Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Parthenon/9335/fiction.htm

Author's disclaimers and notes can be found in part one.

Past Storm's Touch - part four

"I feel him." Vincent's answer interrupted Jim's thoughts. "The way I feel Jacob." The shrug was almost delicate for such a big man..

"And what does that mean?" Father asked again, but Vincent was looking at Blair. Lifting his hand, he laid the palm of it on Blair's cheek. Not quite a cress, just a touch. A tactile question.

His voice rumbled low when he answered.

"We never found my parents. We never looked. He could be so many things...a brother, a nephew, a cousin...a son."

As soon as the last word left his mouth Father swayed. Alarmed, Jim stepped forward, gripping his elbow, offering support.

"A son?" Father whispered in disbelief. "A SON? Vincent, have you lost your mind?"

Blair doesn't know who his father is." Jim blurted, just as shocked. Could Naomi....? Yes, the was the kind of place she would thrive in, but how could she, with that - ?

Clamping a lid on his churning thoughts, he moved back to the bed and used both hands to stroke loose hair back from Blair's face.

"He's 29. I know he looks younger. You look old enough." He studied Vincent, trying to see him past the deformed features and the mask of hair, he blinked as a memory hit him.

The surgery. When Blair was shot.

They hadn't been able match his blood type for the surgery.

Jim remembered well the grim expressions on the doctors' faces when they hadn't been able to locate Naomi, and the final decision to had been made to use artificial blood. Blair, doped on painkillers, hadn't been much help. His experiences with doctors and hospitals was mostly non-existent.

Naomi had described him as 'a remarkably healthy little kid, never sick' but Jim hadn't realized that meant he'd never seen a doctor except the one time he'd broken his arm.

Now he looked at Vincent and wondered if there was another explanation for that.

He spoke almost hesitantly.

"Blair has - a rare blood factor. He can't give blood or recieve it."

After the surgery scare Jim had persuaded - insisted, really - Blair to make a few scheduled visits to the hospital lab and donate his own blood to be stored in case he ever needed it. Now there were six units of Blair Sandburg's specal AB- blend at the safely stored at Cascade general.

Not because they thought anything was going to happen. Just in case.

"Jacob has a rare factor as well." Vincent said softly. "He cannot accept any blood but his own."

"You're not a match?" A frown line appeared between Jim's brows.

"I am what I am." The large, furred hands spread wide in the air.

"You're crazy." Seeming to recover from his own shock, Father was reaching for a needle and syringe. Pulling a cotton ball from a glass jar with a steel lid - the acrid scent of alcohol cut through Jim's sinuses painfully - he moved in front of Vincent and grasped Blair's arm.

"Wait." Jim said. Unsure. What was he supposed to do? Was this something Blair would want to know?

Did they have the right to find out without his consent?

Father stared at him.

"Ask him when he wakes up."

Jim kept his voice calm, but knew he wold resort to violence to prevent them from doing this to Blair against his will.

The elderly man seemed ready to argue.

Then Vincent spoke.

"Yes. It should be his choice."

"When will he wake up?" Jim asked, combing his fingers through the tangled curls.

"An hour. Perhaps two. He may simply sleep for a while." Father answered.

"When he wakes up." Jim repeated, directing his gaze at the hyperdermic that was still in the old man's hand. Grimacing, Father disposed of it in a red plastic bucket and reached for his cane.

"Call me then." He said. Moving to the open doorway, he gazed at Vincent for several long moments. "Mouse has been asking for you. You'd better go to him before he comes looking."

"Yes, Father." There was quiet amusement in that voice, and Vincent moved to accompany him.

"I'll send someone with something to eat." Father told Jim. "Make yourself comfortable."

Not thinking it was appropriate but having had it drilled into him from a very young age, Jim responded almost automatically.

"Thank you, sir."

Then they were gone, the thump of Father cane reaching Jim clearly over the near-constant clatter of the pipes. And he was alone with his Blair again.

And he looked so young and desirable resting in that bed, his hair and skin darker and dark against the crisp white cotton.

Taking Blair's hand, Jim slid carefully onto the narrow bed with him, pulling the smaller man into his arms, tucking him close so they would both fit.

His shoulder ached deeply, but he could dial it down to make it bearable, and his face was pressed to Blair's hair, smelling the warm scent of him.

Closing his eyes, feeling oddly safe despite their surroundings, Jim rested lightly, holding onto Blair.

The chase through the tunnels plus the adrenalin must have tired him out far more than he thought, because he dozed off and didn't wake again until he felt Blair stirring next to him.

The dark blues eyes studied him with quiet amusement until Jim frowned and pulled away an inch or two, as far as he could go without falling off the bed.

"What? I've got spinach between my teeth?"

"You don't eat spinach. Otherwise I'd call you Popeye." Blair teased softly. With a subtle movement he shifted them close together again. "Ow. My head hurts. I think maybe I did something stupid again?"

"Not stupid." Jim tenderly stroked sweat-matted hair back from his wrinkled brow. "You're never stupid. Impenetrable, perhaps, but not stupid. You fell on those ridiculous stairs."

"The stairs..." Looking around, moving his head carefully, Blair seemed to absorb his surroundings.

The large room bore a significant resemblance to the hospitals of the 1950s, with the fabric-covered screens separating the narrow beds, and the outdated equipment, which looked somewhat the worse for wear in most cases. But the stark stone walls that encompassed it all were strictly fantasy-issue, not belonging in this setting at all. It was a disconcerting juxtaposition, a hospital in a cave.

He wrinkled his nose and Jim grinned slightly, still stroking Blair's hair. It certainly smelled like a hospital.

Turning his head all the way back, looking over their close-pressed legs and the bleached white sheets, Blair faced Jim again.

"I guess I should say something like 'I had this dream...'. But I knew it wasn't a dream, Jim, just like that feeling I've been having. It was because I wasn't eating. It was more. But I can't even begin to understand it."

"There's no rush." Cuddling even closer, Jim slipped to his back and encouraged Blair to rest his head there, willingly taking most of his young friend's weight on his own body. "You're in for a hell of a surprise, Chief."

"Hm?" Idly engaged in breathing, Blair was half-asleep again, so secure in Jim's arms that not even these tremendously odd circumstances could upset him.

"Just rest. They'll be back soon and then you'll see for yourself."

Some time later he heard footsteps, and half-sat, holding Blair to his chest, watching the small man he'd seen earlier enter, carrying a tray that emanated good smells.

"Hi." The man said. "Do you have any eating restrictions? I brought soup and milk and bread and some of Winslow's cookies."

"He'll eat anything that doesn't eat him first." Blair mumbled, rolling his head to look at him. "Who're you?"

"You're awake, good." The smile was honest, even if it didn't last long. "I'll tell Father."

"Father?" Perking up, Blair wiggled slightly and Jim loosened his grip, sliding off the bed to reach for the tray.

"The doctor who treated you." He told Blair shortly, taking the tray from the man, who gave it up willingly.

"I'm Pasqual." The short man, several inches shorter than Blair, offered a strong hand that Blair shook.

"This is some weird place." He observed.

"You haven't seen the half of it." Jim commented, dunking a slice of rough homemade bread into the bowl of thick, fragrant soup. He'd laid the try on the bed and Blair snuck a hand over and grabbed a fat cookie, loaded with raisins.

Nibbling on it, he watched with vivid curiosity as Pasquale went to a pipe that bent around the corner of the doorway and tapped on it with a wrench he pulled from his belt.

After a flurry of very fast taps Blair looked to Jim, who was eating and cocking his head as he listened. He met Blair's eyes as he spoke.

"That's not Morse code, or any code I know."

"We develop our own." the man said, pausing. This is the private code the Council uses. Most of our people don't know it."

The pipe suddenly rattled violently and Pasquale chuckled.

"Vincent always does it too hard. They'll be here in a few minutes. I need to get back to the spider, are you guys okay here?"

"The spider?!" Eyes widening, Blair glanced at Jim, who shifted to a more protective stance.

The chuckle grew to a laugh.

"That's what we call the main pipe room, my chamber. It's a big junction point for all the pipes coming in and out. I can contact just about anyone I need to from there. That's what I do here."

Still chuckling at their reaction, he left without saying anything else.

Jim ate most of the soup, Blair passing with a comment about how hitting his head adversely affected his stomach.

But he ate two of the cookies eagerly enough, which made Jim smile.

When Jim was tidying up the tray, setting it on a small table near the door, he turned and went back to Blair rather abruptly, leaning one hip on the bed and wrapping an arm over his friend's shoulder.

"Relax." he said softly, in such a concerned tone that Blair was staring at him and not watching the door when Father and Vincent walked in and the powerful feeling struck him again.

"Unhhhh..." With a sound like a moan Blair curled forward, mashing his face to Jim's broad chest, hands clenching his arms. "It's happening again, Jim..."

"Vincent?" There was a new voice in the room, elderly but strong.

Glancing over at the door, where Father and Vincent had just entered, Jim saw that the large, bestial man was also doubledover with seeming weakness, or was it agony? He shook Father off none-too-gently, and staggered to the bed, reaching for Blair, who was staring wide-eyed despite the attack.

"mine." The word was hissed, and then Vincent touched Blair's stomach with one furred, clawed hand.

"Oh man." Blair exhaled, suddenly calm again. Vincent straightened, keeping the contact, and Jim stared at them both in disbelief. "Wow."

"He's not yours." The words came quickly from Jim's mouth. Periphally aware of father moving slowly around the room, the clack of his cane against the stone floor giving the experience a welcome reality, it was as if he was afraid this monster man would take Blair from him. "He's mine. I love him. You can't have him."

A small, tight smile graced the beast's lips. He stepped away from the bed, removing his hand, Blair still staring, but now the stare was divided between the two of them, and his hands were extended to Jim.

"I know." Vincent stood with what Jim was beginning to consider a signature stillness. "Blair." He tested the name on his tongue. "Tell me about your mother."

"Naomi?" When Jim sat on the bed and took his hands, Blair sank back against his broad chest and rested there. He didn't question the request and Jim understood that the younger man was already processing the data, as unbelievable as it seemed.

The scene felt surreal, like something Dali might have thought up, only the furniture wasn't melting or sprouting legs. When Blair smiled, a brilliant, honest smile, Jim allowed that sensation to slip away as reality landed again, with a gentle thump, right in his heart.

"Naomi is special." Blair said, his love for his mother coloring every word. "I should be surprised by this, but it fits her to a T, that my father would be someone remarkable and amazing."

Vincent twitched at those words, but Father smiled, putting his hand on the large man's shoulder.

"I like that description." Moving around the bed, he reached to take Blair's pulse. "You were unconscious for longer than I like. I think it would be best if you rested here overnight before returning Above."

"I was hoping you would stay - for a time." Vincent seemed to behaving trouble getting the words out. "Diana can tell the others that you're well."

Following the change of subject, Jim shifted on the bed, arms tightening around Blair.

"I'd like to stay." Blair said softly. "I have so many questions." He twisted to look at Jim. "Do you mind?"

"No." Quirking a smile, Jim kissed his forehead. "I'll admit I'm confused, but we'll stay as long as you need." Shifting again, he frowned briefly. "But maybe we could get a bigger bed?"

It seemed that he had offended Father, because the elderly man turned away, but Vincent only smiled that half-smile of his and nodded.

"There are several furnished chambers available for use by visitors."

"I will go ask Mary to prepare one." Father said, turning back and studying Blair closely. "But you must rest. It's late, there will be plenty of time in the morning to talk and explore this situation."

"He'll rest." Jim said. "I'll make sure."

"Hey." Protesting quietly, Blair watched as Father left the room, moving slowly and with the aid of his cane. The sound of it changed when he reached the passageway; in the room it had tapped loudly on the rock floor and suddenly it was muffled by the packed dirt as he passed out of sight. Then Vincent stepped closer to the bed.

"Do you think you can walk?"

"Sure." Swinging his legs over the side, one hand gripping Jim's arm, Blair eased himself off the bed and stood. For just a moment, and then he swayed with a low moan.

"Ooo...." And both men reached for him, two sets of hands, both large and strong but entirely different otherwise, grabbing and holding him steady.

"Chief?" Jim didn't sound too worried.

"Blair?" Vincent sounded as if the name was unfamiliar to his tongue.

"'M okay. Just dizzy..." Leaning back onto the bed, the younger man didn't try to free himself from the tandem support.

"Perhaps it would be best if you were carried." Vincent spoke gently.

"I can do it." Taking a step to prove himself, Blair lurched to a stop and had to rely on them to keep him upright this time.

"Better not risk it." Jim said, moving to stand behind him. "Let Vincent carry you. My arm is still sore from the fall."

"Jim!" Turning too quickly, making himself dizzy, Blair had to wait for it to pass before he could continue. He was aware of Vincent's strong arm around his shoulders. "You're hurt?"

"It's no big deal." Flexing the arm, Jim displayed the slightly swollen, bruised joint. "Not compared to the alternative."

"You're sure?" As Blair peered at him Jim saw that his friend's eyes were dilated and half-lidded, but a quick sniff concluded that it wasn't from arousal.

"I think that knock of the head was harder than it looked." Jim answered, using both hands to gently turn Blair and propel him into Vincent's arms. "Let your father carry you."

"It's not an imposition." Vincent stooped and lifted him easily, one arm beneath his shoulders and the other under his knees.

There were more tunnel dwellers to witness their progress this time. More of them spoke to Vincent and several even greeted Blair and Jim with comments like "Welcome." and "We're glad to meet you." He answered them all with a nod, uncomfortable with this subterranean society, wondering what lay beneath the seemingly noble surface. For now he would keep his peace, for Blair's sake, but keep an eye out as well.

"This should be comfortable." Vincent spoke softly, as Jim was beginning to understand was his way. He lay Blair on a large bed covered with faded pieced-together quilts. It was the major feature in the cozy rock-walled room, with an armchair beside it and a small oblong table along the opposite wall. The doorway, carved with letters so faded they were unreadable at first look, was so low Jim had had to duck to get in.

"Thanks." Opening his eyes, which had drifted closed, Blair kept a hand on Vincent's forearm. "This is fine. Will you stay a while?"

Straightening, Vincent skipped a glance toward Jim that Blair didn't notice.

"It is late. As Father said, we will have time to talk tomorrow. Mary will bring you hot water and towels so you can clean up."

"Where are you going to be?" Curious, Jim asked, taking a seat in the armchair and resting a hand on Blair's denim-clad leg.

"I often walk Above at night, when the city is safe for me." The admission seemed to be hard for the large man to make. "I will see Diana and tell her what we've learned."

"My father." Blair was staring at him, his face a little dreamy. "Man, oh man."

"Or something." Vincent said softly. "In the morning you will meet Jacob. I think that you will like him."

"Who's Jacob?" Remembering the name from earlier, Jim pressed slightly.

"Catherine's son." Vincent answered. The combination of pain and joy in his voice was hard to fathom. "My - other - son."

Struggling to sit, needing both arms to prop himself up, Blair woke more.

"Your son? I have a brother?!"

"Yes." It seemed to be hitting Vincent hard too, as if he'd just begun to grasp the depth of this development. "Yes. Jacob would be your brother. But now -" Leaning over the bed, his huge frame dwarfing Blair, Vincent used both hands on the small man's chest to encourage him to lie back down, "- now you must rest. Jim will take care of you."

"I will." With a quick grin, Jim nodded.

Leaving, Vincent turned at the door, just before he crouched to go out, and he stared at Blair for a long, weighted moment.

And then left without another word.

"Aw, man." Relaxing onto the bed, Blair half-rolled to look at Jim, who was caressing his leg with his fingers, soothingly. "I don't know what to say."

"Too bad I don't have my calendar handy." Jim teased gently. "How's your head?"

"Hard as ever." Blair retorted, then smiled ruefully. "I have a killer headache, but the dizziness seems to be gone. Mostly I'm exhausted, but I don't know why."

"It's been an eventful day." Moving to sit on the bed beside him, Jim waited until Blair reached for him first, and then gathered the younger man close, cradling Blair in his lap.

"I guess I know why Naomi hates New York now."

"How could she not tell you?" Jim let his worries surface. "Maybe what happened between them wasn't special, Blair. Maybe it was just bad. Vincent seems to be remarkable, but this is all pretty strange."

Closing his eyes, Blair snuggled closer, arms around Jim's waist, cheek pressed to Jim's chest.

"No, Jim. I can't explain it, but I can feel him. The way I feel you. In my heart, my soul."

"That's what was making you sick?"

"Not sick, exactly. Blair wiggled slightly, getting more comfortable and Jim felt his body respond the way he'd become used to. "It was just so - so much. He's incredible, Jim, he feels like this amazing blast of serenity, and then I looked at him and I could see it in his eyes. He's a part of me - or I'm a part of him."

"He felt it too." Not ignoring his desire, but not acting on it, either, Jim was curiously content. Perhaps miles beneath New York City, in a small cave-like room, with Blair wounded in his arms, it didn't seem like a situation that invited contentment, but there it was.

"Yeah, he did. It kindof doubled, got sent back and forth between us." Blair sighed and nuzzled Jim's chest. "I'm not explaining this well."

"You're doing as well as anyone could." Knowing his partner could feel the erection that was throbbing under Blair's butt, Jim breathed deeply, bringing his responses into line again, backing off the edge he was approaching. "Just rest a bit, and I'll get you cleaned up when the stuff comes."

"Okay." With another sigh Blair relaxed and went still, his deep, even breaths calming Jim further.

"Knock knock." A woman's quiet voice startled Jim, who only then realized that he'd dozed off, stretching sideways on the bed with Blair still in his arms. The younger man was rather squashed, in what had to be a distressing position, but still asleep.

"Come in." Sitting up and climbing over Blair, Jim found his feet just as the woman came in the door carrying a large flowered porcelain bowl and a stack of towels. He quickly jumped up to take it from her, the water was steaming.

"I'm sorry that took so long, one of the children was having trouble sleeping and I had to sit with him until he felt safe again..." As she spoke she dried her hands in the long calico apron that was tied around her slender figure. Jim figured her at ten years younger than Father. "Some of them are so frightened by their world that they have trouble leaving those fears behind when they join ours."

Using both hands to roll Blair to his back, Jim continued the conversation, hoping to learn more about this strange society.

"Do you take in a lot of children from Above?" He put the proper emphasis on the word.

"Not really. Most we send to the proper agencies, or find a family Above that wants them and will care for them. The ones that stay here are usually special to us in some way, or too badly traumatized to return to that world for a long time. This boy, he is one of those. Eight years old and I don't think he's ever felt safe in his life."

Reaching for a hand-towel, Jim wet the corner of it in the warm water and began to bathe Blair's face tenderly.

"Is he safe here?" He tried to keep the question nonjudgemental. Blair shifted under his hands.

"Everyone is safe here, Mr. Ellison." She answered. "If you don't need anything else I need to get back to the children."

"Thank you." Realizing that it was late, and she was only an old woman with a good heart, Jim felt guilty for the way he'd questioned her. "Sleep well."

"You too." Her reply was still stiff, but friendly, as he was coming to expect from the people here.

"Who was that?" Blair's voice was groggy, but he stretched and leaned into the hand bathing his face.

"I think her name was Mary. Let me get this off." Setting aside the cloth, Jim began unbuttoning Blair's shirt.

"You making a pass at me, Jim?" More awake now, Blair slid his arms out to his sides and smiled at his partner rather shyly.

"I don't think this is the time or place for that." Jim countered, working around Blair to get the shirt off, one knee on the bed as he leaned over him.

"Don't back up, Jim." Lifting off the bed Blair wrapped both arms around Jim's waist and pulled the older man down on top of him, grunting when Jim lost his balance and fell heavily, sprawling on Blair.

"Back up? What are you talking about, Sandburg?" Irritated, Jim thrashed a few seconds, trying to get up, and then settled for getting most of his weight onto his elbows and staring down at Blair. "You're supposed to be resting."

"Since we got here I've felt like this is the time, this is the place. New York, I mean. The place we'll finally admit what's been going on between us." Blair spoke urgently, forcefully quiet. There was a time and place for them, and a time and place for words. In the morning, when he'd chosen to not speak, the time had been wrong, but now it felt exactly right. Words were a good thing.

Tenderly, Jim stroked stray hair away from Blair's face, still lying across the younger man at an angle.

"Some things are better left unsaid."

"We don't have to say anything if we do something instead." Blair offered with a slow wriggle that made Jim glad his cock wasn't against any part of Blair's body, only his chest and torso soaking up the heat of it.

"If you're sure you want to." Letting his fingers trace the planes of Blair's face, Jim whispered. "I know you've never. I love knowing I'm the first."

Blinking, Blair blushed faintly, hands starting to rub Jim's back, his shirt sliding over smooth skin.

"I don't want to talk, man." Lifting his hips, and Jim with them, he pointedly suggested they do something else instead. "I'm here. I'm yours."

Lowering his head, breathing across Blair's lips, Jim grinned and whispered just before he spoke.

"Have at thee."

They kissed. It seemed to last forever, and it lasted only a second. There was power in the kiss and magic as well.

When they came up for air Blair rubbed two fingers over his mouth and stared at Jim, his blue eyes round and dark.

"Some things are worth waiting for." A small smile graced full lips.

"Let me get you cleaned up and then we'll decide what happens next." Easing off of him, Blair letting hin go, Jim finished the job of stripping Blair's clothing, down to the boxers that he left on without thought.

It was cool in the tunnels, near cold, and Jim folded the leading edge of the top quilt over Blair, tucking it around his neck and leaving one arm and hand exposed. Briskly he washed them, and then recovered and did the same to the other side. He wanted to hurry before the water cooled too much.

Legs, hips, and then Blair's chest was quickly scrubbed and briskly rubbed dry. Breathing deeply, nostrils flared, the younger man watched with increasing desire as his partner cared for him.

"Turn over, I want to get your back." Sounding husky, Jim assisted with the move although it wasn't needed.

The quilt slipped as Blair rolled and Jim, acting on impulse, bent over him and kissed one round cheek of his ass, rubbing his face on the smooth skin that was sparsely dotted with soft wiry hair.

"Keep going." Blair mumbled, shifting restlessly, making Jim remember what it was like to lie on an erection, no matter how soft the bed.

There was no need for Jim to tell Blair that he'd stop whenever the younger man wanted. Blair knew that. And Jim knew that once Blair set himself to a path he wasn't one to be easily distracted. If this was what he wanted, he would see it through.

Crawling up the bed, using both hands to gently push Blair's thighs apart, wide enough for Jim to kneel between them, he tenderly washed Blair's back and then his bottom. Lingering over the fleshy mounds, he trailed the cooling cloth between them, drawing a shiver from his new lover.

"Good?"

Pulling his arms in closer, under the quilt, Blair turned his head to the side and sighed.

"Yeah."

"Good." Jim chuckled, hearing the pound of his heart.

Wetting the cloth one more time, he washed the crease of Blair's ass thoroughly, his touch delicate. Carefully he probed, just enough to clean, feeling Blair stiffen and knowing he was nervous. When the cloth cooled again he set it aside for the last time and leaned to kiss Blair's back, right above the crease, where he was as smooth and hairless as Jim himself.

"Ahh." Sighing appreciatively, Blair spread his legs wider without any urging. Kissing and licking, Jim stopped on one cheek and sucked hard for a moment, making Blair squirm, and then looked at the resulting hickey with pleasure.

"Branded." He said, the laughter still in his voice.

"Okay." With a wiggle Blair urged him to go on, lifting his but an inch or two off the bed. Aqueezing it with both hands, Jim leaned in again, and this time ran the tip of his tongue down the crease.

"Jim." Blair whispered his name.

"This will be good." Jim said, reasurring. "Relax, enjoy it."

As if the words were a charm Blair did just that, turning his head to the other side, mouth slightly open, panting quietly. This first real sign of arousal hit Jim hard and he had to pause a minute to regain his control.

Blair waited, nerves singing, for that first electric touch.

When it came, Jim's tongue tickling at the edges of the closed pucker, he groaned and stretched, making Jim lose his place and chuckle again.

"Told you it would be good."

"Fantastic." Blair breathed, panting harder now. "Perfect. I've never felt anything like it."

"I just started, Sandburg." Leaning over to concentrate on what he was doing, Jim opened his hearing and checked to be sure they were going to be left alone.

The sounds of the tunnel were muted, quieter at night, only the occasional clang on the pipes and soft murmuring voices. Blair tasted bitter and sweet and musky and it was as good as Jim had known it would be. He licked the edges of Blair's hole, suckled the skin of the crease, dipped his head to lick and nuzzle his balls, enjoying the low moans and shivers his actions encouraged.

Then he got to the serious stuff, probing at the nowgrasping hole with the tip of his tongue, working it in carefully, wiggling it around, tasting and testing Blair from the inside.

"Jesus." Blair's soft exhalation sang in the still air. Pulling back Jim took a second to ask a one-word question, wanting to be sure they were on the same page.

"More?"

"Yes!" Blair blurted, beginning to rock his hips into the bed while Jim returned to making love with his tongue.

It was too good to last, and Blair tried to warn him.

"Jim - man, I'm gonna come, hang on..."

"Go ahead." Speaking required that he stop, and Blair wriggled when he would have started again. "Chief?"

Looking over his shoulder, eyes huge in the dim light, the smaller man panted at him.

"With you, Jim. Face-to-face."

The words hit Jim somewhere in the groin and he quickly flipped Blair over, and Blair yelped, hands going into the air, grabbing for support.

"Jim?!"

"Right here, babe." Straddling him, Jim gathered him close, pulling Blair up to him so they were chest-to-chest.

"Too many clothes." Blair protested, going to work on Jim's shirt. It took some squirming, but together they got Jim undressed and Blair's boxers off without giving up the embrace, but wound up with Blair straddling Jim, in his lap, their mouths tight together as they thrust and moaned through the kiss.

If it wasn't the way Jim had expected it to be, it wasn't what he had feared, either. The lack of romance was worrying, but Blair was already so far ahead of him that if he'd tried to stop and change that he was afraid the younger man would just finish without him. And what it lacked in romance it made up for in sheer physical pleasure. Nothing he'd ever done, no one he'd ever touched had ever made him as hot as he was right now, as hard and hungry. And Blair seemed to feel the same way, his nervousness of earlier scattered like his clothing.

Skin slid on skin, the friction at first pleasant, then too harsh, and Jim fumbled for the washcloth, dribbling cold water over their groins.

"Augh!" Blair bit back a shout. "That was mean, Jim."

"It'll get better." Panting, Jim pulled Blair even closer and the water quickly warmed as they generated more heat. The glide of cock on cock became smoother and Blair dropped his head back, gasping, his fingers digging into the muscles of Jim's back.

With his hands on Blair's hips Jim directed their movements, realizing he was too close almost too late, leaning, following Blair forward, to bite on the exposed line of his throat, sucking hard on his shoulder, right where shoulder became neck, and Blair shuddered hard against him, moaning incoherently, his thrusts ragged.

They were tight enough together for Jim to feel it as Blair's cock jumped and pulsed, his come hot on Jim's skin, the feel and smell of it pushing him toward his own completion. Roughly he pushed Blair down and back and lay over him, getting those last few thrusts in hard, pushing Blair into the soft bed, coming at last, writhing on top of Blair's sated body with desperate need.

He was able to lie still only after he was done and the aftershocks faded.

Blair's hands were stroking his back and sides, big circles meant to sooth, his hands warm and rough.

"Sorry." Red-faced, Jim buried his flaming cheeks in Blair's neck and clutched the younger man tighter.

"Don't be." Blair was the one chuckling now. "First times." He snickered now and Jim remembered that conversation, had they had it only so recently?

Lifting his head, blush fading, he captured Blair's head in both hands and Blair parted his lips, tongue flickering in invitation.

"The best first time I've ever had." He whispered.

"Definitely, man." Blair arched slowly beneath him and purred. "Oh, definitely the - mmph!"

His words were cut off by Jim's tongue, which invaded his mouth, staking his claim aggressively. Permanently.

The feeling hit Jim suddenly, snapping him from sleep. His head lifted from the bed, arm tightening around Blair automatically, and he stared directly across the small room into the thoughtful blue eyes of a stocky, broad-shouldered child with blond hair.

"Hi." He whispered, thinking the boy had been sent as a messenger.

"Hello." The thoughtful face broke into a beaming smile that was as open and brilliant as Blair's.

And then Jim knew who he was. Scenting the air deeply, he detected it in the boy's smell, but didn't need that confirmation to come to the correct conclusion. The width of the boy's shoulders, the angled planes of his face, still softened by childhood, the blue of his eyes - the resemblance was there for anyone who knew how to look.

"You're Jacob." Jim said, feeling Blair stir against his side.

"You're Mr.Ellison." Displaying a grace that reminded Jim instantly of Vincent, the boy trotted closer, his steps nearly silent. He stopped a foot from the bed, standing on the small, worn braided rag rug that softened the rock floor there. Jim noted with amusement that he was barefoot, but his feet had to be freezing. The rest of him was warmly covered, a thick sweater, probably covering several shirts, and two pairs of pants that Jim could see the cuffs of, one shorter than the other. His knit gloves were bright red, the fingers cropped at the first knuckle, they looked almost new.

"You can call me Jim." He answered, finding himself smiling, remembering Blair's dismay at discovering Jim had a brother he hadn't seen in fifteen years. Now they were even, sortof. Blair had a brother he hadn't even known about.

"He's waking up." The child was watching them with that intense scrutiny again. Shifting his attention from him, Jim ran his free hand down Blair's side and agreed with the assessment.

"He wakes up grumpy." He told Jacob.

"So does Father." The boy nodded, grinning again. "Papa lets me take him his coffee in the morning so he can drink it in bed."

"Vincent is Papa?" Jim clarified.

"Uh-huh. Sometimes I call Father Grandfather, but that takes too long to say. And everyone calls him Father. Except Mary. Sometimes she calls him Jacob."

"So you're named for him."

"Uh-huh." The response was cheerful. "Jacob Charles Chandler. Charles was my mama's papa. He died before I was born."

Aware that his mouth was hanging open, a rush of adrenalin flashing through him, Jim felt the pieces fall into place like perfectly cut puzzle pieces, with the snap of elastic.

Catherine Chandler's child.

No wonder Maxwell wouldn't talk about it.

Vincent - the astonishing, frightening man beast that he was - had been Catherine Chandler's lover. The secret she had protected from everyone she knew, even the man who loved her, Joe Maxwell.

As Blair stirred and half-sat, pushing hair from his eyes, Jim wondered what the hell had happened between Vincent and Naomi. He just couldn't imagine it.

Sitting, eyes still half-closed, Blair rubbed at his stomach, and then turned his head just enough to see his little brother watching him.

"Jake." He said, turning around and opening his arms, reaching for the boy. "Wow."

"I can feel you! Like Papa!" With an excited babble Jacob scrambled onto the bed and into Blair's arms, where he was eagerly cuddled. "You can feel me!"

"Jim, I have a brother!" Blair seemed ready to burst into song.

"I can see that." Smiling helplessly, Jim gathered them both in his arms.

His own connection with Blair wasn't the same, wasn't specific or empathic, but he could feel his lover's happiness and it made him happy too.

Distracted, he missed Vincent's entrance into the cave, but was aware of him almost immediately.

Looking over at him - the top of his head brushed the ceiling of the room, he filled the space with silent power - Jim's face softened into a smile as he understood the expression on the man's face.

It was joy, as clearly envisaged as Jim had ever seen it.

"He snuck out of his room." Vincent said conversationally.

"I wanted to meet my Blair." Popping out of the embrace, Jake flung himself across the room and into his father's arms. caught securely, he squirmed around until he could stare at them happily, one arm around Vincent's neck, the other grasping his cloak. "Papa, can you feel him?"

"Yes, I can." Vincent answered gravely. He came closer to the bed and Jim remembered that they were both naked beneath the quilts.

"I want to show him everything!" Jake exclaimed.

"Jim." Vincent greeted him. When he stopped near the bed, Jim saw Vincent's nose wrinkle and wondered how acute his sense of smell was. The scent of sex was so heavy in the air he didn't think even Blair could miss it. His voice softened noticeably when he spoke to Blair. "Blair. I trust you slept well?"

"Very well." Blair answered, blushing faintly. Jake stared at him like he was some exotic new pet.

"Are you going to get up and come to breakfast with us?" The boy asked.

"In a little bit." Still blushing, Blair grinned.

"Shouldn't you be taking Father his coffee?" Jim asked, wanting to distract him. Picking up the cue, Vincent gave the child a gentle shake and set him on his feet.

"We don't want Father to be cranky this morning, do we?"

"Nope. He won't play chess with me when he's cranky." Jacob agreed. Coming back to the bed, he hugged Blair again. "You won't go away yet?"

"Not yet." Blair said it like a promise.

They waited until Jake had left, trotting down away like a man with a mission. Then Vincent moved to lean against the wall. Jim thought of suggesting the armchair, but then realized that it probably wouldn't hold the man's weight.

"A helped sent down a message from Diana this morning - a woman was waiting at the police station this morning demanding to know where you are. Her name is Naomi Sandburg."

Groaning, Blair flopped over on the bed, hands over his head. The quilts pulled down and revealed his bare back, which Jim felt compelled to touch. His gentles strokes seemed to calm his lover, who turned his head to the side to talk.

"Mom. She would show up today. I don't get a chance to process anything, here she is, I am not ready to deal with this..."

Watching Vincent, Jim thought that he didn't look like a man who was ready to deal with it either. Of course, Vincent didn't look much like a man at all, but the principle was the same.

"We don't have to tell her." He suggested, and got a patented Blair Sandburg "Yeah, right." glare for the attempt.

"Are you ready to see her?" Blair asked Vincent, giving Jim a temporary cold shoulder. "I mean, I don't know what happened between the two of you, you might not want to see her. You didn't know, right? About me?" The questions he'd been too tired and sore to ask last night came pouring out now. "It wasn't something bad, was it? If it was something bad, I don't her to have to deal with it. Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Vincent didn't move. Didn't shift or fidget. Jim saw this as an expression of control. This was a quiet, composed man. He'd seen what happened when Vincent lost control, and understood this need.

"Blair. He might not be ready." Jim said softly.

"Well, I am. I've been wondering about my father for nearly thirty years, Jim. Wondering how I came to be. Naomi is the best mom, I wouldn't trade her or my childhood for anything, but there are still things I've wanted to know." His eyes stayed on Vincent as he spoke urgently.

Without responding Vincent approached the bed again.

"I'll tell Diana to bring her Below. We will all hear the story together." He said.

"She won't be scared." Blair answered, replying to something Jim hadn't heard. Or felt.

"I know." Reaching with one large hand, the claw catching the dim candlelight, Vincent brushed it tenderly over Blair's sleep-tossed curls. "Are you?"

"No." Blair smiled, sitting up and grasping the wrist of the hand that touched him. "I have Jim. I'm fine."

The moment lasted too long, and then just long enough, and then Vincent stepped away again.

"Someone will bring you clean clothes and something to wash with. If we're quick we can still get some breakfast in the main hall."

"We'll be quick." Jim answered.

"Will Jake be there?" Blair asked, his enthusiasm rising.

"Everyone will be there. I think the news has traveled fairly quickly." By the door, Vincent paused.

"Can we go on Jake's tour?"

"You'll be shown anything you want to see."

Wrapping the top quilt around himself, Blair managed to climb out of the bed without revealing Jim or flashing his father.

"I want to see everything. I want to know everything."

Vincent smiled, and raised one arm, a hesitant offering.

Jim watched as Blair walked across the room, wearing only a blanket, and hugged his father hard, head pressed to the patchwork leather and fur cloak. After a moment both of Vincent's arms closed around him and he bowed his head.

"Then you will." The man whispered, Jim listening, feeling a part of this moment. "You'll know everything."

There are little miracles in this world, and then there are the big ones, the ones so incredible that words can't describe them. And in between those extremes are the special ones, the miracles that draw people together and give them reason to live and to love.

Blair was Jim's miracle.

Catherine had been Vincent's.

Jacob had been Catherine's.

Knowing he was seeing something miraculous, overjoyed that he was a part of it, Jim remained on the bed and out of the way. This was Blair's miracle. Jim was here to bear witness, and walk beside his lover into the new life they'd been gifted with.

It was time.

The path went passed the large culvert by several yards, but there was another path, worn by years of use, that cut through the trees, beaten through the grass, leading straight to it.

Jim and Blair watched with amusement when Jake broke away from them and dashed toward it, and Jim hugged his lover closer.

"Is he there?"

"Yeah, he's waiting." Blair's grin was flagrantly happy. "It's so amazing, Jim. I wish there were words that could describe it better. I don't think I feelthings as strongly as he does, or even as strongly as Jake - but I can feel him. And I can feel you now, just a little bit."

"You can feel me whenever you like." Jim leaned close to murmur in his ear, hot and sexy. The younger man blushed and turnecd his face into Jim's shoulder. Taking pity on him, Jim steered them onto the footpath and followed Jake, who had ducked into the tunnel.

It was almost dark, the city caught in that moment of twilight when things were quiet and still, waiting for the intensity of the night to come. They were going to see Central Park, like Blair had wanted to, but with a very special guide who knew the park better than anyone else; Blair's father, Vincent. He had told them how he used to haunt the park, spoken of nights spent walking by Catherine's side, adolescent larks on the carosel and adult dramas played out by moonlight. The park was a part of the people Below, and none felt that more strongly than Vincent

With a sigh and a stretch Jim released Blair, who moved on, into the culvert to greet his father. Leaning with his back against a tree, scenting the deep green beauty around him, the detective let his thoughts wander for a moment, ears entertained by Jacob's excited tale of his day and Vincent's rumbling laughter, both highlighted by Blair's amused commentary.

Naomi had come and, after being brought Below and meeting Vincent, gone. Her explanation had been simple, her parting words to Blair heartfelt.

"Blair, sweetie, if I had thought it was real I would have told you. But all these years I thought it was a dream, that I made love with one of my friends, or that I had been raped and the drugs had distorted my memory of it... a way of protecting myself. But it never affected the way I love you."

And that much was certainly true. Jim didn't know how a woman could love a child she thought was the result of a rape, but Naomi had risen so far above that she'd almost forgotten herself.

There had been a painful scene between her and Vincent, in which she tried to apologize and thanks him at the same time, while he was attempting to do the same thing.

"I shouldn't have let you leave." Guilt weighed heavily in the big man's words.

"I should have come back to look for you." Naomi hugged him, looking so very small next to him, more fragile and delicate than Blair.

Left unspoken was the realization that if she had Blair would have been raised here, among these people, and Vincent's life with Catherine would have never come to pass. Jacob - brilliant, beautiful and the center of Vincent's life - would have never been born.

Blair would have had that love, that dedication.

But Naomi had given her son all that he needed. With a determination unmatched by any mother Jim had ever met she had made sure that he never lacked for love or encouragement or praise.

A child might not have survived the two of them together.

The thought made Jim laugh out loud, a bit silly, but filled with the giddiness of new love.

Not so new, he thought now, watching the three come out of the tunnel just as the sky darkened completely. Vincent had his timing down.

Not so new. Just out in the open. Spoken and aknowledged. That made all the difference. What had been a quiet happiness was now a joyful shout.

Striding to them, Jim shook Vincent's hand and wrapped an arm securely around Blair's waist while Jake was hoisted in his father's arms. They set off into the park, off the beaten path, away from the places frequented by the people Above.

"I can't get my head around it."

The quiet words drew Jim from his thoughts. He'd been lying in their bed in the small tunnel room, waiting for Blair to return from tucking a very sleep Jake into bed. They had moved all of their luggage down here three days ago, and Jim had requested another week of leave that Simon had granted, curiosity clear in his deep voice. The University had been less accomadating, but Blair had gotten the time he needed by telling the truth, oddly enough. When his department Chair understood that Blair had met the father he'd been searching for all of his life, the woman had become far more helpful.

"What?" Rolling to his side, Jim lifted the quilts and welcomed his lover, cuddling close to him, pulling Blair's head to his shoulder, sighing when Blair's leg went over his own, bushing the growing erectiont here.

"Last week we had this case and we came here. Two separate people, Jim and Blair. And now, this week, we're Jim-and-Blair, I have a father and brother and I understand my mother better than I ever have."

"Not to mention we got a conviction and fifteen years-tolife for Ferguson." Jim added, nuzzling the top of Blair's head. They had made love every night this week, and each time the younger man was more enthusiastic, more eager to participate. Last night he'd gone down on Jim, a little awkwardly but with enough natural talent to make the older man grab a pillow to scream into when he came.

"This has been..." Rolling over on top of Jim, Blair smiled down at him and leaned close enough to kiss, "-the most perfect week of my life."

"Mine too." Reaching for him, Jim pulled Blair down until their naked bodies were aligned, and used his hands on Blair's hips to direct them. The younger man was quickly moaning for more.

"Jim -" He gasped, twisting slowly. "Jim - I want to do more."

"More than this?" Getting a hand between them Jim squeezed Blair's cock firmly.

"Mmm, yeah..." The quilts tightened around them as Blair wriggled down to Jim's other side, pressing his body to the larger man's. "I want to go all the way."

He cut off Jim's automatic response with an open-mouthed, hungry kiss. Breaking away to breathe at last, Jim rolled to his side as well, facing Blair, using his greater strength to mold the smaller man's willing body to his.

"Are you sure?" Panting, Jim thrust against Blair, the rough friction of cock-on-cock near irresistible.

"Yes." Blair hissed, finger digging into Jim's shoulders, sturdy body shaking with desire.

"The I want you to do me." It took a massive effort of will, but Jim freed Blair's fingers and turned over, pushing back when Blair's arms came around him.

"Why, Jim?" Blair's hand closed over Jim's cock and he thrust gratefully into the warm calloused tunnel they created.

"I want you inside me." Jim panted. "Want you in me and around me...I want you to be the only thing I can feel or smell or hear or taste..."

Blair's deep groan was the only reply he could make.

"I got stuff." Jim muttered, trying to rein in his reactions, calm his excitement. "At the drugstore today. In my coat pocket."

There was a blast of cold air as Blair scrambled out of the bed - his hands had inherited Vincent's grace, but the rest of him hadn't - and then his welcome warmth was back again, snuggled close to Jim and breathing hard.

"Condom?" He asked, voice shaking.

"We'd better." Jim answered, his body under control again, knowing he would need it to walk Blair through this. "You ever done this before?'

"Never." Blair kissed his back, his neck, while his hands rubbed and squeezed Jim's ass. "I'm so excited, man. Don't know if I can hold on."

"Just breathe, Sandburg." Grinning into his pillow, Jim reached back to hold himself open for Blair's finger, moaning from the pressure of first one, and then two inside him, going deep, working the muscles.

"I think that's good advice for both of us." Blair mumbled, not kissing anymore, just keeping his mouth pressed wetly to Jim's shoulder-blade. "You're really tight, Jim. Am I going to hurt you?"

"It'll be fine." Jim tried to say, his voice catching as Blair worked a third finger into the reluctant passage. "You'll be great."

The stimulation was minimal, more forecful pressure than pleasure, but knowing it was Blair who touched him like this, who would take him this way, knowing it was enough to rocket Jim to the very edge of his endurance.

"Hurry up." He demanded. "Come on already."

"Okay." Without questioning him, Blair pulled the fingers got, making a slurping sound muffled by the quilts, and gently pushed Jim's upper leg forward. Still using one hand to pull his cheek away from his hole, Jim felt the hot brush of Blair's cock against the back of his fingers. It made him moan louder.

The penetration was painful, and slow. Blair was trying so hard not to hurt Jim that he drew it out when it would have been less painful to just get it over with, but the older man wasn't going to say anything that would make him more nervous. When at last Blair was all the way in, his curly groin hair tickling Jim's ass, he reached around Jim and held onto him tightly.

"Okay?"

"Perfect." Jim gasped. He was adjusting and now wanted movement to complement the pressure. "Go ahead."

"Mmmmm." Sighing with rapture, Blair pulled out a few inches and then sank back in. "That's sooo good."

"Yeah..." Matching Blair's movement's, Jim let the rythm take him and soon they were rocking together gently. There was no urgency, no feeling of pressure. Just the slow, stready building of pleasure as they got to know each other this way.

Blair murmured soft words and nuzzled Jim's neck, still holding him tightly.

"Love you so much, man. I never knew what love was until I met you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Jim."

The rythm picked up a little and Jim moaned, eager for release. But he felt Blair's cock thickening inside him, getting ready to come, and knew he wouldn't be able to do it in time. Tightening the muscles of his ass, he made it tighter and hotter for Blair, who gasped and grunted and then thrust sharply several times, jerking against Jim's back as he came silently.

Feeling Blair's cock still hard, Jim touched himself, stroked himself, quickly coming to orgasm, feeling Blair's pleasure echoing in his veins as he came too.

Tomorrow they were going to a ballgame in Yankee Stadium, and taking Jacob with them. Naomi would be there, beside her son, and Vincent's shadow would haunt the day, present in their hearts and thoughts but never in the flesh.

And Jim would be with Blair. He would have all he wanted from life.

(the end)