Author's webpage: http://internetdump.com/users/candy_a
Author's disclaimer: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel. Lyrics belong to Moroder & Summer. No money being made. Just for fun.
Author's notes: This is what happens when you take out your Donna Summer CD while you're thinking about Jim and Blair. I'm putting the song lyrics right up front, so you can read them and see where this is going Warnings: M/M, song lyrics, romance, sap...men in love...
On The Radio
Someone found the letter you wrote me
I was so surprised and shocked, and I wonder too
Don't it kind of strike you sad when you hear our song?
It kind of made me feel pride when I heard him say
If you think that love isn't found on the radio
Jim closed the door behind him and leaned against it, looking around
the dark, silent loft. He'd worked about as late as he could without
passing out on the desk, so now he was back here, hopefully exhausted
enough to pass out on the bed before he really started thinking too much.
About Blair. About how long he'd been gone. About how silent and empty
this place was without him. About how dark and empty and
desolate his life felt without his light.
About what Blair might be doing right now. About who he might be with.
About how well he had adjusted to his new life in upstate New York.
About how much he probably liked teaching at the little
community college there.
Pushing himself away from the door, Jim pulled off his coat and threw
it over the back of the couch. It joined yesterday's jacket, which he
hadn't bothered to pick up either. The couch wasn't good for much more
than a coat rack anyway. Sitting there reminded him too much of sitting
there with Blair at arm's reach, glasses in place, poring over one of
his many textbooks.
As he wandered into the bathroom and listlessly removed his clothing,
tossing it in the hamper, it struck him that he had never realized, when
it happened, how much the whole debacle with the revelation of Blair's
dissertation would ultimately cost him. Even thinking it might cost
him Blair hadn't driven home the realization of how painful it would
be when he was gone.
It's hard to help someone pack, encourage him, drive him to the
airport, help ship his things to the new apartment on the opposite coast,
and all the while not let on that your heart is being torn out by the
roots. Blair had been so good about going through weapons training,
taking the harassment from the cadets who saw him as an interloper and
a fraud, and doing it all cheerfully.
Or at least, that's how it had been on the surface. Until Blair had
come to Jim one Sunday afternoon, half-time of the football game Jim
was watching, and told him he couldn't do it. He couldn't carry a gun
and he couldn't follow through with being a cop.
Even that hadn't seemed insurmountable. There were other jobs. But
not in Cascade. Finally, not even in Washington. Blair had sent resumes
all over the area, and in some places the scandal hampered him and in
others, it was his lack of a terminal degree in his field. Then a friend
had forwarded him a copy of the ad for the faculty position at the little
college in New York State. The courses were mostly general education-type
Social Science stuff--a lot of intro-level Anthropology and Sociology.
Blair's publication record and his academic record were better than anyone
else they could hope to attract, and he was able to explain the fraud
issue to their satisfaction, and so he was hired.
Just like that. One quick trip to New York, a couple days in a hotel,
and upon his return to Cascade after the successful job interview, he
had unknowingly destroyed Jim's life in four words: "I got the job."
Standing under the spray of the shower now, Jim wasn't sure who should
get the blame for the misery he was in. He could blame Naomi for starting
the ball rolling, or he could blame the cadets who harassed Blair, or
he could blame the local employers who turned him down without so much
as an interview. He could blame Blair himself, since he was the one
who left, but when Jim was honest with himself, he knew that Blair had
given him plenty of chances to ask him not to go. Jim closed his eyes
now, feeling his throat constrict at the thought of those big blue eyes
looking up into his own, searching for something, of the little phrases
Blair dropped to encourage Jim to express some small regret that he was
leaving.
Jim had joked about no more hair in the drain. He'd made a couple remarks
about his refrigerator not smelling funny anymore from the weird foods
Blair bought. He'd even made a couple jokes about getting the TV remote
all to himself.
And not once had he told Blair he loved him. Not when Blair finally
accepted the job offer, not when he packed, and not when Jim waved goodbye
the final time at the airport. Jim wondered if he'd ever live long
enough to erase that memory.
They'd joked around about the delay in Blair's flight that had given
them an extra hour to sit in the waiting area, and they'd talked about
Blair's new apartment and a little bit about the small town where the
college was located. And when Blair's boarding call came, they had shared
a funny sort of handshake-hug, and Blair was on his way to the gate.
Then the younger man's control faltered and he turned back from
walking toward the gate and rushed back toward Jim and hugged him as
hard as he could, his breathing ragged as he sniffled a couple times
and pulled back, again looking up at Jim for something.
Jim had smiled and patted his face, told him to cheer up, to call when
he got to the new apartment. That he was going to do great. That everything
was going to be fine.
Blair had swallowed hard then, nodded, and with one last, longing look,
had trudged off toward the gate. Alone. And when Jim had
focused his sentinel eyesight on the jet as it left the gate, and found
Blair in his window seat, Blair was still crying. But he managed a smile
and waved, because he knew that even at that distance, Jim would see
him. And before he'd turned away from the window, he'd rested the palm
of his hand against it.
Jim let go of the tears now himself, sobbing now under the spray of
the shower. He knew he'd done the right thing in letting Blair go, in
not trapping him with declarations of love when he had one last chance
at the life he'd always wanted. Blair was teaching. It wasn't Harvard
by any stretch of the imagination, but it was something. It was a job,
a career. It was Blair's last chance to be an academic. And Jim wasn't
going to stand in his way. Even if it hurt Blair a little at first,
this was for the best. He would flourish and grow and eventually, he'd
rebuild what he had shattered for Jim.
Maybe someday, he could recoup all he had lost because of Jim. First,
his chance at a career-defining project in Borneo, then his dissertation
and his good name. Blair didn't deserve to start at the bottom and pay
all these dues, but that was life, and maybe if he struggled long enough,
hard enough, he could repair the damage that running into Jim had inflicted
on his life.
Turning off the shower, Jim drew in his emotions at the same time, as
if turning the handles on the faucet could turn off the pain. Drying
off, he realized that his life should have more purpose than just existing
so that Blair thought he was okay. Truthfully, that had been his only
reason for not self-destructing. For keeping safe as he could at work.
Blair would never forgive himself if Jim were killed in the line of duty
working alone. If he zoned out and his car went off the road, or if
he blew his head off one of these miserable nights alone with the ghosts
of their old life together, Blair would be destroyed. He'd carry that
guilt to his grave. For Blair to be happy, he had to think Jim was as
well.
Making his way upstairs, he crawled into bed and let out a long sigh.
He was bone tired. He couldn't remember his last day off...well, yes,
in fact he could. The day he put Blair on the plane. Four months ago.
He hadn't expected to lose him until August, but then they'd ask him
to pick up a summer session, and suddenly, he was en route to New York
in June instead.
Jim finally rolled over, giving up on sleep. He opened the night stand
and took out the pad and pen he kept there. In the habit of writing
to Blair at least once a week, Jim realized he was about due to do it
again. Now was as good a time as any to construct another stilted letter
with a lot of small talk about the PD, Cascade, how the Jags were doing.
"Dear Blair..."
"Dear Blair," Jim repeated out loud. Then, giving vent to his
feelings for once, he started to write the first genuine letter he'd
sent to his lost partner.
"Dear Blair,
You don't know how dear you are. You don't know because I never told
you. You don't know that I sit here and write these letters missing
you do bitterly that the tears come with every mention of your name,
or ever reminiscence of our life together. I thought it hurt when Carolyn
left. But you know what? I never cried for her. I missed her and I
was lonely, but that was a walk in the park compared to this.
I miss your hair in the drain. I hate my refrigerator smelling normal.
I hate the silence. I hate the neatness. I hate having the TV remote
to myself and I hate this damned loft without you. I hate my life.
I hate my job. I hate the goddamn truck and riding around in it alone.
Every time I pass Rainier University, I hate that too, because I should
be turning in there to pick you up. I hate the bakery downstairs because
you're not there to get all excited when they have one of those god-awful
looking bagels with all the different healthy crap sprinkled on them.
I hate the glazed buttermilk donuts because you're not there to wrinkle
that precious little nose at them and tell me how bad they are for me.
I hate the Chinese place, I hate dim sum, I hate the Jags and I hate
camping. I went fishing with Simon two weeks ago--and you know what?
I hated that too. I caught a stupid fucking fish. You know how much
I cared about that? Compared with watching your face light up when you
caught your first big fish when I taught you how fly-fishing?
My little guppy...
I love you. I know that loving me was the worst thing that ever
happened to you. You lost your career, your reputation... I couldn't
let you lose anything else for me. I love you so much, Chief. You're
everything in this world to me. My life, my joy, my happiness, my light.
I wish I could have told you that--that I could have taken you in my
arms and kissed you and held onto you and told you not to go. That I
couldn't live without you...or, maybe more accurately, that I didn't
want to. Unfortunately, the body keeps on going even when the heart and
soul dies.
That would really shock you, I think--to know that I wanted to take you
in my arms and kiss you. If you knew that I wanted to make love to you,
make you mine forever, build a permanent life together--I'd ask you to
marry me if I could. Well, no, I wouldn't, because that wouldn't be
fair to you. Marry me and lose your job, your identity, your chance at
the life you want. I'm glad you went to Stratton. I know Upstate New
York probably isn't all that glamorous, but you've got nowhere to go
but up.
I'll be okay. I'm careful, I watch my step, and I won't do anything
stupid--well, no more than usual. I love you too much to hang that trip
on you--that you left and I fell apart. Died back here because you took
your one last chance and made a good move for yourself. Because for once,
you did something for you. Good for you, and I mean that, Chief.
Good for you--you make the most of this chance. Know that I will always
love you with all my heart, and I'll always be here if you need me.
And I never, ever, will hold it against you that you left. When I say
I'm happy for you, I mean it.
I probably won't ever mail this letter. Scratch that. I won't ever
mail this letter. But I needed to talk to you, because I miss you so
damn much I feel like I can't stand it anymore. I need to talk to someone
and you're it. Lucky you, huh?
I love you, Chief. Sleep well. I wish..."
Jim tore the sheet off the notepad and folded it up, tossing it on the
night stand, tossing the pad on the floor. He shifted onto his side
and pulled the worn old t-shirt close to him. When he'd shipped the
last of Blair's things, he knew he'd never miss this one nearly worn
out old t-shirt. Bringing it up near his face, he breathed in the trace
of Blair's scent that clung to the fibers, and dropped into a troubled
sleep.
"So what's on the agenda for tonight?" Dale Pearson let out a bored
sigh and looked through the faxes that had come in. "What a bunch of
crap." He tossed the sheets aside.
"I think I might have something sort of cool for tonight's show," Frank
Corman said, smiling. "Look at this." He handed his partner a rumpled,
grubby piece of paper.
"What is this?" Dale opened it, reading the outpouring of emotion by
some poor, miserable schmuck named Jim. Their love song show was a gathering
place for a lot of miserable schmucks with messed up love lives, but
this one probably took the prize. The chunky older man raised his eyebrows
as he finished reading. "Where'd you get this?" he asked his partner.
Frank was a lot younger, just starting out in the business. He was always
coming up with new ideas for the show, most of them useless. But this
one had promise.
"I found it. On the sidewalk downtown. Can you believe it? So I
looked up Stratton on the 'net. There's a little town called Stratton
up there, so I called around until I found a radio station that has a
love songs show that is picked up in Stratton, and faxed them this letter.
They're going to read it on the air at the same time we do, and see if
we can get these two together."
"I don't know about that. Whoever this guy is, he obviously didn't
want this Blair person to know how he felt. You could be screwing up
somebody's life here."
"This guy's life can't get much more screwed up from the sound of things.
Come on, Dale. This is romance, man. We're always looking for some
way to perk things up. Well, here it is!" Frank gestured at the letter
his partner was still holding. "From the sounds of things, this Blair
person hasn't even had a chance to respond--to know if she wants to marry
him or not."
"If he's already calling her 'Chief' and they're not married yet, he's
probably better off not telling her." Dale laughed, tossing the letter
aside.
"The listeners are going to eat this up, man. We'll get the DJ from
out there live on the phone, and explain what we're gonna do. Then we
read the letter." Frank leaned back in his chair, running a hand through
his short dark hair. "This is poetry, man. I've never heard any station
do something like this."
"They'll probably sue us." Dale looked at the letter again. "What
the hell. We're in the toilet for ratings this month. Let's give it
a shot."
"That was one hell of a bust, Jim," Simon said, chuckling and slapping
Jim on the back. "You and Murdock make a pretty good team." That earned
the captain a glare that made his smile fade.
"I work alone, Simon. The Murdock thing is temporary, remember?"
"Take it easy, Jim. I just meant you did well nailing those two gunmen
without getting yourselves or each other killed. I've already got a
permanent partner in mind for him." Simon smiled. "Conner."
"They'll make a great team, sir," Jim responded, pouring himself a cup
of coffee in the break room.
"I suppose we'll be getting your tailor's bill on this one," Simon quipped,
pointing at the torn pocket on Jim's brown cloth coat.
"Great. I didn't even see that." Jim curled his lip and probed at
the ruined pocket, then his eyes went wide. He shoved his hand into
what was left of the pouch there and rummaged around frantically.
"What's wrong?" Simon asked, frowning.
"Damn it!" Jim tried his other pocket, then started back out into the
hall, looking all over for any sign of the folded letter that had been
in the torn pocket. This was a disaster. Carrying the stupid letter
around was ridiculous anyway, but Jim had toyed briefly with re-writing
it a little and mailing it, then had abandoned the idea. Still, carrying
it around as if he might do something to get Blair back had cheered him
up a bit lately. Even if he never acted on it, it had given him some
hope.
Now, it was lying around somewhere with both their names on it.
"Did you lose something?" Simon asked, following Jim on his
bloodhound trail down the hall.
"You have no idea, sir," Jim responded softly, walking away from Simon,
hoping against hope to see the letter somewhere. Anywhere...
Blair pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Tossing
the blue books on the floor, he stretched out on his couch and stared
at the ceiling. He smiled sadly when he thought about how much he wanted
something to drink right about now. In the old days, he'd be sipping
away at some spring water or a beer or something Jim had dropped off
to him on his way to the TV. Actually, he probably wouldn't have had
his last migraine if he'd still been living with Jim.
Jim had a way of dragging him away from his work when he'd been at it
too long.
He shifted onto his side and closed his eyes. He didn't let himself
dwell on Jim too much, because the thought of Jim's face, his smile,
his voice...it was like opening a raw wound and poking it. It was hard
to accept that Jim wasn't as torn up about this whole separation as he
was, but then, Jim had always been a loner, and it was probably a treat
to have a little of his old solitude back.
There had been a few times when they were packing up Blair's things,
a few times in the truck on the way to the airport--moments when Blair
thought Jim was ready to say something. At the airport, when Blair had
run back to him, he'd held on so tightly, hoping against hope to feel
a response. And he had--Jim had hugged him back. But then he'd pushed
Blair back and given him a pep talk and waved him off.
Blair remembered crying all the way to New York. Not loudly, not even
always wetly. Sometimes it was just the dull, throbbing pain and tightness
in his throat. Other times, it was silent tears rolling down his face
as he looked out at more and more distance being put between them by
the jet's voyage.
He didn't have much place in Jim's life if he wasn't going to be a cop,
and if he couldn't find a job in Cascade or its environs. This was inevitable--the
cycle of life--you meet people, you have
relationships, and then something happens and you move on to the next
phase.
It wasn't Jim's fault that Blair had fallen in love with him, that he
wanted more than Jim could ever give--or would want to give--at least
to him.
Blair picked up the remote control and turned on his stereo. The first
thing to reach his ears was "Black Magic Woman" by Santana. Chuckling
sadly at that twist of fate, he changed stations. Lying there, wearing
one of Jim's old sweatshirts, was bad enough. Listening to his favorite
band was more than Blair could handle.
He settled on the adult contemporary station, figuring he might as well
let depression have its way with him. Love Lines was on, which was probably
his least favorite radio show. He was miserable enough without listening
to three hours of love songs and dedications when he had no one. When
the only person he could ever love with all his heart and soul was across
the country--probably not even giving him a second thought right now.
He knew not having a life beyond his job and lying on the couch pining
for Jim was his own fault. He'd gotten some interested looks from a
couple of attractive young women on campus--staff members who were certainly
not off-limits for any ethical reasons that kept him from dating students.
The college didn't have the campus life a university had, but they had
some activities and evening programs. Blair hadn't been to even one
of them, and he figured it would hurt him on an evaluation. Still, he
couldn't make himself care. Without Jim, he was having a hell of a time
making himself care about much of anything.
"We've got a real special message to send out to someone tonight. We're
doing a little matchmaking, in cooperation with a radio station all the
way out West--in...Cascade, Washington." The announcer's message made
Blair sit up and take notice, turning up the volume. "Frank in Cascade,
go ahead, you're on the air here in Albany."
"Thanks, Andy. I'm calling from WCAW in Cascade, Washington, and we're
looking for someone in Stratton, New York, who's very special to someone
all the way back here in Cascade. While I was on my lunch hour today,
I found a letter on the sidewalk downtown--looked like it had been in
somebody's pocket for a while. It was dog-earned, wrinkled, even had
a couple coffee stains on it. Seems this guy wrote the love of his life
this letter, and didn't mail it."
"So you want to give the lovebirds a little nudge in the right
direction?" Andy prompted.
"Absolutely. 'Cause I'm betting the person who should be getting this
letter is just as lonely as the person who wrote it--wanna bet?"
"I agree, which is why I'm going to read the letter right after this
brief break. Stay with us folks."
The commercials aired, and finally, the announcer came back on the air.
"Welcome back to Love Lines. Before our break, we spoke to Frank from
WCAW all the way out West in Cascade, Washington. Frank found a letter
on the sidewalk in downtown Cascade, written by a man whose lost love
is out here in upstate New York--Stratton, to be more specific. So,
we're playing matchmaker for these two, hoping that we can help bring
two lovers together. I'm going to read the letter now, so if you're
in Stratton, and you left someone special behind way out there in Washington,
listen carefully--this could be you."
"Dear Blair."
Blair's heart froze in place, and his breath caught in his throat. How
many Blairs had moved to Stratton recently? From Cascade? //It can't
be.// Blair shook his head. //Just relax, Sandburg. You're going to
wake up in a minute and find out you dozed off while you were grading
tests.//
"You don't know how dear you are. You don't know because I never told
you. You don't know that I sit here and write these letters missing
you do bitterly that the tears come with every mention of your name,
or ever reminiscence of our life together. I thought it hurt when Carolyn
left. But you know what? I never cried for her. I missed her and I
was lonely, but that was a walk in the park compared to this.''
//Oh, God, Jim...why didn't you tell me? I cried for two days straight
after I got here, and I still hate it. I miss you so much it's like
this ache that never goes away...//
"I miss your hair in the drain. I hate my refrigerator smelling
normal. I hate the silence. I hate the neatness. I hate having the
TV remote to myself and I hate this damned loft without you. I hate
my life. I hate my job. I hate the goddamn truck and riding around
in it alone. Every time I pass Rainier University, I hate that too, because
I should be turning in there to pick you up. I hate the bakery downstairs
because you're not there to get all excited when they have one of those
god-awful looking bagels with all the different healthy crap sprinkled
on them. I hate the glazed buttermilk donuts because you're not there
to wrinkle that precious little nose at them and tell me how bad they
are for me. I hate the Chinese place, I hate dim sum, I hate the Jags
and I hate camping. I went fishing with Simon two weeks ago--and you
know what? I hated that too. I caught a stupid fucking fish. You know
how much I cared about that? Compared with watching your face light
up when you caught your first big fish when I taught you how fly-fishing?
My little guppy..."
//When was the last time I enjoyed anything? It was long before I
accepted this job. Hell, before the interview. I knew this was a good
opportunity...a good opportunity to lose the only thing that ever really
mattered to me. If I had only known you felt the same way...// Blair
shook his head at the thought of how unhappy Jim sounded. He knew they
were friends, that they'd done everything together...but he'd never imagined
that Jim really couldn't face going back to doing those things alone,
or with other friends.
"I love you. I know that loving me was the worst thing that ever happened
to you. You lost your career, your reputation... I couldn't let you
lose anything else for me. I love you so much, Chief. You're everything
in this world to me. My life, my joy, my happiness, my light. I wish
I could have told you that--that I could have taken you in my arms and
kissed you and held onto you and told you not to go. That I couldn't
live without you...or, maybe more accurately, that I didn't want to.
Unfortunately, the body keeps on going even when the heart and soul dies."
Blair felt new tears in his eyes now as he hugged himself, picturing
Jim's arms around him, picturing what their first kiss could be
like...vowing that he wasn't going to waste this chance. Hoping that
Jim would hang in there, not forget about him...hoping that this letter
wasn't too old, that Jim hadn't moved on and learned to make it without
him... Most of all, he ached that Jim could think he had been some sort
of...walking disaster in Blair's life. Jim was the best thing Blair
ever remembered happening to him, and he never knew it...
"That would really shock you, I think--to know that I wanted to take
you in my arms and kiss you. If you knew that I wanted to make love
to you, make you mine forever, build a permanent life together--I'd ask
you to marry me if I could. Well, no, I wouldn't, because that wouldn't
be fair to you. Marry me and lose your job, your identity, your chance
at the life you want. I'm glad you went to Stratton. I know Upstate
New York probably isn't all that glamorous, but you've got nowhere to
go but up."
Blair turned up the radio so he could hear it while he pulled out his
suitcase. He yanked a few essentials out of several drawers, throwing
them in haphazardly. //MARRY ME...// //Shit, I'll fly to Cascade without
the fucking airplane!//
"I'll be okay. I'm careful, I watch my step, and I won't do anything
stupid--well, no more than usual. I love you too much to hang that trip
on you--that you left and I fell apart. Died back here because you took
your one last chance and made a good move for yourself. Because for once,
you did something for you. Good for you, and I mean that, Chief.
Good for you--you make the most of this chance. Know that I will always
love you with all my heart, and I'll always be here if you need me.
And I never, ever, will hold it against you that you left. When I say
I'm happy for you, I mean it."
"Aw, man." Blair sat on the foot of the bed, wiping at his eyes, feeling
the pain in those words. Letting the icy desolation that was Jim's life
without him creep in and chill him to the core. "So that's why when
I was hugging you and crying and you knew I didn't want to go that you
pushed me...it takes more love to let go than hold on," Blair muttered
sadly, shaking his head, wondering how he could have been so blind--if
there had been signs from Jim he should have read.
"I probably won't ever mail this letter. Scratch that. I won't ever
mail this letter. But I needed to talk to you, because I miss you so
damn much I feel like I can't stand it anymore. I need to talk to someone
and you're it. Lucky you, huh?"
//I always treasured that you talked to me, Jim. You never talked to
anyone else. Who did I think you'd talk to when I was gone? And a half
hour on the phone isn't the same...//
"I love you, Chief. Sleep well. I wish..."
"I wish I were with you right now," Blair finished the sentence, reaching
for the phone to make his flight reservations.
Jim got in the truck and started the engine. He looked at his coat
on the seat, bagged from the dry cleaners where they had cleaned and
repaired it. Blair had been with him when he bought the coat, and had
urged him to get it. Blair thought the leather collar was cool. Jim
smiled at that, ignoring the little stab of pain that came with the memory.
Thinking about the missing letter, Jim at least consoled himself that
there were no last names on it, and there had to be more than one Jim
and one Blair in all of Cascade. In a way, losing the letter had been
like forcing himself to say goodbye. He no longer took out the well
fingered page and moped over it. Instead, the pain was just always there,
dull and throbbing beneath the surface. Even talking to Blair on the
phone the past weekend hadn't helped much. It had just made his absence
that much more noticeable after hanging up the phone.
Driving through the WonderBurger take out window, Jim picked up
dinner. One combo meal. One of everything. Shaking off that morose
thought, Jim pulled out into traffic and headed back toward the loft.
He parked in his usual spot, and carrying the small food bag with him,
he walked up to the door of the building and went inside. The stairs
seemed like too much effort, so he took the elevator and then ambled
down to the door. And froze in his tracks.
Laying his hand flat on the door, and resting his forehead against the
cool wood, he could have sworn he heart Blair's heartbeat, and there
was a scent of something tasty in the air. Something like one of the
many interesting dishes Blair used to concoct. Figuring that if this
were a sensory hallucination, he was all for it, Jim turned the key in
the lock and opened the door, afraid that the momentary fantasy would
be shattered by the usual cold, dark, empty reality on the other side
of it.
There was a fire in the fireplace, a dim lamp on in the living room,
and food cooking on the stove. There were two large suitcases and a
couple of travel bags piled up outside the door of Blair's old room.
The table was set, complete with two lit candles and wine glasses. A
bottle of wine chilled in an ice bucket on the counter.
"Blair?" Jim called out, his voice a little weak with surprise--and
with the fear of even hoping this could be true. A part of him dreading
already the pain of another separation when Blair went back from this
surprise visit.
Then he saw him, moving into view in the doorway that led into his old
room. Hair loose on his shoulders, dressed in jeans and a mulberry colored
shirt Jim had bought him the previous Hanukkah. They stared at each
other for a moment before Blair burst out in a huge smile and made a
beeline for Jim, impacting hard with his friend as his arms fastened
around the larger man's neck. Jim wrapped his arms around Blair's body
and hoisted him off the floor, holding him deathly tight, burying his
face in the soft curls.
Jim swallowed the lump in his throat, not wanting to embarrass himself
by bawling like a baby at the first sight of Blair. He was surprised
to feel the vibration of Blair's tears first.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" he demanded, half crying. "All
this...misery...for nothing."
"Chief--I...what are you doing here? What...I don't understand...?"
"They read it on the radio." Blair finally let go, and Jim released
him back on his own two feet, smiling as he used his thumbs to brush
away Blair's tears. He laughed a little when Blair reached up to brush
away Jim's.
"Read what, Chief?"
"Your letter. The one you said you'd never mail. It was on the radio.
Last night--they read it on the love songs show out there--a DJ here
in Cascade found it on the street, and decided it would be cool to try
to find 'Blair' in Stratton and put the two people together. I had to
see you in person."
"Blair, I never meant for you to see that letter. I never meant for
anyone to see that letter." Jim shrugged. "I was depressed when I
wrote it and I kept it in the pocket of my brown coat, and then I guess
the pocket got torn out during this run in with a couple of perps, and
it must have fallen out."
"I hope you meant what you said in it, because I just flew all the way
out here to say 'yes'."
"Yes?"
"You know, the part about marrying you? I thought when I said yes,
it would be kind of cool to be face to face instead of on the phone."
"But you...I mean, you never said--"
"I never said?"
"No, Blair, you never did." Jim moved away a little. "And neither
did I," Jim admitted.
"When you put me on the plane...I thought I was gonna die. Nothing
ever hurt that much before. I've said a lot of good byes in my life,
Jim. And I wanted to die rather than have to say that one."
"I didn't want to ruin your life...again. I wanted to tell you, but
I knew you'd stay, and this was a last chance--"
"My life sucks. I hate it. The job's okay but I'm so fucking
miserable I really don't notice. I'm a hermit who lives in my ugly sterile
little apartment wearing your old sweatshirt."
"My old sweatshirt?"
"You know, the blue one I stole from you last year."
"Oh." Jim nodded. "Wait here." He went up the stairs to the bedroom
and pulled back the spread, taking out the old t-shirt. Walking
downstairs, he held it up. "Look familiar?"
"Isn't that one of mine?" Blair asked, frowning.
"Yeah." Jim nodded. "I, uh...sleep with it." Jim handed the shirt
to Blair, who held it in both hands, staring at it a moment before his
whole body started shaking. "Hey, Chief, it's okay." Jim pulled his
crying friend into his arms.
"You must've been so lonely here," Blair said brokenly, and Jim felt
a flood of love for the man in his arms when he realized that Blair wasn't
crying for his own loneliness or pain--he was crying for Jim's. "I never
wanted to leave you."
"God help me, I never want you to leave. We'll move to New York together,
huh? I'll get a job there. There must be some Podunk PD up there that
would hire me." Jim held Blair tightly, rubbing his back.
"I don't care where we go or what we do. I'm not leaving you ever again.
And if you leave me, I'll hunt you down and drag you back."
"Well, seeing as how you asked nicely," Jim quipped, patting Blair's
back and smiling broadly as he hugged him hard. "Did you say 'yes',
or did I misunderstand that?"
"Yes I love you, yes I want to make love with you, and yes, I want to
spend the rest of my life with you. Are we all clear now?" Blair looked
up into Jim's eyes, grinning.
"YES!!!" Jim bellowed, lifting Blair off the ground and spinning them
both around until they lost their balance and landed in a heap on the
couch. The couch that had been nothing more than a coat rack without
Blair. The couch that Jim couldn't even face sitting on alone.
He took Blair's face in his hands and pulled him in for their first
kiss, claiming the full lips passionately but gently, putting all the
love and commitment he could possibly translate into a physical gesture,
into that one moment of contact.
"Don't you ever say something stupid again like you're ruining my life."
Blair said as soon as his lips were released. "You are my life. When
I was in New York, I didn't have a life. I cried for two days straight
when I got there. You say you hate all those activities--see, I just
didn't do anything--because you weren't there to do it with me."
"I saw you on the plane. You were waving, and I knew you were crying.
I thought you'd probably get over it when you got away, started in on
the new job. I just didn't realize--"
"That you were everything to me?"
"Yeah, I guess not." Jim paused, running his hand up and down Blair's
back as the younger man rested on top of him on the couch. "So you've
been with a man before?"
"Nope."
"So how is it you just decided that you want me?"
"Because I love you and I can't live without you and you feel the same
way about me. Sort of makes sex look like a technicality, doesn't it?
A technicality we can have a whole lot of fun figuring out. Unless you've
got experience...?"
"Not beyond an inclination. I've always known I could swing both ways.
I just...didn't."
"Then we can learn together."
"Blair, if this is pity, because of the letter--"
"It's pity for you, pity for myself--that we were so fucking stupid
that we walked away from each other when it nearly killed us both. But
the reason I want to be with you is because I Love You."
"Something's burning," Jim observed.
"Shit!" Blair was up like a shot, yanking a couple of pans off
burners. "You like blackened chicken in your stir fry?" he asked, laughing
a little.
"I could share my cold cheeseburger with you," Jim offered.
"Nope." Blair turned off the stove. "Come on." He leaned over and
blew out the two candles.
"What?"
"Let's go out and eat. Someplace you hated without me. I didn't eat
out at all, because I hated everyplace without you, so there are lots
of choices."
"China Palace?" Jim suggested, and Blair nodded enthusiastically.
"I would kill for some Chinese food." Blair grabbed his coat off
the hook, then tossed Jim's to him. "I can't believe you started throwing
your coats on the couch. You'd have had my head if I did that."
"Yeah, well, don't get any ideas," Jim teased, pulling the door shut
behind them.
The two men split a dinner for four combination, which had always been
their favorite. They could eat their fill and still go home with a couple
of days' worth of lunches.
"So how is the teaching job going?" Jim asked, chewing contentedly
on a piece of pork. Blair was here, and no matter what happened, they'd
stay together. Suddenly, Jim's appetite knew no bounds.
"You're too thin," Blair remarked, scooping another mound of rice onto
Jim's plate.
"Thin?" Jim frowned.
"I'm not talking about muscles now, though those would probably go next.
I'm talking about you not eating enough. How long has it been since
you had anything decent to eat?"
"I don't know, Chief. When I get a headache and feel dizzy, I go find
some food."
"Shit, Jim, you stopped eating?"
"No. Just didn't enjoy it anymore. You're a little on the lean side
yourself, Chief."
"Yeah, well, I kept up with the shakes and I'd have a salad or
something for lunch, but dinner was just..." He shook his head.
"Everything hurt?" Jim asked knowingly.
"Just like after a death. It was too much like that, man. I don't
ever want to feel that way again." Blair leaned back in the booth, seeming
to have lost his enthusiasm for the food. He watched, stunned, as Jim
moved his place setting across the table, and then got up and moved Blair
over so he could sit on the same side with him. Running a long arm behind
Blair, Jim grinned down at his surprised partner.
"That's better."
"People are looking at us."
"Good. Should we toast them or just ignore them?"
"It doesn't bother you?"
"It's always going to bother me that we have to worry about someone
seeing us or what they might think, but you know what? I want to be
close to you too much to care right now."
"Man, why did we do this to ourselves?" Blair toyed with a fried won
ton. "Why didn't one of us just say something? I mean, it's as much
my fault as yours."
"We thought we were doing what was best."
"I guess."
"What do you say we get this stuff boxed up and go home?" Jim smiled
and flexed his eyebrows. Blair laughed.
"Did I tell you I loved you?"
"I think you mentioned it once or twice. But it's always nice to hear.
I love you too," Jim said softly, though the way he was looking at Blair,
words weren't really necessary.
With their bag of take outs tucked under one arm, and Blair's hand firmly
clasped in his, Jim Ellison felt on top of the world as they walked the
short distance from the restaurant to the loft. On an impulse, he tugged
on Blair's hand and brought the smaller man against his side, flopping
his arm around Blair's shoulders. He felt an answering arm around his
waist.
Once they were back in the loft, Jim dumped the take outs on the counter
and hung up their coats. After stashing the food in the
refrigerator, he looked at his somewhat bedraggled, but happy,
companion.
"You look wiped out, Chief." Jim pulled Blair into his arms and soaked
up the closeness.
"I think I could go to sleep right here."
"What would you say to postponing anything until we got a good night's
sleep? I'll call in sick tomorrow, and we'll talk everything out and
figure out what to do next."
"I think I died and went to heaven."
"I know I did." Jim pulled back. "Because I'm definitely looking at
an angel right now." He smiled at Blair's stunned expression and then
kissed the startled lips.
After stripping down to boxers, the two of them climbed into what had
been Jim's bed, and now would be their bed. Lying on their sides,
facing each other, it wasn't long before they were lost in a long round
of kissing.
"Guess we're not going to get to sleep anytime soon, huh?" Blair asked,
smiling at Jim.
"We'll sleep in tomorrow," he responded, nuzzling Blair's neck and moving
down to kiss his throat and then begin the exploration of his chest.
This was definitely different than having a woman in his bed. Blair
was still smaller than he was, but he was sturdy and solid. There was
hair in all the wrong places, flat planes where he was used to curves.
Still, Jim had never found the male form unattractive, and this male's
form was more attractive to him than most.
His mouth fastened on a nipple, and Blair's broken little cry of pleasure
sent a jolt straight to Jim's groin. He could feel Blair's body heat
rising, his heartbeat thundering and most of all, he could smell his
arousal. Blair's leg wound around his and he could feel the hardening
cock through Blair's thin boxers.
Sucking hard on the nipple, Jim ran his hand under the elastic of Blair's
underwear and pulled it down, baring the smooth, rounded ass and the
shaft that was begging for attention. He moved to the second nipple,
drinking in the taste of Blair's flesh like a dying man takes in water
while Blair managed to get Jim's boxers off with a startling skill and
speed.
Blair's hands were in Jim's hair now, his voice just muttering
unintelligible ramblings of pleasure. Jim rolled his lover on his back
and straddled him, lacing their fingers together and gently stretching
Blair's arms above his head on the mattress, kissing his way along the
underside of both arms, giving up his momentary control when Blair tried
to move. The younger man's hands were on Jim's biceps now, pulling,
trying to bring him back up so their mouths could meet again. As soon
as Jim fell into the inviting trap, two strong legs wrapped around his
hips, and Blair began a delicious undulating motion, rubbing their weeping
cocks together.
"Love you," Blair panted, smiling up at Jim, then pulling him in for
more kisses. Jim thrust his tongue into Blair's mouth and was met with
an equally aggressive tongue battling it for supremacy.
"No more goodbyes, huh?" Jim gasped as they parted for air, and the
responding smile from Blair was brilliantly bright.
"Never again," he promised, before they kissed again, only parting to
cry out in pleasure as they came together, their seed mixing and blending
as their bodies continued to rub against one another.
"Am I squishing you?" Jim asked, realizing that his full weight was
pressing Blair into the bed.
"Yeah, but I like it." Blair grinned and ran all ten fingers into Jim's
hair. "Your hair is like silk. I could play with it all night."
"My hair? I never thought of it as one of my sexier features. Now
you, on the other hand--"
"It's like a lot of things about you--not always obvious, but really
amazingly beautiful and special when you take time to look closer."
"God, I missed you," Jim said in a strained voice, stroking the hair
back from Blair's face, kissing him gently, then wrapping him up in a
tight embrace.
"Leaving you broke my heart." Blair squeezed back, their grip on each
other almost bruising. "I feel like it's back together now--whole.
I think we need each other to be whole."
"We proved that with this miserable little experiment of going our separate
ways." Jim pulled back and looked down at Blair. "Can you ever forgive
me for letting you get on that plane?"
"Oh, yeah. Because you have to forgive me for not making it clear enough
to you what I wanted. I made you guess, and that wasn't fair. Because
you still don't understand that you're a prize worth having over anything
else."
"I think you're exaggerating a little, Chief."
"I don't." Blair smiled at Jim, and in that expression, Jim could see
just how much he was treasured. "There's no one and nothing that makes
me feel the way you make me feel. Nobody's ever loved me like you do.
That's more important than the other stuff."
"Tomorrow, we'll try to figure out some of the 'other stuff'." Jim
smiled back at his lover. "I think we did okay for a couple of
clueless virgins, don't you?"
"We're sticky--that's a good sign."
"Oh yeah, about that..." Jim moved up a little. "Unless you want all
your hair on my belly in the morning, I better go grab us a washcloth."
"We could go take a shower together," Blair suggested, waggling his
eyebrows.
"Even better." Jim got up and pulled Blair along behind him.
After a prolonged romp in the shower that left more water on the floor
than inside the confines of the tub area, the two lovers headed back
up to the bedroom and climbed into bed. They wriggled around a bit finding
a cozy sleeping position, and before long, ended up spooned together,
snuggled under the comforter.
"Mmm. This is what I dreamed about the whole time I was gone. Being
with you like this."
"Beats the hell out of cuddling an old t-shirt, that's for sure," Jim
opined, making Blair burst into a laugh with a most inelegant snort.
"Gee, thanks, Jim. Are you always such a sweet-talker in bed?"
"Only for you, Chief," Jim retorted, laughing and kissing Blair's cheek
this time.
Before long, both were sleeping soundly, secure in the knowledge that
no matter what path their lives took, they would travel it together.
The End
by Candy Apple
On the radio
And they told the world just how you felt
It must have fallen out of a hole in your old brown overcoat
They never said your name, but I knew just who they meant
If by chance, you heard it for yourself
I never told a soul just how I've been feeling over you
But they said really loud, and said it on the air
On the radio...
Things are not the same since we broke up last June
The only thing I wanna hear is that you love me still
And that you think you'll be comin' home real soon
You couldn't find the words to say it yourself
And now in my heart I know I can say what I really feel
Cause they said it really loud and said it on the air
On the radio, on the radio, on the radio
Tune right in, you may find the love you lost
'Cause now I'm sittin' here with the man I sent away long ago
They found me really loud and said it really loud
On the radio, on the radio, on the radio...