Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dimension/3837/index2.html

Author's disclaimer: They're not mine and never will be, but that's just a small detail.

Author's notes: Avoid this story if the subjects of child abuse and prejudice offend you. It deals with disturbing events, ugly people, and uses frank and explicit language. On the bright side, it also deals with love, both spiritual and sexual, between two gorgeous men.

Tag
by Grey

Jim lifted the fresh toast to the plate, his sense of touch dialed down from the heat. He heard another sneeze followed by the cardboard and paper sound of Kleenex ripped from its box just as he poured the orange juice.

"Oh, man."

"Chief? How you doing?"

"Nasty, that's how I'm doing." Another sneeze rounded out by coughing punctuated the gravely voice. "Man, having a cold sucks." Blair came down the hallway, his nose red and runny, a wad of white tissues pressed to the middle of his face. Bloodshot eyes and dark circles added to the flushed cheeks painted a picture of fever and growing congestion.

"You look like shit, my friend."

"Morning, Jim. Good to see you, too, man." Slumping down in the chair as he sneezed again, he rested his forehead on his right hand. He sat there several moments just wheezing before clearing his throat and spitting into the Kleenex. "Gross."

Jim registered the increased temperature and readings and shook his head. "No way you should be going out in the rain today. You need to stay home and get this thing under control before it gets any worse."

"Thanks, Mom, but some of us have to make a living, too." Blair reached for the offered juice, drank some, and then put the glass on the table. Picking up the fork, he shoved around the scrambled eggs a few times before stopping and closing his eyes, his left hand massaging his throat.

"Chief, you won't do anybody any good by going into work like this. You look like death warmed over."

"I know. I was hoping to feel better this morning, but I feel worse. My head is really pounding here and my throat feels like I'm swallowing melted glass."

"Just call in sick or something."

Blair glanced across the table, his normally clear eyes dull and cloudy. "Or something. I have to at least go in to teach class this morning, but I think I'll cancel my tutorials. Maybe Kevin can get the notes from Dr. Grandley's seminar. But I'm still supposed to help with your files this afternoon and Simon wanted me to do a diagnostic on that new software he got for the linkup system with Washington."

Napkin to mouth, Jim finished off his breakfast before leaning forward against the table, his arms templed. "The stuff at the station can wait, Chief. I can do my own files and that stuff for Simon is no big hurry. He told you that yesterday when you were busy sneezing it up in the bullpen."

"Sneezing it up? Cute, man. Make fun of the sick guy."

"Sick is the operative word here. You need to take it easy, rest, drink plenty of liquids. All that good stuff they tell you to do on those commercials. By the way, I've got some cold medicine left over if you need any."

"Yeah, I remember. No thanks, man." Blair raised another Kleenex to his face, coughed, and then blew his nose. "God, this sucks."

"Yeah, it does. Won't get better by ignoring it, Chief. Cancel the class and go back to bed. You don't need to be out in this freezing rain anyway."

"You can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. Look, I promise I'll come home right after classes."

Nodding, Jim stood and took his plate to the sink, turned and braced himself against the counter. "Okay, but promise me if it gets worse, you'll stop by the clinic and get something."

Shaking his head, Blair pushed back a stubborn tangle of curls behind his right ear before he spoke. "It's just a cold, Jim. No big deal."

"It is a big deal when you're miserable. Besides, while you're there, maybe you could talk to the doctor about why you're not sleeping worth shit these days."

All movement at the table stopped for a few moments before Blair turned, his eyes locking with Jim's. The older man stood, arms crossed, determined. "What the hell are you doing, man? Spying on me?"

"Blair, I live here. Your light's on almost all night. You're working on something or pacing most of the time you should be sleeping. Last night between all that coughing and sneezing you were either working on the laptop or writing something by hand."

Looking away, Blair got up and walked to the window, his body stiff. "I didn't mean to keep you awake. Why didn't you say something or use the earplugs?"

"That's not the point, Chief, and you know it. This has been going on now, off and on, for a couple of weeks. No wonder you're rundown enough to get a cold. You're not sleeping again. What's going on?"

Scratching his head, Blair stared out the window. Beyond him the huge expanse of dark rain clouds blotted out the world. Jim stepped closer to his friend, his body tense from watching the slow struggles that twisted the already rough features. He repeated his question. "What's going on, Chief?"

"Nothing really, nothing big anyway. You know, man, just stuff."

"Just stuff? Could you be a bit more vague, Sandburg?"

"Listen. I'm serious, it's nothing. I've just got some things to work through, that's all. I really didn't mean to keep you up at night. I'll try to do better."

Reaching a hand out, Jim touched his friend's shoulder lightly, the slight increase of body heat along with the fever recorded. Blair's restricted breathing got more labored as he stepped back. "Don't, man."

"What's wrong, Chief? I'm starting to get worried here."

"Don't want you to catch anything."

As he turned to walk away, Jim grabbed his arm again, this time ready. "Don't lock me out, Blair. I need to know if something's wrong with you. Is this more than a cold? Are you in some kind of trouble I should know about? What?"

Glancing down at the restrained arm and then up at Jim, Blair's eyes telegraphed a world of sadness, the blue almost teal swirling into swallowed light. "Let go, Jim."

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried." He released him but didn't let his focus wander.

"I know you are. It's just a cold. As for not sleeping, don't worry about it. This kind of thing happens sometimes. I go through phases like this."

"I know. About every few months. I don't like it."

"I'm sorry. It'll pass. It always does."

"What kind of phases?"

"Jim, do me a favor."

"What?"

"Treat me like an adult here, and not some punk who needs to confess, okay? Just leave it alone. Please." The last word added at the end of the request edged Jim's need to know the answer even more. Despite that, he recognized his friend's boundaries.

"Sure, Chief. If that's what you want. I just hope you know you can tell me if there's a problem."

"I already know that, Jim. Now, I'm going to take a shower, pray I can keep breathing, and go to work." Blair motioned at the clock and added, "Better hit the road, man. Traffic's going to be a bitch with this weather."

"Don't I know it. At least in Major Crimes I don't have to direct traffic in this shit."

"No, you just have to solve murders."

"Oh, yeah, that." Jim grinned and tried to bank back the wild scream of questions rearing up in his brain. "Well, if you're going to work, at least take the cell phone."

"Okay, sure. I can do that."

"And, Chief?"

The young man stopped and turned right as he started in the bathroom. "Yeah?"

"Don't turn the damn thing off this time."

"Go to work, Jim."

"Yeah, I'm going. I'll tell Simon not to expect you later."

"No, don't tell him that. If I start feeling better, I might come in this afternoon."

"Blair, you need to rest."

"Yeah, I will, man. Just later."

As Blair closed the bathroom door, Jim heard the lock click. The detective reluctantly got his coat and wondered what the hell could be scaring his partner. On his way to the elevator, he pulled out his keys, the whole time working through all the plans he could think of to get his stubborn guide to finally tell the truth. Sandburg's historical obsession with obfuscation made it a very long list, with some of his imagined techniques less than legal.

Rubbing his hand over his mouth while he waited for the ding, Jim tried to wipe away the smile as he thought of bending his naked partner over the sturdy interrogation table and pumping him for answers. The velvet soft grip around his cock by the narrow tunnel flashed a surging rush of firestorm up his belly. Grateful the elevator arrived empty, he got on and pressed one. He closed his eyes concentrating on the icy rain and boring details of police work as he willed his bothersome erection to quit nagging.

Captain Simon Banks roared through the bullpen, his trench coat spraying rain water all over the place as he took it off while still walking. "Damn, politicians." The grumble, not the least bit muted or muffled, brought a grin to Jim's face before he could stop it. "Don't laugh, Ellison. My office. You're going to get a real kick out of this one."

"Yes, sir." Humor gone, Jim followed his friend. He sat on the table's edge while the captain shut the door and hung up his coat.

"Jim, if I ever decide to run for office, just shoot me."

"Is that an order, sir?"

"Damn straight." Simon ran a hand over his head to wipe away the wet sparkling remnants of his earlier trek through Cascade. He stood behind his desk and picked up his cigar before taking a deep breath. Sitting down slowly, he grabbed a mug and then motioned to Jim. "Want some?"

"No, sir. I'm fine."

"Yeah, well, glad someone around here is." He poured the coffee, milk and sugar before he lit the cigar.

"You want to tell me what's going on, Simon?"

"Jim, do you have any idea what I hate most about bureaucrats and paper-pushing assholes?"

"No, but I'll bet you're going to tell me."

"They don't have a clue what we do. Not a damn notion of what it's like to fight the odds we go up against. No, those bastards only care about the bottom line."

"Bottom line?"

"Yeah, money and image. How much does it cost and what's it look like to the public. Damn fools."

Clearing his throat, trying to be patient while his captain finally calmed down with caffeine and tobacco, he asked, "You want to tell me what happened?"

"They've hired some efficiency expert to evaluate the department. They're going to spend a small fortune for some guy to tell me I have to work with an even smaller budget and cut back on overtime and staff. Hell, Jim, we don't have enough people as it is. Not enough hours in the day for what we have to do."

Jim stood up and stepped closer. "Maybe I'll have some of that coffee after all."

"Sure." Simon poured and served the drink before starting in again. "It pisses me off to have these guys sit there and tell me I've got to do whatever this guys says when I know the whole time he's going to cut the budget."

"So, when's this guy coming?" Jim sat down at the table while he spoke.

"Some time this week. Name's Garrison. We're supposed to give him access to all the files and statistics." Simon ran a huge hand over his face. "Man, I am so tired. I'm going to be here all night getting this shit together."

"Why not put a team on it?" Sipping his coffee, Jim visualized some poor bastard from records trapped behind a precariously tilted wall of files.

"Oh, I plan to, but I'm in charge of the final report. I don't need this right now, Jim, not with all the cases we've got and so many people out with colds and flu."

"Yeah, I know."

Simon's head came up as he locked on target. "So, how's the kid? Still sneezing?"

"Yeah, as of this morning he was. He probably won't be in this afternoon. He promised to try and get some rest." Uneasily, Jim glanced out the window as another roll of thunder rattled the glass before the flash. The vivid sparkle and swirl of blues and reds permeated the very air, exploding clear mists, each captured bubble a fantasy of powerful current.

"Jim? You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just watching the storm, sir."

"Just don't zone on me, not with Sandburg away." Jim saw the grim smile as Simon took another drink.

"So, what else happened at the meeting? You didn't call me in here to just tell me about this Garrison guy."

The dark features grew even more serious, the words straining through the jaw. "No, you're right. I didn't. That was an important part because I wanted to ask Sandburg to help collect the data for me, but that's not the whole reason."

"Then what is?"

Simon leaned forward against his desk, his dark brown eyes clear but angry. "You remember councilman Samuels?"

"Not easy to forget." The quick tightness in his chest testified to his own memory. "He's the one who had the balls to ask me about fucking my partner."

"Yeah, he's got balls all right, greasy little bastard."

"Damn, Simon, what'd he do this time?" Jim pushed the mug away as he struggled to keep his growing concern reigned in.

"Look, Jim, I don't want to start any trouble. We both know he was out of line before, but I have to warn you that he's still got it in for you and Sandburg for some reason."

"You don't know the reason, Simon? It's pretty simple. The man's a homophobe, a racist, and a wife beater."

Simon shook his head, his face baffled and confused. "Yeah, I know. It's still amazing to me that people actually elected the man."

"Come on, Simon, he represents the richest section of Cascade. Tell me you don't know the answer as to why he was elected."

"And when did you get to be so cynical, Jim?" Simon sat back just watching.

"I prefer the label realistic."

"Whatever you call it, it's depressing." He took another drink and chewed on the end of his cigar.

"But you know I'm right. So, what did the guy have to say this time?"

Frowning, his eyes avoiding Jim's, he looked down at the stack of papers on his desk. "I'm not sure what you can do about it, but I think you should know that he's trying to get Sandburg's consulting pass revoked."

"What?" The fear of losing his partner clenched his gut as the rage swelled up, his tongue too angry to form calm words. "What did you find out?"

"He said he doesn't think it looks right that you two live together and that's he's virtually your partner on the job even though he's not a cop."

Coming up out of the chair, Jim slammed his fist into the wall, the loud vibration stinging both ears and muscles of his hand. "Simon, that's bullshit and you know it. I've got the best arrest record in the city. Hell, the whole state. Where does he get off?"

"Jim, settle down."

"I can't, Simon. I can't afford to lose him." The words slipped out before he could catch them, shocking both men.

"I realize that, Jim. I'm kind of surprised to hear you say it though."

Wrapping his arms around his chest, Jim braced himself to speak clearly. "I don't like to admit it, but it's true. So, what am I supposed to do to get Samuels to back off?"

"I don't know. But when I was leaving the meeting, he asked if you were still shacked up with that pretty boy Sandburg."

"Pretty boy Sandburg? He actually said that? Damn."

"Damn is right. He waited until there weren't any witnesses around. He knows that if we make a big deal about it, it only makes it worse. Draws attention to what he's saying."

"Son of a bitch."

"Yeah." After a long pause in conversation, Simon asked, "So, I was thinking, Jim, since the best defense is a good offense, that we could slam him with statistics."

Turning, he caught the amused flicker in his captain's eyes. "What are you talking about, Simon?"

"Well, you mentioned a team of folks to help me with gathering data for Garrison, right?"

"Right."

"I was thinking that this team could also put together all the figures that show the improvement of your record since you teamed up with Sandburg. We can beat him at his own game if we can show that you were not only the best man in the city before, but with Sandburg, you're now the best in the state, maybe even the country. That should give us enough ammunition to head off any kind of thing he wants to push about the two of you living together or any rumors he puts out about you two being gay."

"Is he still doing that?"

"Yeah, and as long as you two are living together, it probably isn't going to go away, not with assholes like Samuels around to stir things up."

"But legally he doesn't have a leg to stand on."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't do much if enough of the bottom line guys want you out. You and I both know the real world better than to think legal action is much help with this kind of poison."

Just as he started to speak again, he heard his guide's congested voice at a distance. The words and background sounds headed him toward the door in a hurry. "Damn."

"Jim? What's going on?"

"It's Sandburg, sir. He's downstairs in the locker room."

"Locker room? Is the kid okay?"

"Not if I get my hands on him."

"Come on, Rafe. Hand'em over. I'm soaked to the bone here and I'm freezing." Blair stood with the towel wrapped around his middle, his wet clothes draped over the long wooden bench.

"No way, Blair. Not until you tell Jim what happened."

"Tell Jim what, Rafe?" His voice boomed into the locker room as Blair looked up over the younger detective's shoulder.

"Hey, Jim. I was just leaving." He put the grey sweats on the table next to the grad student, taking a quick exit as the best road to survival. The other two cops followed right behind him in a hurry, leaving the two men facing off.

"What's going on, Chief? How'd you get all wet? What are you trying to hide here?" Jim took in the whole picture of Blair standing there, his hair hanging down in long tangles, his skin flushed with a low-grade fever.

"Just stop it, man."

"Stop what?"

"The super cop mode. I am so not in the mood. I'm not hiding anything, man. I just didn't want to bother you." An involuntary shiver ran through his whole body.

Pushing away his own impatience, his own hurt at not being trusted, he focused instead on the present situation. "Look, just go dry off and put some clothes on before you catch pneumonia. I'll see if I can round up a hair dryer." The too easy nod just reinforced the terrible ringing, the alarm that something needed fixing and soon.

After a few minutes, dryer in one hand, hot coffee in the other he returned just as Blair finished dressing. Stunned at what he saw, he practically barked. "Stop there, Sandburg. Lift that shirt again."

"What?" Blair turned around, his eyes rounded.

"You heard me. Let me see those bruises." Jim came closer, putting his things on the table, his own hand ready to lift up the cloth.

"Don't, man. It's nothing."

"Listen, I want to see for myself what you're hiding."

"Jim, it's just a few bruises. I fell, okay? Don't make a federal case out of it."

"So, why can't I see?"

"What's the point? Just leave it alone."

"Damn it, Sandburg. You're really starting to piss me off here." Jim paced back and forth in the narrow area between the two rows of lockers while his partner just stood his ground and watched, not speaking. "Okay, you can tell me about this alleged fall later. Right now I want to know how you got here looking like some drowned rat."

"God, Jim, where do you come off being so damn bossy and it wasn't an alleged fall. I fell. Period."

"Quit stalling."

Blair sat down on a stool while he worked hard to pick and comb through his messy hair. He drank several loud sips of coffee before he finally talked, his voice still scratchy and nasal. "I was on my way downtown, but my car broke down."

"I thought you were going home after your class."

"You want the story or do you want to interrupt?"

"Sorry." Jim bit the side of his lip as he sat down on the bench in front of his partner.

"Anyway, when I went to change the tire, I found out both tires were flat, not just one. I tried to use the cell phone, but the batteries were gone."

"Gone?" The same anxious tingle prickled the back of his neck. "How do batteries disappear out of a cell phone, Chief?"

"I don't know. They were there this morning. I left my pack in my office. I guess someone must've stolen them."

"Why steal batteries and not the whole phone? That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. I'm just telling you what happened." Jim glanced up from his own work at sorting through the puzzle to catch the weary expression distorting his friend's face.

"Okay, so what else happened?"

"I locked up the car and came here. It was only a few blocks away. I thought maybe you could call a tow truck or something."

"Sure, but, Chief, those tires are brand new. You just bought them last month. How could they both go flat at the same time like that? What is it you're not telling me?"

Blair finished off the coffee and picked up a dry towel to rub over his hair. He spoke quietly, his head down, the words only slightly muffled though the white terry cloth. "The tires were new, yeah. The batteries were stolen. The bolt in my office chair was rigged to fail when I sat back too far. The thing is, I'm not sure who's doing it or why. I was hoping it was just some prank, maybe a kid who failed my class getting back at me or something."

"You're saying you're a target of some kind?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So, why didn't you tell me?"

"At first I didn't want to think someone would do that, but things are escalating. The tires weren't just flat. They both blew out while I was driving. I'm not a cop or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's not just coincidence."

"Shit." Jim stood up, the rage barely contained. "Tell me what happened."

"Luckily there wasn't much traffic. I was driving and I heard this loud popping sound just when they went. I managed to get over to the side of the road without losing control." He tried a weak smile. "I've been watching this maniac driver for tips on driving under pressure. I guess all those car chases came in handy after all, huh?"

Not the least bit amused, he marveled at the calm tenor of the words. Jim filled in what his partner left out. "But you could've been killed. If you'd been on the highway when it happened, you could've spun out or been hit or hit someone else."

"I know." Blair pulled off the towel and combed his hair again, slowly with patience, his steady, even movements almost soothing.

"God, Chief, you could've been killed." His whole body whooshed into numbness from the terrible magnitude of the words.

Hands came to his lap as Blair stared up, his eyes wide and much clearer than earlier. "I'm okay, Jim. I wasn't hurt."

"I know, but, damn." Frustration building, Jim sat back down, the muscles in his body tensing like the pulsation of winding coils. "And the bruises?"

"When the chair broke, plus when I fell down the steps at the back of the library."

"Fell or got pushed?"

"It's hard to say. I mean, there were people around, it was wet and raining, my hands were full. I could've lost my balance."

"But you didn't, did you?"

"No. About halfway down, someone came up behind me. It was all so sudden, I wasn't really sure at first. I've just been going over and over it in my mind and I can't figure out what happened exactly. Who it could be, you know."

"You didn't see anybody then?"

"I saw a lot of people, some I knew, some I didn't. It was all too fast, man. Anyway, I wasn't hurt much. Just a few bruises." Picking up his soaked shoes, he held them up, one in each hand. "I don't think I can wear these, Jim. You think anyone has extras I can borrow?"

The quick shift from one story to the shoes alerted the sentinel to check the heart beat, the sudden increase a clue. "Don't worry about the sneakers, Chief. I'll find something. Hell, I'll even buy you new ones if I have to. Come to think about it, I think I still owe you a pair."

"Thanks, man." His face suddenly less dark, Blair put the shoes down and lifted a still wet curl. "Think I'd better dry this stuff and then see if I can get a ride home to change. Tell Simon I'll help him out tomorrow. My head's just too mushy to do much more today."

"No problem, but we're not finished here yet." Glancing up, Blair cocked his head, confused. "Chief, you still haven't told me the rest of it. What else happened?"

Taking a deep wheezing breath, Blair sat back down shaking his head. "Man, you're not going to let this go, are you?'

"Not until I know what I'm letting go. Now cough it up."

"Funny, man."

"I mean it."

A deep frown scarred his features, his lips twisted with hesitation. Finally the words strained out as a hoarse whisper. "When I fell, I heard someone say something."

"Damn it, Chief. What?"

"Tag the fag, man."

No heat would stop the chill that froze Jim down to his very deepest bones. "Shit."

"Yeah, man, you could say that."

"So, how's the kid, Jim?" Simon sat behind his desk, the worry deepening the long lines across his forehead.

"I had Davidson take him home. Getting soaked like that isn't going to help his cold. I made him promise to stay there, maybe try to get some sleep. " Jim stood by the window, his fingers pinching the bridge of the nose, the throbbing in his temples building.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I had the car taken to forensics. I want a full investigation. He could've been killed."

"Thank god he didn't take the expressway. Damn, this is serious, Jim."

"I know, Simon. He said he thought all these things were pranks, but I don't get it."

"What's that?"

"Why wouldn't he tell me? If someone's harassing him, why would he keep it to himself?" The hurt edged the words like razors against the soft sides of his tongue.

"Maybe he was afraid you'd overreact. Besides, it might have started out like that and just got out of hand."

"Just got out of hand?" Jim came around and settled at the table, his body shaking from the strain for control. "How could anyone think something like this was a prank? Worst, why would he act like it's just something to deal with like the fucking weather?"

"Jim, you've never really been a target for discrimination, so maybe I can help you out here."

Lifting his head, he met a pair of dark brown eyes with a hard focus. "I know about bigots, Simon."

"Yeah? Ever been called nigger? Ever been spit at or had white wash and oreos put in your locker by your so-called brother in arms when you got a promotion?"

Swallowing hard, Jim shook his head. His voice had to work to push past the constricted throat. "Damn, Simon. I'm sorry. People are damn shitty sometimes."

"Yeah, some are, some aren't. The thing is, that Sandburg knows that. He knows that some people are going to look at him and just see a Jew or jump to certain conclusions."

"You mean because he's got long hair he must be gay? Come on, Simon. Surely we're not that backwards."

"Jim, you see him differently than the rest of the world."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Simon leaned forward, his voice still firm, but somehow softer. "He's a good man, Jim, but he's not your typical guy. He's kind and gentle and, don't you dare tell him I said this, but he's really beautiful to look at. Not handsome, but beautiful. That alone could get him tread marks from the homophobe crew."

"You think he's beautiful?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

Looking away, the blush too quick to control, he didn't answer. Instead he tried a diversion. "What's that got to do with him being harassed?"

"It's got everything to do with it. You've been around long enough to know how some men are when they get together. The military, fraternities, even cops, they all have factions that are threatened by anyone who doesn't measure up to fit a certain standard. Blair's a perfect target."

"That's bullshit."

"I know that, but that's the way it is, Jim. Don't pretend like you don't know how it all works."

"I know, but I hate it."

"So do I, but we can't ignore it as the possible reasons behind what's going on. Anyone who knows Sandburg, knows he lives with another man. Put that together with everything else and he's game for anyone who wanted to bother. But, Jim, we've got another problem to deal with here, too."

"What's that?"

"If this is a hate crime, it could go federal."

"I'll worry about jurisdiction after I catch the son of a bitch."

Nodding, Simon puffed a little harder as Jim got up to leave. "So, what are you going to do first?"

"I'm going over to the school and ask some questions, check out Blair's office and then see what forensics pulls off the car. I'm going to get this guy, Simon and when I do, he's going to get a close up inspection of seriously pissed."

"I don't doubt that, Jim. Just don't go crazy and blow the case."

"Don't worry, sir. Everything will be by the book."

"Yeah, well, just make sure it's not the book that says an eye for eye. I'd just as soon keep you working here."

The smell of melting wax drifted into the hallway as Jim got off the elevator. Stepping closer to the door he heard the aboriginal drums and earthy sounds that soothed the heart of his troubled partner. Slipping the key in the lock and going inside brought no surprises. Blair sat cross-legged in the floor, his eyes closed, meditation at full force. He walked to the kitchen quietly after hanging up his coat and then just stood there entranced. Watching the flicker of light play across the outer edges of the dark hair stirred his body, made his cock twinge with hunger.

"Jim?" The younger man spoke as he relaxed and scooted back to brace himself on the edge of the sofa.

"Yeah. How you feeling?"

"Better, thanks. Why don't you turn off the music and bring me a beer. I'm thirsty but I swear I'm too tired to move."

"No problem." Jim did as requested and handed Blair the bottle while he sat just to the side. "Did you get any sleep yet?

"I tried, but I just couldn't, man. My head was working overtime, you know?" He took a deep drink and then held the beer between his upraised knees with both hands . "Jim, I'm really sorry about not telling you sooner. I swear I thought I could handle it."

"I know you did, Chief. I'm just not sure why you think you should have to handle this kind of shit."

"Well, it's not like it's the first time anyone's done it." His less congested breathing still sounded hoarse and uneasy.

"You saying this happens a lot? People think you're gay and harass you?"

"I wouldn't say a lot, but yeah, sometimes."

"Since when?"

"In most male-dominated cultures, it happens a lot, Jim. Certain behaviors are expected and if you don't try to fit the social norms, well, tag you're it, man." The quick taunt of memory at the word played across his features while he took another quick drink before speaking. "I have to admit, it gets harder to deal with every time it happens though." He used one hand to rub the back of his neck as he rolled his head forward. "God, my head's killing me. Could you get me an aspirin?"

"Sure." While Jim went for the tablets, Blair shifted up to sit on the couch, his legs tucked under him. A shaky hand took the pills while the larger man sat down.

"Have you eaten?"

"Wasn't hungry." The younger man barked a hoarse cough several times and worked at clearing his throat."

"Damn, Chief. You sound awful. Sounds like you could be getting bronchitis."

"I know. My chest hurts, too. I swear if it's not better tomorrow, I'll go to the doctor like I promised. I just didn't get a chance today."

"You sure you don't want me to get you something, tea or some of those magic herbs you shove at me whenever I get sick?"

A weak grin got weaker as Blair sneezed. "Already took some, but I have to admit they didn't do much. I'm just going to bed early and hope I'm better in the morning." His hesitation got longer as he wheezed a few extra times before he spoke. "Look, Jim, I'm really not sure how to say this, but there's something else you've got to know."

"What's that?"

"I got a letter from Councilman Samuels."

"Yeah?" Jim gripped the back of the couch as he tried to control his reaction.

"He wants me to stop consulting. He says that my presence is a danger to the image of the police department."

Too angry to stay still, Jim got up and paced, his lungs so hot he could barely speak. "Did you keep the letter, Chief?"

"Yeah, I kept it, but it's at school. What's going on, Jim?"

"Nothing to worry about. He's just trying to cut corners."

"And he thinks my stipend from the department is a corner? I know money's tight, man, but that makes no sense. And why are you so pissed? What's this really about and don't lie to me. As soon as I said the name, I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"That look you get whenever I catch you doing something to protect me. What did he tell you? What's Samuels really up to?"

Rubbing his forehead with his open palm, he fought the groan that wanted to rumble up from this chest. "This couldn't be worse timing."

"What, man?"

Jim came to sit back down beside his partner, his voice still tense, the words harder than usual. "Remember last spring when I had the run in with the mayor?

"You mean when you called him an dumbfuck for calling off the O'Malley stake out and he heard about it? Yeah, I remember."

"Well, councilman Samuels and I had words."

"What kind of words, Jim? Help me out here."

"I won't say the exact words, but basically he wanted to know if we were sleeping together and if we were, he wanted me to resign."

"Damn. You're kidding?" Blair leaned back hard into the corner of the couch, one arm up on the back, the other fighting to push back his hair.

"I wish I were, but no. He said it. Guess that's what the letter's about."

"Jesus, Jim, why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, that's sort of an ironic question considering the situation this afternoon."

Grimacing at the direct hit, the younger man nodded. "Yeah, you're right. It's just that it makes me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"What are all these people seeing that we're not?" Dark blue eyes focused on Jim, his gaze searching and intense. Blair's fever blazed across the space, the heat like spark to dry tinder.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why do you think that everyone seems to think we're a couple?"

"A couple of what?"

"Jim, don't make jokes, man. You know what I'm saying." The frustration carried unevenly on the rasping words.

"Yeah, I do, but I can't help you on this. I don't know why they think that. I just know that it wouldn't matter if we were. There's no excuse for any of this shit, not from Samuels or the bastard at school. It's nobody's business what goes on between us. I could give a shit what any of them think."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

A brief wrinkle of brow and several blinks later, Blair nodded. "Cool, man."
"Right. Now, why don't I order us something to eat and you can get a shower and go to bed early. You've had a rough day."

"I have to admit the sleeping part sounds about right. All of a sudden I'm exhausted."

"I'll order us some Chinese then, okay?"

"To tell the truth, man, I'm not all that hungry. Whatever you want's fine."

"You have to eat, Chief. Starve a cold, feed a fever."

"I thought it was feed a cold, starve a fever." The young man scratched his head a few times and rubbed his red nose and bloodshot eyes, the words sounding like a sleepy stuffed up kid's.

"All I know is you need to at least try to drink some more liquids."

"Yeah, man, later." Blair swung his legs over the side of the sofa and headed toward the bathroom. As Jim watched him close the door, he leaned his head back, fatigue washing his limbs with cold iron. He wished away the yapping questions that plagued his hearing, the awful worries nagging and shredding at his heart. He needed his mind clear and focused, but instead he fogged over with the image of his partner's naked body glistening in the steamy room a few feet away. Jim Ellison knew danger well enough to know he was in a hell of a lot more trouble from the fear in his own soul than any bigot outside the loft, and he hated himself for it. Damn coward, anyway.

The strong steamy scent of eucalyptus filled the loft as Jim came down the stairs, his eyes stinging from the sharp, clinging oils. "Jesus, Chief. What's going on down here?"

Blurry-eyed and still snuffling, Blair looked up, his voice choking in a clogged throat. "Man, I can't breathe." Leaning against the stove, the young man stood at the edge of a heavy cloud rolling up from the pan of boiling water. His hair pulled back at the base of his neck, but limp wisps sprang up around his drooping head. His own high fever added to the rising temperature in the kitchen.

"Damn. Sit down before you fall down." Gently Jim guided his partner to the chair and then turned off the water. "You're burning up. How long have you been this bad, Chief?"

"A couple of hours. I tried sitting up and nothing helps. My chest hurts really bad, too, man." Every word worked with a wheezing labor.

"Shit. Come on then."

"Come on where?"

Jim came out of his friend's room holding out his shoes. "Put these on. I'm taking you to the emergency room."

"No way, man. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Fuck, Chief. Your lips are blue for godsakes and you've got a fever. Now put on the shoes and let's go before I carry your skinny ass downstairs myself."

"You wouldn't do that, man."

"I wouldn't?"

Eyes closed only briefly before Blair reached over and grabbed the sneakers, his defiance only half-hearted. He slipped his feet inside, but didn't bother to tighten the already tied laces. "God, man, I feel like shit."

"No kidding. Come on. Here's your jacket."

Standing slowly, steadying himself a few moments before he slid his arm into one sleeve and then the other while Jim held it out for him. "That's a good boy. Now, come on."

"Don't patronize me, man. I'm sick, not six. I really hate when you do that."

Sympathy overrode his fear. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'm just a little scared here. Why didn't you call me?"

Going out the door, Blair waited while he locked it. "I don't know, but why didn't you hear me?"

Jim stopped stock still for a moment before he answered. "You're right. I should've heard you. I must have had the white noise generator on too high or something. Doesn't matter right now though. Let's see what we can do about getting some air into those puny lungs of yours."

"Okay." Blair walked ahead of him, his shoulders slumped, the extra heat of his body sizzling the air. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"I'm not feeling too good here, man."

Before he could say anything else, Blair's body buckled beneath him, his breathing suddenly shallow.

"Hell, Chief, please don't pass out on me. Damn."

As Jim's hand touched his shoulder, Blair's eyes closed. "Sorry, man."

Lying very still, he couldn't help at all as Jim lifted the lighter body up in a one single movement and carried him to the truck. Jim bit his lip as he secured his friend, started the engine, and drove, his lights and siren wailing his own incredible panic to the world.

"So, is he going to be okay?" Jim stood in front of the physician, an exhausted man only a few years older than Blair.

"You're his next of kin?" He glanced down at the chart, scanning for details.

"I'm his partner, Detective Jim Ellison, Cascade PD. How is he? It's been three hours already."

"I know that, Detective. Why don't we go sit down over here for a minute?" The blond held a hand out to direct the larger man to a corner chair. As soon as Jim sat, he positioned himself next to him and started talking. "By the way, Detective, I'm Dr. Manning. As of right now, Mr. Sandburg's doing a lot better than he was when you first brought him in, but I'm afraid he's got pneumonia. We haven't figured out which strain yet, but based on his symptoms, he also has a secondary pulmonary infection. I've got him on oxygen and antibiotics. I want to keep him several more hours at least until his blood gases improve and his fever's down."

"Then what?"

"Well, when he's breathing's better and if his temp doesn't go higher, I can send him home with some oral meds and instructions to rest. Do you know if he lives alone or if there's someone who can help out for a few days until he's feeling better?"

"I'll take care of him. Like I said, he's my partner."

"Oh, I see. I thought you meant his partner at police station." Dr. Manning nodded to himself, a glanced down at his chart, scanning through the test results.

"He is my partner at work, doctor, but we also live together. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, if Mr. Sandburg's gay, I need to know that."

"He's not gay, and even if he were, what's that got to do with his pneumonia?"

Dr. Manning turned, his knees nearly touching Jim's as he spoke quietly, his tone even. "Detective, it doesn't make any difference to me, but you should know that there are certain strains of pneumonia that are common in AIDS patients. Now, I'm not saying Mr. Sandburg has AIDS or anything like that. In fact, based on what I've seen that's not the case here at all. But, I do need a complete a medical history until I can get all his records. Plus, I just want him to have the best care possible. His personal relationships, other than background for his medical care, are none of my business."

Jim swallowed hard before he could speak, his tongue lazy. "I'm sorry. It's just we've had a lot of trouble lately. I'm worried, that's all."

"I understand that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check on another patient. I'll let you know when he's ready to go home. It may be a several more hours though. He's a very sick young man. Right now it's a toss up on whether to release him or to admit. I'll just have to wait and see how he responds."

"Could I see him?"

Kind green eyes met his briefly before glancing away. "He's in exam room Four. See if you can get him to relax a little and get some sleep."

"I'll try. And Dr. Manning?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Before he went in search of his guide, Jim watched the hurried pace as the young man walked into another cubicle. Just down the hall, he found Blair sitting up, dressed in a hospital gown, an oxygen tube around his face. An IV and monitor took up the room on his left side and showed less than healthy readings. Dazed blue eyes opened and stared. "Hey, Jim."

"Hey, Chief. How you doing?"

"Better." The croaky word lacked conviction.

"Yeah, I can see that." Pulling up a stool, Jim sat beside the bed, his hand on the raised metal rail. "The doctor said you should try to sleep."

"I know. I'm tired, but it's too noisy. Every little sound makes my heart jump."

"Do what I do, Chief. Dial down."

A weak smile flashed briefly, but faded just as fast. "I wish, man. Look, Jim, I'm sorry for all this hassle."

"Stop that. You can't help being sick." Jim wanted to reach through the rail and take his friend's hand, but held back. "Besides, the doctor said that if you start breathing better, he'll let you go home in a few hours."

"Really? Good. Because, I have to tell you, Jim, this place sucks. Stuck the needle for blood down to the damn bone, man, and don't even ask me what kind of samples they made me give." Eyes closed as Blair scrunched up his face. "Way gross."

"I'll bet." Smiling, glad his partner could make even a weak joke, he relaxed. "Why don't you keep those eyes shut and try resting some? I'll stay here until they're ready to release you."

"Okay." Blair lifted his right arm and rested his hand on Jim's. "Thanks for being here." The heated touch tingled the very flesh, the fingertips searing sentinel skin. "I hate to admit it, but I was a little scared there for a minute. I couldn't breathe, man. I guess I just kind of panicked."

Jim wrapped the younger man's hand with his own and brought his other one up to join them. "Me, too, Chief." In a softer voice, one he rarely used anymore, he added, "I'm glad you're going to be okay. Now try to sleep some for me."

Blair's eyes locked with Jim's as he squeezed his fingers. "Sure, Jim. I think I can do that now."

As soon as sleepy eyes shut for a few minutes, Jim realized that Blair indeed managed to drift off to sleep. Steady rhythm registered both by the monitor and sentinel senses made warm comfort chase away the cravings he had to rip apart anyone one or anything that hurt the man he loved.

"Face it, Chief. You're out of commission for awhile. Now sit down and behave."

"But I need to make some phone calls first. I just can't not show up for the classes and meetings." Blair sank down on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"I know that. I've already called Michael at the university. He's going to take care of that, tell the dean about you being sick, and cover today's classes. He said he'd call later tonight with a list of volunteers after he rounded them up. It's all handled."

Pulling the cover up tighter, Blair let his head rest on the back of the couch. "Man, I hate asking people for favors."

Sitting beside his friend, Jim nodded. "I know. But, all those times when you helped everyone else out, did you ever think twice about it? I mean, when someone needed you, you just did it, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, then, it's your turn. Besides, it gives all those people you've helped out a chance to pay you back."

"I don't need them to pay me back, man."

Jim shook his head before he moved to lift Blair's outstretched legs up and across his lap. Despite the obvious drowsiness, he still resisted sleeping. "Remember the social contract speech you gave me once, Chief?"

"What?"

"You know the one about how if you do someone a favor, you need to give them an opportunity to pay back the debt so they don't resent feeling obligated?"

Eyes closed, face more relaxed, Blair smiled. "Oh, yeah, the social contract speech. I remember. Okay. You're right. Man, I don't think I can get to bed, Jim. Too tired."

"I know. Doesn't matter. I don't care where you rest as long as you do it. Now, I've got to go downtown for a couple hours. Your next round of medicines isn't due until five and I'll be back by then. The phone and a pitcher of water's right here on the coffee table. You can call me if you need anything."

Blue eyes opened, suddenly concerned. "But you haven't slept either, man."

"I'm okay, Chief. Just calm down. I promise I'll be back in a few hours. Plus, I'll tell Ms. Donahue from downstairs to keep an eye on you if you want."

"Hell, Jim, she will anyway. You KNOW Ms. Donahue."

Smiling, the older man laughed. "Damn shame she's 70. She'd make a great cop."

"One cop in the building's enough, man." Taking a deep breath, the air still raspy, Blair settled back. He pulled his legs out of Jim's lap and then curled up as he lay against the pillows all around his back. "Tell Simon I'm sorry about not being able to help out with the software deal, Jim."

"Don't worry about it. I called this morning and he understands. Says to just get well."

"Tell him I'm trying, man. Oh, and would you pick up my car from where ever you towed it? I don't want to have to pay for storing it after the tires are fixed."

Jim stood up and headed for the door. "You don't have to worry about that, Chief."

"Why not?"

"It's at forensics. I'll pick it up after we get the results back on how they were tampered with. I'm hoping to get some good prints, too."

Blair jerked straight up and turned to face Jim just as the older man reached for the doorknob. "What the hell are you talking about, Jim? You took my car to forensics? Tell me you're kidding." The angry tone graveled the air, the sound unnaturally deep.

Confused, Jim walked back to the sofa as he spoke. "Of course, I took it to the station, Chief. We needed evidence to figure out what's going on. Why are you so pissed?"

"Pissed? Jim, it's my car, man. You should've asked me. I just want to forget about it."

"I don't get this. Someone tried to kill you. Blew your tires out while you were driving. Why wouldn't I try to find the people responsible? Better yet, why wouldn't you? What's going on?"

"What's going on is you've jumping ahead doing your own thing as usual. I don't believe this. They're just stupid kids, man. Besides, even if you find something, you'll never be able to prove anything. It'll just be a lot of hassle for no reason. I don't want any trouble, Jim. Just let it go, man."

Blair's breathing labored harder with each passing word. He sat stiffly, a hand to his chest, his face drawn and haggard from the effort of talking and still taking in so little air.

"Just settle down, Chief. I'm sorry. You're right. I should've asked you first. It just never occurred to me that you'd have a problem with me finding out who's responsible for trying to hurt you. Explain this to me. Why is that such a problem?" Jim sat back down, waiting, still bewildered at his partner's strange behavior.

"You don't understand, Jim."

"Then explain it."

Meeting his eyes, Blair nodded. "I'll try, but you're not going to like it."

"I already don't like it, Chief. So, give me your best shot."

Nervously, Blair cleared his throat and swung his legs to the side of the sofa as he sat up, moving away from Jim as he spoke quietly. "It's possible that the guys doing this have reason to think I'm gay."

The loft suddenly became a very small place, every word much larger than before.

"You know who it is then?"

"I think so. Yeah. Maybe." He pushed the stubborn veil of dark curls back away from his face. "There are a couple of students from last semester."

"Names, Chief."

"Tommy Bond and Derik Patterson. They saw me coming out of Chaps once. Made a big deal out of it. When I got pushed down the stairs, it sounded like Derik's voice."

Standing up, anger boiling his blood, Jim walked to the window, silent. Time dragged like too many rusted chains. Finally his tight voice formed words. "Why protect them? Why didn't you tell me who they were from the beginning?"

"I'm sorry. I thought if I ignored them, they'd stop."

"But they didn't. Those kind never do, Chief, not when they think they can get away with it."

"I guess. I just wanted them to leave me alone, man." Blair reached over and poured some water, drank it, and remained quiet. Jim watched each movement, still graceful despite his obviously weak condition.

"Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Chaps? It's a gay club, right?"

"Yeah." Putting the glass down on the table, Blair scooted back, pulling the covers up around him again. His eyes never glanced up as he cocooned himself against Jim's stare.

"So, are you saying you went there for research on some subculture or what?"

"Or what, Jim. I'm not gay, but I'm not exactly straight either. I was just lonely that night, but I didn't go home with anybody."

"I didn't ask that."

"I know, but you wanted to. I just went to talk some people and to dance a little. You know, have a good time."

Stunned, Jim rubbed his hand down across his whole face as if he could wipe away his astonishment.

"I've known you for all this time and you've never once said anything, Chief. What am I supposed to think here? Couldn't you talk to me? Why go to some stranger? Where was I when this happened anyway?"

"A few weeks ago when you were working with Rafe, I went with a friend of mine, David. He's a graduate student in psychology. We just talked about things, you know."

"What kind of things?"

"Relationships mostly. Look, Jim, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"You keep saying that and then I turn around and find something else that you didn't tell me. I thought I was the one with a closet full of secrets, Chief. Not you."

"What?" Blair's head came up for the first time, his eyes more blue despite the fever.

"Secrets, Chief. When I was in covert ops, I learned all about keeping things to myself. It's a hard habit to break, but I was trying hard to get over that. But with you, my friend, I think it's some sort of life style or something." Arms wrapped around his chest, Jim stood his ground in front of the window, the afternoon light blazing around his dark silhouette.

"I don't like keeping secrets, man, especially from you, Jim."

"Then why do it?"

"Jim, you know how much trouble we're having now. Imagine how much worse it would be if it were partly true. If people find out about me, then they'll take it out on you."

Biting his lip, Jim released it and then clenched his jaw a few times before he finally stepped to the sofa to sit down. "Okay, that explains why you want to keep it from them, but it doesn't begin to explain why you didn't tell me. I thought I was your my best friend, Chief. If you've got troubles, if you're worried about something, why can't you tell me? Don't you trust me?"

"It's got nothing to do with trust, man. Of course, I trust you."

"Then what?"

"I also love you."

"Damn. Really?" Jim stared as Blair risked a sidelong peek in his direction.

"Yeah, really, man. Stupid, huh?"

"No name calling, Chief."

"What?"

"Well, if you call me stupid, I'm going to have to return the favor."

"Oh, man, you're kidding?"

"Nope. Stupid pretty much covers it."

Shaking his head, Jim drew his partner in closer and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "Man, I don't believe this, Jim. How long, man?"

"Couldn't say. I'm stupid, remember?"

The heat from Blair's body fevered his chest, the added temperature like a blister rising. "Jim, why didn't you tell me?"

"Old habits and secrets, Chief. I'll explain it all later. You're still too hot. You need to rest. Why don't you go into bed and I'll go see Simon. When I get back in a couple of hours we'll figure some things out."

"What things?"

"Things, Chief. Right now, let's get you to bed."

"Oh, man."

"What?"

"I've dreamed of you saying those words, but I wasn't too sick to stand up when I dreamed it."

"Well, believe me, Chief. When you're well, you're going to hear it a lot more."

"Oh, man."

"What?"

"Even my cock hurts. Damn."

Jim chuckled as he kissed the top of his guide's head, the salty sweat a pleasant tingle to his tongue. "I'll take care of that later, too, Chief."

"Promise?"

"You bet."

Lips curled up against his chest, the vision of his partner's smile forming in his mind. "Man, I love your bedside manner, man."

"Just wait until you get a load of my in bed manner, Chief."

"Oh, man. Stop. I'm sick here."

"Sick, but with a reason to get better, right?"

"Oh, yeah, man. Definitely."

"I don't get this, Jim. Are you saying he knew who it was all along and he didn't say anything?"

Jim sat down at the long table in his captain's office, the coffee mug hot inside both palms. "Apparently he thought if he didn't do anything, they'd leave him alone. Of course, that didn't happen."

"Damn, I hate this kind of thing. So, what are you going to do if he won't press charges?"

"Neither man has a record, but I want them picked up. If their prints match any of the ones we took off Blair's car, it won't matter if he testifies. We could get them for attempted murder, but I doubt if the DA would go for that. Doesn't matter, I'll get them for something. They're not going to get away with this."

"Maybe you should slow down for a minute."

The cautious tone brought his head up to find his captain staring at him, dark eyes intent. "What are you talking about?"

"Look, if they go to trial, the thing about Blair being in a gay club's bound to come out. Maybe the kid wants to avoid that. I mean, he was willing to take this harassment rather than let you find out about it."

"But I know about it now, Simon, and it doesn't matter. These kids can't go around endangering people because they think someone's gay."

Nodding, Simon puffed a few times on his cigar and drank some coffee. "Okay, then, pick the bozos up, but just be careful. Be sure this is what Sandburg wants before you go charging ahead."

"Whether he wants it or not, he'll know it's the right thing, Captain."

Just as Jim started to stand, Simon held out a hand. "Wait a minute, Jim. I need to talk about something else."

"What?"

"This thing about Sandburg. Is he really gay?"

Biting his lower lip, Jim walked over to the window, his arms crossed, the debate of whether to answer or not waging a fierce battle. After a few moments, he finally spoke, his words came out measured and even. "I think the term's bisexual, Simon. The thing is, for the first time in my life, I think I might be as well."

"Oh, lord."

Jim turned to see his captain shaking his head, rubbing his forehead already beaded with new sweat. "Sorry, Simon."

"I was afraid this would happen."

"Excuse me?"

"You and Sandburg. I saw it coming. I swear I've let the thought of you two together run through my mind a hundred times and dismissed it."

"You're kidding."

"I wish."

"Then you don't approve?" The hardness surrounded him as he prepared for the answer that would start the tally of losses.

"Hell, Jim, it doesn't matter what I think. It's just going to be damn hard to keep you two together on the job if it comes out that you're more than just working partners. I mean, I haven't jumped the gun here, have I? That is what you were telling me, right?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Oh, lord."

"Would you please stop saying that. It's a little bit disconcerting."

"Not as disconcerting as it's going to be if Councilman Samuels finds out."

"I'm not exactly planning on making a public announcement, Simon. I just wanted to tell you because you have a right to know what's going on."

Taking a very deep breath, the captain put down his cigar and then leaned forward, both hands in a fist. "And I appreciate that, Jim. Okay, I'm over the initial shock now. Would you please tell me when this happened? I mean, have you two been keeping this thing a secret for long now?"

"We told each other today, but I've been thinking about it for awhile."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Shocked the hell out of me, too, sir. I've never really thought about a man like I have Blair. I really can't explain it. I guess it just sort of sneaked up on me. I'd be standing there talking to him and he'd smile and I'd suddenly see him closer, next to me. Or I'd walk by and smell his scent and then I'd think about him in a way that wasn't exactly the way a guy's supposed to, you know?"

"His scent? Oh, lord, Jim, you've got it bad, huh?"

"Really bad, Simon. I mean, I can't give you the details, but this is a whole new thing for me. I don't understand it, but I do know I can't ignore it anymore. The thing is, I don't want to ignore it. When Blair told me how he felt about me this afternoon, it felt so right."

"And there's no way to turn this thing around before it goes too far?"

"I don't want to turn it around. Why should it matter that he's a guy? I just can't stop thinking about him. I can't help it, Simon. I love him."

"Shit."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"Seriously, I'm happy if you're happy, but you know this is going to cause some major problems."

"Yeah, it could, and normally that might bother me, but for some reason, I don't even care."

"Bad ass Ellison in love with his partner. Go figure the odds."

"Long shot wouldn't even cover it."

"I hear that."

"Well, hear this, Simon. If Councilman Samuels tries anything to break us up, he's going to get a fight."

"Tell me something I don't know, Jim. Look, I think the best thing to do is keep a low profile. Do you think you can do that and still bring those kids in from the university?"

"I can try."

"Please do. I swear, sometimes I wonder how peaceful my life would be without the Ellison/Sandburg routine."

"Damn dull, probably."

"Yeah, probably." Simon paused a while longer and cleared his throat before he finally spoke, his eyes clear and very serious. "Jim, don't take this the wrong way, but I've seen you in a relationship and I know Sandburg's history with women. Are you really sure about this?"

"Absolutely, Simon. He's it."

"Then you'd better get busy and clear up this mess then."

"Sure thing. And, Simon?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Just don't screw this up, Jim. I hate to admit this, but he's a keeper."

"Yes, sir, he is."

"Lucky bastard."

"Yep, that, too."

"I was talking about you, Jim."

"Yeah, I know."

Jim glanced down at his watch, anxious as the answering machine clicked on. "Chief, listen. I know I'm running late, but come on, pick up the phone." Silence on the other end unnerved him. He hung up and headed for the door.

"Jim, wait a minute. I need you to meet somebody."

"I can't, Captain. I told Blair I'd be home by five and it's after seven. He's not answering the phone. I know he's probably just sleeping, but he's still sick. I need to be there."

"He'll be okay in another five minutes, Jim." Simon turned to the blond woman standing next to him. "This is Pat Garrison, the efficiency expert I was telling you about. She's here to look through our records."

He offered a quick hand as he pulled on his jacket. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Garrison. I'm sorry about rushing out like this, but my partner's got pneumonia."

"So I heard. I know that's a rough one. A close friend of mine had that once and it took her weeks to get over it. I hope your partner's luckier."

"I hope so, too. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Certainly, detective. If it's all right, I'll start with your records first."

Something in the tone alerted him and he glanced back. "Why my records first?"
Smiling as she ran her finger along the desk edge, she spoke more softly. "That's a good question. Maybe you should be asking Councilman Samuels. He's the one who hired me and suggested that I pay particular attention to you. He was extremely insistent. If I were a detective instead of an efficiency planner, I'd be suspicious. Since I'm not, I'm just going to do my job and make a fair report on whatever I find."

"And you're sure it's going to be fair?"

Hazel eyes met his, the sparkle in the message very clear. "It'll be fair, Detective Ellison. Now, how the council will use it, that's a different question. My suggestion would be to just be careful. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but as I told your captain, I don't like being told what I'm supposed to find before I even go looking."

"Is that what Samuels did?"

"You might say that, yes." She shrugged off her suit coat and hung it up where Jim had left an empty hook. Putting her attach on the desk, she added, "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I'll get started. Hope your partner's feeling better, detective." The young woman sat down and put on her glasses as she started reading the first folder on the stack that Simon provided.

Just as Jim started to speak, the captain shook his head. "Jim, go home and check on Blair. I'll call you later if we need anything."

"Okay, but this isn't over, sir."

"I know, but remember what I told you about the best offense?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I've been working on that and I think we're okay here. So, go do what you have to. I'll have Brown and Rafe pick up those kids in the morning and you can talk to them then."

"Thanks."

"It's going to work out, Jim. Now, go take care of the kid."

Jim leaned in and whispered. "I wish you wouldn't call him kid anymore, Simon."

The older man pulled back, puzzled. "Why not? I've always called him kid. I mean, he acts like a kid compared to us."

"I'm not THAT much older than he is, sir."

Suddenly clued in, the captain nodded. "Oh, I get it. Sorry." Pulling Jim over to the side of the room, he kept his voice low. "I'll tell you what. I'll try not to call him kid anymore if you promise not to get too pissed at what I'm going to tell you."

"Damn it, captain. What is it this time?"

"Samuels called the mayor. Apparently he heard about the investigation over Sandburg's car. We've got a leak somewhere." Just as Jim pulled away, Simon snatched him back. "Hold up. I'm working on it. I just wanted to warn you. Now, take a few deep breaths and then go home. You haven't slept in about 36 hours and it shows. I don't need both my best men on sick leave."

Trying hard not to yell, Jim nodded, his jaw clenching on fast speed. "You're right. I am tired, tired of all this shit from Samuels. Son of a bitch needs to back off and get his own life and leave mine alone."

"Yeah, well, you could say that about a lot of folks who like peeking in other people's bedrooms. Even so, I want you to promise me to just go home, take care of Sandburg, and get some rest. Come back in the morning and we'll try to straighten some of this out."

"I know an easier way."

"What's that?"

"Samuels and all his kind could fall off the fucking face of the earth."

"Like we should be so lucky. Go home, Jim, and get some sleep. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." As he headed out the door, he heard his friend mutter under his breath, "Lucky bastard." He couldn't help but agree one more time.

"Blair?" Jim took off his jacket and dropped his keys in a hurry as he went directly to his partner's bedroom. Wrapped up in blankets, Blair lay sound asleep, his breathing still wheezing. His dark curls clung to his forehead and face, the sweat dripping down his cheek. A pile of rust-stained Kleenex littered the floor near the bed, the smell of blood strong. "Damn."

Jim sat down and pulled back the covers, the heat from the fever shimmering the air around the body. "Chief, come on now. Wake up for me."

Soft moans came with the flutter of eyelashes. Slowly, blue eyes washed in fever opened and met his. "Jim?" The raspy voice grated the air, its roughness painful.

"I'm here. You're burning up. I need to take you back to the hospital."

An involuntary shudder wracked the body in his arms as he coughed, a long deep pull of air through congested lungs. Bringing his knees up, he turned away from Jim and dragged at the covers. "I'm freezing, man. Just leave me alone."

"It's the fever, Blair. It's too high and you're coughing up blood. Now, can you get up, or do I need to carry you?"

"Oh, man, please, Jim. I'll be good. Don't make me go back. Please." The child-like voice, almost a whimper, tore at him. He should've been home sooner.

"I'm sorry, Chief. You're really sick here. I won't make you stay any longer than you have to."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now, help me out. Come on. Let's get your shoes on."

"Okay." As Blair sat up and put his legs over the edge of the bed, his arms shook from the effort of bracing against the mattress. Jim pulled the sleeves down on his sweat shirt and pushed back his wet curls. Fever-glazed eyes stared back as a weak smile curled too pale lips. "Where you been, man? Missed you." The younger man leaned his head on Jim's chest, his eyes shut again, his breathing so tortured, it struggled to even move the air.

"I'm right here now, Chief. Just keep breathing. God, please, just keep breathing."

The lack of an answer prompted Jim Ellison to rush faster and carry his partner to the truck for another hospital run. The whole time he worked on staying focused, forced himself not to zone as the young man's vitals got harder and harder to hear and even harder to ignore. No high speed car chase could touch him as he gunned the engine and raced to save the man he loved, the man he'd failed to protect one more time.

Sitting by the hospital bed, Jim Ellison sucked on the edge of a useless finger, the nail ragged and brittle. As the low hiss of steady oxygen filled his partner's clogged lungs, he watched as though his raw will could force the air to heal the damage faster. All around him the world ached and narrowed to the man in the bed.

The slightest move and moan alerted him to Blair's slow shift closer to the rail.

"Hey, man." The croaky voice played velvet across his starving ears.

"Thank god, Chief. You scared me."

"Yeah?" The young man closed his eyes while he repositioned his butt a little straighter. When he opened them again, he stared directly at Jim. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Taking several long breaths, he rubbed his right hand up and down his chest. "Jesus, that hurts." He reached up to massage his neck and wrapped his fingers around it. "They stuck a tube down my throat, man. Damn. I remember that much."
"They had to suction some of the fluid off your lungs. I'm surprised you remember though. I thought you were completely unconscious most of the time."

"It's all foggy, disjointed, but I remember that part, man. It hurt."

"I'm sorry, Chief. Seems like whatever bug's causing you to be sick is a major badass."

"Tell me about it. This really sucks, Jim." He glanced at the window and licked dry lips. "What time is it?"

"Thursday morning. Around ten, I think."

"Thursday? Damn. How'd that happen?"

Jim stood up and stepped to the side of the bed, his hand taking Blair's, holding and stroking it like a beloved treasure. The thin flesh still heated, singed his finger tips, the rare sensation like oil touching a tight series of wires. Veins laced over the fine bones as they textured and ridged the surface, each one a vital new memory. Turning it over, he lifted and kissed the palm, the same tingle firing through his lips. Blue eyes watched every move, the stretch of color growing thinner around the pupils.

"You really scared me this time, Chief."

Blair reached over and gently caressed his cheek. Suddenly his partner's flesh became a center, a calling focus to reality and all things good. Closing his eyes, the sentinel drank in the scent and pleasure of knowing his guide lived and loved him. He bit his lower lip to fight the growing sting, the terrible guilty flood of knowing he'd failed to be there.

"It's okay, man. I love you. I'm going to be fine." The hoarse voice still managed tender words, each one a cushion to his own fears.

"I should've been home sooner."

"Is that what the doctor said, that it was your timing?"

"No. He said he'd have been surprised if you hadn't gotten sicker. The antibiotics he gave you don't really do much for this particular strain. He put you on something else as soon as I got you here last night."

"So, it's not your fault, Jim. Even if you'd been there, I'd probably be here anyway, right?"

Still holding Blair's hand, he shook his head. "But I still should've been there when I said."

"Then next time do better. That's all you can do, man. Don't waste energy feeling guilty about something you can't change."

"It's hard to do that, Chief." He ran his hand up the younger man's arm, the hint of the alcohol used to bring down the fever still there, still too strong, the harsh odor scraping and stripping Blair's natural scent. "I don't want to ever lose you. Even the thought of it makes me crazy."

"Jim, I need you to just forget about that and get some sleep. You look worse than I feel and that's pretty bad. You're just tired. Go home."

"No way. I'll sleep here later. I'm not leaving, so don't even ask me."

Blair smiled, the curl of his lips weak, but his satisfaction obvious. "Okay. Thanks, man. I know it's pretty selfish, but I'm glad you're here. You know how I feel about hospitals."

"I know."

"How long did the doctor say I'd be here?"

Pushing back the stands of hair, Jim carefully brushed the back of his hand against Blair's whiskered jaw. "Too early to tell yet. A few days maybe. Have to be sure this time."

"Damn." Blair tilted his head toward Jim's graceful and greedy touches. His voice suddenly sleepy, the words came out drowsy and not quite formed. "I'm really out of it here, Jim. Everything hurts and I'm exhausted, which is crazy because I just woke up."

"You're sick, Chief. You need to sleep." His whole hand wrapped in Blair's sizzled fire up his arm, the contact electric.

"I wish I could enjoy this more. Feels so good, man." He nuzzled his face into the large palm, his beard burning lightning.

"Don't worry, Chief. There'll be plenty of time for touching later when I get you home." Leaning over the rail, Jim kissed him lightly on the forehead, his already tingling lips energized even more by the slightest pressure of his guide's flesh to his. He flicked his tongue to taste him, to wash his whole being in the flavor of the man he loved.

"Well, isn't this cozy."

The intrusive voice from the doorway startled him as he stood up straight and turned around. "Samuels."

"Yes, detective. Seems I've stumbled on quite an interesting scene. Wish I had a camera. Care to tell me again how you and your partner aren't sleeping together?"

"Get out. You've got no business here." The words practically growled across the room, the vibration enough to jar the air.

"I just came by to check on Mr. Sandburg's condition. I mean, after all he is considered part of the best team on the police force. He even has a friend in the major's office apparently. Of course, that may change after I relate this little incident."

Jim released Blair's hand, his friend's frantic words to stop at his back. The sound lost all power, all light concentrated to the one beam on Samuels's face. He stepped closer before he spoke, his hand on the older man's shoulder, a squeezing grip wanting to crush bone. "Leave. Now."

"What's going on here, Jim?" Simon walked in the doorway behind Samuels.

"He was just leaving."

"Captain Banks, I suggest you tell your detective the facts of life. He either gives up his gay lover or his job. He can't have both and work for this city."

"Get out, Councilman Samuels."

"Captain?"

"You heard me. You may have power when it comes to city policies, but you're in a private room interfering with Mr. Sandburg's recovery. Now, unless you'd like a little security escort out of the building, I suggest you leave on your own. Now."

Samuels stared first at Jim and then Simon before throwing a quick glance toward Blair. "Good night, Mr. Sandburg. Just remember what I said last time." He turned and left just as Simon put out a restraining arm across Jim's chest.

"Let it go, Jim."

"Son of a bitch."

"Yeah, he is that."

>From the other side of the room, Blair coughed a long time before settling down flanked on both sides by his friends. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, Simon. Just tired."

Jim reached over and took his guide's hand again. "I'm sorry, Chief. The man's got a mission."

"I know. That's what makes him so fucking dangerous."

"I hear that. Look, Jim, Blair, I'm going to check with some legal heads I know and see what I can do about keeping him away from here and to stop this weird grudge he seems to have against you."

Jim swallowed hard as he held Blair's hand up to his chest with both his own. "Thanks, Simon. I'm afraid if you hadn't come in when you did, well, let's just say......"

"Let's just say, I saved your ass from a lawsuit or a murder trial probably."

"Probably."

"Look, you two, I have to go." He glanced at the hand holding between the men and shook his head, a smile on his lips. "Sandburg, I sure hope you know what you're doing. You know what a morose bastard this guy can be."

"I know, Simon, but he's really not bad once you get used to all the quirks."

"Quirks, Chief?"

"Yeah, you know, the rules, the color-coding, the checking me out when you think I'm not looking."

Turning bright red, Jim gulped air several times before he could control his own breathing. Simon laughed all over himself as he stepped close enough to slap his detective on the shoulder. "Damn, and I thought I was the only one who noticed that. Way to go, kid. Keep him honest."

"I plan to. I plan to keep him, too."

"Yeah, kid, you do that."

"Simon."

"Yeah, Jim?"

"Enough with the kidstuff."

"Oh, yeah. Hey, Sandburg, how do you feel about being called kid?"

Blair wrinkled his brow, confused by the sudden change in banter. "It's okay. I'm sort of used to it. Why?"

"Well, Jim here wants me to stop? What do you think about that?"

Glancing over at his suddenly uncomfortable partner, he smiled. "If it bothers him, I guess you should stop. I mean, I'm not really a kid anymore, am I."

Jim cupped the side of the younger man's face, the fingers gently playing across the flushed skin. Simon cleared his throat to make the words behave and come out straight. "Yeah, Sandburg. I can see that."

Continued in part two.