Disclaimers: Not mine, never have been, never will be (well, in my dreams, but that's another story).

Rating: I won't know until the story is done. It'll depend on how frisky Jim and Blair decide to get.

This is dedicated to three wonderful women on this list. Thanks to Sue and Nita (my beloved lizard) for their invaluable assistance beta-reading a little Civil War AU story of mine, and to Carole (TACS) for including it in her zine. These are three of the sweetest humans around.

I'd also like to include a special note of thanks to my betas on this story. Since it's a surprise, Sue and Nita couldn't beta for me, so I got a fish and a squash to fill in for them. Just kidding! Thanks to Laura (aka Mrs. Fish) and Pumpkin (aka Boss Squash)! I really appreciate you because I won't write my name without a beta. You're terrific!

Permission to archive under the initials P.B. with my e addy attached.

Now, before the intro gets longer than the story...onward and upward.

The Stalker - part one

"So beautiful...," the man mused aloud, tracing his finger around the outline of the face in a photograph. "You'll be mine soon, and you'll love me like I love you," he whispered seductively to the captive image on the thick, glossy paper in his hands. His eyes were alight with desire as he brought the picture to his face and placed a kiss on lips forever frozen in a loving smile.

"You sure you don't mind?" Blair queried. He knew Jim had to be hungry--the detective had already waited patiently while three students cornered Blair about their grades on the quiz he'd given the previous week. Sandburg had tried to get away, telling them to make appointments, but they'd persisted. In the end, he had shrugged his shoulders at his chuckling partner and given in to them. So as Blair had animatedly explained why each answer was wrong, Jim sat in a desk on the front row, legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, staring and smiling.

"I told you, Sandburg," Jim began, with a playful cuff to the back of his friend's head. "It's fine. If I minded stopping by your office, believe me, I'd let you know." He was grinning happily, his eyes dancing with amusement at the joy of just being alive and in his partner's company. It was spring; the sun was shining; the birds were singing, and Jim Ellison was in love. Okay, so he was in love with a straight man, who'd run screaming if he knew, but he was in love. He was giddy.

After nearly three years, Jim had finally realized he was madly, passionately in love with his roommate. He had always known that the young anthropology student held a special place in his heart; he just hadn't let himself understand, until recently, how special that place was. Now, every time he looked at those amazingly beautiful ocean-blue eyes, delectably full lips, and that mane of chestnut curls, he couldn't figure out how he sublimated his feelings and desires for so long. Those eyes alone were enough to drive any living, breathing human to distraction. Blair's voice pleasantly interrupted his reverie.

"Whatever you say, man," he said, chuckling. "You're either high on happy pills or somebody gave you some great news today. Why don't you share with your partner? I could always use a dose of happy pills or good news after a grueling conversation to justify my grading policies." He reached in his pocket, fishing for his office keys as he spoke and walked beside Jim.

"Sorry, Chief, no pills, no news, just enjoying the company." He noted Blair's slightly accelerated heart rate at the comment, but it was the smile that took his breath away. Sandburg gifted him with a bright grin and a look of devotion so complete, Jim thought his heart might explode from the overload of affection he felt. He found himself returning the smile as he thought, "Oh my, I really don't give the kid enough compliments. I really gotta sweet-talk him a little more if I can count on looks like that one as a reward."

"Uh, thanks, man." Blair looked down at the door knob as he inserted the key. He didn't really need to look; he was just a little embarrassed. "Geez, man, he just said he liked being in your company and you looked at him like he handed you a million dollar check. Get a grip, Sandburg! You want him to know you're nuts about him?!" the younger man shouted in his mind. He shook his head slightly as he opened the office door, as if trying to shake away the admonishing musings.

"I wonder if he realizes just how adorable he is when he shakes his head like that," Jim wondered silently. He felt his hand itching to reach up and pull one of the wayward strands of hair out of his young friend's face as they walked into the artifact storage room that doubled as Blair's office. He ached to wind his fingers around the silky curls as he inhaled the scent of herbal shampoo. Unfortunately, that much intimacy wouldn't be well received, so Jim would just have to content himself with casual touches that could be easily dismissed.

The scent of the flower assailed him instantly. Jim had been so preoccupied with his partner that he hadn't noticed it until they were in the office with it. There, on Blair's desk, was a single red rose in a beautiful crystal bud vase.

Obviously someone else was in love with his Blair. Jim's face deflated like a party balloon after a child's birthday becomes a fond memory. Interestingly, Blair looked more irritated than pleased.

"Well, Chief, who's the lady?" He tried to make his voice sound cheery. Maybe he did okay, considering.

"I don't know, and I don't care," came the curt reply. Blair was purposely ignoring the lovely flower as he turned on his computer and started to retrieve his morning e-mail.

"Aren't you gonna look at the card, here?" Jim fingered the shiny gold-embossed envelop with Blair's name on it. He was curious about his partner's lack of interest.

"I know what it says." His voice was soft, but the tone gave away nothing. He kept his eyes fastened to the computer screen lest he betray too much.

"What?" Jim ventured.

"I said, 'I know what it...'" he tried delaying the inevitable by pretending to misunderstand the question.

"I heard what you said," Jim interrupted, becoming exasperated. "I meant what does it say?" He was well aware that the younger man was stalling, but he couldn't figure out why. His brows were starting to knit in a frown.

Blair hesitated, but never took his eyes off the screen. "Soon," he answered, finally. Then he sighed heavily, a look of resignation settling on his face.

"What does that mean, Sandburg?" Jim had caught the increase in heart rate and the heaved sigh. Something was wrong. If something was going on and Blair hadn't told him, then something was very wrong.

"Look, Jim, it's nothing, man--just some kid with a crush and a lock-pick is all." He looked up at his big friend, finally, and saw the worried expression that clearly stated an explanation had better be forthcoming. "I've gotten a few anonymous e-mails and some flowers. They all say 'soon,' either on the card or subject heading. The flowers have been left in my locked office on the desk. I've asked everyone with a key to this door if they let anybody in or loaned a key to anyone. They all said no. Jim, the e-mails aren't coming to the account I use for students. It's my private account--the one for you, Mom, and a couple of other close friends. I don't give that e-mail address to anyone, Jim. And there's the car...."

"What about the car?" Jim's voice was sounding tight with concern. His face was a study in worry.

"Well, um, I found a present on the front seat the other day. I know the car was locked--I've been kinda paranoid about locking it since the flowers first started arriving. Anyway, I went to the car after class and there was a beautiful gold box on the front seat." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the item in question. Once he open it, Blair retrieved its contents--a lovely silver slave bracelet.

Jim noticed the workmanship on the piece of jewelry. It was very intricate and finely crafted. The thin silver band bracelet was delicately etched all along the surface, giving it an almost fragile quality. Yet, while it was small and somewhat delicate-looking, it was still quite masculine in design. He realized absently, that the same description could apply to its intended wearer.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Ellison growled.

"Jim, it's a student with a crush--a very resourceful student, but..."

"No." He looked up at Blair with eyes of cold steel. "It's a criminal, guilty of harassment, and breaking and entering."

"Jim, does the word overreaction have any meaning to you?" Blair was getting exasperated. Sometimes Jim's Blessed Protector mode needed a remote deactivation switch that the grad student could carry in his backpack for just such emergencies as this. "I'm a big boy, Ellison, I can handle my own battles--been doin' it for a while now. Besides, it's probably just some cute little coed who doesn't realize how much this attention is causing me to get weirded-out." Blair was snickering until an e-mail subject heading near the top of the list caught his eye.

Jim noted the shift in his partner's gaze and the skipped beat of his heart.

"Soon," Jim read aloud. "That's another one of her messages." It was a statement, not a question, but Blair answered anyway.

"Yeah," he replied. Then he did what he knew Jim would want next--he opened the message to view its contents. What he saw made his blood run cold.

There was a picture of him, obviously taken with a telephoto lens from a building with an unobstructed view into the windows of the loft. In the photo, Blair was exiting the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. The message with it read, "Soon, you will undress for me--alone."

It had been two weeks since Blair had downloaded the image of himself leaving the bathroom. Jim had immediately gone into protective overdrive and filed a report on the incident, and everything that led up to it. Unfortunately, the results of those reports were less than gratifying.

The FBI had gotten in touch with Captain Banks almost as soon as the information had been entered into the computer. The M. O. of the person harassing Blair matched that of a serial killer who had been eluding them for over a year. They decided to send a profiler from their Behavioral Sciences division to help out on the case. She had been working on this killer's psychological profile since the FBI became involved. Blair remembered the day she arrived--just three days after the incident with the photo.

Jim, Blair and Simon were all sitting in the captain's office awaiting the FBI hotshot. They had been told she was one of Quantico's best. She was easily recognizable as she strode across the bullpen toward the office, never even stopping for directions.

The agent was a petite brunette with large emerald eyes and generous lips, painted red with lipstick. Her heart-shaped face and high cheekbones gave her a fragile appearance, belying a tough-as-nails interior. She also had an inch-long shock of prematurely white hair at her widow's peak. Blair thought she was absolutely beautiful, and was taken with her immediately.

Simon was waiting at the open door when she arrived at it, so she flashed a warm smile to the occupants of the room and introduced herself. "Hello, gentlemen, my name is Rena Carlisle. I'm the FBI stooge they sent to foul up your investigation," she said sweetly. All three men chuckled at her ice-breaking joke. This woman obviously had a handle on how local cops viewed federal involvement in their cases. She also had a sense of humor about it. They all knew they could get along with her.

"I'm Simon Banks." He shook her hand, then gestured toward his two friends, who were standing next to the table. "This is Jim Ellison and his partner, Blair Sandburg." He motioned for her to take a seat in a chair with her back to the bullpen. The partners took their seats across from her, and Simon stationed himself at the head of the table next to Carlisle's right arm.

"As I understand it, Mr. Sandburg, you are not only the detective's partner, but the victim as well. Yes?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Yeah, I guess so." He grimaced and looked almost like a child who, after being hurt in an accident, apologizes for causing so much trouble.

"Listen," she soothed, reaching for her briefcase and pulling out her legal pad, pen, and case-file folders. "You're going to be of great help in getting this guy. We're gonna nail him here, I'm sure of it." She sounded convinced, and Blair seemed to perk up a bit. He liked the idea of being helpful rather than a hapless victim like Jim and Simon were treating him.

"I assume you have all the information we faxed you on the case." Simon was twirling a cigar between his fingers as he spoke. When she nodded in affirmation of his statement, he continued. "We haven't had any new activity. Your office said you'd fill us in on the background when you got here, so I guess this meeting is your show, Ms. Carlisle."

"Thank you. First, call me Rena, please." They all smiled, and each man told her to use his first name as well.

"Now for the profile," she began, passing out a separate folder for each man present. She used no notes, herself, and worked totally from memory. The information in her lecture was also contained in the material she had provided the men, but she liked to go over it aloud to ensure that nothing was missed.

"We are looking for a Caucasian male, between thirty-five and forty years of age, who's about six feet tall with a lanky build. Probable weight is estimated at around a hundred and eighty-five. These are facts drawn from eye-witness accounts. He sometimes exhibits facial hair in the form of moderate stubble, never a full beard or mustache. We don't have an exact eye color, but witnesses remember they were light."

As Rena filled them in, she paced around the table, using hand gestures and clicking her pen absently. She spoke as though she were used to teaching, and Jim thought she probably kept her students' attention pretty well. Her well-modulated voice and frequent use of judicious eye contact helped keep the audience on target. However, the pen clicking was driving him nuts.

Blair followed her movements with his eyes and listened raptly to every word she uttered. He wasn't aware that he was fidgeting in his seat, or that his hands were tapping out some internal rhythm on the table in front of him. This, too, was contributing to Jim's state of nervous imbalance. Finally, Jim quietly and as unobtrusively as possible, laid a hand on both of Blair's, stilling them. At the cessation of tapping, Simon smiled and mouthed a 'thank you' to his detective. Blair just colored slightly at the realization that he'd been annoying both men, and removed his hands from the table, placing them on his knees. Rena had caught the little show out of the corner of her eye and had to stifle a giggle at Blair's exuberance and nervous energy.

"Our man operates by stalking his victim at a discreet distance with a telephoto lens on a camera. He obviously takes a plethora of pictures because we've found several with the victims after their bodies were discovered." She placed a comforting hand on Blair's shoulder as he tensed noticeably after her last remark. "But that's not going to happen here. We're going to find him before he has a chance to hurt anybody this time." She gave his shoulder a light squeeze and moved on.

"The stalking always escalates as our boy gets to know his victim. He begins to bring gifts and flowers. Note, I said 'bring,' not send. He never just has his flowers delivered by an anonymous kid in a truck. He physically enters the locked home or office of his victim and places the gift where he wants it to be found. It's also noteworthy that if the victim's office is rarely locked, our boy will deliberately opt for the locked home or car. It's important to him to break in to deliver the gift. He sees it as staking his claim. It's also a game of terror--it tells the victim that he or she isn't safe, even behind a locked door."

"You said 'he or she;' what's the breakdown on the other victims?" Simon interjected, shifting in his less-than-comfortable chair.

"There've been four females and two males attributed to this guy so far. There may be more, and we just don't know about them yet."

"So what is it that drew him to me? Do I look like the others?" Blair was interested in finding out exactly what about him had brought this character out of the woodwork and into his already entirely too dangerous life. His face had a look of pained curiosity, slightly frowning, but still questioning.

"Well, Blair, part of it's physical, but part isn't. I've talked to friends and family of all the other victims, and I see in you what I heard them talk about with reference to their loved ones." She smiled wistfully, thinking about the love these people generated in their short lives. She was determined that Blair's would be longer. "What he's attracted to in you is probably the same thing everyone else finds so endearing. You're very beautiful. You have a face like an angel, and it parades every emotion you have right out there on the surface. Yet, in your beauty, you haven't lost any masculinity. Even though you're small next to these two behemoths," she said with a smile and a quick pat to Jim's back and a look toward Simon, "nobody's gonna confuse you with a female unless you put on a dress and a lot of make-up. That's the physical side--you're young, beautiful, and still manly. Here's the rest."

"None of these victims were push-overs, but they had kind, gentle dispositions. They were also quite bright, very energetic, and generally pretty upbeat people. They had a natural exuberance for life and childlike curiosity about everything in it. They were also very charming from what I've learned. They could apparently wrap friends and lovers around their little fingers, but they were very judicious about using the talent, and never abused it. Jim, I obviously touched a nerve, here because you look like you're about to start laughing convulsively." Jim bit his lip, but it didn't help, and he did begin to laugh.

"Sorry, people, I just didn't realize there was anybody else like him out there. I always thought your friends ought to form a support group, Sandburg. Now I know we should. It'll be for all those affected by Svengali Sandburg Syndrome, characterized by the inability to refuse Blair Sandburg anything he wants." Jim reached with his left hand and playfully squeezed his young friend's right arm as he spoke.

Blair smiled back at him, ruefully thinking, "If that were true, I'd be sleeping in your bed tonight--after a marathon session of mind-numbing sex and sincere declarations of undying love for each other. Nope, don't think I can have just anything I want, Big Guy."

"There is one other thing. I've seen photos that the killer took of these people, and all the photos show a quality about them that I see in you. They all had a light in their eyes like yours. It's a vibrancy of mind and effervescence of spirit that seems to shine through your eyes. I can't really describe it any other way, but it's there." Jim gulped as Rena finished speaking. He knew exactly what she meant. It was one of the things he most loved about Blair. He could zone out on anything else, but never those eyes. They tantalized his sense of sight with their deep blue tint, but the warmth that radiated from them was so nearly palpable that it made him open his sense of touch at the same time. The emotions that they conveyed were so clear that he kept turning up his hearing, expecting to catch a vocal expression of the feelings exhibited there. He could definitely lose himself in the ocean-blue depths, but not to a zone-out.

"Wow," Blair said quietly, shaking his head with wide-eyed disbelief. "Thank you. That's just so..." he paused, thinking. "Man, that's just so flattering that anybody could see me that way."

"That's how everyone sees you," Jim blurted out before he could censor himself. He didn't really want Blair to know how he felt, but Rena's words had so beautifully expressed what he had been feeling recently, that he couldn't help letting the sentiment out.

Blair turned to stare at Jim with a look of incredulity which was quickly replaced by the brightest smile he had ever given anyone in his life. There was absolute adoration in his eyes shining out like floodlights on a moonless night.

As Simon decorously cleared his throat to signify the need to return to business, Jim allowed himself one last stray thought. "I was right--I definitely need to compliment that kid more often. God, he's positively radiant when he smiles like that!"

"Well, now that we know why he chooses his victims, let me finish telling you what he does. As I said, he begins by taking photos, then escalates to gifts and flowers, always mastering whatever locking mechanism is in place. As the victim's terror increases, it seems to whet his appetite, causing him to crave more. So he ups the ante. He'll begin calling you soon to taunt you. If you change your number, expect retaliation--our boy doesn't take rejection well. One victim's dog was found hanging outside his back door, another found her cat in the oven, cooked. He does not play around." Rena stopped prowling around the office and snagged a coffee cup from her briefcase. Depicted on it were two cartoon moose, sitting at a table, playing checkers. The caption read "Moosery loves company." Blair couldn't suppress a giggle.

"I noticed your coffee pot. Mind if I have a cup?" she asked, and received a nod from Simon. She walked behind the captain's desk and poured a cup, then held it under her nose, eyes closed, savoring the aroma.

"Uh, where was I? Oh, yeah, he also doesn't work and play well with roommates. He's very jealous, our boy, and he likes to remove the victim's support system. He will threaten Blair with doing bodily injury to you, Jim. Although he's never carried through on any of these threats to peripheral individuals in the victims' lives, we have every reason to believe he could decide to do so at any time."

"Now as far as time frames go, he usually plays his games for about four months from the onset of contact to the murder of his victim." That sentence elicited a groan from Blair. Rena smiled and held up a hand to forestall any further objectionable noises. "I have a plan to speed up the time table a bit and catch him in a trap." Blair perked up and brought his hands to rest on the table again. They immediately started tapping again as though possessed of a life of their own. Jim kicked him under the table and nodded toward the offending appendages. Blair jumped slightly as if just noticing they had moved out of his lap without permission, and placed them on his knees.

Simon and Rena tried to hide their amusement at the little show the partners put on, and she continued to outline her plan. "The only time he's ever stepped up his pursuit of a victim, and almost been caught in the process, was when the victim and her roommate became lovers while he was stalking her." Rena's voice had become tight, and her expression was strained. "It drove him up a wall, and he had to act on his feelings of rage. He seems to be oblivious of pre-existing romantic relationships, but if they begin while he's pursuing his prey, he goes ballistic."

"So what, exactly do you want me to do?" Blair was fidgeting badly and looking more than a little uncomfortable.

"I want him to think you and Jim are becoming lovers." "Sometimes it's best to be blunt..." she thought.

"What!" Jim, Blair and Simon yelled in unison. "...and sometimes it's not," she completed the thought.

She lit into her argument with vigor. She knew she was right about this. "Listen up, boys. I've been working on nailing this guy from the beginning. For your information, he killed a friend of mine. I want him! I also know him as well as anyone can. I've studied everything about him, and I'm telling you it needs to be Ellison. Jim is going to be with Blair around the clock, anyway, so we might as well use that to our advantage. He's also part of Blair's support system, which means our boy already has him targeted as a problem. In addition, this guy likes the power rush of being able to torment his victims. He always chooses smaller, more physically vulnerable targets. He wants to possess Blair. That's what the slave bracelet he sent was all about. Blair is a trophy. It'll piss him off beyond belief to see a larger, more dominant male than he taking possession of his property. It has to be Jim--he's the only logical choice." As she finished, she sat down having expended more energy than she intended on her portion of the debate. She knew she'd probably meet with resistance, and she had been ready with her arsenal of logic. She didn't know what she'd do if they said no.

Jim and Simon, while initially stunned, had both understood her line of reasoning. It made perfect sense, even if it did seem a little awkward for the partners. Blair, on the other hand, was having none of it. He sat leaning back in the chair, steadfastly shaking his head, arms now crossed over his chest. He had managed to hide his attraction from his friend for too long to screw it up now. If they were close, there'd be no way to keep his feelings a secret--not from Jim--not from a sentinel. They would just have to find another alternative. He wasn't going to save his own life only to lose his heart's desire. There were worse things than dying, and if Jim ended up hating or being disgusted by him, he'd experience all of them.

"Okay, we'll do it," Jim answered for himself and a clearly unconvinced Blair. He had that Ellison I've-made-up-my-mind-so-let's-get-crackin' expression plastered on his face.

"Uh, Jim, no we won't." Blair just sat back and tried to marshal his strength for the impending argument.

Jim looked at his partner and misinterpreted the reluctance as embarrassment at the idea of pretending to be gay. He knew that Rena was right, and Blair needed to see that if they were going to catch this guy.

"Simon, Rena, would you mind excusing us for just a minute. I think I need to talk to my partner alone." Jim's tone was gentle and understanding as he exchanged knowing looks with both Simon and Rena. They arose from their chairs simultaneously and sauntered out into the bullpen, closing the door behind them, with Simon muttering something about showing her around his "shop."

"Okay, Ellison, handle it, but don't scare the kid," Jim mentally admonished himself.

Blair was looking at him now with doubt-filled eyes. It was almost enough to break the big detective's heart. He wanted to reach out and comfort his guide so badly. He settled for a light touch on Blair's shoulder and a warm smile.

"Listen, Chief, I know this idea, well, it embarrasses you. You're worried about what people will think of you, but it's okay. Nobody's gonna know but us. We don't have to be overt, Blair. This guy is watching you very closely. He'll see things that other people will miss. Trust me, Chief. Please, trust me." Jim's eyes were boring into Blair's as though he could will the younger man to acquiesce.

"He thinks I'm worried about people thinking we're lovers. That's a laugh! If we were really lovers, I'd sing it out from the rooftops. I'd get "Property of James Ellison" tattooed on my ass!" Blair thought, hysterically amused that Jim would ever think he'd be ashamed of their love. He lowered his head and shook it in a negative response.

Jim squeezed his friend's shoulder, then ran his hand down Blair's back, massaging in little circles, trying to reassure him.

"Come on, Blair. It'll be okay, Buddy. We gotta do whatever it takes to keep you safe. What would I do without my guide?" That was the trump card. The young man might not be willing to do this to save himself, but if he thought about it in terms of saving Jim, he'd make any sacrifice needed. Blair lifted his head and met Jim's beseeching eyes.

"Okay, Jim, okay. I'll do it." His voice was ragged, but Jim understood it. He had the answer he needed--now they could work out a way to catch this son of a bitch. He stood, placed his hands on Blair's shoulders and massaged gently for a moment, then moved to the door, opened it, and nodded to Simon and Rena.

Blair stood in the open doorway leading to the balcony, letting the gentle breeze lift the wispy tendrils of his hair so that they tickled his face. Even when he pulled his hair back, like today, there were always fine strands that didn't want to stay tethered. He wished he could just stay there forever, letting the tranquillity descend on him the way the spring breezes did. He knew it was impossible, but it was a diverting illusion.

There was a psychopath out there somewhere, probably staring at him right then. With the long-range camera lens the stalker used, he could be in any of several building nearby. The Cascade PD and local FBI had several of the most likely vantage points staked out, but that still left others available. There was no way to cover all the buildings all of the time. They did the best they could.

In the hopes that their pet maniac would be watching, Blair and Jim were supposed to start their show soon. Things had been strained between them since Blair had consented to the charade. Both men were on edge about the danger to Blair and the possibility of too many secret desires being revealed. The tension was taking its toll. They had been snapping at each other constantly during the planning stages. Neither knew how they were going to pull off looking romantically involved when all they could do was bitch at each other. They just had to keep reminding themselves that they were doing it to stop a killer--and to save Blair.

He had seen the cops watching his favorite place. That was okay; he had other places they weren't swarming over. He could just set up in one of them to watch his angel-faced beauty

He looked through the lens. "Ah, there you are. Such a wistful expression on your pretty face--are you thinking of me? We'll be together soon, my love." His soon-to-be lover was framed by the doorway to the balcony. He just stared through the lens, admiring the young man's upturned face and intelligent blue eyes.

Now, the other one was walking up behind him. The big idiot cop was always around--never giving him a moment of privacy with his love. "What now?" he thought. "You want him to move away from the door, no doubt. You're always trying to get him to move out of my view, damn you! Well, it won't be long, now..."

His thoughts were interrupted as he watched Jim wrap his strong arms around Blair's chest and nuzzle the younger man's neck. Blair's forearms came up from his sides and rested on top of Jim's as he tilted his head and leaned it back into the taller man's shoulder to give Jim better access to the long, slender throat.

The camera crashed to the floor, and an enraged voice howled, "NO-OO-OO!"

Jim knew what he had to do. He just had to remember that it was only a ruse. If he let himself get too involved, Blair might notice it was more than just play-acting for the detective. If that happened, Jim was afraid he'd lose his guide forever. He had to be convincing enough to fool the psycho, but he couldn't let himself forget it wasn't real.

Jim crossed the room to take his position behind Blair. The younger man's heart rate increased as Jim's arms closed around him. Jim heard it and made an effort to calm him by starting a gentle rocking motion and lowering his face to Blair's neck while he whispered comforting words. "Relax, Buddy. We're gonna get through this. I'm here--I've got you." More flesh was exposed to his lips as Blair tilted his head back and to the side. Jim moved his mouth a little further down the column of throat. He continued his whispered litany of words to keep his mouth from betraying him by claiming the warm, smooth skin beneath it. He said what he thought Blair needed to hear, and what he knew he needed to say. "I won't let anything happen to you, Blair. I'll protect you. I'll always protect you. This is a safe place for you, and I'll never let anyone hurt you."

Jim couldn't stop it now. He had to kiss that throat--it was too inviting to resist. As he started kissing the pulse point of Blair's neck, he heard it and jerked his head back in surprise. It was a scream--the word no. Jim released his hold on his startled roommate and leapt to the phone. He knew where the bastard was--now if they could only get the troops there in time....

Blair had felt Jim's presence behind him. There was something so powerful about the man that people noticed when he came near even if they couldn't see or hear his stealthy approach. Silently Blair reminded himself, "It's only a game--just a little show for the nut case with the candid camera fetish. It's only a...oh, God, his arms feel good. Mmmm, what's he saying? 'Relax,' uh-huh, yeah, I can do that. 'I've got you.' Oh, Jim, you have no idea. His mouth is so close, I can feel his breath tickling my neck. Maybe if I move my head just a little..."

The smaller man tilted his head and closed his eyes. His thoughts continued to focus on the sensations caused by his partner's words and actions. "Oops, that made it worse--well, sort of--he moved his mouth, and it feels so.... I'm dying here. He's killing me. Oh, Jim, you don't need to tell me you'll protect me. I feel so safe in your arms, I could almost forget that there are people out there even capable of harming me. Is he...oh, yes he is--he's kissing me! What! Why did he back away? He let go and moved away like my hair was on fire. Oh, God, I must've lost it and said something without realizing. Oh shit!" Without giving himself time to see Jim reach for the phone, Blair bolted to his own room and shut the door behind him.

"Simon, this is Jim. The guy's in a red brick building two blocks from my place. He's on the third floor, fourth window from the left when facing the building. Hurry!" Jim punched the button on the phone to sever the connection. The captain hadn't asked how he had known. Simon didn't have to ask; he just accepted the information gratefully.

Jim didn't know what had frightened his roommate so badly. He'd seen the kid run from the room just before he picked up the phone to dial. "Oh, no, the kiss," Jim thought. It suddenly hit him that immediately prior to the scream, he had heard his guide's heart rate increase with the advent of the kiss to his neck. "Damn it all, Ellison! You tell him you're gonna protect him, then you scare the hell out of him in the very next breath. What is wrong with you? Why can't you control yourself better than this?" He heaved a sigh and whispered aloud the answer to the questions his mind had just asked. "It's because you love him too much for your own good."

Blair was staring out the window of his bedroom collecting his thoughts when he heard the knock on the French doors. "Come in," he called. Blair didn't know if he was ready to face Jim, yet. He was certain the sentinel needed him, and that would give Blair the strength to deal with whatever reaction Jim was having. Sandburg only wished he could remember what it was he said or did during that kiss that caused Jim to retreat from the embrace as though scalded.

Jim entered and began speaking nervously, trying to cover his embarrassment. "Listen, Chief, I'm sorry about that kiss. I just thought it needed to look real. I didn't mean to scare you." Blair had turned away from the window and was now facing him with a quizzical expression. Jim continued his uncomfortable explanation. "Anyway, it must have worked like a charm 'cause I heard the guy scream from two blocks away. Then I did that thing you showed me where I piggyback my sight onto my hearing, and I caught a glimpse of him in a window." Jim watched as full understanding seemed to dawn on his friend's expressive face. "So, I called Simon, and they're on their way to check out the building now. With any luck this could be over in a matter of minutes, Chief."

Blair's face was beaming, and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. He hadn't said anything wrong, and Jim didn't have any plans for throwing him out of the loft. Oh, yeah, and incidentally, that murdering psycho was about to be caught. All was right with the world. "Hey, no problem, man. Actually, I was kind of worried you had gotten freaked out about it. The way you jerked away from me like that--well, I just thought I had done something wrong."

Jim was returning his partner's warm smile with one of his own. Things were definitely looking up. "No way, Kid. You did just fine. In fact...." Jim never got to finish because the phone shrilled in the living room. Jim stalked over and lifted it to his ear, hitting the activation button along the way. "Ellison," he said, hoping for good news from Simon. His hopes were dashed.

Simon and the other officers had found a broken camera in front of the window Jim had indicated, but there was no one around to arrest. The killer had obviously bolted before they'd arrived. The captain told Jim they would continue searching the building and surrounding area, but he didn't hold out much hope. Rena had told Simon to relay the information that their suspect would probably set up shop again with a new camera, and would be watching the two partners almost constantly from then on, until he was captured. Simon gave Jim that information and told the detective to watch his back.

Jim's guilt was overwhelming him as he turned to give Sandburg the unpleasant news. He had gotten the kid's hopes up, and now they had failed to catch the guy. What good were his senses if they couldn't do anything to help the one person he cared about over all others? It was obvious Blair already knew the gist of the conversation. If the old adage was true that some people's faces were as easy to read as books, for Jim, Blair Sandburg's face was of a 'pop-up' variety. There was no hiding the disappointment in those eyes.

Before Jim had a chance to explain, Blair started. "Stop it, Jim! I know what you're feeling, and it's ridiculous." He saw the confused frown on Jim's face and continued. "You've got guilt written all over you, man. They didn't catch him, and you think it's your fault. Well, it isn't. They probably got closer to getting him tonight than ever before, and that was all because of you. Next time it won't just be close; we'll catch him, and that'll be because of you, too." As he had been speaking, Blair had placed a comforting left hand on Jim's upper arm, while gesturing animatedly with his right. Now that the young man's diatribe had run its course, he found himself gently kneading the biceps under his fingers. When he realized what he was doing to Jim's muscles, and how it was affecting his own body, it took a conscious effort not to snatch his hand away. He knew that would prompt a questioning response from Jim, and he didn't want to answer any questions along those lines. So, he stopped the massaging action and patted his friend's arm affectionately before breaking contact.

Jim couldn't fathom how Sandburg always knew just the right thing to say to him. The kid always seemed to cut right to the heart of the problem and solve it like he had been born with the answers to all the great mysteries of the universe. He knew Jim was feeling guilty without a word from the detective, and he sliced through that guilt with one clean stroke from the Sandburg Sword of Wisdom. Undeniably, what Blair had said was right. It wasn't his fault the man hadn't been caught, and his senses had gotten them closer than ever before. Maybe they would even be able to lift some prints off the discarded camera. If so, that could be a big break.

Jim noticed Blair's hand on his arm, tenderly rubbing the tension away. His guide imparted as much emotional grounding with his touch as with his voice and words. Jim longed for the touching to continue, but Blair broke it off with a friendly pat to the arm. "Thanks, Buddy. I know you're right; I just wanted this thing to be over. We'll get him next time." Jim forced a smile and continued. "C'mon, why don't I take you out to dinner."

Dinner at Giambucci's had helped ease a lot of tension for the partners. Jim and Blair had found the little Italian restaurant about ten months earlier, and had been having dinner there twice a month ever since. They always had the same table, and their meals were cooked and served by the owners of the establishment. There was never any charge for the food; it was a labor of love for Mr. and Mrs. Giambucci.

At first, Jim had strenuously objected when the older couple insisted on providing free meals for him and his partner. Then Mr. Giambucci, a silver-haired man about seventy years old, had pulled him aside and explained the problem while his wife gushed over Blair.

The couple had recently lost their only son in a car accident with a drunk driver. They had been told they couldn't have any children, and the pregnancy had been a great surprise. Because he was an only child, born late in their lives, their son had become the center of their world. When the thirty-two year old young man had died six months earlier, Mrs. Giambucci had retreated into a shell, and she hadn't come out until she had seen Blair. When the older man showed Jim a photo of their son, taken with his parents in front of the restaurant, the detective understood. Sandburg was a slightly younger version of the man in the picture. The hair was different, and their son was a few inches taller, but the face was so like his partner's that Jim could definitely see the woman's fascination with Blair.

The decision was made that the roommates would eat their complimentary dinners twice a month as long as the Giambuccis ate with them. This thrilled the older couple and delighted Blair, whom Mrs. Giambucci petted and fussed over incessantly. The young man enjoyed being doted on, especially when Jim explained to him about her son. The kid made it a point to treat her like a much-loved aunt, and always kissed her cheeks tenderly before leaving.

Dinner this evening had passed much the same as usual. Blair and Jim had their favorite dishes, and were joined for their meal by the Giambuccis. The conversation revolved around Blair's anecdotes from his travels and stories about 'the Old Country' from Mr. Giambucci. Jim wondered if some of the old man's tales about the Sicilian Mafia were a bit exaggerated for effect, but he kept his theories to himself when he saw how Sandburg's eyes lit up at the harrowing adventures.

After dinner the overfed twosome arrived back at the loft to a feeling of renewed tension. They knew the next step in their game of hearts and flowers meant they had to sleep in the same room. The charade wouldn't exactly work if their Peeping Tom saw them head off to separate bedrooms. They had discussed it, and Jim had said there was no way he was going to make Sandburg haul a sleeping bag upstairs and camp on the floor. It was just too uncomfortable since they didn't know how long this thing would last. Ellison also felt it would be asking too much of Blair, considering the rough time he was having with everything else. So, Blair had agreed to sleeping in the bed with Jim. Of course, with bed-time fast approaching, both men were a little apprehensive.

Blair broke the ice. "Look, man, we're both tense about the sleeping arrangements, okay." He gave a little embarrassed chuckle and a smile to Jim. "Why don't we just sit on the couch and watch a little TV till we get tired. Then, we just go upstairs and fall asleep like it's nothing unusual. Okay?" No response was forthcoming. "Jim?"

Jim took a deep sigh. "Yeah, okay, Chief." He looked up and smiled, shaking his head in resignation. "We're quite a pair, aren't we? There's no reason to be nervous here. It's not like we're on a honeymoon or anything. We're just friends, spending a few nights together in the same bed." His voice was beginning to get stronger and his tone was more convincing. Pity he didn't know who he was trying to convince--himself or Sandburg.

"Right, exactly." Blair was nodding his agreement as he sat down on the couch.

Jim joined his friend on the couch and fingered the 'on' button on the TV remote. "Uh, Blair, you know," he hesitated, then pressed on, "um, remember Rena said whenever we sit together we need to, um," he paused again, "cuddle."

Blair couldn't suppress the giggles brought on by the image that came to mind. He started laughing, but stopped suddenly when Jim's face turned crimson, and he shot off the couch with a growl. "Fine, Sandburg," Jim ground out, still very red-faced. "I don't feel like watching anything. I'm going to bed."

Blair leapt over the back of the sofa and scrambled to the foot of the stairs, beating Jim there by a hair's breadth. The young man's face had lost all mirth and was solemn as he began his apology. "Listen to me, man, I'm sorry. I swear, I wasn't laughing at you." He lifted his smoky blue eyes to look imploringly at the granite-like features of the man in front of him. "I'd never do or say anything that I thought would deliberately hurt you. You're doing all of this to save my life--don't you think I know that?" The granite was beginning to crumble, and the softness was showing through the cracks. "When you said that, I just got this mental picture...you know, you're not exactly the cuddly teddy bear type, Jim. I am, but you--man, you're GI Joe all the way." Bingo! The granite fell away completely. Jim not only smiled at that, he actually chuckled.

Spurred on by their little 'bonding experience,' and knowing he could attribute his actions to putting on a good show for the stalker, Blair brazenly reached down and grabbed Jim's hand and started pulling him back toward the couch. "Come on, my friend, and I'll show you how a world champion cuddler does it," Blair said with a rakish grin.

Jim was ecstatic. Blair was actually holding his hand. It felt wonderful. Then he pushed Jim back onto the sofa and snuggled up against him, with his curl-covered head on the larger man's shoulder, and his body tucked under Jim's left arm. Jim was in heaven--no doubt about it. His arm was draped around the shoulders of the man of his dreams, whose body was firmly pressed against his side. When he glanced down, he saw a beautiful head of chestnut curls poised well within sniffing and kissing distance. Life was sweet. They stayed in that position until time for bed. When they did go upstairs, they shared a comfortable silence as they climbed into bed for the night.

Jim regained consciousness in stages. His first awareness was of a tickling sensation around his nose. The second thing he noticed was a somewhat heavy weight on his chest...no, make that the length of his body. The tickling was accompanied by a very pleasant and familiar odor and the weight was warm and soft. The odor...ah, yes, Sandburg, or more specifically, Sandburg's hair. That would explain the tickling. "SANDBURG!" Jim's mind screamed as his eyes shot open. "Oh, yeah, the romance game, the psycho stalker--okay, got it...damn, he smells nice. He also feels way too good to let him stay in this position. I gotta get him off before I give the game away, here. If he wakes up and finds a decidedly 'rough-n-ready' Jim Ellison pressed against his hip, this kid'll be up and out the front door before he even has his pants zipped." Jim tried to shift his human blanket off, but Blair held firm in his sleep. He was lying face down on top of Jim, with his body almost covering the older man's. One arm lay draped across Jim's chest, and a curl-covered head rested on the older man's shoulder. One of Blair's legs was also casually thrown over Jim's. Blair moaned in his sleep. Jim couldn't handle it any more. His body could only take so much stimulation without betraying his desires. He did the only thing he could think of to do.

"Sandburg," he began quietly. This elicited no response. "Sandburg!" Blair snuffled against the expanse of chest under him.

"Five more minutes, Mom," Blair begged sleepily.

"Naomi must have a really deep voice when she first wakes up," Jim replied with amusement. Blair's head jerked up when he heard Jim's voice. The movement brought his now fully awake and very startled eyes into contact with Jim's smirking ones.

"Oh, man, you scared me," Blair said with a smile. Suddenly, he realized exactly what position he was in, and gasped as he rolled with lightening speed off his partner's prone form. He then sat on the side of the bed, hanging his head so that his chin almost touched his chest. Through a curtain of curls he whispered, "I'm really sorry about that, Jim. Look, I'll bring my sleeping bag up tonight, and this won't happen again."

Jim reached over and touched his friend's back with a soothing hand. "C'mon, Chief, you're not responsible for what you do while you're asleep. Besides, as cold-natured as you are, your body was probably just gravitating toward the nearest heat source. In this case, it happened to be me." Jim chuckled a little at his own words, and Blair turned hesitantly to look at him. "You are not sleeping on the floor. Everything is just fine here, Chief--no harm done. Now, I gotta go to the can."

"Okay, man, I'll start breakfast."

As Blair was dishing the cholesterol-laden feast of eggs, bacon, and buttered toast onto the waiting plates, the phone rang. Normally Blair would have preferred a little granola or bran cereal, but this was Jim's favorite kind of meal, and Blair really wanted to make up for sprawling out all over his roommate while asleep. He knew Jim wasn't upset, but it was still intensely embarrassing for Blair.

Sandburg left the plates on the counter and picked up the phone. "Hello," he said cheerfully.

"Why are you doing this to me?" The voice was preternaturally calm. It caused a thin coating of ice to form over Blair's heart, making it difficult to pump the volume of blood necessary for ongoing survival. The monster continued to speak. "You know how much I love you. We were meant to be together--surely you must see that. You belong to me, and I will have you. Good-bye, my love." Blair hadn't uttered a word. He had listened in abject terror, somehow expecting the man to be standing in the room with him just because his voice was there. Only when the connection was terminated did Blair come to his senses.

Jim had heard the change in his guide's heart rate. He monitored it almost all the time recently. It wasn't something he did consciously; it was akin to breathing. When he heard the increase in rate, he listened to see if he could determine the cause. There was a voice on the phone. "Oh my God!" Jim thought, as he bolted from the shower, out the bathroom door, and to Blair's side. He didn't even think to wrap a towel around himself; he just ran to his partner, dripping water all over the floor along the way.

Jim reached out a hand and squeezed Blair's shoulder. "Chief, you okay?"

"Yeah, Jim, thanks man. He just gave me a little scare; that's all." It was true. Blair had been startled--terrified--when he'd heard the caller's voice, but it was only a momentary lapse. "I'm not gonna let this guy win, Jim." His voice was calm--resolute. "He may be able to scare me silly with these little mind games, but I will not give up without a fight. I'll just find a way to use the fear to my advantage and beat him at his own game."

"That's my Blair," Jim said quietly, with a grin and an expression of pride in his bright blue eyes. "You never let anything defeat you. If you can't find a way around an obstacle, you just make a way through sheer force of will." Blair turned to face his roommate now, stunned and overwhelmed at the older man's confidence in his abilities. The detective so rarely complimented him on his resourcefulness that sometimes Blair thought his partner didn't even notice.

When Blair faced Jim, he was struck by one thought that completely drove all other coherent notions from his conscious mind. "Jim, you're naked!" he squeaked, wide-eyed. Blair's look of surprise was almost comical. It wasn't as though he'd never seen his roommate nude, but having awakened on top of the man that morning lent a certain surreal quality to the experience.

Blair tried to school his wandering eyes away from the finely toned specimen before him, but they betrayed him, hungrily taking every inch of the chiseled masculine form. The two men were so alike, yet so different. The same basic equipment had been issued to each at birth, but time and genetics had caused them to display their wares diversely. Each man, in his own way, was magnificent; yet they were almost complete opposites in form.

Jim's face was flushing crimson under the scrutiny of his partner. He saw Blair's eyes roaming over him like fingers caressing his bare skin. For a moment he thought he saw desire reflected in their azure depths, but decided it was merely the curiosity of the intrepid anthropologist getting a closer look at his thesis subject. Jim convinced himself it was only a clinical interest that caused the younger man's inspection of his naked form. To believe anything else about the straight, woman-chasing Blair Sandburg was to set himself up for a major heartbreak.

"Uh, sorry, Partner. I didn't think to grab a towel. When I heard your heart racing and then picked up the voice on the phone, I just ran in here." Jim was already moving back toward the bathroom. Once he was back in the room, he called out, "Gonna finish up in here; then I'll be out for breakfast."

Smiling to himself, Blair started to resume his meal preparations. He'd been in the middle of portioning the food onto plates when he was so rudely interrupted. Before starting again, though, he closed his eyes and pictured Jim, standing naked before him again. "God, what a body," he said under his breath. At that moment the water ceased to flow in the shower.

"What did you say, Sandburg?" came the calmly questioning voice from the bathroom. Blair's eyes shot open. Living with a sentinel could be terribly inconvenient at times. He chuckled and tried the only save he could think of on such short notice.

"Uh, I was saying, 'what a body' of water you dripped out here on the floor. I gotta clean this up, or it's sure to leave a stain on the wood." Blair winced and rolled his eyes at the inane remark. His voice sounded halting and strained, but he prayed the man in the bathroom bought it. He didn't.

Jim was elated, but he was trying to get his mirth under control. "Okay, Ellison, you think he wants you, but you have to calm down. You don't want to go too fast here. This could just be a misunderstanding," he thought, letting his mind run wild with the possibilities. "Even if he does want you, there's a lot of difference between just wanting you and feeling the kind of love for you that you feel for him. Just take it easy and don't go getting in over your head, Jim-boy. Take this slow and make sure you know what he feels before you take a chance on telling him how you feel." After the little mental pep talk, Jim took a few deep breaths and started planning his strategy. Perhaps this game of Rena's would come in handy after all.

"Right, Chief, thanks for taking care of that. Don't want to stain the floor." He came out of the bathroom with the dark blue towel wrapped somewhat low around his hips, and turned up his hearing to catch any response from his guide. As soon as Blair saw him, there was a tell-tale increase in heart rate and breathing. Yes, this boy was definitely interested. The only problem was finding out whether that interest was superficial and temporary or worthy of a lifetime commitment. Jim was determined to get that answer, but he knew he needed to take it slowly and carefully if he wanted to get it right.

Jim walked over to the table where Blair was setting out their plates, and moved behind the smaller man. He pressed his chest against Blair's back and wrapped his arms around his young friend, taking great pains to keep his lower body from coming into contact with Blair's. Blair stiffened in Jim's embrace until the detective leaned his head down slightly and whispered in his guide's tempting little ear. "I got to thinking in the shower that the phone call means he's probably watching the place right now." He felt Blair relax in his arms. "Just thought we needed to say a proper 'good morning' in front of our audience." He gave in to temptation and nibbled on the succulent earlobe.

Blair was unable to suppress his gasp when he felt the sensation of Jim's teeth lightly teasing his ear. It felt so good; he knew his heart had to be pounding. Well, if Jim said anything about that, Blair would just pass it off as a reaction to the physical stimulation. He'd tell Jim it wouldn't have mattered if Atilla-the-Hun had been doing that; it still would have produced a response. Maybe the big cop would buy that as well as he bought the stupid body-of-water/stain-on-wood line Blair had used earlier.

While the two men were locked in a lovers' embrace, the phone started to ring again. Both men tensed, but Jim kept his arms around Blair, both comforting and restraining. "Wait," Jim whispered, his mouth still touching his partner's ear. "Let the machine pick up. If it's our boy, and he can see us, maybe deliberately not answering will make him rant long enough to get a trace. It's worth a shot. When you picked up earlier, he only stayed on a few seconds. Let's see what happens when he feels ignored."

When the beep sounded, the voice coming over the phone line was venomous. "He belongs to me, you son of a bitch! Take your hands off him and let him come to the phone!" Blair's hands tightened into fists as he tried to work through the fear and use it to his advantage. The voice on the machine became soft and pleading. "Baby, please come to the phone. Pick it up for me, please. I need to talk to you. You have to get away from him. He's no good for you, and I love you."

Jim turned his partner around to face him. Blair's eyes were shut tightly, and he was obviously concentrating on trying to beat down the terror clutching at his heart. Jim was experiencing a similar horror, himself. They both needed a major distraction. He decided to give them one. Suddenly, Jim cupped his hands around Blair's face and pressed his lips against the smaller man's inviting mouth. Blair's eyes jerked open, then closed slowly as the warmth and wonder of this first kiss washed over him. It was a soft, chaste kiss--beautiful in its simplicity. Their mouths were slightly open, but no attempt was made by either man to gain entry with his tongue. It was just a quiet sharing of warm breath and soft lips, and it only lasted a few precious moments.

Jim heard the rifle being cocked over the answering machine. He had just enough time to throw Blair and himself to the floor before the first of five bullets crashed through the glass in the balcony door. After the two men hit the floor, they crawled quickly down the hall and ducked into the relative safety of Blair's bedroom. As soon as they were inside the room and out of the gun sights, Jim picked up the phone by Blair's bed--eternally grateful they had decided to get an extra line for calls from the university--and dialed Simon's cell phone.

"Banks!" Simon yelled into the phone.

"Sir, I don't know if you've noticed, but we're under fire here." Jim knew his tone was more sarcastic than it should have been, but his nerves were raw, and he was ready to trap this animal and be done with the game.

"I'm aware of that, Ellison," Simon snapped, not missing the attitude in his detective's voice. "We were monitoring the calls to your apartment, and we heard him on the phone. We've pinpointed our shooter's location, but it was one of the buildings we didn't have any surveillance assigned to this morning." The exasperation was coming through in Simon's voice now. He wanted this over as badly as Ellison did, but the stalker kept eluding them. "Rafe and Brown are on their way over now with another unit to check out the location where the shots seemed to be coming from." Banks shifted his glasses and wiped at his tired eyes with his fingertips as he sighed into the phone.

"Thanks, sir. We know you're doing all you can." Jim's voice was tight with the stress, but the sincerity of his remarks made it through the tension. "Let me know what Rafe and Brown find, will you?"

"Sure, Jim. I'm assuming everything's okay with the kid. Nobody's injured, right?" Someone waved to the captain that a radio message was coming through from the men at the shooting location.

"No, Simon, we're fine," Jim assured him.

"Good, Jim, I gotta go. We've got word coming in from the field. I'll get back to you when I have more. Bye." He hung up without waiting for a reply and hurried over to the communication center for an update from his men.

Jim put the phone in its cradle and turned to his partner, still crouched on the floor inside the bedroom door as though waiting for the next barrage of bullets to turn the corner and come into the room. Ellison walked a couple of steps over to stand in front of the younger man, a mixture of love and concern evident on his face. "Hey, Chief, you okay?" he asked quietly, squatting down in front of his young friend.

Blair looked up, still shaken by the events of the morning, but steadily regaining his composure. "Well, I'm not bleeding, and I am breathing, so I guess that's a yes." He smiled at Jim to try and drive the point home--he would be fine. Blair was determined not to be beaten by this lunatic. He picked himself up and dusted himself off, then looked at Jim with a wicked grin and started laughing hysterically.

"What?" Jim asked, breaking into a grin at Blair's exuberance.

"Oh, man," Blair sniffed, wiping at eyes that were starting to tear from all the laughter. "You throw me to the floor, crawl down the hall to my room, get up, make a phone call, then squat back down in front of me and never once lose that towel. You got super glue on that thing, Jim?" Blair was standing there holding his ribs and shaking his head from side to side in disbelief.

"I gotta put some clothes on, Sandburg. I don't know how much more action this terry cloth can take." He was sharing in Blair's laughter now, both men letting the humor diffuse their trepidation about what the rest of the day would bring.

Jim and Blair were sitting in Simon's office talking quietly with Rena later that afternoon. Simon had called to let them know that Rafe and Brown had found nothing but spent shell casings where the stalker had hidden while firing the shots. After that less than heartwarming bit of news, Jim had proceeded upstairs to dress and Blair had started sweeping up glass. The forensics team had arrived later to pick up bullets and take pictures at the scene. Then Blair and Jim had been escorted to the precinct by two uniformed cops in an unmarked vehicle. Nobody wanted to take the chance of the sniper picking off Ellison and Sandburg on the way to the station.

The three of them were discussing the case and the two near-misses they had when Simon entered the office with new information. "Okay, people," he started speaking before he even took his seat at the head of the table. "I've got good news and bad news. The good news is we got some nice prints off that broken camera. The bad news is this guy's prints don't appear to be on file with NCIC." Simon took his glasses off and rubbed the heels of both hands over his eyes. He let out a sigh and continued. "We're checking other databases just to be sure, but I'm less than optimistic about this. Sorry, Sandburg." Blair nodded and gave him a wan smile.

"Well, we have more now than we did before." Rena was standing and striding over to the coffee pot for a refill. "I still don't know how in the hell you figured out where he was with that camera, Jim. I asked Simon, here, but I couldn't get a straight answer out of him to save my life." She stared pointedly at a very composed Ellison. He was giving her the plastic smile he usually reserved for the mayor or the commissioner at public functions. Blair had gulped when she started with this line of thought. He looked nervously at Jim for a moment and then lowered his eyes and began to contemplate the pattern on the tabletop as though it held the answers to some great mystery of the universe.

Rena's smile was almost predatory as she waltzed back to the table and set her coffee cup down. Without any warning, she suddenly leaned over with her palms flat on the table's surface, until her face was only a few inches from Jim's still smiling countenance. She speared his eyes with her own and very softly said, "I thought we had a friendly working relationship here, Detective. I know you're concerned about your partner, so you have no reason to withhold any information from me." Her voice now became more menacing and unnaturally quiet. "I told you how much I want to catch this son of a bitch. If I find out you had knowledge that you failed to share with me, and it causes us to lose him, I will see you burn for it. Are we quite clear on this?" Jim's smile had faded during her speech. For a petite woman, she had a very powerful presence.

Jim was very calm as he replied, "Crystal." As she backed away and reclaimed her seat, he decided to continue his reply. He understood that she was only trying to do what was best for Blair, so he kept his temper in check. "Look, Rena, I want this guy very badly, too. You've gotta believe that if I had any information that would help us get him I'd be singing my head off about it." His face was an unreadable mask as he rested his elbows on the table and brought his hands up to make a steeple under his chin. He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully and resumed speaking. "I can't tell you how I knew about where he was yesterday evening. There's no way around that, but I can say that it doesn't pertain to this case. I don't know where or who he is, but I may be able to provide further information later the same way I did last night. I can tell you that whatever I know, you'll know. That's the best I can do for you. I only hope you can trust me on this--or at least trust that I wouldn't do anything to endanger Blair." He sighed heavily, looking expectantly at her for some kind of reaction.

Her look was pensive as she nodded to Jim. "I'll try," she hesitated a moment. "You're not giving me a lot to go on here, but I will try because I really can't see you putting him at risk for anything. Sorry about getting in your face; I just...," she was interrupted when the phone shrilled.

Simon rose and made his way to the desk to snatch up the receiver. "Banks," he snapped. The captain paused for a moment, listening. "All right," his face and tone brightened. "Give it to me." He moved around behind the desk and sat down while grabbing a pen and beginning to write.

As Banks was answering the phone, Blair looked up at Rena and asked in a voice barely above a whisper. "You said he killed a friend of yours. Who was it?" Blair's eyes conveyed an overwhelming amount of compassion. His question was not one borne of simple curiosity. Somehow, he sensed that she truly needed to talk about this because it was gnawing at her soul with the ferocity of a lioness on a fresh kill.

She looked down at her hands, resting on the table, then back up at Blair's understanding face with tears welling in her eyes and a sad smile on her lips. "Her name was Janice," her voiced cracked. She cleared her throat and continued. "Janice Halstead--she was the victim I told you about who began an affair with her roommate during the stalking--the one who caused him to speed up his timetable." Tears were starting to roll down her cheeks, leaving a light trail through her make-up. Blair frowned and left his seat to take the one next to her. He slid the chair closer and put an arm around her shoulders. She sniffled a little, and Jim rose to snag a box of tissues from Simon's desk. The captain was still listening intently to the caller on the line.

Jim put the tissues in front of Rena and gave her an encouraging smile. "Thank you." She took one and swiped at her nose and cheeks. "I was the roommate. Janice and I became lovers shortly before she died. That's why this is so important to me. I can't bring her back or go back in time and save her, but maybe I can keep anybody else from knowing the loss I've known." Blair was rubbing her back lightly and nodding, a concerned and caring look on his face.

Jim had been stunned by her words, but finally found his voice. "What?!" he exclaimed, just as Simon was hanging up the phone.

Simon noted, but chose to ignore Jim's outburst and incredulous look at the FBI agent in favor of his own proclamation. "Gentlemen and Rena," he began with a smile. "I have some news."

Jim stood abruptly and interrupted before he could continue. "Hold on a sec, sir. We have a problem here." He turned and gestured toward Rena while a very confused Sandburg looked at him in disbelief. "She's had us acting out a little scenario here based on a case in which she was personally involved." He turned back to Simon, determination evident on his face. "She just said she was romantically involved with the victim whose affair caused the killer to speed up his efforts."

"And?" This time it was Rena's turn to stand. She was no longer crying, but flashing anger in her eyes with every breath as she stared Jim Ellison down.

Jim turned back toward her and moved a step closer so they were standing across from each other. The only thing between them was the table. "And, you're too personally involved in this to make an objective call about how to proceed. You've got me and Sandburg playing into your fantasy. This isn't about catching a killer. It's about replaying a piece of history that had catastrophic results the first time around." His voice softened. "You just said it yourself. No matter how much you want to, you can't go back and save Janice by trying to repeat the past. However, you could get Sandburg killed." Simon started to open his mouth and interject a comment, but Blair beat him to the punch.

"Now hold on a second there, Jim," Sandburg began, rising and resting a hand on Rena's shoulder. "Neither you nor Simon saw any flaws in this plan until now. I don't see what Rena's being 'personally involved' has to do with it." He lifted a hand and adopted a stern expression to forestall Jim's impending objection. Jim closed the mouth he had just opened to interrupt his partner when he saw Blair's gesture and countenance. Blair continued unabated. "If her logic appeared sound before you knew about her relationship with the victim--geez, do I sound like a cop now, or what...," he gave his head a little shake and grinned slightly, "...anyway, it should still be sound now. Think about it, Jim. You know I'm right." Blair leaned in a little toward the table and raised his eyebrows at his partner. Jim nodded and sank into the chair nearest him. Before he could form his apology to Rena, Simon piped up again, letting his impatience get the better of him.

"You know I have some information here that could've made this whole discussion academic," the captain snapped. Three heads turned to look at him. He smiled with a satisfied gleam in his eye. "That's better. Now that I have your attention, perhaps you'd like to hear what we just got from the print index at the military database." Six eyes widened in anticipation while three sets of lungs held their breaths. "Yes, I see you would." Banks decided to toy with them a little for making him wait to share his news. He was still smiling like a large feline at a cornered rodent. Blair opened his mouth to urge the captain to continue. Simon held up a finger and said, "And you won't interrupt me if you know what's good for you." He lowered the finger, moved behind the desk, and sat down, opening a drawer to retrieve a cigar case. He slowly plucked out a hand-rolled beauty and sniffed it appreciatively. Then he looked up from his musings with an expression that said, "Oh, are you waiting for me?"

Simon chuckled and decided his victims had been tortured enough. "Okay, children, here's the deal. The military database matched the fingerprints on the camera to one Morgan Rayburn, a former enlisted man in the army. He's now a photojournalism major at Rainier University, and we have a current address. Before you ask, no, Jim, you are not going to be in on the bust. I have units covering his apartment and school. You just stay with Sandburg until we have some word."

Jim's face was beaming as brightly as the other people at the table. "Well, actually, sir, since he's in pretty good hands right here, I think I'm gonna go down to the break-room and see if I can find a snack. Anybody else?" He raised his eyebrows inquiringly, and waved a hand at everyone.

"I could eat," Simon said with a nod. "You two want anything?" He looked at Blair and Rena.

"No, Simon, I'm fine, thanks." Blair was bouncing in his chair like a nervous little bundle of energy.

"Hmm, me neither," Rena replied, with a shake of her head.

Simon looked at Jim, who said, "Looks like it's just you and me, Cap." Jim opened the door and ushered Simon through, then followed, closing the door behind him.

After a moment, Rena retrieved a compact from her briefcase and opened it to survey the damage caused by her earlier tears. Blair grinned as she made a disgusted sound at the sight. She saw him and momentarily forgot her mirror. Cocking her head to the right she asked, with knowing eyes that penetrated Blair's soul, "Does he know how you feel about him?"

Blair knew exactly what she meant and didn't bother to feign ignorance. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't have a place to live if he did." He looked down, but she reached under his chin and brought his face back up so she could regain eye contact.

"Blair, Janice and I danced around each other for months before we finally told each other how we felt. That was precious time we both wasted loving one another, but being afraid to admit it--afraid of the rejection." The tears started again, and Blair reached out and took one of her hands in his. "We barely had any time together at all, and now we never will. How much do you love him?"

Blair's own eyes were starting to fill with salty fluid. "More than anything," he whispered, and the tears came.

Downstairs in the break-room, Jim Ellison closed his eyes and smiled. He had his answer.

Officers Cameron and Lazzard were the partners who brought Morgan Rayburn into the station. When Jim heard he had been arrested, he asked Simon to let him handle the interrogation. Seeing the predatory gleam in the detective's eyes, Banks wisely refused. He didn't even want Ellison and Sandburg in the building when this guy was brought in for questioning. He sent them home with instructions to rest up because he was going to let Ellison go over Rayburn's apartment the next day. Jim hadn't put up much of a fuss because he wanted to have a long talk with his roommate anyway.

Blair was practically vibrating with enthusiasm on the drive home. He was all smiles as he asked Jim to take him by the University on the way. The teaching fellow had some papers to grade, and he had fallen behind while his mind had been occupied on his own mortality. Now, he was back in full swing and ready to tackle those assignments with renewed vigor.

He practically skipped down the hall to his office, slowing down only once to say a quick hello to Howard, the cleaning man, who was emptying trash in the offices. Howard, used to seeing Sandburg acting like a whirling dervish, just chuckled and waved as the young man passed. After gathering the papers, Blair was back in the truck within minutes, and the two men were headed home.

By the time they picked up some take-out for dinner and got back to the loft, the sun was fading into the horizon surrounded by a wash of purple, pink, and orange hues. It was a beautiful sight, and threw a romantic hint of light into the otherwise darkened loft. As they entered, Blair moved toward the light switch, but Jim halted him by grasping his guide's arm. "Wait, Chief. No lights just yet, huh? Let me set this food on the counter and we'll talk a minute." Blair smiled at him and nodded in acquiescence.

Jim walked into the kitchen and placed the containers on the nearest countertop. Then he walked over to the windows where Blair had moved to stand. Jim stood behind his partner, looking out at the city and the sunset. Some of the windows were broken and covered in clear plastic because of the bullets, but that wasn't a problem anymore. The man who had fired them was going to be put away for a long time, and panes of glass were replaceable. His friend was not. Jim knew what he had to do. He had to tell Blair how he felt. Rena had been right. There really was no time to waste.

Blair was startled when he felt Jim's arms close around him, and even more startled by the sentinel's words. "Blair, I heard your conversation with Rena while I was in the break-room with Simon." Blair's body began to tremble, and Jim tightened his arms around his guide. "Listen to me. I'm not angry or upset. I'm not asking you to leave. Hell, it would probably kill me if you did. I've been feeling something for you for quite a while now. I didn't think you had it in you to feel the same way." Jim loosened his grip and turned Blair around to face him. He put his hands on either side of Blair's stunned face, cupping it gently, and looked into the young man's shining eyes. "I love you, Blair. I'll love you for the rest of my life." Jim brought his face down to kiss the waiting mouth.

Eyes fluttered closed as warm lips touched and parted. Tongues explored uncharted regions, mapping paths of pleasure and passion. Bodies pressed against each other proving arousal and providing stimulation. Hands flew over unfamiliar territory, touching and teasing, while hearts fell into rhythm with each other and began to beat as one--all in the breadth of a single kiss. Breathlessly, the kiss was broken, but the magic remained.

Blair looked up at his soul-mate with eyes so full of love, the world could not possibly contain it. "I love you, Jim. I'll never love anyone else like this, as long as I live. You're everything to me, and you always will be." They kissed again and rode the tide of passion that carried them.

Then, at the most inopportune moment imaginable, Blair's stomach growled, causing both men to burst into laughter. "Uh, Jim, remember, I was talking to Rena while you were shoveling chocolate into your face in the break-room. I gotta eat, like now." Blair began walking toward the kitchen and Jim flipped the light switch to 'on.'

"You'd better eat something." Jim flashed his roommate a mischievous grin. "I want you to keep your strength up 'cause you're gonna need it tonight." Blair dropped the fork he had just pulled out of the drawer and threw Jim a dirty look. Then he smiled as an idea struck.

Blair rinsed the fork and grabbed a large platter. Then he dumped all the food from the take-out boxes onto the one platter and carried it to the table, telling Jim to bring the napkins and beer. "Well, Chief, you just gonna eat all that or do I get some, too?" Jim chuckled when he saw what his guide had done.

"Sit, and I'll feed you some," Blair said, throwing Jim a provocative smile. Jim complied, and his partner lifted a forkful of food to the detective's mouth. Jim decided he definitely liked this. Blair moved closer and kissed Jim in a bid to share the bite he'd just given the older man. The sentinel thought there was most assuredly something to be said for sharing a meal this way, and he was glad to have such an inventive little guide.

The dinner proceeded with each man taking turns feeding the other and sharing food-filled kisses. Periodically, they had to lick each other's lips clean like cats, then dry with the napkins. They laughed and talked through the unique meal like two teenagers in love. After they finished eating, Blair put away the left-overs, while Jim washed the platter. All the while, they kept looking at each other and plastering big goofy grins on their faces.

By mutual consent, they decided bed would wait for a little while--they had all night, and the rest of their lives. They figured a little necking on the couch would be great foreplay, and both men wanted this night to last. So they walked, hand in hand, to the sofa and snuggled together with Blair in Jim's lap. At first, it seemed awkward, but once the kisses began, they melted into each other like they had always been together.

After a few minutes, Blair wanted to be a little more aggressive. He moved to straddle Jim's thighs without breaking the kiss. Then he began making a trail of kisses down Ellison's jaw and neck, where he stopped to nip and suck the tender flesh. His hands were not idle, either. Blair's nimble fingers were busy unbuttoning Jim's shirt while his lips were pressed to older man's throat. As he unfastened the last button and pushed the fabric away from Jim's chest, Blair sighed. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to touch you like this." Then he ran his hands along the bulging muscles of the sentinel's chest, alternating between strong massaging motions and feather-light caresses.

At the ringing of the phone, Jim chuckled. "Forget it. Let the machine pick it up. We're off duty, and there aren't any more lunatics out there to worry about tonight. Nothing's more important than this right now." Blair smiled and resumed his ministrations as the answering machine spouted its message and tone. Then the voice from hell spoke.

"You don't listen very well, do you, my beautiful one? I told you you're mine, but you stay with him anyway." The voice became hard and raspy. "I'm coming to take what's mine--soon."

Both men gasped when they heard the caller. "Your room--now!" Jim yelled as he lifted Sandburg off the couch and pushed him down the hall ahead of himself. Jim wanted to put his own body between Blair and any bullets that might come flying through the remaining panes of glass.

As soon as they were safely behind the French doors in Blair's room, Jim was on the phone to Simon again, inquiring about the state of their prisoner. "Jim, I swear to you, he's been sitting in an interrogation room this whole time. I've been questioning him myself until I had to leave to take this call." Simon's tone was incredulous. "Look, I never took the trace off your line, so let me call up there and see what we've got. I'll get right back with you. Until then, don't move. I'll send a couple of units to sit outside the loft and keep watch."

True to his word, Banks had officers outside guarding the loft within minutes, and was back on the phone with Jim shortly thereafter. Simon's voice was showing the strain of the exasperating situation. "I don't know what to tell you, Jim. He wasn't on long enough for a trace, but we got a recording of his voice again. It sounds the same, but I'm running it through analysis anyway. You may want to come listen to it, too. I trust your analysis would be just as accurate and a whole lot quicker."

"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can. I also want a look at this Rayburn character. I saw him in the window when he dropped the camera. I got a good look at this guy's face." As he spoke to Simon, Jim regarded his partner with concern.

Blair was sitting on the side of his bed with elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands. He wasn't taking this well. Everything was supposed to be over, but the monster kept coming back. It was like one of those horror movies with a thousand sequels, where the crazed killer just wouldn't stay dead. He was beginning to believe this stalker couldn't be stopped. Then he felt Jim's hand on his shoulder, and looked up into the detective's eyes, so recently alight with passion, now brimming with concern. Blair also saw a resolve in those eyes. Suddenly, he was awash with a feeling of certainty that this man would save him. He didn't know how, but he knew it was going to be over soon, and Jim would emerge victorious. The assurance came with such clarity that a state of calm descended upon him, and he smiled at Jim.

"How are you?" Jim inquired, knowing it was a stupid question, under the circumstances, but he needed to ask it.

"I'm okay, Jim--really," he replied, and for the first time since his ordeal had begun, he meant it. His eyes shone up at Jim with total confidence. It was something the detective wished he felt, himself.

Jim shifted his hand to run his fingers through the curls falling from his partner's head. The tendrils were like silk strands caressing his skin seductively. Jim felt they were almost alive--wrapping around his fingers and pulling his hand in deeper. Soon they would envelop the appendage completely and pull the rest of his body in as well. That was just fine.

"JIM!" Blair was shouting the sentinel's name and slapping his free hand insistently. When Blair sensed the detective was coming around, he began to use his guide voice to try and lure him back from the zone out. "Come on, man, follow my voice. Listen to my words, Jim. I'm waiting for you; I love you; I need you to come back to me." As the guide intoned in his slow, melodic cadence, he was gently stroking his sentinel's hip and thigh. Blair hoped the combination of auditory and tactile stimulation would bring his friend out more quickly. It worked.

Jim shook his head slightly to banish the fog that permeated his thoughts. "Chief?" He was confused. Sandburg was sitting on the bed, and Jim was standing in front of him--that much the older man remembered. At once, he realized what had occurred. "Oh, hell, I zoned, didn't I?" Jim started to automatically raise his right hand to swipe at his face and brush away the cobwebs, but his range of motion was severely impaired at the moment.

"OW, dammit!" Blair shrieked as Jim's right hand threatened to cause premature baldness in the grad student. "Jim, DO NOT MOVE!" The cop froze. "Thank you. Now, first off, yes, you zoned. Second, you zoned with your hand in my hair. Third, I don't know how the hell you did it, but you managed to get your hand so tangled in there I couldn't get it out when I tried to bring you out of the zone." Blair was becoming increasingly irritated with each passing second. Jim's chuckles did not improve the mood.

"Sorry, Chief. Let me see what I can do here." Jim leaned over his roommate to get a better view of the hand caught in the tangled mess. He couldn't figure out how he had gotten so caught up in there either, but he knew he had to get out. So, with more tenderness than anyone would expect from someone of his size and strength, he began to delicately extricate himself from the clutches of Sandburg's curls.

Blair's hands were still on the sentinel's thigh, and as Jim was gingerly rearranging the hair on the younger man's head, Blair began to massage the muscles under his palms. Jim growled low in his throat and momentarily tightened his grip on the gossamer strands wrapped around his fingers. "Stop that right now. I have to go in to the station as soon as I get untangled here. I'm not going in to meet with Simon all hot and bothered, so you better put those paws of yours in your lap, Chief." Jim resumed his efforts to free himself. He was making progress.

"Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir." Blair grinned to himself. His head was bent so Jim couldn't see the expression. Nor could he see what Blair decided to do after putting his hands in his lap, but the young man knew the sentinel would be able to hear it.

After laying his hands in his lap obediently, Blair moved them to the top of his own jeans, and unfastened them. Then he unzipped and reached inside to stroke the firm flesh he found awaiting his touch. Above Blair's bowed head, Jim groaned audibly and swore under his breath. In a voice made husky by passion he asked, "Are you trying to kill me or just drive me insane, Blair?" Blair responded with a giggle, and Jim twisted the hair just enough to get his roommate's attention, but not cause pain.

"Gee, Jim, I have no idea what you're talking about." He continued to assault Jim's sense of hearing with his ministrations. Blair also knew by now the sentinel's olfactory sense would be picking up on the musk of arousal emanating from his guide.

Jim managed to win his freedom from bondage at that moment and retreated to the bathroom at light speed. Once there, he ran cold water into his cupped hands and brought them up to splash the liquid onto his face. Doing that was a double-edged sword. On the upside, the cool water helped clear his head; on the downside, his right hand still held powerful aromatic traces of Sandburg's hair. Jim figured he was fighting a losing battle getting his mind to focus.

When Jim emerged from the bathroom, Blair was waiting outside the door, posed seductively, with his shirt off and pants unfastened. His right hand was still tucked inside those jeans, rubbing the mound of flesh creating the bulge in his boxers. Jim took one look and growled like an animal, hungering for its mate. He pinned Blair against the wall and delivered a punishing kiss. Both of Ellison's hands were on Blair's hips, deliberately keeping the younger man from grinding his pelvis against his new lover. Jim knew he had to go, and he never would if that happened. With iron resolve, he tore himself from his treasure and headed for the door.

"Jim!" Blair called after him as he walked briskly away from the young man.

"No," Jim said sharply. Then he smiled indulgently to take the sting away. "I have to go. You know that. There are four uniforms downstairs watching the place. I'll have two of them come up to stay with you while I'm gone." He held up a hand to forestall the argument he saw coming. "That's not up for debate, Chief. They'll stay with you until I get back." Blair stepped closer, and Jim reached out a hand to caress his cheek, moving a thumb over the slightly swollen, kiss-bruised lips of his friend and soul-mate. "I won't be long," Jim almost whispered. "I'm just gonna listen to tonight's tape and compare it with the other one. Then I'll take a look at that Rayburn character. Don't worry, Simon's not about to let me in to question him. I'd probably wring his neck, anyway, and killer cops aren't good for the tourist trade." Both men smiled at that, and Jim planted a chaste kiss on his beloved's tender lips.

The visit to the station took longer than anticipated. The voices on the two tapes were identical, and Rayburn's face was not the one Jim had seen in the window the previous night. They still had many more questions than answers.

The serial numbers on the camera proved that it belonged to the photojournalism department at Rainier, and the head of the photo lab agreed to come down and meet Simon, Jim and Rena at the University to see what they could dig up. "All of our equipment is logged in to the computer system," explained Mr. Oliver, the man in charge of the photography lab. "This stuff is very expensive, and when a piece of it is checked out by a student or faculty member, we log it into the system." Oliver took the information from the trio of law enforcers in his office and keyed in the information. After a moment, he had an answer for them. "Yes, Morgan Rayburn was the last student to check out that camera, but he checked it back in as well." He looked up at the frowning faces of his visitors. "After that, it was apparently logged out for repairs of some kind."

"Now we're getting somewhere," Simon said with no small amount of impatience in his tone. "Who logged it out for maintenance?" He was ready to pounce on whomever it was. The strain of being helpless, and having his friends at the mercy of a psychopath was evident on his face.

"According to the file, that would be Mrs. Leech, the department secretary, but I have my doubts that she actually did it." Oliver noted the confused expressions of his guests and explained further. "We're never supposed to leave our security codes typed into the terminals we're using when we leave them, but Mrs. Leech is about three-hundred years old, and she forgets. She's due to retire next year, but I guess that doesn't help you much, huh?" He looked apologetically at the group.

"No, it doesn't," Jim answered flatly. He was tired of this. Their haste to catch this killer had caused them to arrest an innocent man, and they were still no closer to finding the guilty party. Jim Ellison was grinding his teeth and giving his jaw muscles a workout all the way back to the loft. He didn't want to have to face Blair with his news. Fortunately, he didn't have to just yet.

By the time Jim arrived at the loft, Brown and Rafe had replaced the two uniformed cops looking out for Blair. They were officially off-duty, but they had agreed to help pull surveillance on their own time to make sure the detective and his partner were safe. Jim was glad to have them watching his back and Blair's.

As soon as Ellison walked in the door to his apartment, the two cops smiled and started making shushing gestures. Rafe approached him and informed him that Blair had gone to sleep, and they were just waiting for Jim so they could take up their position outside on the street. Jim grinned at them in thanks and saw them out the door with a thermos full of fresh coffee from his kitchen. It was the least he could do. Then he ascended the stairs to his bedroom and stared for a moment at the welcome sight that greeted him.

Blair was curled up under a sheet, blanket, and comforter on the big bed. Only his head was peeking out from the covers drawn up under his chin. He was obviously in a deep sleep, his tousled tresses in complete disarray and splayed across the pillow under his head. Jim thought this was the most adorable thing he had ever glimpsed as he began to undress and prepared to join the precious little lump under the bed covers.

After removing his clothes, Jim slipped into bed with his love, and pulled the smaller man into his arms. Blair molded himself to Jim's form without ever waking, and the sentinel let his senses catalog everything about his beautiful guide. Blair was, indeed, a feast of sensory input.

Sandburg must have showered before going to bed because his skin smelled fresh, and his hair was lightly fragrant. The fruit-scented shampoo was a favorite of Jim's, and since it was all-natural and not tested on animals, Blair liked to use it as well. Jim also enjoyed the feel of his guide's warm, soft skin under his exploring fingers. The sentinel made sure his touch was light enough not to wake Blair, but would allow Jim to map out as much of this new territory as he could while his partner slept. The older man buried his face in the soft curls while he listened to the steady heartbeat and slow, even breathing of the sleeper in his arms. Lulled by rhythmic sound, comforting scent, and warm touch, the sentinel closed his eyes and joined his soul-mate in slumber.

The next morning brought a sunrise wake-up call from Simon. One of the patrols had just arrested a man fitting the stalker's description coming out of a building with a view of the loft. He was carrying a camera and sniper's rifle at the time. According to the arresting officers, the man said he was sleeping off a drinking binge and woke up with the stalking gear beside him. He decided he had a fairy godmother who had left him stuff to sell for more booze. Nobody was buying the story, and Simon wanted Jim to come take a look at his face for identification.

Jim left Blair preparing to shower and dress for classes. They had shared a mutual chuckle over the fact that fate hadn't allowed them the time to take their newfound romance farther than the kissing and groping stage yet. They were both looking forward to something more substantial later that evening. Until then, however, a yawning Rafe and bleary-eyed Brown came back into the apartment as Jim was leaving. After working their regular shift at the precinct, then covering surveillance on the loft in their off hours, both men were looking forward to the arrival of their relief, who would escort Blair to the University.

Smith and Peterson relieved Rafe and Brown right before Blair got ready to go. The men accompanied Sandburg to his office and settled in to wait and watch while the teaching fellow did some work at his computer and dictated some notes into a micro-cassette recorder prior to his first class. Right after the men sat down, Howard arrived, right on schedule, to empty the professor's overflowing trash can. The officers tensed upon his arrival, but Blair assured them he was definitely employed by the school.

Sandburg hit the 'record' button to note another addition he wanted to make to his regular class notes when he heard a crunching sound and looked up to see Howard standing behind the two officers with a satisfied grin on his face. At that moment, the two men fell forward and Blair saw the knife handles protruding from the backs of their necks. Howard, still smiling sweetly, pulled a handgun from underneath his work shirt and pointed it at his quarry. Noticing that the recorder had been activated, he made a gesture for Blair to be silent.

Blair put the recorder down and moved his hands to his lap. Since he was sitting at his desk, he was able to surreptitiously remove the handmade native bracelet he was wearing without alerting Howard that anything was amiss. He then lowered his head and quietly whispered to Jim. "Jim, the man who took me is a janitor here named, Howard Langtree. I don't know anything else about him. I'm so sorry about Smith and Peterson. Jim, know that I love you with all my...." He was interrupted as Howard's hand depressed the 'stop' button on the little machine.

"Now we can talk, darling," the monster purred. "I wouldn't want to leave any more clues than are absolutely necessary for that moron of a cop you used to live with. Stand up, and come on over here," Langtree demanded, moving toward his trash cart, gun still trained on Blair. Howard's movement meant the computer monitor had obscured his view of the tape recorder long enough for Blair to drop his bracelet onto the small mechanical wonder. He only hoped Jim would notice it and realize it was a sign for him to listen to the tape.

Blair did as requested and moved to the cart. Howard circled behind him and brought the butt of the gun onto Blair's head with enough force to render him unconscious. He then dumped the younger man into the large trash cart and covered his body with refuse. The only thing Langtree had to do now was get his prize from the office to his van without incident. It would be a snap.

Jim had been checking in with Sandburg and the officers guarding him every half hour. He knew the cops were getting frustrated with him, and Blair was practically laughing out loud at his over-protectiveness, but he hated not having his partner within reach at times like this. Ellison was aware that his friend was entrusted to very competent officers-Simon had personally made out the duty roster using only his best people. However, anytime Blair was in danger and not by his side, he worried like a mother hen with accident-prone chicks.

After one failed attempt at raising Blair or the guards, Jim was out the door with Rena in hot pursuit. Simon stayed behind to coordinate the search if the worst turned out to be true. Silently, he prayed that the kid and his shadows had taken a bathroom break, and their communication devices all went on the fritz at once. Logically, he knew they wouldn't get off that easily. He only hoped they could find the officers alive. Both Smith and Peterson had families, and God only knew what would happen to Ellison if Sandburg didn't make it.

As the captain sat with his elbows propped on the desk and his head resting in his hands, he sighed and admitted to himself that Jim wouldn't be the only devastated member of major crimes if Blair died. The scruffy little grad student had grown on everyone around the department. He had a way of breaking through the emotional barriers most cops put around themselves. He virtually commanded people to like him, and they obeyed, albeit not always willingly. Simon definitely hadn't been a willing participant, but even he had to admit the kid had gotten to him. Yes, Banks would certainly feel the loss if Blair weren't around anymore, but no one would feel it the way Jim would. The captain feared his detective would dive down the neck of the nearest whiskey bottle and come up for air sucking on the barrel of his service revolver. No, they would have to stop this kid from being hurt. There was no other choice.

Jim and Rena burst into Sandburg's office with weapons drawn. Both knew it would be useless as their prey was likely long gone, but they wanted to be prepared just in case. What they found were two fallen comrades, brutally murdered, and a tape recorder with an unmistakable message lying on it. Jim fingered the bracelet and slipped it into his pocket, determined to put it back on his beloved's wrist, or die trying. Then he partially rewound the tape and listened.

When Blair's dictation ended, Jim turned up the dial on his hearing. He knew the piece of jewelry had been left as a clue, and Blair probably had needed to leave the message at sentinel level. Then he heard it. He turned to Rena. "The man's name is Howard Langtree; he's a janitor." Jim picked up the phone to dial security. He figured they could cut through the red tape quickly and get him this guy's address from personnel. Suzanne Tomaki, the head of security, was eager to help, and told him she'd call him back with the information in minutes.

"How do you know that, Jim?" Rena asked after Jim hung up the phone. She had a dubious expression on her face.

Jim regarded her carefully before he replied. His face was an emotionless mask. "Rena, this is one of those things you have to trust me on. I just know; that's all." The phone chose that moment to ring, and Ellison thought it gave new meaning to the old adage, "saved by the bell." Suzanne had gotten the information from the personnel department's computer, and Jim was now writing down Langtree's home address. It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only one they had.

Jim started out the door immediately after ending the conversation with Tomaki. He expected Rena to be on his heels, but she lagged behind for a moment. After Ellison cleared the doorway, she picked up the recorder, ejected the tape, and pocketed it for future use. She didn't have time now, but she would check this out later. Then she ran to catch up with Jim in the parking lot where officers Trout and Vibeke were receiving an update from Jim. Simon had sent them as back-up in the event that there was a show down. Since there wasn't, the two detectives joined Jim and Rena on their way to Langtree's place. Jim phoned the address and a situation report to Simon as he drove. It would take a little while to get to Howard's house, and he wanted Simon to go ahead and send out the troops to meet them there.

Blair came out of his stupor slowly. He knew he was sitting in a wooden chair of some kind. It had a straight back and a hard seat. For some reason, he couldn't move his legs. It seemed as though they were melded to the legs of the chair. That was odd. There was also a really unpleasant numbness in his arms and hands, but he didn't seem to be able to open his eyes to see the problem. His shoulders ached like he had been carrying Simon on them. Then he heard the voice.

"Hello, beautiful," Langtree intoned, lovingly. Blair's eyes snapped open, and the cold wind in his mind blew away the fog that had collected there while he'd been unconscious. He took stock of his situation rapidly. Blair was sitting in the middle of a room in what appeared to be a rustic log cabin. His ankles were tied to the legs of his chair, and his wrists were bound together behind him. There was a gag in his mouth, and a madman standing directly in front of him. All in all, it wasn't his favorite way to spend a morning. Unfortunately, he wasn't planning the itinerary.

Howard knelt in front of his defenseless prey. "I told you I'd come for you." He smiled, but the lack of warmth from his soul made it an obscene expression, devoid of joy or love. "You belong to me, you know." With that, he placed his hands on Blair's knees and began to slowly caress his way up his prisoner's thighs.

Blair didn't have a lot of leeway to move; in addition to the ropes on his wrists and ankles, there was another at his waist pinning him to the chair. So he tried to make noise around the gag. It had worked with David Lash; maybe it would at least distract Howard until Jim arrived.

Blair didn't doubt for one moment that Jim would come for him. The trust this guide had in his sentinel was beyond reason or measure. Sandburg knew Jim would move heaven and earth to reach him in time, and that gave Blair all the impetus he needed to try and stall this guy from doing anything drastic before the detective could find them.

Howard heard Blair trying to speak and decided to remove the obstruction. The cabin was a forty-five minute drive from Cascade. It was in a relatively secluded spot, surrounded by trees. No one would hear the prisoner if he screamed.

Langtree stroked Blair's hair and face before untying the cloth around his captive's mouth. After the gag was removed and dropped on the floor next to the chair, Howard moved behind Blair and reached for the leather strap around the young man's ponytail. He untied it and let the curls fall free, fluffing them with his fingers. Blair shook his head, trying to dislodge the offending hands.

Not happy with the apparent rebuff, Howard grabbed two handfuls of chestnut tresses and yanked Blair's head back until he was looking straight up into the eyes of the monster behind him. Langtree leaned over and pressed his lips to the younger man's unwilling mouth. Blair stiffened his lips and kept them tightly closed, clamping down with his jaw muscles so as not to allow entry.

Howard withdrew and walked back around to kneel in front of his prey again. "What's wrong, Pet?" His voice sounded genuinely curious and concerned. "You know you belong to me. I don't, for the life of me, understand why you're resisting this." His cajoling tone was giving Blair a headache. "You're mine. Don't you know that, Love? That cop--he messed with your head. Gotcha all confused, didn't he, Baby? Don't you worry; I'm gonna straighten everything out in your pretty head." He reached up and stroked Blair's face, while resting a hand on the young man's knee.

Blair was really getting sick of this delusional psycho. Without giving reason enough time to interfere with impulse, he spat in the face of the beast. As soon as the warm liquid had left the confines of his mouth, Blair was hit with the realization that this was not the brightest course of action he could have taken. Very shortly thereafter, he was also hit with the back of Howard's right fist.

"You fuck that stupid cop like some two-bit little whore and then spit in my face!" Howard was thundering at his captive audience and shaking with rage. He had wiped the saliva from his cheek with a shirt tail and stood up to hit Blair. Now he hovered over the smaller man, ready to strike him again. "I OWN YOU!" he screamed, and grabbed Blair by the throat. Squeezing until almost no oxygen was able to pass and leaning in so that he was nose to nose with a choking Sandburg, Howard repeated in a whisper, "I own you." Then he let go and backed away.

Blair gasped and coughed, praying for Jim to arrive before Howard did anything else. When the young man looked up at his tormentor, Langtree was unbuckling his belt. Blair was unable to suppress a small sob, which earned him a twisted, evil grin from his captor.

"I have to teach my little pet a lesson. Things aren't the same with me as they are with your policeman. I won't allow disobedience or disrespect. I just won't put up with it. You need to learn manners, and I'm gonna teach you some." With that, he finished removing his belt and moved to take his position at Blair's left side.

Blair closed his eyes, not knowing what to expect and not sure he could handle seeing it coming. Then he felt a searing pain across his lap. His eyes snapped open in time to see Howard raising the belt again and bringing it down across Blair's thighs a second time. Blair cried out in pain. Howard laughed and struck the young man again. Blair endured several more lashes with the belt before starting to cry openly. He hadn't wanted to give Langtree the satisfaction, but the pain was just too intense to hold back the tears for long.

The moment Blair began to cry, Howard ceased the punishing blows. He moved behind the chair and started to massage Blair's shoulders, speaking soothingly as he did so. "There, there, now. Shh, it's all right. That lesson's over for now. I really don't want to hurt you, Baby, but you have to learn to respect and obey me." Howard's voice sounded like he was trying to placate a small child. "I can't let you take advantage of my good nature, now can I? I'm willing to give you everything you need, but you just seem to want what you're not allowed to have." The hands stopped rubbing and grasped the belt again, looping it around Blair's neck. "You have to give up the idea of going back to that cop, and you have to understand that you belong to me." Howard pulled the belt tight around Blair's throat, and leaned down until his lips were next to Blair's ear. "I can be generous and tender." He stroked the back of his free hand down Blair's cheek and kissed his ear. Then his voice turned to gravel. "Or I can be very harsh." He tightened the belt till it was almost crushing Blair's larynx, and Howard bit the ear he had just kissed. Then he loosened the constricting implement. "Your choice, Pet."

Jim was driving so fast, Rena was afraid she might not live to see the stalker arrested. She didn't mention it, though. She didn't want to take Jim's concentration away from the road long enough to argue with him. Clutching the seat belt strap across her chest, she just prayed silently that they would survive the trip to Howard Langtree's cabin.

Ellison knew he was driving dangerously fast, but Rena's words to Blair kept echoing through the caverns of his mind. She and her lover had so little time, and now it looked as though history was repeating itself. Jim didn't think he could handle life without Blair. He just had to get there before his newfound love was harmed.

"He took your advice." Jim didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to open up to someone about his personal life. He was usually a very private and guarded man

"Excuse me?" Rena had been caught off guard and had no idea what Jim was saying.

"Sandburg and I--we had a long talk." Suddenly, he felt embarrassed, but he wanted to share this with the woman who had, however inadvertently, given him the answer to the most important question his heart had ever asked. "After you had that little heart-to-heart with him in Simon's office yesterday, we went home and started talking about how we felt--how much we love each other." His voice was tight as his throat constricted with emotion.

"I had a feeling you might." Rena tried to let her soft words carry comfort to Jim's aching heart. "I could see it in both your eyes and his. You two belong together." She saw the pain flicker across his face. It was obvious he was afraid he'd be too late. "We'll get there in time, Jim." She didn't think he was being convinced by platitudes, so she decided to try logic. Looking almost like Sandburg, she went into teacher mode. "Listen to me, Jim. This man has no reason to believe he's a suspect. He rents a cabin in the middle of nowhere because it's a perfect place to take a kidnapped victim when you want a little solitude." Rena realized he was listening more intently now. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and forged ahead. "This guy doesn't kill immediately." She deliberately left out what he did like to do immediately. Jim didn't even need to begin to consider rape and Sandburg in the same thought pattern at that moment. "If he had wanted Blair dead, he would have done it at the University. That's not what this is about for him. It's all about control. He doesn't kill until he's done, and we're almost there. We'll get him long before he's ready to kill." Jim smiled at her and nodded.

"Why are you doing this, Howard?" Blair's voice sounded strange to his own ears. It was raspy from Langtree's hands and belt. Blair winced when he spoke, not because of the sound quality, but because of the pain that vocalizing caused him. His throat was so sore; he longed for a cup of hot tea to soothe it. Maybe he'd be able to have some if he could just keep Howard occupied until Jim could get to him. "I don't love you. I never have. I really am sorry about that, but it's the truth." He tried to convey compassion for his captor, but Blair felt anything but for this man. He schooled his face into an understanding smile that didn't reach his eyes. Those pools of blue, so nearly resembling the color of the bubbling brook running alongside the cabin, were still polluted by hate and fear. I don't want to hurt you, Howard. I really care about what happens to you." He lied smoothly. The truth was, if he weren't tied to a chair, he really would like to take the gun perched on the fireplace mantle and shoot dear Howard right between his beady, little, sadistic eyes. However, sharing this desire with Langtree would be about as counterproductive as spitting on him had been, so Blair just played with it in his mind.

"Oh really." Howard oozed evil. "Well, you may not love me, Pet, but you'll do what I want--one way or the other." He smiled with no mirth, and dropped to his knees in front of Blair again. This time he would not be deterred from his goal. The monster began unfastening Blair's jeans, and laughed over the young man's boisterous protests. Neither man heard their company arrive.

Jim, Rena, and detectives Trout and Vibeke had parked their cars near the cabin and approached stealthily on foot. They were hoping reinforcements would arrive soon, and Jim was focusing his hearing to see if they had the time to wait. He didn't want Blair to have to endure a moment more than was necessary, but he wasn't ready to get sloppy and take a chance on Langtree getting away clean.

The sentinel caught Sandburg's attempt to placate his abductor, and when he heard the man move to start undressing his partner, he signaled the others to move in for the kill. They couldn't wait for back-up. Jim wasn't about to stand by and wait while this animal pawed Blair's body. Trout and Vibeke took positions under the windows on either side of the fireplace, and Jim and Rena covered the front door. On the count of three, Jim kicked the door in and Rena yelled, "Freeze, FBI!" At the same moment Trout and Vibeke stood and broke their respective windows and aimed their guns at Howard.

Howard Langtree was either the most foolhardy or the most suicidal man on the planet. Instead of standing still, with all that firepower trained on him, Howard lunged for the gun on the mantle. Four well-trained and armed law enforcement officers then had a contest to see who could put the most bullets into him before he reached it. Obviously, Howard hadn't understood the depth of their commitment to serving the public good.

As soon as Langtree fell, Jim ran to Blair's side and knelt there, reaching around to untie the small bound wrists. Rena squatted down in front of Sandburg and began to work the knots on his ankles. Blair still had no feeling in his arms or hands, so Jim started massaging them to try and restore circulation. After a few minutes, though, Jim could no longer contain the urge to hold his young lover, and drew him into his arms for a loving affirmation that the man he loved was still alive and well.

Rena smiled at the embracing lovers, while Trout and Vibeke seemed to realize a little privacy was in order, and went to wait outside for the back-up to arrive. Rena quietly excused herself, ostensibly to find a sheet to cover the body. "I think we ran everybody off," Blair said with a sweet smile.

"Seems like it." Jim grinned like an idiot. He was so happy to have Blair safe and in his arms, he didn't care if the whole world took a flying leap. "Can you stand, Baby?" He saw Blair wince at the endearment. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, thinking Langtree might have hurt him more than Jim knew.

"It's okay, Jim. You can call me 'baby' all you want. It's okay when you say it. For a minute I just flashed; that's all." Blair smiled apologetically. "He kept calling me little nicknames the whole time. I don't think he used my name once in the entire time he had me here. I guess maybe it's because I was interchangeable with all his other victims. I couldn't have a name of my own 'cause then I'd belong to myself and not him." He shrugged and looked in Jim's eyes hoping for understanding, but the expression he found there gave him so much more.

"You could never belong to him. You're too independent--too much of a free spirit. It's one of the multitude of things I love about you."

"Oh, but I do belong to you. That's my choice." Jim beamed at his lover when he heard those words. He leaned in and kissed Blair's upturned lips quickly as he heard the other officers pulling up outside. Then he reluctantly withdrew, citing the arrival of back-up in response to Blair's questioning glance.

Simon was so happy to see Blair alive and relatively unharmed that he actually hugged the smaller man--very briefly. It quickly became a tale of legendary proportion, told by those who had witnessed the deed to all the members of major crimes who had missed it. Blair had been shocked almost beyond words, and Jim had nearly ruptured an internal organ laughing too hard.

Blair decided to forego the obligatory trip to the emergency room, stating he felt fine, and wanted to go to bed. Jim argued at first, but when Blair told him what he wanted to do when he got in bed, Jim relented. They went home in a flurry of anticipation, while Rena caught a ride with Simon to give them some privacy.

Blair was wrapped in Jim's arms before the door to the loft was even closed. Jim found himself planting kisses in the curls on top of his guide's head, while Blair buried his face in Jim's substantial chest. "Man, I was so scared back there. I know it's not real macho to admit that--and I, like, totally had faith that you'd get me out of there-but I was still petrified." Blair had begun mumbling, with his mouth pressed against the fabric of Jim's shirt; then he became more animated as he continued. "What a warped guy! Man, Jim, I seem to have a sign hanging over my head that says 'Lunatics of the world: This man is the cause of all your troubles; torment him at will!' What's so bad is, I can't even get a can of spray paint from the hardware store to paint over it 'cause only the major nut jobs can see it."

Jim smiled lovingly to try and calm his agitated friend. "That's why you have a blessed protector, Sweetheart." He touched the bruises on Blair's face tenderly. The younger man calmed at the contact, and his eyes fluttered closed. Then Jim let his fingers trace the contours of his lover's mouth, as he bent to place a feather-light kiss on each eyelid of the young man's face.

Jim decided the party should move to a more suitable location, so he scooped Blair into his arms and made his way toward the stairs. Blair was fighting not to laugh and ruin the moment, but he just couldn't hold it all in anymore. Halfway up the stairs to the bedroom, he dissolved into giggles. "Jim, I'm not some frail flower, you know. I can walk." He was glad Jim was smiling at his attack of laughter instead of being insulted.

"I know, Chief. Believe me, you're heavier than any woman I've ever done this with, but I just wanted to carry you up here tonight. You know what I mean-to be romantic and everything." Jim laid his armful of Blair on the bed gently and stood back to admire the younger man. Blair propped himself on both elbows and remained on his back, enjoying being the focus of his sentinel's scrutiny.

"Well, I don't mind being carried--just don't expect me to return the favor," Blair said with a smirk and a lecherous gleam in his eyes.

At that, Jim let out a laugh himself. He could just picture Blair trying to heft him up the stairs a la Scarlett and Rhett. He could also vividly imagine trying to explain to Simon how they both ended up in traction for non case-related injuries. That would not be well-received.

Suddenly, Blair's face changed. A slight touch of nervousness danced across his countenance as his eyes darted about the room landing on all but one surface--Jim Ellison's face. From the young man's throat issued a self-conscious little laugh. He sighed as though gearing up to explain to the principal about how that little explosion in the chemistry lab really could have happened to anyone. Then Blair sat up on the side of the bed and spoke quietly. "Jim," he said, his eyes downcast. "Have you ever, you know," he cleared his throat, "done this with another guy?" Blair studied his own hands with eyes peering through a veil of lashes. He kept sliding his palms against each other and rubbing the pads of his thumb and forefingers together for no apparent reason. Somehow his mind found comfort in the meaningless, repetitive gesture. He didn't know why. Then a large hand reached into his field of vision and placed itself over the other two fidgeting ones, stilling them. Blair hadn't even realized Jim had sat on the bed next to him. The younger man just grasped the hand that was offered and brought it to his mouth, gently kissing each finger with his eyes closed, savoring the feel of the fingertips against his lips.

Jim gulped at the sensation his guide's mouth was causing as it kissed each digit lovingly. Then he answered. "Yeah, actually, I have. With very few exceptions, men are what I'm most attracted to sexually. I just don't relate well to women--on any level." His eyes were locked onto Blair's lips as he spoke, while his tongue darted out and moistened his own, periodically.

"Hmm, but you relate well to me. Is it because I'm a man?" Blair purred as he journeyed up Jim's hand to the wrist and began to add little licks and nibbles to the kissing repertoire he had perfected with the fingers. He still never looked at the older man's face, only concentrating on his willing hand.

Jim's breath caught in his throat as Blair's teeth gently nipped at the sensitive skin on the inside of the wrist. "How could something so seemingly innocuous be this erotic?" Jim wondered silently. Aloud he said, "I relate better to you than I ever have to anyone--male or female. You're my life." Jim sounded as though he'd opened his soul and handed Blair a part of it, gladly. Finally, Blair looked at his face and touched it with a tentative hand.

"I love you so much, man. Remember, I said I chose to belong to you?" Jim nodded in answer. "Well, that's true, but..." Blair continued speaking, but Jim didn't hear it. He had zoned out on a single word--"but." As soon as Blair said it, Jim's mind focused on it and kept recycling it in his mind, like a never-ending loop. Blair loved him, "but...;" Blair belonged to him, "but...." Jim didn't know what he had done to cause the "but" in such a short time. Something had gone terribly wrong and Jim Ellison wanted desperately to eradicate the word "but" from the English language. It should be a crime to say it. Blair would never say it if it were against the law; Blair obeyed the law.

"...back to me, Jim." A warm hand was rubbing his arm, and a welcome voice penetrated the bleak haze of thought surrounding him like a shield of negative energy. "Come back to me; that's it, man. Come on now. Jim, what happened, Bab--" Blair's question was cut off when a large detective claimed his mouth in a kiss designed to win back a love that was never really lost. Jim pinned his young love to the bed and continued the assault on his lips until he was forced to breathe or lose consciousness.

When Jim's face finally lifted from his, Blair seized the opportunity to speak. "Jim, what's..." again he was interrupted.

"Listen to me, Blair," Jim began breathlessly. "Whatever I did, I'll undo. Whatever you want that you think I can't give or do or be, I'll find a way. Do you hear me? Just," he paused to kiss Blair's parted lips, "don't," another kiss, "leave," he stabbed Blair's eyes with own, "please." The last word floated out of Jim's mouth on an exhaled sigh that seemed to take all of the bigger man's remaining strength with it. Jim rolled off Blair and onto his back on the bed.

A stunned grad student and guide propped himself on one elbow and leaned his own face over Jim's. "What's going on, man? Why would you think I'd leave? I'm so far beyond lost here, it's scary. You wanna help me out here?" A perplexed and intensely concerned look settled in on Blair's expressive features.

"You said 'but,'" came the answer from the forlorn face beneath Blair.

"Yes," Blair prompted when there didn't seem to be anything more forthcoming.

Jim, looking like he thought this should be obvious to anyone, continued. "You said you loved me, and then you said 'but.' I think I zoned after that. I don't remember anything else till you brought me out." Blair's face was suddenly alight with understanding, while Jim's remained fraught with worry.

Very quietly, Blair explained. "Jim, what came after the 'but' was that I've never been with a guy before." Jim's ears almost visibly perked like a dog. "That was all. I'm just nervous about not knowing what to do, and I wanted to tell you. It's been a long time since I was a virgin of any kind, so this is a little strange for me."

"Oh." Light danced in Jim's eyes again as he pulled his guide's body on top of him for a long, reassuring kiss. When the kiss ended, Jim rolled both men onto their sides, facing each other. "Well, since I'm the one with all the pertinent experience here," Jim began with a gentle smile. "Why don't I play the guide for a while and give you a rest?" He reached out and captured a tendril of Blair's hair between his thumb and forefinger and began twirling it around absently, marveling at the sensuous feel of the single curl on his fingertips.

"I think I can handle that," replied Blair. His voice was shaking with need and desire, but his trust in his partner was implicit. Blair knew Jim would never do anything to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. "I'm giving myself to you completely. What's next?"

The candor of Blair's statement shook Jim to his core. He only hoped he could be worthy of the kind of faith his young lover had in him. "'Next,' is that I unwrap my gift." Jim gave Blair a predatory smile as he arose from the bed to better situate himself to undress the smaller man. Blair gave a satisfied sigh and moved himself into a spread-eagled position on the bed to allow better access to his body. Jim chuckled and leaned over to start unbuttoning his off-duty guide's shirt.

The sentinel hissed furiously when he saw how the bruised flesh of Blair's throat contrasted with the unblemished skin below it. He had seen those bruises when he rescued his partner, but they were somehow more dramatic without the shirt. With a touch so gentle only a sentinel could have achieved it, he stroked his long fingers over the wounds, and vowed that if anyone ever hurt his guide like this again, they would end up as dead as Langtree had.

Jim leaned over and began peppering Blair's face and chest with little butterfly kisses, punctuated by tiny licks with the tip of his tongue. It was just enough to make the younger man writhe and beg for more, but not enough to over stimulate. Jim wanted this sweet torture to last, so he continued to undress his willing victim slowly.

While nipping and flicking his tongue across the sensitive and ticklish skin above the waistband of Blair's jeans, Jim unfastened them with nimble fingers. Blair's hip had begun to undulate under the ministrations of his lover's mouth, so Jim had to hold him down while undoing the button fly. Jim was thrilled with this responsiveness so early in the seduction. It spoke of wonderful things ahead.

Against Blair's strenuous protests, Jim arose and walked to the foot of the bed to remove his lover's shoes and socks. This done, he reached for the pants and pulled, eliciting a wince and groan of something other than pleasure from the younger man. Jim froze, wondering what he had done. Then he moved back to the center of the bed and resumed more carefully removing the jeans. As they crossed Blair's thighs, he realized what had caused his beloved's pain. With a shock, Jim took in the sight of the welts on Blair's legs from the beating Langtree had given him with the belt. Rage boiled inside the larger man. "That son of a bitch! How could he do this to someone so beautiful?!" There were tears of anger and pain in his eyes, but none on his face. The fury that burned within him consumed them before they could fall.

"It's all right, Jim. I'm home. What he did doesn't matter now. The only thing that matters is what we do. Don't let this stop us from enjoying what we have. The man's dead. Don't let him have this moment. This is our time, and he doesn't belong here. He lost, and he's never going to win again. Now, prove me right; finish what you started." Blair looked at Jim pointedly and ran a hand through his hair seductively. Then he lolled his head back and licked his lips with deliberate strokes of his tongue designed to arouse the man beside him. It worked.

Jim very carefully completed divesting Blair of his jeans and boxers, then started to strip himself for Blair's viewing pleasure. "I will prove it to you, Love. I know exactly how lucky I am to have you, and I'll show you that for the rest of our lives if you'll let me." After removing his shirt, pants and boxers and, to Blair's amusement, folding them neatly before placing them in the hamper, Jim opened the drawer to the bedside table and extracted a jar with a rose-colored label Blair couldn't read. It looked familiar, though, and he let his eyes ask the question.

Jim answered, "It's liniment. Remember when I got all banged up on that last case, and you got this funny witch doctor potion for me to try?" Blair nodded and smiled. It was a natural salve for bruises, abrasions, and sore muscles. He had bought it from an herbalist because it was supposed to be a really fast-acting concoction. It also had a nice, light raspberry scent, so as not to offend Jim's delicate snout. Blair giggled at the thought of taking Jim to France to sniff out truffles with his keen olfactory senses. The pair could make quite a living and put the little pigs out of business. Jim misinterpreted the giggles and defended the liniment. "Hey, Chief, don't knock it. This stuff really works."

Then Jim knelt over the naked man, straddling his knees, and began to gently rub the pink creamy substance onto Blair's ravaged thighs. Blair was aware of some discomfort, but the touches were so tender and soothing that he soon relaxed under the healing hands. Then the hands began healing in more ways than one.

After Jim had lovingly coated the welts on his guide's abused flesh, he massaged it into the skin to perform its miracles and ease the pain. Then he decided the excess could be put to use on the rest of the young man's tired and worn frame. Jim started with Blair's feet and worked the tension out of the muscles in them and the ankles and calves above them. Then, he kneaded the neglected undersides of Blair's thighs by sliding his hands underneath and urging the younger man to lift his knees in assistance.

The higher Jim moved his efforts along Blair's body, the more he noticed the young man's need for him. The hardening flesh was calling out for release, and Blair was moaning in a chorus with it. "Please, Jim, need you, help me, please." Jim smiled at the barely coherent pleas of his beloved. The only recognizable thread of thought running through the words was hunger for completion. As gently as he could, Jim lay between his lover's legs and tried to satisfy that hunger, and his own, in the bargain.

Blair cried out with pleasure when Jim's mouth enveloped his rigid flesh and began suckling insistently. Jim's hands had to steady his lover's hips to keep him from thrusting into his throat while he tried to accommodate as much of the length as he could. They fit together beautifully, as though the mouth and the organ filling it were designed for each other. Blair's entire universe was reduced to the moist heat engulfing him as he screamed Jim's name and emptied his essence down the sentinel's waiting throat.

Jim's own body was still making its desires known as he crawled up in the bed to lie next to his sated lover. As Blair rolled into the arms that were encircling him, the evidence of Jim's need was pressed against his leg. "Mmm, Jim, I think you need a little help there, big fella." He snuggled closer into the sentinel's embrace. "Don't mind me; I'm a little tired, but more than agreeable to whatever you have planned." There was a hint of sleepy amusement in his voice, and more than a hint of lechery as his eyebrows waggled against Jim's chest. The big man chuckled at the feeling.

"Listen, Junior, tonight was about pleasing you. I can wait till next time for anything more involved than my hand." As though illustrating his point, Jim reached a hand between the two men's bodies and made a move to begin stroking himself. Blair grabbed the hand and propped up on an elbow.

"No, man, I want you to do this." At the negative shake of Jim's head, Blair asked, "Why?"

Jim reached a hand out to smooth the sweat-drenched curls from Blair's cheeks. "You said it was your first time. It hurts at first, and I really want you to be sure before you commit to that. I don't want any regrets later. That's no foundation for a relationship. I just don't want to push." Blair rolled his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. Then he began explaining to Jim, in the voice he used when his students just weren't getting an obvious point in his lectures.

"Jim, when I said I wanted to belong to you, I made that commitment. This isn't pushing anything. This is what I want. Do you understand? I want to feel you inside me. I want that kind of incredible physical and spiritual connection you get when you trust someone that much--and I do trust you that much, Jim. I would never even think about letting anyone else do that to me, but I really want you to do it. I need you to, Jim." The truth and sincerity radiating from Blair's eyes washed over Jim and cleansed his soul of all doubt.

Jim decided the raspberry liniment would make a fine lubricant, and would aid in healing any unforeseen side effects of their lovemaking. He would be as careful as he could, but even with great gentleness, Blair would still be sore afterwards. Jim wanted to minimize the pain of his beautiful lover's first time as much as he possibly could.

Both men felt it best not to try any acrobatics the first time, so they stretched on their sides, Blair's back to Jim, and began with coaxing words and loving strokes against each other's skin. Jim prepared his young lover carefully and completely, letting Blair become accustomed to each finger inserted into his body. Then, Jim entered him slowly, reverently, and waited for a sign that he was welcome to continue.

Blair felt full--too full--uncomfortable, in fact. He needed to focus, to breathe. There was no way he wanted Jim to know how much this hurt. He told himself it would all be worth it. Everything would be fine. Jim was so patient, not moving, just waiting for him to give a sign. Blair breathed deeply and forced himself to relax. That was better. It wasn't so bad, after all, and Jim was there, against his back, whispering words of love and comfort in his ear. No, it definitely wasn't as bad as he'd thought at first. Blair pushed back against Jim and moaned his encouragement.

Jim began to thrust, gently but firmly, needing the release he had denied himself for so long. Blair seemed to be relaxing and getting used to the feeling of being taken by another man. He was even showing very prominent signs of desire, which Jim grasped and began to pump with his fist. Then Jim played the trump card--the one he hoped would bring his lover to fruition before him. He deliberately adjusted the angle of his body's thrust to scrape across Blair's prostate. At that moment the young man's eyes shot open, and he climaxed, the muscular contractions of his body bringing Jim right along with him. Both men screamed each other's names at the height of their fulfillment, then melted into one another and fell asleep, murmuring words of love and forever, for that's what they knew they would have--together.

End