Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/3281

Continued from part one.

Blair rode in to work with Jim in the morning. He had most of the day free to spend at his partner's side, and they had a full roster of leads to follow up on Jim's latest murder case.

The lab report was on Jim's desk from the inspection of Blair's car. The only prints were Blair's, Jim's, and a couple partials that looked like matches for Simon's. There were many other fragments of prints, but nothing identifiable, and most likely just the residue that would be found on most cars parked in public lots on a regular basis.

Ryf and Brown, who were on their way out, wanted to go down and take a look at Blair's car, so Blair accompanied them to the garage. Ryf's uncle owned one of the best body shops in Cascade, and he promised to stop by and talk to him about giving Blair the best deal he could on repairs.

The three men inspected the damage, and Blair felt more and more like he was bringing everyone to see a terminal patient. They all tried to be upbeat, but didn't sound too convinced that there was any point in trying to repair the damage. The insurance company was sending someone later that day for a look, so at least Blair could get some kind of idea if he was going to face cooperation or an uphill battle. With a $1,000 deductible, he wondered if it even mattered. He didn't have the money, and he didn't want to cost Jim another big lump of cash.

He thanked Ryf for the help in getting a good price at BodyWorks, his uncle's shop, and waved the two of them off for the day. With a sigh, he left his wounded car and made his way back toward Major Crimes.

"Hey, Sandburg!" A voice called from behind him as he made his way down the first floor hall toward the stairs. He turned around to see an officer he didn't recognize.

"That's me."

"Ellison's in the men's room. He's had some kind of spell or something--"

Blair flew too quickly down the hall to notice the other man's predatory grin.

"Jim?" Blair burst through the door of the men's room, and saw only two cops he vaguely recognized from Vice, plainclothes detectives, leaning against the wall, staring at him. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he couldn't see all the stalls from where he stood, and if Jim was really sick... He moved forward a bit, and the door slammed and locked behind him, guarded by a muscular man about the same height as Simon Banks. "Hey, what is this?" Blair asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"We want you gone. We don't care what kind of tricks you're doing for Ellison, but your kind isn't welcome here," one of the men against the wall announced. He was approximately forty years old, sporting a short beard and longish brown hair. He was tall and well-built, though obviously dressed for another day on an undercover job in his all-black leather motorcycle gear.

"Look, just call off the guard here and let me leave quietly, and I won't say anything about this to Banks. You've made your point."

"You sucking him off too?" The other wall-dweller spoke up. This man was slightly younger than his cohort, with short blond hair and a mustache, dressed in a shirt and jeans. "You must be a busy little whore up there in Major Crimes, huh? Tell me, which one gets to fuck your pretty little ass?"

"Must be Ellison," the one by the door added before Blair could open his mouth. Not that his protests would have been worth anything. The door man straightened a little from his slumped position, towering over Blair. A fairly unattractive man with greasy black hair and piercing eyes, he was dressed similarly to the bearded man against the wall. "He always liked a nice piece of ass." He reached out to grope Blair and laughed when the smaller man dodged him. "I suppose he told you you were the first, huh? One of Jim's favorite perks when he worked Vice was fucking those little male whores down on the waterfront for free."

"You shut up, you fucking bastard!" Blair shot back. "That's a goddamn lie and you know it!"

"Guess he needs to learn a few manners, huh?" The bearded man pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "Come 'ere, shorty. Don't make me come and get you."

"Stay the hell away from me!" Blair ordered, knowing he had no way to back it up. In a moment, the two men from the wall had effectively pounced on him, one stifling his mouth while they dragged him back to one of the stalls.

"Okay, now, you're going to repeat after me, faggot," the bearded man spat in Blair's ear, as they lowered his head over the toilet bowl. "Say, 'I'm a cocksucking whore'. Say it!" The hand was removed from his mouth. Assessing that they were going to torment him in some way no matter what he said, Blair opted for dignity.

"Go to hell," he growled. It was his last breath of air before his face was shoved into the water and held there. When he thought his lungs would burst, he was yanked back by the hair, gasping. Just as he contemplated trying to move his arms, which were effectively pinned behind his back, he felt the cool metal of handcuffs go around his wrists and lock into place.

"Okay, faggot, you want to play it the hard way." The bearded man squatted next to him, hand still fastened firmly in Blair's hair. The other hand produced a switchblade which was pressed to the captive's throat. "If you scream, you die. Understand? Now, you know what to say. Next time you're going under for a nice long time, so think about it well. Now say it!"

Blair merely stared at him with fire in defiant blue eyes.

The bastard made good on his promise. By the time he pulled Blair's waterlogged head out of the john, the anthropologist's breath was coming out in harsh rasping gasps.

"How about this? I'll make it easy for you. You have such a problem with talking. I'm going to let you off the hook for that. Even give you a chance to make a couple bucks, if you do everything right." The man leaned in close to Blair, leering at him as he gasped and tried to get his thundering heart under control. Water from his soaked hair kept streaming maddeningly into his eyes. "Since you won't admit that you're a cocksucking whore, we'll give you the chance to prove it. What's your rate, anyway? Can't be worth more than a twenty, I'd say."

"You better leave me alone--"

"Or what? What're you gonna do about it, you worthless little faggot? Do you think anybody in this department is going to take your word against ours? Do you think that there isn't one guy in this building, with the possible exception of Ellison, who uses you to get off, that wouldn't like to kick your sorry ass out the front door?"

"Why are you doing this?" Blair finally asked, hating how hopeless his voice sounded. The question seemed to catch by surprise even the ringleader who held him there. The effect was not lasting.

"Just wanna see what you've got that's good enough to turn a good cop queer. Come on." He and the other leather-clad man dragged Blair out of the stall and deposited him on his knees on the floor of the bathroom. "Keep a good grip on him," he directed the other two, who took over holding Blair down, one of them using his ponytail as leverage to pull his head back.

"JIIIMMM!" Blair got one yelp most of the way out before a hand clamped back over his mouth and a foot landed squarely in his stomach, doubling him over.

"I thought I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut! Didn't I?" The bearded man lowered himself to a squat and seized Blair's face by the chin, yanking up while the other man helpfully pulled back on Blair's hair. In their estimation, Blair's hoarse outcry wasn't enough to carry beyond the locked bathroom door.

Blair's mind was taken off the searing pain in his stomach when the man rose again and unfastened his belt.

"You better not put that thing in my mouth if you want to keep all of it," he stated as evenly as his voice would let him. That brought an uproar of laughter from the group.

"Fiery little bitch, aren't ya?" The bearded man laughed. "Maybe we do need to teach him a few manners first. Can't have him misbehaving on us. What do you say, guys?"

"JIIIMMM!"

Ellison's head shot up from the file he was reading. Blair. Blair calling for help. //From where? It was too fast...//

Jim was out of his seat in a flash, rushing out into the hall, though he didn't really know where to go. He opted to retrace Blair's steps toward the garage. The fact his partner had been gone for so long wasn't odd. Blair often got sidetracked visiting with someone in another department when he ran an errand.

Dialing up his senses, Jim worked at sorting out the normal noises of the building and listening for Blair's heartbeat, tuning up his sense of smell for the familiar scent.

It wasn't Blair that grabbed his attention first. It was the voice of the man Jim had been unable to locate before who had made the crude remark about Blair. And it was coming from the men's room. It was then that he picked up Blair's very accelerated heartbeat coming from the same direction.

"Strip him," the bearded man ordered, leering down at Blair. "Let's have a look at the merchandise first. Get a gag on him, because I'm going to have a smoke, and I need an ashtray. All these damn 'no smoking' rules, you know."

Blair struggled furiously but in futility as the other two men began pulling at his shirt, popping buttons and producing a knife to slice it off him, since his hands remained bound behind his back. The bearded man was lighting his cigarette, then drawing on it hard to show Blair the red hot flare at the tip. He was left to wonder what part of his body would feel that first, as his shirt was stripped away and rough hands reached for the button of his jeans while the other man used a strip of Blair's own shirt to gag him.

The door of bathroom burst open and crashed against the wall, and in an instant the form of Jim Ellison, gun drawn, appeared in the doorway.

"Nobody move! Hands up, now! Against the wall, all of you. You goddamn motherfucking perverts! You know the position, assholes! Just give me an excuse to kill you!"

"Hey, Ellison, lighten up," the bearded man suggested as he raised his arms, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. "Just wanted to have a little share in the action. You used to tip me off to the best male whores when we worked Vice together. Didn't think you'd mind sharing this one."

Jim fired his gun, the bullet buzzing just past the man's ear. It was an easy shot for Jim, with his heightened senses, but appeared impossibly close to his target, who, with wild eyes, joined his friends, hands against the tiled wall, legs spread.

The sound of the shot brought two uniforms and a few detectives from the nearby Narcotics Department squad room. By the time they arrived, Ellison had the cuffs on two out of three of the men.

"Cuff that last bastard," he directed one of the uniforms. "Haul their asses up to Major Crimes. They just got busted for assault and battery, possible sexual assault, oh, yeah--and smoking in a restricted area," he tossed over his shoulder at the bearded man. "You're going down for this, Walker. You're going down so far and so hard, you're going to have to look up to see the fucking basement! Get 'em out of here!"

"He must be a real fine piece of ass, eh, Ellison?"

Jim had heard all he could handle, and now he lunged with both hands at Walker's throat, squeezing with a death grip that even the smart aleck cop hadn't anticipated when he'd made his last taunt.

Four cops pulled Jim off the other man, and by the time they got him marginally calmed down below the homicidal level, he turned back to look after Blair, who was still slumped against the wall, hands bound behind his back, gagged with dripping hair hanging in his face. His shirt lay in tatters on the floor, and he shivered against the cold tile of the wall. His anger at Walker suddenly was pushed to the back of his mind. Blair needed him.

"It's okay, Chief, it's over," Jim reassured, removing the gag and unlocking the handcuffs. He didn't care how many police officers or other personnel were in the area. He welcomed Blair into his arms and worked at removing his own shirt, draping it around his partner's shaking shoulders.

"I'm gonna be sick, Jim. Like now," Blair croaked out.

"Okay. Hold your horses, baby," Jim helped him stand and steered him into the handicapped stall, which gave them both room to hunch over the head and get the door shut behind them. Jim held the wet hair back while Blair vomited convulsively into the toilet. When he'd finished, Jim gathered him into his arms again and gently wiped off his mouth and then the rest of his wet face with a large wad of toilet paper.

"You two okay in there?" It was Simon's voice.

"We just need a minute," Jim responded.

"We've got Walker, Hooper and Patterson upstairs cooling their heels, waiting for you to book them on assault charges. What the hell happened? Do you know how long it'll be before Cameron's all over my ass? Not to mention the Chief." Jim wasn't sure if Simon was more concerned about the Vice Department captain or the Chief of Police. Both had a tendency to be less than pleasant when ired.

"Again," Blair managed, and Jim hoisted him up just in time for another seizure of what devolved into painful dry heaves.

"Look, Simon, the three of them cornered Blair in here and half stripped him and did something. I don't know what yet, but he needs time to calm down and stop vomiting before he can make a statement."

"Oh, man. Is he okay?"

"You guys, I'm still here, all right?" Blair protested to being referred to in the third person.

"Sorry, Sandburg," Simon's somewhat less urgent voice came from the other side of the stall door.

"Just give us a few minutes, and we'll have the full story, okay, Simon?" Jim asked.

"All right. But I want to see you in my office, ASAP. We've got one hell of a mess to sort out here, Jim." And with that, Simon was gone.

"Come on. That wet hair's gotta be colder than hell." Jim helped Blair up and steered him out of the booth to lean on the sink a moment. He locked the door to the bathroom and then returned to his shaky partner, pulling the lone straight chair that resided in the corner of the room over to the air dryer on the wall. "Sit here. It's not exactly a professional job, but it'll do." After placing Blair in the chair, Jim hit the button on the dryer and directed it at Blair's soaked head. He used handfuls of paper towel in tandem with the blower to remove as much of the water as he could.

"He was going to burn me...with his cigarette," Blair finally said as Jim was working on drying his hair.

"I'm going to kill the son of a bitch," Jim growled, hitting the button to start up the blower again. "Can you tell me what happened, baby?" Jim prodded as he kept working on his drying project. Blair drew the dark blue shirt around his shoulders and seemed to sink down into it.

"Somebody out in the hall told me that you were in here, sick, and so I came in to help, and when I got in here, the three of them cornered me, locked the door, and started making all sorts of remarks about us...about you."

"Our relationship, you mean?" Jim tilted Blair's head a little to get another soaked spot dry under the warm air.

"Yeah, and about...about you in Vice."

"The whole 'male whore' thing. Yeah, I tipped Walker off to the best male whores on the waterfront. I even picked a few up. And then took them to shelters and worked on busting their pimps. We worked on breaking up a child prostitution ring that included a very large stable of young boys. So that's where he got that quote to toss around."

"I didn't think you did anything wrong, lover," Blair hastened to add. "I just...wanted you to know what he said. Then they started dunking me in the toilet, trying to make me say I was...that I...that I was a 'cocksucking whore'. I wouldn't say it."

"Did you take in any water?" Jim started gathering the wildly frazzled but mostly dry hair into a new pony tail, and tied it carefully.

"If I did, I just puked it out, along with half my stomach lining, I think."

"Shit. Put your face in a fucking toilet bowl. Damn bastards." Jim led Blair to the sink, lathered up his hands and gently washed and rinsed his lover's face. "Did they touch you, Blair?" He took Blair's chin in his hand and carefully blotted the cleansed face dry with a paper towel.

"No. You came in...I guess my pants are sorta open, but he was just unzipping my jeans when you came in. Walker--is that the one with the beard?"

"Yeah."

"He was going to burn me after they stripped me. I don't know what else they were going to do to me, but I know they planned to make me suck them off. Or at least Walker did. He was unbuckling his belt, but I told him he better not stick it in my mouth if he wanted to get the whole thing back."

"Good for you, Chief." Jim kissed his forehead. "So that made him turn to the stripping thing?"

"Yeah. I guess they were going to gag me and torture me for kicks."

"Get your arms in the shirt. Come on," Jim urged gently.

"What about you?" Blair looked up at Jim, who was dressed in his jeans and a white t-shirt.

"I'm okay like this. I can grab my jacket when I get upstairs."

"Sleeves are kinda long," Blair commented, waving them like flippers at Jim.

"Picky little fashion critic, aren't you?" He rolled up one sleeve for Blair, and then the other, and finished buttoning the bottom half of the shirt Blair hadn't finished doing himself. "Did you have your glasses when you came in here?"

"Yeah. I think they fell off in the toilet."

"Which stall?"

"That one," Blair pointed to roughly the middle stall, and Jim ducked in and fished the glasses out of the toilet bowl. He washed them off with soap and water and after carefully drying them, gave them back to Blair. After Jim's solicitous attentions, his lover looked very close to normal, with the exception of the long shirt and rolled up sleeves.

"Come here." Jim held out his arms and Blair went into them gratefully, taking solace in the strong embrace. "I love you, sweetheart. I'm so sorry this happened. It won't happen again."

"I love you, mine. Even if you can't make promises like that."

"Yes, Blair, I can," Jim separated them and took Blair's face in his hands. "Because as soon as I book those bastards upstairs, I'm turning in my resignation."

"No! Jim, you love being a--"

"Shh." Jim pressed a hand over Blair's mouth and then moved it to quickly kiss his lips. "I love you. Being a cop is my job. I can get another job. But this department just became and unacceptable place to work."

"I don't want you to give up your whole career--"

"We'll talk about this at home. Right now, you need to come with me and make a statement so we can nail those turkeys."

"Jim, if I press charges, and you go after those guys to bring them down, you're choosing me over them--over all the guys you work with. You'll be ostracized, man."

"I'll be a former employee, sweetheart. They'll have to ostracize an empty desk. You and I will be somewhere else, living a halfway decent life together. Come on. First things first. You feel steady now?"

"As I'll ever feel, I guess."

"Okay." Jim took Blair's hand and led him out of the bathroom, surprising the other man by continuing to hold on as they made their way to the elevator. He didn't let go until they'd entered the bullpen and he'd deposited Blair at his desk and gone in search of the culprits. He found them, with Cameron, in Simon's office.

"...to lose three of my top men because they hassled Ellison's boyfriend!" The end of Cameron's angry statement hung in the air as Jim entered the room.

"Hassled? Hassled?" Jim ignored Simon's protest for him to calm down and have a seat. Instead, he paced over to where Cameron stood. The other man was in his mid-fifties, Jim's equal in height, though softer in physique, with receding gray hair. He was basically a tough old buzzard who'd done his time in the trenches and was now residing behind a desk, pushing paper and shooting off his mouth. Or at least that had always been Ellison's assessment of him. "Hassled is being called a few names. Hassled is maybe a few crude catcalls in the hallway. Hassled might even be construed to include getting pushed around a little. But the last time I looked, the definition wasn't broad enough to include trapping an unarmed civilian three on one in the john, holding a his head underwater in a toilet, threatening to force him to perform oral sex, then stripping him with the intention of burning him with a cigarette. Oh, and of course, using department-issued handcuffs to keep him restrained while all this is happening!" Jim spat out angrily, only inches from the other man's face.

"I wasn't aware it was that serious," Simon spoke up from behind them. "Stan, that's a felonious assault. I can't look the other way for that. Not to mention the fact that it was committed against a civilian. We can't even let this stay within IA."

"What is this? Is the whole Major Crimes Department controlled by Sandburg's ass?!" Cameron demanded. Jim took a deep breath and refused to take the bait. Cameron wanted to goad him into a free for all, and it wasn't going to happen. At least not here, and not on his terms.

"If you have an accusation to make," Simon began, the ominous anger in his voice building as he rose from his chair and leaned forward on his desk, "you better lay your cards on the table right now."

"I'm saying that we have three top notch veteran Vice cops here, and throwing their careers, and what good they can do for this city, down the toilet because they got a little carried away pushing some hippie faggot around in the john is nothing short of ludicrous, Banks!"

"And I'm saying it's a felony, and Major Crimes is behind the victim 100%, because this was a premeditated, unprovoked, detestable hate crime! We don't need men like that in this department!" Simon bellowed back at the other man, who seemed a little at a loss for how to respond to that.

"Look, it was a fucking joke that got a little out of hand," Walker spoke up. Until now, the three culprits had been smart enough to sit back and let the captains duke it out. "If we apologize to the kid, does that cover it?" His casual, smiling demeanor didn't faze Ellison, and it certainly didn't impress Banks. Even Cameron rolled his eyes slightly.

"Oh, that'll be just fine," Jim began sarcastically. "Gee, we're sorry we held your head under water until you damn near drowned. We're sorry we threatened to force you to perform oral sex on us. Gee, we're really gosh darn sorry we started stripping you with the intention of grinding a cigarette into your bare skin. We were just JOKING!" Jim concluded with a bellow. "These three idiots just attacked a civilian. Police brutality charges are hard enough to cope with in the press. But here's a completely innocent civilian who was not under arrest, not committing a crime, and with no criminal record--a police observer, for God's sake! The only reason that we're in here debating how this should be handled and not worrying about damage control with the press is because Sandburg has some misguided sense of loyalty to this department because of his observer status--he's come to view it as 'his' department, like I used to take pride in viewing it as my department. So he's not out on the front steps holding a press conference right now. But let me promise you this. It's going to be out of Blair's hands if these bastards walk away from this with a simple slap on the wrist. After I turn in my resignation, you'll see my face on every goddamned talk show who'll listen, and on the front of every newspaper who wants to print the story of how a brutal hate crime was condoned and covered up at the Cascade P.D. So whatever you two come up with," he gestured at Banks and Cameron, "bear that in mind. I'll be outside, waiting to book these S.O.B.'s when you're done giving them a tea party." Jim stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him.

Blair was still sitting at Jim's desk, sipping a cup of coffee Taggert had brought him. The larger man was seated next to Blair, talking to him, and Jim was relieved to see an occasional little smile from Blair. The observer had formed a good friendship with the captain of the Cascade P.D.'s Bomb Squad, and Taggert was hovering over Blair like a very large mother hen when Jim returned to his desk.

"You need to get him in to have those wrists taken care of," Taggert informed Jim, as if the other man had been remiss in properly caring for Blair's injuries. Blair's wrists were raw and bore one or two open gouges from the handcuffs. "If you've got paperwork, let me run him over to MediQuick and get these fixed up."

"That'd be great, Joel. I have to see what's happening with Curly, Larry and Moe in there before I go anywhere. We're going to have to do a statement, Chief. But Joel's right. You need to get those wrists taken care of, and I'd like to have a doctor look you over anyway. We'll need some type of medical report for the case."

"Jim, we don't have to press charges if it would be easier--"

"Shut up, Sandburg," Joel spoke up. "Come on. We'll get you patched up and then you'll come back and make your statement. Since we aren't legally able to kick those guys' asses around the parking lot, we need you to help us figuratively kick their miserable asses out of the PD." Joel put a hand on the back of Blair's neck and steered him out of the bullpen, grabbing his charge's coat off the rack and stopping to hold it for Blair while he slipped his arms in it. "We'll be back as quick as we can," Taggert tossed over his shoulder to Jim, who just waved the off with a smile. The friendly support of someone else in the department was good for Blair right now, even if Jim would have preferred to hover over his lover himself.

Moments later, Cameron and his three men exited the office with Simon hot on their heels. Jim was delighted when his captain gave the order for him to book them on the charges, and provide copies of the paperwork to IA. The two captains oversaw the process, lest there be any insinuation later that Ellison hadn't followed the proper procedures.

The three men were considerably less arrogant as they were led off to a holding cell pending the arrival of their attorneys. Jim was frankly a bit surprised that Cameron hadn't pushed to spare them that indignity. When Simon returned upstairs with a somewhat triumphant smile, he announced that the holding cell was his idea, and with the threat of the press hanging over them, Cameron had folded and agreed. Most importantly, when consulted by phone, the Chief agreed, stating that "We're in the middle of a potential media disaster. Let's have no rocks for the press to look under if this goes public."

"Jim, you aren't seriously considering resigning?" Simon asked quietly.

"Frankly, Simon, this is the last place I want to be right now."

"That's understandable. As soon as we have Blair's statement, you two can take off. He's pretty shaken up and your nerves are shot for the day."

"I mean that in a more long-term sense. I was willing to risk name-calling, harassment, even blatant ostracism to stay on the job and have my relationship with Blair. But I won't sacrifice Blair's safety. Which, of course, means either giving him up or giving the job up. Breaking up with Blair isn't an option."

"Given what's happened, I don't think--"

"Simon, come on, be realistic. Do you know how many guys would like to hang Sandburg out to dry? They've got some kind of twisted idea that he's this kinky sex machine that's managed to turn a straight cop gay--or a good cop bad, same thing to them--and they're all out to make him pay for that. These guys are just the first and the most aggressive. Once they're busted, how long will it be before some of their friends want revenge? And they'll be more subtle, sneakier." Jim shook his head. "No, Simon. This was a disaster today, in more ways than one."

"So you're going to let them win?"

"The only way they're going to win is if they either split up the relationship or seriously hurt Blair in some way. Those are the outcomes they're looking for. I'm not willing to risk his life or his safety for a principle." Jim leaned back in his chair. "I'll see this thing through with the case against Walker and company, but then I'm out of here."

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Jim. There's no way we're ever going to change anything if we don't push ahead. Man, that's been the case all through history with people who were the object of bigotry. If you make a little inroad, you gotta keep pushing it." Simon sat on the edge of Jim's desk, shaking his head slightly. "There's been an inroad made here, Jim. Even the Chief got behind prosecuting these guys."

"Because he was afraid of the press. Dammit, Simon, it wasn't because Blair was attacked, and it wasn't because they were infringing on our civil rights, it was because he didn't want the media to crucify him. Plain and simple."

"So that's a start, isn't it?"

"I've been doing some thinking. Maybe it's because I'm settling down into a relationship that's permanent, maybe I'm...I don't know, ready to be domestic. But I've been thinking a lot about making a change. Maybe buying a house, with some land, getting away from the danger and the risk. Maybe it never mattered to me before if I got a bullet in the head. It matters now because there's someone who depends on me, just like I depend on him. And my staying in this line of work is putting him on the line too."

"If the two of you hadn't been outed by accident, you wouldn't be resigning."

"No, you're right. But that doesn't mean it isn't a good decision. Sometimes things happen for a reason."

"You're really determined about this."

"I told Blair we'd talk about it at home later, but after today, I'm pretty much convinced."

"He isn't going to be happy knowing he caused you to quit."

"He will be if he knows it's what I want."

"Is it really?"

"I don't do this whole double life thing well, so it's just as well it was brought out in the open. But that's easy for me to say because I didn't spend the morning with my face in the toilet."

"Maybe the answer is for you to be a cop and let Blair go back to being an anthropologist. You're certainly life partners now, so it's not like your working partnership is all there is anymore."

"It's no less important to me than it was before. Maybe I'm just being selfish, wanting it all."

"I just think you should take time out to think it through. And I know you've got other things going on with Sandburg at the University. Any progress on that little dilemma?"

"Not really. I'm running checks on a few people," Jim responded, catching Simon's brief gesture of covering his ears. "And then there's the Volvo. I don't know if that came from here or Rainier."

"Why don't you take a vacation, Jim? Take the kid somewhere and get away from this. Talk it over--"

"We can't. They'll be hauling him up before a review board pretty soon at the U. Damn, this is so wrong. Blair gives his all to those students. He's going to be an amazing professor someday. It isn't fair for his reputation to be shot to hell by a lie."

"He wouldn't be the first." Simon stood up. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Thanks, Simon. Your support means a lot."

"Think this decision over carefully, Jim. There are a lot of people here who are on your side. Don't discount that."

"We won't," Jim responded, smiling slightly.

Blair was returned by Taggert, safe and sound, with white gauze-wrapped wrists, looking a little paler yet than he had when he left.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked as Blair handed the larger man his coat, which Jim hung on the rack for him.

"Joel took me into the coffee shop near the MediQuick and tried to get me to eat some toast and milk, to settle my stomach. Didn't work that way. We got a block down the road from the restaurant, and I left it by the curb, if you know what I mean."

"What did the doctor have to say?" Jim pulled out a chair for Blair and then sat down close to him, draping an arm on the back of it.

"He said I was okay, that I was probably just throwing up because of nerves. He did ask for a sample of the water to run through the lab. He wanted to know what kind of cleaning chemicals are used in the toilets here in case the vomiting was a reaction to something I took in. He said even if that was the case, unless my symptoms got worse or more developed, I should be okay. He thinks my stomach should be better by tonight, and if I'm still throwing up then, I should go to the emergency room."

"We'll get him the sample right away. How about that blow you took to your stomach? Does that have anything to do with it?"

"It just makes it hurt when I throw up, but he said he didn't feel any signs of bleeding or serious damage. He did say we'd just have to wait and see if I have any ill effects from any bacteria I might have taken in."

"How're you feeling now, sweetheart?" Jim laid a hand lightly on Blair's stomach. "This guy settling down a little?"

"A little. Think I'll wait on the food a while longer."

"Tell you what. Let's get this statement over with, and I'll take you home. Simon gave me the rest of the day off so we could get our heads together."

"Sounds good." Blair smiled a little.

"How about a nice hot bath and a shampoo?"

"And then we can cuddle on the couch a while?" Blair whispered the question.

"Long as you want."

"I think we should get this show on the road then," Blair responded, grinning.

Blair gave his statement with Simon and a stenographer present. While Jim asked the actual questions and set the pace of the interview, Simon wanted to be sure there were no questions raised as to the appropriateness of Jim taking a statement from his lover.

Walker, Hooper and Patterson's attorneys arrived while Blair was giving his statement. The three men would be arraigned on the charges late that afternoon. It was almost a sure thing they would be released on bond pending the trial, and Jim acknowledged there was a very real possibility they wouldn't actually end up doing time. Blair wasn't seriously injured, and none of the men had prior records. They did, however, have a few police brutality incidents in their histories, and that would be the angle the D.A. would use--that they engaged in a pattern of violent behavior that was now expanding to include innocent civilians not even accused of crimes.

The ride back to the loft was fairly silent. Blair's stomach had settled for the moment, and neither man really knew what to say about all that had happened. It was unspoken between them that there were many significant decision to be made, and Blair still faced the issue of Nicole Pierce's inexplicable accusation.

When they arrived home, Jim closed and locked the door behind them, hung up their coats, and led Blair into the bathroom.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through this, sweetheart," Jim murmured against Blair's ear. "I love you." He kissed the ear he'd whispered into and then moved away to start the water in the bathtub.

"You gonna join me?" Blair asked, smiling.

"If you want."

"I want," Blair replied, unbuttoning his shirt as Jim rose from his task of adjusting the water temperature. "Jim, I don't know if...I don't really feel like...doing anything right now. If that's okay."

"Of course it's okay, baby. I was just planning on us getting close and relaxing a little. Are you sure they didn't touch you?" Jim caught Blair's face in both hands and raised it gently so their eyes met.

"Just a little while they were undressing me. They didn't have time to...I guess it's just that I know they were going to force me to suck them off...I just feel sort of...crawly."

"Understandable, sweetheart."

When both men had dispensed with their clothing, Jim settled in the tub first and then waited for his partner to sit in front of him, resting against his back. He planned to wash Blair's hair, but for now, he let the other man rest. He wrapped his arms around his lover's chest and stomach, careful not to put any pressure on Blair's tender spot.

"It's okay to doze a little if you want to, love. I won't let you slip." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder and leaned back himself, enjoying the warmth of the water, but most of all, the warmth of the body resting on top of his.

"Water smells good. Something new," Blair said softly, shifting a little and making himself comfortable to rest there.

"It's called green tea something. I'm not sure. Green tea therapy, maybe. I found it at the store the other day. Reminded me of you. So I got everything. The shampoo, the bath oil, the lotion..."

"You don't do things halfway, do you, mine?" Blair rested his hand over Jim's.

"Nope. All or nothing."

"Yeah? Well, just having you's having it all, so I want for nothing," Blair said, picking up Jim's hand and kissing it.

"I never knew loving someone could be so intense it hurt. I know now."

"I wish it didn't have to be so hard with everybody coming down on us all the time. I don't like making you choose between me and what you love to do."

"You aren't making me choose, sweetheart. You were ready to back down and not press charges, God love you, just to make my life easier. Any choice I've made is a free one, and I'm happy with it."

"I don't want you to quit your job, Jim. I'm okay. The guys who did it are getting nailed, and we've got a lot of good friends at the department. Sure, there are some assholes, but we're going to face that anywhere. Even at the U...God, I was so sure that all of my friends and colleagues--because they're all so damned educated and socially aware--were going to accept my lifestyle choice as just that and not treat me differently. I figured it would be your friends that would be the problem."

"Tillman didn't shove your head in a toilet."

"Yeah? Well, given a choice, I think I'd rather he did. Besides, Tillman just has a bad attitude. He didn't accuse me of anything. Nicole did."

"Maybe he put her up to it."

"I hate to think that."

"I hate to think that three Vice cops would assault a police observer in the john because of his sexual preference, but that doesn't make it less of a reality."

"It makes sense, I guess." Blair finally picked up the bath sponge, and Jim straightened, taking it away from him.

"I want to bathe you--if that's okay."

"More than okay. I like it when you take care of me." Blair smiled over his shoulder, and Jim tried to remember their agreement not to do anything but be close. He supposed there was nothing really wrong with looking forward to washing Blair's sexy little behind, as long as he didn't do anything his lover was uncomfortable with.

Jim behaved himself admirably, bathing his lover like he was a treasure made of spun crystal, and gently shampooing the long curls with the new shampoo. It definitely smelled much better on Blair that it did in the bottle.

Blair took his turn bathing Jim, and the larger man simply closed his eyes and relaxed under the sensations. While a part of him was aroused, another part was enjoying the gentle pampering as an end in itself. Just sharing the gentle intimacy of bathing each other and pressing bare skin to bare skin was feeding both men the strength they needed to go on and face the problems that lay ahead.

Bundled up in bulky bath robes, they moved out to the kitchen where they made tea and took the steaming mugs into the living room. Jim started up a fire in the fireplace and then returned to the couch, gathering Blair close and bringing the throw over them both.

"Here, sweetheart, take a sip or two of this." Jim put the mug in Blair's hands and encouraged him to drink a little. "How's the tummy, huh?" He kissed Blair's temple.

"Still feels a little raw, but better." Blair sipped a little tea.

"Figured I'd give you a massage later. Maybe that'll help you relax."

"Sounds good. Right now, I just wanna be close to you."

"Me too, Chief." Jim took the mug back from Blair and set it aside. "I want you to put out of your mind anything those sick bastards said to you."

"I know there were just spouting off."

"Good."

"Those guys used to work with you, respect you. God, I feel so horrible about messing that up."

"You didn't mess it up. They did. Got it?"

"I got it."

"Good."

"If you quit the force, what would you do?"

"Stay home and be your love slave," he responded, nibbling a nearby earlobe.

"Jim!" Blair had to laugh in spite of being irked at his question getting sloughed off.

"I have enough work experience, along with my degree...I'll figure something out."

"If they toss me out at Rainier, I don't know what I'm going to do. With that kind of a reputation, I won't be able to get much of a job in my field. We could end up collecting welfare, man."

"We'll be okay, Chief. Don't worry about that."

"I am worried about it, Jim. You can't just quit your job and then I'll end up out on my ass at Rainier and we won't have anything to get by on."

"First of all, the fat lady hasn't sung yet. It's not over. You might not have any problems at Rainier. We just have to try to get our attention focused back on coping with that situation. Secondly, I have some savings and investments. We aren't going to starve or be on the streets if we're out of work for a little while. Finally, I don't care if we end up living in subsidized housing where I have to use my gun on the cockroaches as long as we're together. But it isn't going to come to that."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Trust me, sweetheart. Let me worry about that part of things, okay? You've got enough on your plate."

"We both do."

"I want to investigate Tillman. I don't trust that he hasn't figured a way to get rid of a thorn in his side. You and I both know you never touched Nicole Pierce inappropriately."

"Could we just forget all of it for a while?" Blair's head drooped tiredly against Jim's chest. "Just for a couple hours."

"Sure thing, baby." Jim squeezed Blair tightly a moment and then relaxed his grip to a firm embrace, keeping the smaller man tucked cozily in the folds of the throw and against the warmth of his own body.

"I love you, mine." Blair's voice was heavy with fatigue, and Jim knew he was on the edge of sleep.

"I love you too, sweetheart. With all my heart."

Blair stirred and as he started to crawl out of the grip of sleep, he could hear soft music playing. Before he opened his eyes, soft lips kissed each lid, and then dropped down to claim his mouth. He opened his eyes to see Jim crouched there by the couch, still in his robe.

"How long did I sleep?"

"Just a couple hours. You needed it." Jim smiled and stroked the tousled curls that caressed Blair's cheek and spilled over his shoulder as he lay on the couch.

"Wow, candles," Blair commented, grinning as he surveyed the candlelit loft.

"Dance with me?" Jim straightened and held out both hands. Blair smiled broadly and slid out from under the throw and into the warmth of Jim's arms. The words of the song on the stereo wafted softly around them:

//These eyes will worship and adore you,
These hands will love you everyday,
Darlin', the only guarantee I can make,
These arms won't let your heart break...//

In the flickering candle light, holding each other and swaying to the soft music, neither man could picture any problem being so insurmountable that it couldn't be conquered together.

Predictably, the three men who had attacked Blair were released on very moderate bond pending trial. They had been suspended from the department without pay. The press got a hold of the story, and before long, every newspaper was chewing on the story of the three veteran cops who were facing felony charges for assaulting a police observer in a men's room at police headquarters. The only thing saving the reputation of the Cascade P.D. was the hard-nosed, by-the-book way the offenders had been dealt with. The Chief of Police was now able to stand amidst the reporters who stalked him for quotes and announce that these charges were most serious, and the accused men were being subjected to due process like any other citizens accused of crimes.

The issue of Blair and Jim being lovers hadn't entered into it yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone helpfully provided the press with that tidbit.

Jim ran background checks on Nicole Pierce, her boyfriend, Dr. Tillman and a couple other students Blair thought of who might possibly have grudges against him. So far, they were coming up empty. Tillman contacted Blair to inform him that his hearing would take place on Friday morning of that week, just two days away.

On Thursday, Julie arrived for her hours working with Blair, grinning widely as she handed him a piece of paper. He was sitting at his desk, trying to keep his mind on a stack of essay exams that didn't really register when the energetic young woman triumphantly plunked a stack of paper in front of him.

"Pam Patterson."

"What?" Blair started flipping through the pages. They were copies of the Admissions Office's complete file on one Pamela Jane Patterson.

"That's the Pam that lives with Nicole."

"How did you--?"

"I never reveal my sources."

"Missy in the Admissions Office?"

"You're no fun. You already know everybody."

"Yeah, but not well enough to get this out of her." Blair didn't mention Scott, his spy in the Student Services Office. "Do you know anything about her?" Blair tried to keep the shock from registering on his face when he saw Pam's father's name: Randall Patterson. His occupation was listed as "Detective, Cascade Police Department".

"I see you spotted who her dad is. Funny he's one of the jerks in the paper for pushing you around."

"You read about that, huh?"

"Blair, I'd have to have lived under a rock or been in Europe for the last two days not to have spotted something about that situation. Even with your name not released, it didn't take an Einstein to figure it out. At least, not when I knew you were already having problems."

"So if Nicole Pierce is roommates, and presumably friends, with Pam Patterson, it would be a perfect set up for Patterson's old man to get at me through the back door. Damn!" Blair slammed his fist on the desk.

"I thought you'd be glad we had a lead."

"I'm delighted we have a lead. But this by itself doesn't prove anything, and if Nicole holds up her part of the deal, I'm still screwed."

"Yeah, well, that's if Nicole holds up her part of the deal." Julie finally tossed her book bag and purse on the floor and sat on the corner of Blair's desk, skillfully placing her rear in the tiny spot not littered with some form of paper or book. "How long do you think it would take for Tillman to have her for breakfast?"

"Tillman hates me. Why would he pressure her?"

"What about Dean Ryman? She likes you."

"She'll send me back to Tillman, since he's the Department Chair. After what he said about Jim and me--"

"Which was what?"

"He made some remark about us 'necking' in the parking lot."

"Oh my God, were you really?" Julie smiled widely as if she thought that would be the most wildly romantic and decadent thing she could envision.

"Not hardly. Jim kissed me good bye when he dropped me off. Simple, quick, relatively dry little kiss. No tongue."

"Then he's already biased against you. If you explain that t Dean Ryman, maybe she'll nail Nicole for you."

"I don't know, Julie."

"Blair, you have to put some pressure on this bitch before she gets you fired." Julie shook her head, then picked up the copies. "If you won't go to Dean Ryman, I will. I swear to God. This whole situation stinks like a week-old tuna sandwich, and you know it." She plunked the papers back down for emphasis and then stood up. "You've got to fight this with everything you've got. Personally, I think Dr. Tillman will be on your side against Nicole if she's a fraud, because she's using him and the whole faculty review board to harass you--probably for personal gain. I imagine Pam's screwball father is probably paying her a nice little lump of money to do this. Or he's letting her off a drug charge. Nicole's parties are rarely drug-free, from what I've seen and heard." She sighed in exasperation. "What's wrong with you anyway?"

"I'm fucking up Jim's whole life. It doesn't seem right for me to fix this all up just right for myself and go on like nothing ever happened while he loses the respect of 75% of the people he works with."

"So does that mean that Jim wants you to suffer just because things are getting hot for him? Somehow I don't picture that."

"No, of course he doesn't. But I don't feel right to have everything work out for me while everything is so...shitty for him."

"Maybe if things are straightened out here, he can get his mind back on straightening out his mess. Did that ever occur to you? He's spending half his time trying to figure out what's going on with you, and that's distracting him from his job and from getting his own problems taken care of."

"I guess that's possible."

"So who are you going to see--Tillman or Ryman?"

"Ryman. Tillman's going to want to know where I got the information on Pam's parentage. Dean Ryman will let me plead the Fifth," Blair concluded, sliding his chair back and jumping up to get his jacket for the walk to the Student Services Building. "Want to go along for moral support?"

"Sure. I'll walk over there, and then I can wait for you in the Commons."

"Great." Blair grinned and held the door as Julie passed through it. For the first time in days, he felt marginally cheerful and somewhat hopeful that maybe the screwed up mess that was passing for his life could get straightened out.

Charlotte Ryman was a tall, statuesque woman in her late fifties. Her imposing demeanor and tailored business suits, upswept graying hair and commanding presence masked a very kind and sympathetic disposition. She had the ability to verbally shred a deviant student worthy of such a tongue-lashing, but also to sympathetically listen to the problems of a student who was troubled by emotional or academic turmoil.

Blair generally brought out the best in her, though during his early years at Rainier when he'd still had a little growing up to do, he'd had occasion to see her wrath unleashed. It was not a pretty sight.

Kelsey, Dean Ryman's secretary, invited him to have a seat while she called in on the intercom to let her boss know that Blair was there and would like to see her.

"She'll be with you in a few minutes, Blair," Kelsey informed him before going back to her typing.

"Thanks, Kelsey." Blair slumped back in the chair and tried to figure out what he was going to say first, and what he really wanted Charlotte to do. His thoughts were interrupted by the woman herself.

"Blair, come in," she invited from the doorway of her office. Blair rose and entered the room while she closed the door behind him. "Have a seat." She indicated a chair, and took a seat herself on the end of the nearby couch in the informal seating area distanced a bit from her rather imposing desk and wingback desk chair.

"I'm sorry to just drop in like this, but I've got a real problem."

"I've heard. Nicole Pierce has made some serious charges against you. Under the circumstances, I approved her dropping your class."

"They're phony. I need your help to prove that, though," Blair shot back, his nervousness sending out the sentences almost together in one breath.

"Why don't you calm down and start at the beginning? Would you like some coffee? It's decaffeinated," she quipped. Blair had to laugh a little.

"No, thanks." He took a deep breath. "If you've heard about Nicole, you've probably heard that I'm involved in a relationship...a relationship with another man."

"I've heard a few rumors. Are you happy?"

"Oh, yeah," Blair responded, suddenly fearful his face might split with the sappy grin that decorated it.

"Then I'm glad for you." She smiled warmly. "But I also know that can still cause some difficulties."

"Yeah, it causes some big ones. See, Jim--my partner--is a detective, and same sex relationships aren't exactly condoned in police departments. So we've both gotten our share of harassment. You know that case pending against the police detectives right now for assaulting an observer in a restroom?"

"I read about that."

"Well, I was the observer. And they went after me because of my relationship with Jim."

"I hope you weren't seriously hurt--well, obviously you weren't, since you're here."

"No, fortunately, I wasn't. But where this is significant is that one of the detectives who attacked me is Randall Patterson. His daughter is Pamela Patterson, a student here. Pamela Patterson is roommates with one Nicole Pierce."

"And suddenly it becomes clear why a student who holds no other viable grudges against you decides to target you for false sexual harassment charges," Charlotte concluded, nodding.

"You checked out Nicole?"

"I looked over her academic and incident report records. While there's nothing exemplary, she hasn't been here long enough, nor taken any prior classes from you, to form a grudge. Is she passing your current class?"

"Yes, she's pulling about a B-minus right now."

"What is it you think is happening here?"

"Another student has told me that Nicole quite frequently has certain...controlled substances at her parties."

"There's an interesting piece of news," Charlotte commented, raising her eyebrows a little.

"Well, I'm thinking that Pam's dad is either getting her off the hook for something or is paying her, or both."

"It would be helpful to know which, if we're going to break Nicole." Charlotte concentrated a moment. "Perhaps Nicole isn't the one we should target. Pamela might be susceptible to a little pressure, and if we can get her to level with us, chances are good that she'll know if Nicole is getting money or legal help from Detective Patterson."

"Do you really think Pam would squeal on her father?"

"I'm not sure. I have to give this some serious thought. I've met Nicole, since she was on probation for a while regarding a drunk and disorderly party she hosted a while back. She isn't the strongest personality I've ever encountered. I don't recall meeting Pamela. I'll look over her records and see what I can come up with."

"I suppose we could confront the father."

"Well, he's smart enough to know that we need proof. But perhaps if we scared it out of Nicole, and she admitted to Pamela's involvement, and then we throw it at the father, telling him that his little girl's head is on the chopping block for being involved in bringing false charges against an instructor... If he cares anything about her at all, he might admit to being behind it just to get her out of hot water."

"You mean you'd offer that deal--if he talked, you wouldn't punish Pamela?"

"I would tell him that I could forgive a daughter being blinded by her devotion to her father and becoming involved in something dishonest. However, if he refuses to take responsibility, we have sufficient evidence to dismiss Pamela from Rainier for conduct that is not only unacceptable under every code of conduct we've ever maintained, but is also bordering on criminal."

"Wow. That might actually work."

"If he's any kind of father at all, it will."

"Forgive me if I don't have a lot of faith in his decency as a human being."

"Everyone has his Achilles heel. We just have to hope that Pamela is his." Charlotte sighed. "How are you holding up through all this?"

"Okay, I guess. Don't have much choice," Blair shrugged.

"None of us do, really. Life throws things at us, and it's up to us to handle them." Something that might have been called "maternal" passed over Charlotte's features briefly. For all his education and his status as a teaching fellow, Blair was still a student himself, and a student with serious problems. From her early days as a counselor until her present job as Dean of Students, she had spent a whole career listening to, and trying to console and assist troubled students. "If you need to talk, I hope you'll feel free to stop by the office. That's why I'm here--to help students--part of the title and everything," she concluded, smiling slightly.

"Thanks," Blair replied quietly, not sure why he felt his throat closing a little. Maybe for that moment he missed his own mother, or maybe it was just the feeling of having someone in a high place at Rainier on his side that gave him a rush of relief that was almost pungent.

"For all our progress, this society still holds a lot of cruel prejudices. I know it isn't easy trying to run against the wind, so to speak. Tires one out very quickly."

"I just...I just wish people didn't make an issue out of it. It shouldn't matter. I don't write or lecture or study or grade differently now than I did before Jim and I...got involved. He isn't any less efficient in his job than he was before."

"Bigotry is rarely based on sound statistical and performance data, Blair. You know that as well as I do."

"Yeah, I do." He smiled slightly. "Thanks a lot for your help, Charlotte."

"Don't mention it. I want this situation to be resolved justly. The hearing is set for day after tomorrow, right?"

"Right."

"I'll get to the bottom of this situation with Pam and Nicole by then."

"Thanks again," Blair repeated, following her lead as she stood.

"Let me know if you come up with any new information that could speed things along."

"I will." Blair was still smiling slightly as he left the Dean's office, and when Julie spotted him walking briskly across the commons, she brightened immediately.

"Man, you look like a different person."

"Sounds like Dean Ryman's going to give me a hand with this mess."

"She'll get to the bottom of it. I know a few people who've had to go one on one with her, and she generally wins."

"Tell me about it," Blair rolled his eyes.

"What'd you do?" Julie demanded immediately as they made their way across the campus.

"Oh, man, if you think I'm telling you that...!" Blair laughed and shook his head. With Julie continuously prodding him, the freezing air biting into his skin and a smile on his face, Blair felt "normal" for the first time in days.

Continued in part three.