shining silver that seemed such a perfect accent to Blair's beauty.

Blair handed him the boxers and snatched the covers back up, sitting stiffly in the middle of the bed.

"Lie down." Jim said gently. "I'm going to be downstairs for a few minutes, but I'll be back quickly. Try to sleep."

"'kay." Blair lay back and curled over on his side. Jim thought about that as he went back down to turn off the TV and lights.

He'd had to wake Blair many times since he moved in. The odd hours the teacher kept meant he sometimes slept through his alarm that always woke Jim. And he had never seen him sleep like that. Usually he sprawled bonelessly, taking up most of the small bed in his room or the couch.

He knew Blair was sleeping like this because of him and admired the determination that he showed, even in his sleep.

Everything taken care of, he dug through the laundry until he found the sweatpants Blair sometimes wore around the loft. They would serve his modesty, if Jim could get them on him.

Blair was deeply asleep when he got back, still curled tightly. Jim changed into dry shorts and a t-shirt and sat on the bed next to him, rolling him over, ignoring his brief sleepy resistance and uncovering him to work the pants on.

Seeing Blair nude was a new experience. But not a bad one. He found himself doing a little mental comparison and Blair certainly didn't come up short - no pun intended. Actually, he found Blair rather attractive, his smooth muscle and thickly furred stomach and chest, the soft skin of his flanks...Jim realized that he was staring and hurried to get him dressed. Blair was heavy and warm and no help at all. Getting the pants on Jim accidentally touched him several times in places he probably shouldn't have, but Blair was asleep and it didn't hurt anything.

Finally Blair was covered back up and Jim could lie down and feel his own exhaustion. This had been a wringing emotional ordeal and he knew it wasn't over yet. They still hadn't talked about the nightmares. Or the things Catherine Black had implied.

*Could Blair be attracted to him? What would he do if he was?* Jim had never loved a man, never wanted to...but he would consider it, for Blair. He closed his eyes, keenly aware of Blair's soft breathing beside him, the warmth of his compact body. Jim thought about what Catherine had said.

"Blair falls in love with a person, not a sex."

*Did it matter that much to him that Blair was a man?* A small one, to be sure, but still very masculine, if not conventionally so.

*Could he love a man?* that was the real question, the one he'd been avoiding.

*If it was Blair.* his heart was quick to answer once he was brave enough to ask.

It looked like they really did have a lot to talk about. He'd better get some rest.

Jim trailed his fingers over his partner's back curiously as Blair slept. Then the older man lay back and closed his eyes, punching the pillow into just the right shape, and went to sleep, his hand spread flat on Blair's back.

It felt good there.

Jim woke abruptly, senses instinctively reaching for whatever had brought up from his deep sleep. He didn't have to look far, the cause of the disturbance was right there beside him.

Blair was curled into a tight ball, burrowed beneath the covers, head hiding under a pillow. Only the ends of his hair trailed out of that dubious sanctuary, clearly visible to Jim's nightsight.

Jim checked him quickly, without touching him.

Blair's heart was racing, his breath coming in gasps. He was bathed in sweat. Jim could almost taste his fear as it flooded his nostrils, so close to the source.

A nightmare. Already. He didn't know if that were good or bad. A part of him had hoped that his bed was a safe place for Blair, that his demons couldn't reach him here, beside his protector, but that hope had been in vain.

Blair made a soft whimpering sound that caused Jim's heart to clench. When the smaller man jerked once and the sound cut off, that was worse.

"Blair." he moved closer, spoke quietly. There was no answer. Jim removed the pillow, but Blair didn't move.

"Hey. Baby." thinking about what he would do if this was a woman he cared about, Jim went with his instincts, spooning around behind Blair and cuddling him close, arms around his waist, pulling the smaller man's back to his chest.

The feel of Blair's butt pressed against his crotch didn't bring any response, positive or negative. It barely even registered, because it wasn't that different. Not different at all, really.

"Baby, baby..." he whispered, hand brushing Blair's tangled hair away from is face. It was a snarled mess. He should have at least combed it out when it was wet.

He felt Blair move, and his breathing slowed abruptly. *Was he holding his breath?*

Jim raised himself so he could look down at Blair's profile.

A new scent hit him, strong and unmistakable, warm.

The copper-tang of fresh blood.

"Blair!" he tried to turn him over, too check him for injuries, his mind rushing through the possibilities...nosebleed, bit lip, some sort of internal hemorrhage caused by the muscle spasms...

Blair resisted him, surprising Jim with his strength, and his breathing resumed more normally. Jim leaned further over him, trying to get a good look at his face.

Jim could see very well in the dark, but he thought maybe he was seeing things.

Blair had his eyes squeezed shut tight, and one hand fisted, biting on the knuckles fiercely.

Hard enough to draw blood.

"God, Blair. Don't do that." Jim grasped the fist and Blair didn't resist when he pulled it away, but flipped over onto his stomach, legs tight together, head under crossed arms. Jim sat up beside him and leaned, his hands on Blair's back. He felt the tiny shakes in his shoulders and thought the convulsions were starting again, but then he tuned in his hearing and realized that Blair was crying. Struggling to do so silently.

"Oh god." Jim lifted Blair bodily into his arms, ignoring his struggles, using plain brute strength. He promised to get mad at himself for it later, but for now the ends justified the means. Blair was a lot of things, but he would never be stronger than Jim. Smarter, cuter, funnier, kinder...but not stronger, as Jim proved again when Blair tried to get away, the battle all the more vivid because he didn't open his eyes or make a sound.

"I know you're awake, baby." Jim held onto him, curled him between his bent legs, pressed his head to his chest with one broad hand on the back of his neck. "Just let me hold you. I won't say anything...Blair, please." he winced as Blair's foot caught him in the groin but bit back the groan the sudden pain caused. "I'm not going to hurt you."

As if he realized what he'd done, Blair stopped fighting Jim, but his body was rigid with tension. Jim stroked his hand over his head, to his face, fingers learning the texture of him, finding the rapidly cooling tracks of tears on his cheeks, hand spreading to press Blair's heated cheek to his wide chest.

Jim began to rock slowly, crooning a wordless low note of comfort.

Blair remained in his embrace, stiff and silent.

Jim was acutely aware of the passage of time. He'd been holding and rocking Blair for over an hour now, with no response. Blair sat in the same position, his breathing remained steady and his body was still tense.

Jim had stopped making noise after the first half hour, deciding it wasn't helping. The sounds of the city at night seemed to come from very far away, muffled by the walls and the emotions they were feeling.

He was tired. His balls hurt where Blair had kicked him. His arms were cramping.

It seemed really petty to be thinking about that. He turned his attention from his own pain and concentrated on Blair's.

*Maybe he was ready to talk now. He'd given him plenty of time to calm down.*

Blair actually seemed very calm. Tense, but calm.

"Blair." Jim spoke softly, but it sounded loud after the silence they had created. "You have to talk to me, baby."

"Don't call me that." Blair's voice was deceptively mild. Jim had felt his reaction in his heartrate, breathing and temperature and it hadn't been anything like mild. All three had spiked when Jim said that word. "I'm your Guide, your roommate, and your friend. But I've never been your *baby*."

Jim couldn't miss the emphasis on that word. Two days ago he would have been at a loss to understand it, but he'd learned a lot since then, about his friend and about himself.

So it wasn't such a surprise when he heard himself ask.

"Do you want to be?"

He wouldn't have thought Blair could get much tenser, but, as he absorbed the question, his slender body tightened like a bowstring pulled too far back. Ready to snap.

"Shut up, Jim." the angry hissed words weren't exactly the reply he was expecting.

"Blair?" had he misread the situation completely? Had Frank and Catherine misled him, or had he misinterpreted their words?

"Let me go!" abruptly Blair straightened and lunged away from him. Jim caught him around the waist and pulled him back, though not back into his lap.

"Dammit, Ellison! If I wanted to be manhandled I'd go out and pick somebody up!" Blair shouted now, twisting to get away. Jim tightened his grip and held him ruthlessly.

"You're gonna talk to me, Sandburg, if it kills you."

"You prick." Blair stopped, knowing he couldn't win a physical battle, resorted to words, his best weapon. "You getting off on this?"

Jim closed his eyes for seconds, letting the pain those words caused flow over him, releasing it. *He didn't mean that. He's just scared.*

When he opened them again Blair was staring at him, blue eyes wide, the black of his pupils nearly driving out the color.

Jim knew Blair couldn't see him, and somehow that made it easier to talk.

"I don't want to do this. But you've got to talk to me. I have to talk to you. Neither of us can go on with this between us, unspoken. We have to deal with it."

"Deal with what?" Blair took refuge in whip-edged sarcasm. "My drug addiction? The fact that I love you? Or how about rape? I can do all three, you know, and still come up sane."

Jim's hands clenched on his waist, digging deeper into the bruises he'd already caused during the scuffle. *He'd actually said it. Catherine and Frank had been right. Why hadn't he seen it earlier?*

Blair didn't even flinch. He just sat back on his knees, forcing Jim to lean to hold onto him, and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

*No.* Jim thought, watching him. *Defensively. He's really frightened.*

"It's your life, Chief." he said gently, refusing to get angry. "You choose."

"I don't want to talk about *any* of it." he snapped back.

"You will if you ever want to get out of this bed again." *Oops." Jim thought as Blair's temperature jumped again. He felt like he was running a fever, he was so hot, and Jim could smell the new flush of sweat and...pheromones?

Did men produce pheromones? He supposed they must, like women, but he'd never been exposed to them...did this mean Blair was getting turned on by this?

He could look at Blair all he wanted, Blair couldn't see him. So Jim studied his body, focusing on his groin. There was nothing there to indicate sexual excitement. So where had those smells come from? His comment about the bed?

"Please, Blair. If I let you go, will you stay here and talk? It doesn't have to be any of those things, we just need to talk."

Blair shrugged. Then he heaved a sigh and Jim saw his shoulders sag as his head drooped to his chest.

"I'll stay." it was a whisper, but Jim heard it like a shout.

"Thank you."

Carefully, deliberately, he took his hands off Blair's body, putting them in his lap. He didn't object when Blair sat back down and scooted to the foot of the bed, crossing his legs, elbows on knees, leaning his face on his hands.

The sounds of the city seemed suddenly loud in the silence. Never before had Jim been so aware of the distance between them.

"You were raped." he said finally. It was the subject he knew Blair needed to talk about the most.

"It's not like I put up much of a fight." Blair sounded detached now, as if he was talking about someone else. Someone he didn't really care about.

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

"Did you want it?"

"no."

"Then it was rape."

"I know." Blair slid down and lay on his back, upside-down on the bed, hands folded neatly on his chest. "Is that enough talking about it?"

Jim shifted and moved to lie next to him, not touching, his head pillowed on arm arm so he could look at Blair in the dark. He propped his feet on his pillows, crossing his ankles.

"This is comfortable." he was amused. "It makes things look different."

"Does, doesn't it." There was a hint of cheer in Blair's voice. "Sometimes it helps me think."

"What do you think about?"

"Stuff. Work, school, tests, research, people, friends."

"Life, the universe, and everything?" Jim remembered the phrase from somewhere.

"Yeah." Blair answered. "Forty-two."

"Huh?" Jim thought he saw Blair's lips curve into a small smile, but it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure.

"Monty Python. Life, The Universe, and Everything. It's a movie."

"I haven't seen it. Must've heard it someplace." Jim paused. "So what's forty-two?"

"The secret."

"The secret of life?"

"The universe and everything." Blair finished with a sigh. "See, the mice were wrong."

"What mice?" Jim was getting confused.

"I'll rent it for you." Blair's voice took on that dead quality again. Jim wanted to hear him sound alive, so he continued the conversation.

"What's it mean?"

"What?"

"forty-two. What's it mean?"

Blair shrugged, rolling his head over to stare in Jim's direction.

"It's the number of spots on a pair of dice."

Jim was quiet, thinking about that.

"So, basically you're saying that life is a crapshoot."

"Isn't it?" Blair looked away again. "What are the odds, Jim? I've tried to figure them a thousand times, and I can't. What are the odds?"

"Of what?"

"Of someone meeting the person they need to meet when they need them."

"Like I met you?"

"Like I met *you*." Blair corrected.

"What happened to your theory of genetic predetermination?"

"That would mean that these things were planned by somebody." Blair paused and Jim heard the sadness beneath the words. "I don't want to believe that."

"Because that would mean that what happened to you was supposed to happen."

"It's not that it was so terrible. I've seen worse. And it led me to someone who taught me a lot about my life and my self."

Jim wondered who that person had been. Blair's voice had filled with fleeting affection when he finished the sentence and Jim was briefly jealous. He knew he didn't have any right to be.

"So maybe it was meant to happen. To set me on the path. It led me here."

"Being raped as a child didn't lead you to me, Chief."

"In a way, it did." Blair scooted further down the bed until his head was hanging off. Jim turned over on his stomach to look at him.

His eyes were closed and his hair hung in a fall to the floor. Jim could hear the blood rushing through his body, rushing to get oxygen to his brain against the forces of gravity.

"Naomi left me that year. I had just turned thirteen. We were staying with a friend of hers from college. We'd been there about six months when she decided she needed to go to this 'colony' for a retreat. A year-long retreat. I liked the school I was in, I'd made a couple of friends, and I didn't want to go."

"So she left you." Jim carefully kept anger out of his voice. She wouldn't have left him if she'd known.

"I asked to stay. Her friend was cool and I was pretty self- sufficient even then."

He stopped and took a deep breath. Jim could hear the way he shuddered around it.

"So what happened?" he prompted gently.

"The friend got a new boyfriend. A chef. He moved in. He taught me to cook. He spent time with me. He was probably the nicest guy I'd ever met."

When he stopped this time Jim didn't say anything, just waited for his pulse to slow as Blair calmed himself. Jim recognized the breathing technique as one Blair had taught him. It took several long minutes.

"He touched me a lot, but I thought he was just being affectionate. I'd never been around a man like him before. I thought he was being nice."

"Until..?"

"Until he came into my bedroom one night and told me that he loved me. He told me that he couldn't live without me, that being away from me was hurting him. He kissed me. Jim, I was so scared...I was lonely and I wanted him to like me...so I told him I would do whatever he wanted."

Jim squashed the pain that admission brought. This wasn't the time for his pain.

Blair went on, his voice becoming more clinical.

"He started just kissing me. Then he touched me. I'd just started having wet dreams and I'd never really masturbated. What he did to me felt *good*, Jim. It felt really good."

Now that Blair was talking it was like a dam had broken. The words just poured out of him.

"I was scared, that it felt so good. I called my mom. I didn't tell her who the guy was, I just told her I was feeling things for a guy and I didn't know what to do about it. She told me that anything I did was okay with her."

"She didn't talk about safe sex?" Jim pushed the anger down again.

"It was 1985, Jim. AIDS wasn't a big deal yet. She told me that it was okay to love another boy and that she would always love me no matter who I loved."

"Did you love him?"

"I thought I did. I thought he loved me."

"What did he do?" Jim didn't even dare think about who this man was, he'd be too tempted to hunt him down and kill him. He wouldn't be able to think past the anger he knew he was capable of, much less help Blair.

"He got - demanding. He stopped doing things for me and wanted me to do more for him. He scared me and I finally got my nerve up and told him I didn't want to see him again."

Blair's voice dropped to a whisper.

"He told me I was a fag. That nobody would be my friend if they knew. He said he would tell everyone he knew and that people would talk about me."

A long pause.

"He knew I didn't know my father, and he told me he could find him and that he'd tell him too. And then he would never want me."

"You really needed a father then."

"I wanted at least one parent that was like the other kids'."

"I wish I had known you. I would have been your friend." *I would have protected you.*

"You would have ignored me the way everyone else did." Blair snorted. "I was even smaller then. I hadn't had my growth spurt - such as it was - my voice hadn't even started changing. That all came later. Along with the hair." he rubbed a hand over his chest self-consciously. Jim watched, allowing himself to enjoy the movement. "I was this skinny little bookworm with glasses who liked to cook. The ultimate nerd."

A chuckle escaped Jim at the mental image that presented.

"So I did what he wanted." Blair threw it out recklessly. I gave him head and I let him fuck me. I can't say I liked it - not anymore. It was like this horrible job I had to do."

Jim caught his breath. It wasn't as bad as he had feared, but, then, maybe it was worse.

Which would be worse? Being brutally raped by someone you didn't know or gently seduced to rape by someone who told you they loved you?

"How long?" he just managed to get the words out.

"Ten months, beginning to end. Naomi came back. She had a new job and we moved. I never told her."

"Why not?"

"At first because I was ashamed. Then, later, I decided that it would hurt her too much. She didn't need to know."

"Do you think he made you bi?" *Are you blaming yourself?*

"Nah." Blair pulled himself back onto the bed and rolled to his stomach, which brought him to within a few inches of Jim. "That came later."

He sat up suddenly, pushing himself up and back with his arms to a sitting position.

He rubbed his hands over his head, pulling the hair back tight before releasing it.

"Have you heard enough?" he was still holding on to his earlier anger. Maybe it was helping him talk.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"I didn't want to tell you that." Hands in his lap, Blair stared directly at him. Jim had the uncanny feeling that Blair could see him, though he knew he couldn't.

"But you needed to."

"Yeah." Blair sighed and closed his eyes again. "I needed to. I keep seeing him in my dreams, hearing him, whispering to me, telling me he loved me and that he was going to find me again."

"I'll kill him if he does." Jim said, a promise.

"You're too late. He died about a year after we left, in a car accident. Otherwise I would have gone back and done it myself."

"You don't have it in you to kill. That's not a part of you." Jim objected, not liking the idea.

"I would have."

Blair climbed off the bed and stood shakily.

"I'm tired. I think I'll get some sleep. I should be able to sleep now."

Jim sat and reached a hand for him.

"Hey. You're exhausted. You're hurting. Your bed is a wreck. Stay here and let me look after you."

He shook his head, looking away.

"I can't, Jim."

"Why?" Jim caught his hand, enfolding it between both of his. Blair wouldn't look at him. "I'm not blind, Chief. I know how you feel."

Blair didn't move but Jim had the advantage of Sentinel senses. He could tell how much his words had affected his friend. The scent of pheromones grew stronger, and the bleak smell of fear. The the small man shrugged.

"I'm sorry."

Those weren't the words Jim wanted to hear.

"Don't be *sorry*, Blair..." he didn't know what to say to that. He wondered absently if Catherine was a light sleeper. "I don't mind."

"You *don't mind*?!" Blair yanked his hand away. "Do you have any idea how condescending that sounds?" he headed for the stairs, but slowly, his body still recovering.

"Blair, wait!" Jim jumped up and went after him. He wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him close, turning him in his arms. Blair was stiff and unresponsive. "I mean...what I meant to say...shit, Blair. I don't know how to do this. You're the Guide."

"You tell the faggot that you're sorry you can't love him the way he wants you to and then you kick him out of your life. Or he leaves because he can't stand being near you and not having you."

"Don't call yourself that." Jim held Blair's head in his hands, tilting it so he could look into his eyes. But they were dark, the emotion hidden. "You're my Guide and that's the only label I care about."

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Jim." the whisper made Jim's heart stop. And then start again.

"Then don't. Do something else." with those words he stepped closer to Blair and lowered his mouth to his.

Blair didn't move. He didn't dare breathe. What was Jim doing?

His friend's mouth was soft on his. There was no pressure, just that gentle warmth.

*Oh, ye Gods and little fishes. Does he mean it?*

He had to know. Had to find out if Jim was pitying him or really wanted him.

Jim felt Blair's mouth open under his and his tongue, velvet heat, traced the contours of Jim's lips.

And his hands went to Jim's waist, to pull them closer together.

With a mental shrug Jim opened his mouth and kissed him back, allowing Blair's tongue in and meeting it with his own. He felt Blair's sigh and matched it with one of his own.

It wasn't hard to concentrate on what he was feeling and ignore his mind, which was starting to haul out all the rules he'd learned governing male behavior. This wasn't allowed under any of them.

*Then it's time for new rules.* he tugged Blair up to him and lifted him against him, pulling him onto the balls of his feet to get him as close as possible. Blair's form felt good against him, felt right. Like he belonged there.

All but that one part that was digging into Jim's hip.

Digging. Into. His. Hip.

Jim put Blair back down and broke the kiss as gently as he could. He still held onto Blair, but took a step away.

Blair's anguish was clear when he spoke, twisting free of Jim's grip. Jim let him go, unsure of what had happened.

"Thank you for trying." Blair said softly. "It was good of you to try."

"I'm not just trying!" Jim wanted to grab him and pull him back, but he'd done enough of that tonight already. "I *want* to do this."

"You better check again, Big Guy. Not all of you is in agreement here." Blair dropped his gaze downwards and Jim realized that he must have felt Jim's own lack of arousal.

"Give me a break. I 've never done this before. I've never *wanted* to do this before. It may take me a while to warm up."

"Like a year or two?" Jim stared. Was Blair teasing him?

"Maybe an hour." he answered back in the same light tone.

"I've waited this long. I can give you a couple of weeks at the least."

"Huh?" Jim stepped backwards to the bed before his knees gave out. This whole conversation was taking on a vivid Salvador Dali quality. He almost expected the clock to start melting.

The clock. He looked at it and groaned.

"It's almost dawn, Chief. And we haven't had any sleep at all."

"And we have to go in tomorrow."

Jim nodded.

"A compromise, Chief? You sleep here tonight - this morning - and let me hold you and we'll pursue this line of inquiry tonight."

"You really want me to?"

"Yeah." Jim smiled. "It took me a while to figure it out, but I do."

Blair took a hesitant step toward the bed, then glanced nervously back at the stairs.

"Come on, Baby." Jim moved to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers down, climbing in. He held them up, inviting Blair.

"You've never lied to me, have you, Jim?" Blair stood at the side of the bed, his indecision plain.

"Never have, never will." Jim answered firmly.

"Just checking." Blair climbed into the bed and lay down, pulling the covers up.

After a few minutes Jim reached a hand over beneath the blankets and lay it on Blair's chest.

"Do you want to come over here or do you want me to come over there?"

"I'll come to you." Blair slid over, turning onto his side and laying his head on Jim's chest. He felt Jim's arms come around him and he sighed deeply.

"I've dreamed of this." he whispered on the smooth skin. "I knew I'd feel safe if you held me."

"I'll always hold you, Baby." Jim dropped a kiss on the top of Blair's head. "Now go to sleep."

Blair got quiet but he didn't go to sleep. It wasn't that long after Jim's admonition when the larger man felt wetness on his skin. Warm, salty smelling, liquid.

Blair was crying again.

But this time he was doing it in Jim's arms, cleansing himself, purging old fears.

Jim held him until his sniffles died away and he slept.

Blair woke slowly. The first thing he was aware of was the deep ache in his body, the lingering traces of the night before.

The second thing he realized was that he was sprawled over Jim like a blanket and Jim was holding him there with one arm.

Actually, a blanket wasn't a bad idea. He'd kicked it down to the bottom of the bed like he usually did, his nervous energy manifesting itself even in his sleep. The room was cool in the early light and his back was cold.

His chest and legs, the parts of him that were pressed to Jim's body, they were very warm. Toasty even.

It was too much work to get the blanket, he decided. Instead he closed his eyes and sighed.

It felt very right for him to be here, but the night's activities were still more a jumble of images than a narrative in his head. He needed to sort through them soon. Preferably before he had to talk to Jim about them.

"Hey Baby." he raised his head to meet Jim's eyes. They were bright, but lines of tension were clear around them.

"Hey." he answered softly.

"What time is it?" Jim couldn't see the clock over Blair's cuddling warmth and wasn't ready to move.

"Just past eight. We won't be late."

"Good. I want to see Frank and Catherine off.'

"And talk to her about me?" Blair wasn't angry or even upset. Just curious.

"Not if you don't want me to."

"I'd rather you didn't go into details."

"I won't need to."

Jim shifted and Blair became aware of how turned on he was. His dick was throbbing against the older man's leg.

*It's probably making him uncomfortable.* he began to roll off but Jim held him closer, pulled him all the way on top of him, Blair's legs outside his own, Blair pressed firmly to his chest, bringing him up so their eyes met.

"Don't go yet."

They looked at each other. Blair had already noted the signs of strain in Jim, and now Jim catalogued his friend's condition.

Dark circles still under the eyes. Eyes still a bit cloudy. Hair really tangled now, even beginning to mat at the ends. Jim touched it, tried to run his fingers through a snarl.

"Ow." Blair didn't flinch, just looked at him. Jim stopped, changing movements to rubbing his scalp with tender fingers.

"I should have combed it for you last night."

"I'd rather be awake for that. I'll take a shower and drown it in creme rinse."

"Then I'll comb it out." Jim offered.

"Not if you want to get to work on time." Blair's hands were flat on Jim's chest as he lowered his face slowly.

"Did you meant it?" he asked when he was an inch away. Jim felt his breath on his lips and they parted in anticipation.

"Do you think I didn't?" Jim licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and heard and felt Blair's sigh.

"I think things sometimes look different in the morning than they do in the dead of night." Blair's voice was becoming husky and the sound did something to Jim's insides.

"Not this morning." he managed to answer before he raised his head to cover Blair's mouth.

Blair kissed him back with restrained hunger, not wanting to scare him off. He was rewarded with a low groan from Jim, who broke the kiss, getting short of breath.

"You're really good at that." Jim muttered, feeling unreasonably jealous.

"So I've been told." Blair smiled a little teasing smile Jim didn't recognize. "I was practicing for you."

"Just for me?" Jim teased back a little, his hand on Blair's back stroking in slow circles that brought goosebumps to the skin.

"Ummm. Always for you. I knew I'd meet someone like you eventually."

"And how did you know that?"

"A shaman told me I would."

"A medicine man? When was this?"

He didn't get an answer. Blair rolled off him and onto his feet beside the bed, standing, giving Jim a soft smile.

"I'll tell you another time."

"What if it doesn't come up?" Jim sat slowly, watching Blair as he grinned wickedly.

"Don't worry, Big Guy. It'll come up."

Jim got the double entendre and dropped his eyes to look at Blair's crotch, where the proof of his desire was bulging against the semi-tight fabric of the sweatpants.

"In conversation." Blair amended. "I'll save you some hot water."

With that he went downstairs, leaving Jim bemused and not a little turned on.

He was glad to feel that. He'd been worried last night when he didn't react to Blair's kiss. *It must have just been the circumstances.* he thought with relief. *I'm just not used to this.*

Blair was nervous when they got to the station, but no-one seemed to notice anything different. Except the Blacks, waiting for them, to say goodbye before they left.

"Take care of your family." Jim said, shaking the man's hand, rewarded with his smile. Catherine hugged Blair, whispering in his ear.

"This is going to work out." she smiled at him.

"I thought he was the psychic." Blair glanced at Frank.

"Women's intuition. It's been around a lot longer." she teased.

"We've got several suspects in custody." Simon said as he came into the office. I was going to call you but Frank said you had another lead to work on?" he looked curious.

"It didn't pan out." Jim said with a straight face, seeing Catherine's eyes dance with restrained amusement.

"Too bad you missed it, then. You want to come listen to the questioning?" Jim knew that Simon was asking him to do the lie- detector thing.

"Of course." he resisted the urge to give Blair a hug, and was startled by the brief flash of jealousy he felt when Frank did. Frank's glance at him told him the older man was aware of the change in circumstances.

"I'll call you tonight." Catherine promised as they left.

"Thank you." Jim said. He wasn't sure exactly what he was thanking her for, but he would need to talk to someone about this change in his life, and she was a perfect choice.

It only took a few minutes for Jim to agree that the gang members the uniforms had picked up were the guys they wanted. And it only took a few hours to convince a new one to roll over on the others.

"It was an initiation, man. I didn't want to go along with it, but I had to, ya know?" he was young - fourteen, and seemed at least a little bit disgusted by what he'd seen. He swore he hadn't participated and Jim believed him.

"God, that's awful." Blair sighed when Jim came out. The rest would be taken care of by others. Simon caught up with them in the bathroom, where Jim was washing his face, Blair perched nervously on the counter beside him.

"Good job, you two. I know this was hard on you."

Blair hopped down, wincing, and stopped Simon with a hand on his shoulder.

"I owe you an apology." he said seriously. "I haven't been myself lately, and I'm sorry."

Simon seemed touched.

"It's okay, kid. This is hard for all of us, I shouldn't expect someone from outside to deal with it gracefully."

"There was more to it than that." Blair shrugged. "I am sorry."

"It's okay." Simon seemed to take along look at him. "You look like hell. Jim, take your partner home and take care of him."

"I will, cap." Jim grinned at the order.

"I don't expect to see either of you until Monday."

He left and Jim looked at Blair, who was watching the wall with interest.

Jim reached one big hand and touched his hair, stroking gently. It was still slightly tangled, Blair hadn't had time to really work it over that morning before they came in.

"Does the offer still stand?" he asked softly.

Blair tensed imperceptibly to normal senses.

"Which one?"

"To comb your hair out." Jim smiled as Blair turned to look up at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What? You thought I didn't mean it?" he dropped his hand, aware of where they were.

"Did you?" it was a nervous whisper.

"All of it." Jim dropped his voice to match. "You want to go home?"

"I haven't wanted anything else for two years." Blair said with a sigh.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Blair didn't answer as he followed Jim out of the station and to the truck.

He showered while Jim heated up the chinese takeout they'd grabbed.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, Blair stepped in front of the mirror and studied himself.

He looked just the same as always. Why would Jim have decided to notice him now?

Fear welled in him and he leaned forward on the sink, trying to breathe through it.

"Hey." he hadn't heard the door open, but started when Jim stepped in, reaching for him. "I heard you - are you okay?"

Blair put his hands up semi-defensively and Jim stopped a couple of inches away.

"I'm - I'm okay." Blair managed.

"Not feeling sick? No muscle spasms?" Jim's fingers were light on his brow and Blair couldn't help but close his eyes and lean into that touch, his breathing getting faster.

"You're afraid." Jim said, understanding. "I'm not going to back out on you, baby. I wouldn't hurt you like that."

Blair shrugged, acutely aware of his state of undress, one hand clutching the towel at his waist.

"It's okay if you change your mind." he said softly. "I don't want to hold you to anything that makes you uncomfortable."

"Do I look uncomfortable?" Jim grinned, took Blair's free hand, and pressed it to the front of his jeans. Blair gasped at the bulge he felt there, raised his eyes to meet Jim's. "I told you it would only take a little time." Jim teased, pushing into the hand.

"Oh god." Blair gasped. Jim came closer, until their bodies were pressed together.

"C'mon, baby." he leaned to whisper in Blair's ear. "Let me seduce you."

The heat spread from Blair's groin through his body, making him flush. He knew Jim felt that heat.

"You mean it?" he managed to whisper around the fist that encircled his heart.

"Yes." Jim decided that he would have to prove himself in a more basic fashion, so he took Blair in his arms and leaned to kiss him, opening his mouth with his tongue, feeling Blair's groan run through him as he grabbed him tight and kissed him back.

Blair didn't object when Jim slung the smaller man up in his arms and carried him to the couch, but he did keep hold of the towel.

Jim sat him down and sat behind him, and reached for the large-toothed comb he'd sat on the coffee table.

"Jim?" Blair began to turn, but Jim stopped him with gentle hands and began brushing his hair back with tender fingers.

"Shh. Be still." he sat behind Blair, bringing the younger man back between his legs and beginning to comb his hair, starting at the ends and working his way up.

"Ohhhh." Blair sighed and leaned back. Jim smiled and kept working, gently, his hands strong and tender.

Blair sighed again. It felt so good to have someone pay this attention to him. He'd had lovers who played with his hair before, but never male and never ones that he wanted as badly as he wanted Jim.

He felt himself becoming sensitized to the big man's touch. Every stroke, every brush caused a little shiver and an increase in the ache he felt. He was breathing fast long before Jim was finished with his hair.

Jim smiled, feeling Blair's reaction. The younger man had given himself over to the pleasure he was feeling wholeheartedly, and Jim thought it was kind of a compliment. He finished Blair's hair, getting it smooth, feeling the softness on his fingers as he discarded the comb and began stroking with his hands, rubbing Blair's temples, sliding his hands around to trace the contours of his face, cheekbones, eyelids, lips. He caught his breath when Blair opened his mouth and sucked a finger in, tongue swirling over the tip, bringing a sigh from the big man.

Quickly he pulled his hand away and caught Blair around the waist, pulling him back to his chest to nuzzle his neck, face buried in that soft hair, kissing the point where shoulder met neck, feeling the growing tension in the lithe body.

Jim kissed and licked Blair's neck and shoulder, gently nipping, his hands spreading on Blair's chest, fingers finding hardened nipples, rolling them gently, playing with the nipple ring, then dropping lower to tug gently on the one in his navel.

Blair moaned low in his throat, hips moving restlessly, hands clenched on the towel. His lips moved as he tried to form words that wouldn't come.

"Uhhhh...Jim...."

Jim heard the plea and dropped one hand to stroke the bulge in the towel where Blair's dick throbbed and was surprised at the reaction his light touch brought. Blair pushed up against him, reaching back to grab at Jim's hips, panting.

Gently, Jim lifted his friend and soon-to-be lover and turned him to settle him on his chest, wrapping both arms around him and pulling him close for a deep kiss.

Blair moaned again and opened his mouth, becoming more aggresive as Jim lay further back until they were flat on the couch, the towel sliding away, Jim's hands finding and grasping Blair's perfect round ass.

Blair raised his head and met Jim's eyes. Jim stared, thinking that he'd never seen him look better.

"You've got too many clothes on." Blair breathed, propping himself up, his elbows on either side of Jim's head.

"So take them off." Jim kissed him on the nose, teasing, but Blair hesitated.

"You're sure." it was a question.

"Can't you tell?" Jim thrust slowly against him, letting Blair feel his arousal.

"Oh god, Jim." Blair breathed it like a prayer before sliding off his body to kneel beside the couch. Jim looked at him a long minute, then threw his arms over his head, offering.

Blair took a long time getting his clothes off. When he got to the third button Jim reached to help and Blair pushed his hands back.

"I've waited a long time for this. Let me." he said, giving him a long kiss. Jim lay back and watched while the younger man slowly undressed him. Each inch of skin was kissed and caressed as it was revealed. Nipples were licked and gently bitten, the smooth rippled stomach was nuzzled and stroked. When he got to the waist of the jeans Jim gave up a groan that hurried him along just a little.

Then the jeans were off, and Blair was reaching inside his briefs to circle him and stroke, leaning up for another kiss.

When he broke away they were both panting, fighting for breath.

"What do you want?" Blair whispered into Jim's ear, fingers slipping over him.

"Whatever you want." Jim reached to still the stroking hand that was driving him crazy.

"I want you inside me." Blair rose up to look at him, to see the effect his words had.

Jim stood, pulling Blair up with him.

"We don't have to do that." he whispered as they embraced, skin-to-skin for the first time.

"It's what I want." Blair said softly. Jim kissed him and they pushed against each other, then Jim swung him up in his arms and headed for the stairs, Blair clinging to him, hiding his face in Jim's chest, stroking and licking his chest, sucking on his nipples until Jim groaned.

"You're going to make us fall." he warned.

"You'll catch me." the trust in his voice turned Jim on even more, he hadn't thought it was possible. He lowered his head to kiss Blair's lips, a brush.

"I'll always catch you." it was a promise.

In the loft Jim lay him on the bed and spooned up behind him, his dick settling into the cleft of Blair's ass like it belonged there. Blair groaned and arched back against him.

"Don't we need something?" Jim asked, worried.

"Lube." Blair growled. "I'll get it." he began to get up.

"No." Jim pushed him back down, standing. "Tell me. I'll get it."

Blair rolled to his back, displaying himself for Jim, his slender body shining with a light coat of sweat. Jim could smell the pheromones pouring off him.

"Beside my bed. Top drawer." his eyes were dark and sleepy- looking.

"Be right back." Jim could hardly tear his eyes away from the picture before him. Erect, panting, waiting for him, Blair was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He made it down the stairs and back in record time.

Blair opened his arms and invited him into them and Jim practically fell on the bed into them.

They kissed hungrily. Jim tried to hold himself up, not crush his lover, but Blair encouraged him to lay full-length.

"Let me feel you." Blair moaned, pulling him closer. Jim stretched out and felt the smaller man trying to breathe beneath him.

"Okay?" he kissed him again and Blair moaned.

"Can't wait much longer, Jim." it sounded like a sob.

"You don't have to." Jim rolled off him and Blair rolled to his side, spooning against him, then turned back over, pushing at Jim.

"What?" the older man didn't understand.

"I need to see you." Blair shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I've fantasized about this so many times...it won't feel real unless I can see you."

Jim got up on his knees as Blair directed, and pulled Blair's hips up, the younger man's legs around him, until their dicks were pressed together. Blair was panting and clutching the bedcovers with fisted hands as Jim carefully smeared them both with lubricant.

"Please, Jim." Blair groaned, his head rolling restlessly as he tried to stay still. "I'm ready for you...I've been ready..."

"Easy, Baby." Jim grabbed Blair's hip with in one hand and used the other to direct himself in. He'd never done this with a man before, never done it in this position, he was just a bit nervous.

There was more resistance than he expected. Despite his words it was obvious Blair didn't do this often. The smaller man arched against the pressure, gritting his teeth and Jim was worried, afraid it wasn't going to work, and then he was in, his body hard against Blair's, his dick enclosed in a heat so tight he thought he'd come right there.

"Just...wait..." he gasped, holding Blair's hips tight, keeping him from moving as the younger man quivered around him, his hands reaching for Jim's chest, pulling him down to kiss him.

"Jim..." Blair gasped. "Oh, gods, Jim, do something."

The initial pressure faded, Jim dared to move, and it felt better than anything he'd ever done. Blair grabbed his hips and thrust onto him, setting a rhythm, harder than Jim expected, soon faster than he could stand.

Blair was gasping his name as he thrust, head thrown back, eyes tightly closed. Jim reached for his face, tilted it back, spoke urgently.

"Look at me, Baby. Blair, let me see you..."

He managed to open his eyes, pupils dilated until there was nothing but black, his entire body clenching around Jim's dick as he began to shudder, locking his eyes with Jim's as he came, and came.

Jim wasn't expecting the pull of Blair's muscles around him, wasn't expecting his body to plummet after his young lover's and come so hard he couldn't help but fall against him, to lie stunned in the aftermath.

Blair's groan brought him back to his senses some time after that.

"Sorry..." Blair shook his head as Jim got up on his elbows and Blair took a deep breath. "Had to breathe. Lie back." he tugged on Jim's shoulders, encouraging him to lay his weight over him again. "I need to feel you here." Jim acquiesced, letting Blair take his full weight again. Beneath him Blair sighed and breathed slowly, carefully.

Blair's head was nestled in Jim's shoulder, his hair damp and tangled, spread around his head in glorious disarray. He muttered something Jim couldn't understand, but his body tensed and Jim rolled off, pulling Blair to his side.

"What?" he asked softly into his ear. Blair shivered.

"We didn't use anything."

"I'm clean. You're clean. It's okay."

"I don't want to put you at risk." Blair moved restlessly. Jim soothed him with his hands, gentled his nervous movements.

"Is that all that's bothering you?"

Blair shook his head, hiding his face in Jim's shoulder. Jim played with his hair, loving the feel of it.

"Is this just a fling for you?" Blair muttered the words into his skin. "It's okay, I'd understand...this is more then I expected."

Jim lifted him up, but Blair wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I didn't do this casually," he said softly. "I'm ready to make any commitment you need."

"I just need you." Now Blair looked at him, and the tears in his eyes wrenched at Jim's heart. He held him close, but Blair didn't cry, just sighed deeply.

"You have me."

"You may feel differently after you've had to hide it for a few months."

"I'll never feel differently." Jim was firm. "It may take a while to work out the details..."

"Like *work*." Blair added.

"But we'll get around it."

They snuggled for a while, letting their bodies cool and breathing calm. At last Blair sat up, smiling.

"We didn't eat."

"S'okay. I've got what I'm hungry for." Jim caressed his chest, his fingers attracted to the silver rings.

"You need to keep up your strength." Blair teased with hands and words.

"Oh?"

"'Cause it's gonna be a long weekend." Blair leaned for another deep kiss before climbing out of the bed. Jim watched him with appreciation.

"You're beautiful." he said suddenly.

Blair blushed faintly.

"Look who's talking." he shrugged. "Let's go eat, so we can come back to bed."

"I've got a better idea. Let's eat *in* bed."

"Isn't that against a rule?" Blair teased as Jim got up and they both padded downstairs naked, taking the opportunity to get a good look.

"I can bend a few rules for you, Baby." Jim punctuated the sentence with another kiss. Blair put his arms around Jim's neck and pulled himself up to meet him. Soon the food was forgotten.

"Upstairs?" Blair gasped.

"Couch." Jim answered, and soon they were there, and lost in each other again.

It was a promising beginning.