Work Text:
On The Radio
by Candy Apple
On The Radio
by Candy Apple
Someone found the letter you wrote me
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
I was so surprised and shocked, and I wonder too
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...
Don't it kind of strike you sad when you hear our song?
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
It kind of made me feel pride when I heard him say
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
If you think that love isn't found 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...
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