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

Continued from part two.

Blair parked the rental car Jim had presented him with that morning in the garage beneath headquarters. He figured it was only fair to share the good news with Jim, since his lover had been almost more stressed out over Blair's career than Blair himself had been.

He started away from the car when he found himself surrounded by three plainclothes cops. Knowing they were there to harass him just by their demeanor, he let his irritation with the situation come through loud and clear.

"What is it? Do all of you Neanderthals travel in packs or what?" He started to push past them but the one closest to him pushed him back against the car.

"You're not testifying against Walker, Hooper and Patterson," he informed Blair in a cloud of breath that included tobacco and some sort of greasy Mexican food.

"The hell I'm not. Now get out of my way."

"When we've reached an understanding." He pushed Blair back against the car again and leaned on it with an arm extended on either side of Blair's shoulders. He was older by a few years, and roughly the same height as Jim. His other two friends weren't quite as tall, and both looked like they spent most of their time doing paperwork and eating donuts.

"Understand this," Blair retorted, bringing his knee up full force into the man's groin. As he doubled over with pain, Blair swung his right fist with all his strength into the jaw that was lowered to just the right level. Once that blow had turned the stunned man slightly, he clasped both hands together and slammed them into the back of his attacker's head, sending him sprawling on the cement. The other two looked at each other, and then back and Blair, and then to their fallen comrade, who was groaning a little but stunned sufficiently not to move. "You want some?" Blair demanded of them. He was angry enough at that moment to wrestle a grizzly bear, and energized by his success thus far, figured he could take on at least one of the other men who had confronted him. One of the other two turned and walked away, and the other spat out a warning as he helped his reeling friend straighten up and stagger away.

"You'll pay for this, Sandburg!"

"Stay out of my face. And you can cram your fucking threats. I'm not interested." Blair pushed past the men easily and strode purposefully toward the entrance to the building. He was wondering when one of them would get his second wind and pounce on him and beat the living shit out of him.

He was shocked to run into Jim about twenty yards away. The larger man was grinning broadly.

"How long have you been here?" Blair asked, still rubbing the knuckles on his right hand.

"I think I came along right about the time you said 'understand this'. It was pretty apparent you had the situation under control." Jim snickered a little. "I think you just established yourself as nobody's doormat, Chief." Jim flopped an arm over Blair's shoulders and Blair's arm came up around Jim's waist.

"So I did okay, huh?"

"Well, I guess my days of rescuing you are over."

"Uh, well, the thing is, Jim--there's such a thing as a lucky shot, man. Don't hang up your cape just yet."

"How about we still watch each other's backs, huh?"

"Sounds good," Blair replied, grinning. "I love watching your back." He cleared his throat.

"Maybe you could teach me a few moves sometimes, huh?" Jim playfully tapped Blair's jaw with his fist.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Blair shot back arrogantly.

"You'll pay for that one later, baby," Jim warned, swatting Blair's rear end before they were in view of the other cops.

"Promises, promises," Blair sighed, leading the way back to Jim's desk.

"So what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to work at the U and then go home and do some writing." Jim settled in his chair next to Blair and passed his coffee over to the other man. Blair gulped a couple swallows of the warm liquid and sighed as he felt his wind-nipped body thawing out a little.

"It's cold out there, man."

"Good night for going to bed early," Jim whispered in Blair's ear as he reached past him to grab a file folder.

"Want me to go downstairs and call you from the car so we can talk dirty?" Blair whispered back.

"No. I want to finish this crap up so we can go home and play dirty."

"Even better. I've got some good news." Blair proceeded to explain his progress at the University with Dean Ryman and her promise to follow up on nailing Patterson's daughter.

"Should we be handling this instead of her?"

"No way, man. He'll clam up and hide behind his lawyer if we try to asked him. If the Dean goes after Pam, either she'll snap or her old man will because he'll want to save his little girl from getting tossed out."

"And we don't have any real proof that Nicole Pierce's charges stem from her connection to the Pattersons, so this probably is the best way."

"Don't worry about Dean Ryman. She'll have Patterson himself begging for mercy when she's done."

"Sounds like the voice of experience." Jim chuckled a little.

"I rattled her cage a couple times when I first started there. Not a good idea, man." Blair shook his head, grinning.

"Oh, man!" Jim let out in a gasp as Blair's hot lips worked their way down his spine as he lay on his stomach on the big bed. Blair definitely didn't have the patience to stick to giving a massage for very long, and the book lay forgotten on the other side of the bed.

Jim, for his part, was delighting in the dual sensations of rubbing his aching arousal against the bed while his back was treated to an expert Sandburg tongue-bath.

Now that devilish tongue was swirling around his tailbone, as if to tease him with the question of whether or not it would go lower. Jim had no interest in playing any games. If Blair was waiting for him to shamelessly spread his legs in invitation, he wasn't disappointed.

Purposely bypassing the seam of his lover's buttocks, Blair grinned against the soft flesh of Jim's left cheek as started kissing, licking and nibbling his way over it. Jim was always willing to play fair, and give Blair his turn to top, but he had never actually been thrilled to be in that role. Despite the fact he had always climaxed while Blair was inside of him, the penetration was usually painful and the discomfort after the fact seemed to outweigh the enjoyment of the moment. Blair was certainly perceptive enough to pick up on all that, and therefore had quit asking to be the aggressor. It was getting easier for Blair to accept Jim that way, and to enjoy it, so he saw little point in torturing his lover with an act that made him uncomfortable.

Now, it seemed, the big man was purring and moaning and making no move to reverse their foreplay to put himself in the dominant role. He was relaxed and aroused all at the same time, and seemed perfectly content to let Blair take the lead.

Convinced the left cheek had no virgin territory not marked by his mouth, Blair moved to its mate, tasting every inch with lips and tongue.

Without warning, he parted the globes and aimed his tongue at the little pucker hidden there, sending a jolt of surprise and pleasure through his partner that translated into a loud, if not articulate, vocalization.

Blair settled in and took his time, alternating dragging his tongue in long laps over Jim's center to darting in and out in little staccato thrusts.

"Where'd you...learn...to do...that?" Jim gasped.

"Always the detective," Blair chided, returning to use his tongue to begin a preliminary stretching of the tight ring of muscle that was always their worst enemy.

"I want you in there, baby. Soon."

"Me too, mine, me too," Blair sighed against Jim's lower back. Dropping a little kiss on Jim's tailbone, Blair reached under the pillow and snagged the lube. "Relax, lover. We've got all night," Blair whispered in Jim's ear before returning to his place between the strong legs spread open on the bed.

"Speak for yourself," Jim ground out, thrusting against the mattress.

"Just relax, take it easy, lover." Blair coated his finger with the gel and carefully inserted just the tip, starting a deliberately slow process of preparing his partner. He let his free hand caress the smooth spine lovingly. Jim seemed to be relaxing and opening for him much more easily and quickly than ever before. Blair smiled lovingly as he finally eased a third finger very gently past the barrier long minutes later. //Guess I found the secret weapon,// he thought. His tongue had not only driven Jim wild with desire, but it had worked some miracle that made him want a more significant penetration.

"Sandburg, I'm dying here...come on, baby, do it now!"

"Hang on, lover. I'm on my way." Blair slowly withdrew his fingers, spread a liberal amount of the lubricant on his own straining arousal, and lined it up with Jim's center. "Lift up a little, so I can slide a couple pillows under you, okay, love?" Blair moved quickly to get the soft support under Jim as he raised himself up. "Slow and easy, just relax. I love you, mine," Blair murmured as he slipped the head past the initial resistance, which submitted to his gentle pressure almost willingly.

Blair gripped the sheet on either side of Jim with white-knuckled fists. He would not thrust hard into Jim under any circumstances, but he thought the pressure of that tight passage on his throbbing member was going to kill him if he couldn't be sheathed soon. //So die, then, Sandburg, because you're not hurting him for anything,// his inner voice responded.

"Relax, mine, it's coming--"

"So's Christmas..." Jim ground out. "Come on, man, do it!" Blair was startled by the command, and his overloaded body couldn't say no to it any longer. He slid into Jim in one smooth thrust, still careful to keep it slow and steady, not fast and sharp. There was a grunt from below him, which he wasn't sure should be classified as relief or discomfort.

"How are you, lover?" Blair gasped. //I'm going to die right here on your back, so answer me soon...//

"Move, baby, give it to me!" Jim thrust his buttocks back against Blair, momentarily shocking him, but overloading his system at the same time with the electric jolt of movement.

Blair slowly pulled back and then slid back to the hilt again. At Jim's pleasured moans and answering undulation, he repeated the motion over and over again, letting Jim meet each one of his thrusts in a sort of dance that still allowed the larger man some control over what was happening to his body.

"Oh, God...Blair...baby...oh, man!" That was Jim's last articulate sentence before he simply gave in to joining Blair's little symphony of moans and grunts. Jim let out a wail of Blair's name, and as he came, the spasms of his body drove Blair over the edge. Screaming Jim's name louder than Jim could remember hearing it before, Blair filled his lover with his seed, then collapsed, shuddering, on Jim's sweat-sheened back.

"I love you, mine," Blair finally whispered against Jim's back, then kissed the soft skin under his lips.

"Love you too, sweetheart. Stay where you are a minute, huh?" Jim whispered, finally understanding why Blair had been so reluctant to let him go the last time. This was the first time Jim could honestly say to himself that he had thoroughly enjoyed their union when he was on the receiving side. It was a stirring moment, and one he wanted to draw out as long as possible.

"It'll be easier in a minute or so anyway," Blair responded softly, stroking Jim's shoulder with a gentle hand. "God, I love you so much."

"That was amazing," Jim sighed contentedly.

"Best ever, lover." Blair slowly began easing out of Jim, and then slid off the larger man's back so he could turn on his side. The pillows that had been under him were cast aside, and Blair gathered him close so Jim's head rested on his shoulder, in a reversal of their usual positions. Content with that arrangement, Jim relaxed in the embrace and let Blair stroke and cuddle and fuss over him the way he usually did over Blair after they made love.

"Are you okay, mine?" Blair asked softly, stroking Jim's hair lightly.

"Better than okay," he sighed in response. "It was perfect."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Nope," Jim said through a smile, closing his eyes and feeling himself drifting peacefully toward sleep. Blair's heart was thudding its usual lullaby, and Jim was nearly a goner when Blair spoke the final time.

"Tonight was magical, man. Pure magic."

"What do you think we were doing wrong?" Blair asked as he spread what he considered too much cream cheese on a bagel and passed it to Jim. The other man eyed it with great desire and then took a large bite out of it. Blair had escaped to the kitchen to get food, and now they were eating a midnight snack in bed with the light of a small candle and the late autumn moon. Having pulled on their robes and climbed back into bed, snuggling together comfortably under the heavy quilt, bagels and cream cheese were being consumed greedily.

"You mean before? Because we did nothing wrong tonight." Jim took another bite of his bagel.

"I think we were planning it too hard. You know, 'It's Friday night, so that means we do it all the way'. I think we were too regimented, and it built up our expectations too much."

"And the anxiety level. I mean," Jim attempted through a prodigious mouthful, "if you're approaching it with the attitude that you have to do it at a certain time, you get all tensed up. At least I did," he commented candidly. Blair nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it was kind of like, 'Oh, Friday night, brace yourself'." Blair chuckled a little. "And then we had our unwritten scorecard about whose turn it was to do what. Can we toss that concept? I don't have any hang-ups about which one of us topped last. I don't care, as long as we're making love together and enjoying ourselves. I felt like tonight was the first time you really wanted me to top. Not because it was my turn or you thought you should let me--because you wanted me to."

"I guess it was. Maybe that's why I enjoyed myself. I was in the mood for it."

"I don't want you to ever do anything just because it's my turn. Well, letting me pick which movie we watch when it's my turn is still nice, but I mean with sex."

"Damn. Almost saw myself escaping that foreign film series at the U."

"You're going to like those movies. Especially the original French movie version of 'Somersby'--'The Return of Martin Guerre'. The French original is way better than the Hollywood version."

"It is, huh?" Jim had abandoned the bagel and taken a more active interest in Blair's earlobe.

"Jim! Like I don't feed you enough. Here." He handed Jim another prepared piece of bagel.

"I thought you liked me nibbling your ear."

"My ear, my rear, whatever. Just not while I'm eating."

"Time to refill the tank, huh?"

"Yeah. Man, I think I used up about three times' worth on that one."

"About the foreign movies--I was only kidding, baby. I want to see every last one with you. I love you."

"I love you too. That's why we'll see half the series--every other week. The in between weeks, we'll go see something current--deal?"

"Deal." Jim smiled and pulled Blair into his arms, letting the food fall where it would.

"Jim, you're dropping food, man."

"So we'll get roaches. I just want to hold you and I'm sick of sharing you with a bag of bagels."

"That guy who came after me in the garage tonight...who was he?"

"Ed Miller--he and Patterson saw us kissing, remember?"

"Oh. I didn't remember him when I saw him tonight. Man, he's gonna kill me next time he sees me."

"You took care of yourself just fine tonight, sweetheart. He probably won't mess with you again."

"No, he'll come back with a half dozen friends, probably."

"We'll worry about him later. Got a surprise for you. Ryf's uncle called. He said your car'd be done by Saturday."

"What?!" Blair shot up into a sitting position.

"He said he'd have it as good as new by Saturday," Jim repeated, grinning as he thought about the subterfuge that had brought it about. The gouges had been too deep, so Jim had asked Ryf's uncle if he could come up with scrap parts and essentially rebuild the body with a replacement hood, trunk, and doors. The man had scoured the state, and come up with the parts. Jim had already paid him for the work.

"I don't believe it. I thought it was toast, man."

"Miracles happen, I guess." Jim kissed Blair's forehead and snaked his hand inside the other man's robe, finding his lax but quickly responsive penis.

"Jim, what're you...ooohhh, whatever it is? Keep doin' it," Blair groaned, arching into the stimulation.

Six a.m. was very unwelcome when it arrived.

Blair spent most of the morning grading the last of his mid-term exams. There were a few snow flurries wafting in the air outside, and more than once, his mind wandered back to the previous night. Being inside Jim had been a phenomenal experience. The first time Blair had really enjoyed it thoroughly as well. Knowing Jim was enduring it or was in pain or at best discomfort, had kept Blair from really loving it either. Last night was pure magic...

"Sandburg." A male voice from his open door caught his attention. He started a little and turned away from the window. Dr. Tillman was approaching his desk.

"Dr. Tillman," Blair acknowledged coolly but politely.

"May I sit down?" he asked, indicating the only clear chair near the desk.

"Of course." Blair turned sideways in his own chair to face the man.

"I received a telephone call from Dean Ryman this morning. It seems that Nicole Pierce has recanted her charges against you."

"That's wonderful--but why?" Blair played his part to the end, not letting on that he knew anything about the plot the Dean had been working on in his behalf. He was, however, overjoyed that it worked. There were no guarantees when it all started that it would.

"It seems that Ms. Pierce was acting on behalf of a friend, who encouraged her to make the charges."

"Why?"

"Her friend's father is a detective in the same department as your...friend, Ellison. Apparently, it was a more covert form of harassment. His daughter made arrangements with Nicole to make the false claim. Ms. Pierce said that Ms. Patterson--the young lady whose father was behind this--said her father was hopeful that you would leave town if there was a sufficient scandal."

"What made Nicole admit she was lying, I wonder?"

"Dean Ryman asked her to come in and explain the situation again. Apparently something about the girl's story didn't ring true to Charlotte, and she wanted to take another look at it." Tillman shifted nervously in his chair. "Obviously, there won't be a need for a hearing tomorrow."

"That's great news," Blair responded, genuinely relieved. He couldn't wait to call Jim.

"I'm afraid I owe you an apology. I was very ready to believe that young lady's charges."

"There wasn't much way to disprove what she was saying," Blair conceded.

"Thank you for being so gracious about it." Dr. Tillman stood up and moved toward the door.

"Dr. Tillman?"

"Yes?" The older man paused at the door and turned back to look at Blair.

"I hope that someday you'll be able to be more comfortable about my lifestyle. I really do respect you and your work, and this...tension between us isn't pleasant."

"Don't push it, Sandburg. Rome wasn't built in a day." There was a little trace of humor in the man's voice as he turned and retreated from the office.

Blair just grinned and picked up the phone to call Jim.

Jim stifled a yawn as he started out down the road. He had been putting off this ride out to see Henry, one of his best snitches. The old man had a veritable wealth of information if you had a morning to kill sorting out the tips from the slew of trivia and stories about the Korean War he saw fit to share at the same time.

Henry ran a seedy bar in the toughest business district in Cascade, and more often than not, he had either seen or heard of a certain perp Jim was looking for. At the very least, he usually had some good street gossip to pass along to the detective.

Seeing enough of the crime and danger while he ran his business, Henry had retreated to a two acre plot of land well outside the city limits, putting a nice little mobile home in the middle of it all. He didn't open the bar until five, so once he was up and around by about ten in the morning, the day was his. One of his favorite ways to spend it was sharing war stories with a captive audience. Jim realized he was one of the most captive, since he usually wanted something from the old man.

Settling in for the long ride, Jim flipped on the radio. He had the advantage of being able to listen to music and still hear if he was being called on the police radio. Blair had decided one day that Jim should be capable of doing both, so thanks to his persistent little guide/lover/best friend/other half, he could do just that.

The first song that reached his ears was a soft, sultry love song. Jim smiled a little as he thought about the night before, incredulous that he had not only enjoyed himself so much but that he could seriously admit that he wanted to do it again. Maybe not right away, but soon.

//Can't show up at Henry's with a king-sized stiffy stuck out the front,// Jim concluded, chuckling. He changed the station, hoping for something less likely to remind him of Blair.

"Oh that's a big help," he said back to the radio, laughing. Bad Company's "Feel Like Makin' Love" wasn't going to help matters much. He punched another preset button. //A bouncy dance tune. Not what I'd pick out, but safe territory,// he concluded. When the refrain kicked in and the singer declared, "...you and me, we should be dancing in the sheets", Jim laughed out loud. Another button was hit. An All-4-One song was playing. That reminded him of Blair too, since they had slow danced to more than one of the band's songs. It reminded him of all the warm, wonderful, mushy feelings that were ends in themselves with or without sex. That was more than acceptable. Now if he could just ignore those damn female pronouns... //One way to solve that, Ellison. Out-sing 'em.//

By the time Jim pulled up at the last busy intersection of town, he was singing full tilt.

"I can love you like that, I can make you my world, move heaven and earth, if you were my love, I can give you my heart, be all that you need, show you you're everything that's precious to me, if you give me a chance, I can love you like that," Jim concluded with the singer, tapping a couple punctuating drumbeats on the steering wheel. He noted that the woman next to him at the stop light was eyeing him as if he were insane. And he didn't care. //God, Ellison, you're a sap when you're in love,// he berated himself with a smile as he geared up to take on Stevie Wonder when the first notes of "I Just Called to Say I Love You" started playing. As if on cue, the cell phone rang. Jim smiled a little as he turned down the radio and answered his ringing phone, as the signs of civilization were becoming more and more sparse.

"Ellison."

"I want to dribble chocolate sauce all over you and spend all night licking you clean," a hushed voice breathed into the phone.

"I'll bring the whipped cream if you bring the nuts," Jim responded, and unable to keep up the charade, Blair laughed out loud on the other end of the phone.

"I've got good news, lover. Tillman just stopped by. Whatever Charlotte did to Nicole must have worked, because she admitted she lied about everything. I'm off the hook, man. No hearing!"

"Oh, sweetheart, that's great! What happened?"

"I guess she called Nicole in and put some pressure on her and she folded. I still have to call Charlotte and find out--"

"Oh, shit," Jim muttered, pressing down on the brake pedal with no results. He was on a curve, the truck was gaining speed, and the damn brakes weren't catching.

"Jim? What's wrong?" Blair's frantic voice came over the phone as Jim worked at pumping the brake, flattening it to the floor, slamming on it--nothing worked. "Jim!"

"I've got trouble here. No brakes. I'm on Bell Road. Better send an ambulance in case. Love you." And with that, he broke the connection and threw the phone aside, concentrating on trying to bring the truck under control.

Blair stared at the telephone in his hand, stunned momentarily. He lost very little time calling for help, sending a back up unit and ambulance in Jim's direction. Then he raced out of his office, down the stairs and out to the parking lot for his car. Maybe if the lights cooperated, he could get there at the same time the cops did.

"Jim, please be okay. Oh God, I didn't have time to say it again. Jim, you gotta know I love you so much," Blair kept chanting to himself as he sped through town, running two red lights and sliding through a stop street with only marginal caution. How he hadn't been spotted or pulled over, he didn't know, but he just prayed his luck held. "Please, God, I'll do anything...just let him be okay..."

Blair could hear sirens behind him, but they weren't pursuing him. Ironically, he had to pull over to let the ambulance and two police cars whiz by. He rejoined the parade down the long country road until he saw them slow down and stop, one by one. As Blair approached the scene, he felt all the strength going out of his limbs. He could barely think to stop his own car. Down on the side of the hill was a flaming wreck. The moment Blair stepped out of his car, the burning vehicle exploded, the vibration throwing him to the ground.

"Jim!!!" Blair scrambled to his feet and raced down the hillside, eluding the emergency personnel momentarily because they hadn't even seen him pull up to the scene. It was Ryf who caught him around the waist, quickly reinforced by Brown who caught up to them on the grassy slope. It was obvious it was going to take at least two of them to contain the kicking, screaming, struggling man who was intent on reaching the flaming remains of Jim's truck.

"Blair! Come on, settle down! You can't help Jim."

"Let go of me! I have to get him out of there!! Oh God, somebody do something!!!" Blair screamed, fighting diligently against the two men who were not only holding him, but trying to drag him back from the wreck that had the potential to yield another explosion.

"Blair!" Ryf maneuvered him around with Brown's help and slapped his face once, hard. "Dammit, Blair, it's over. Nobody can go near that wreck."

"But Jim...he's in there..." The slap seemed to have calmed the hysterics, but there was still a weak struggle to move toward the flaming carcass of the truck. "Please let me go... I want to be with him," Blair pleaded, the last word breaking pitifully.

"Jim wouldn't want you to get hurt going near the fire, you know that, man," Brown spoke up. "Come on, come back to the car with us. We'll give you a ride back--"

"No." Blair wrested his arms out of their grip, though now he was standing still, and sounding very calm. "I'm going to wait here." And with that, he seated himself on the grass and refused to move.

"Blair, no one could survive a crash like that. When the smoke clears...Jim wouldn't want you to remember him that way."

"I'm not leaving here until Jim does," Blair replied, not sparing the men a look. His body was shaking from the shock, and his soul had been ripped out by its roots. He had nothing left for anyone. Nothing left but to wait until they recovered what was left of his life from that burning wreck.

"Then we can take off now, sweetheart," a voice came from behind him. Blair stood up and spun around, and would have fallen if not for the strong hands of his lover catching his shoulders. Ryf and Brown were standing a few feet away in mute shock, having wandered away from Blair after his refusal to move from the ground where he sat.

"Jim? I thought...the truck...?"

"When it went off the road I jumped. Guess that was a good call." He winced a little as he looked over at the inferno that was his third vehicle in so many years.

"I thought...Oh, God, Jim, I love you so much and I didn't get time to say it and then I thought you were dead and I'd never get the chance but I do, I love you don't ever die on me I can't stand it!" Blair blurted out through tears as he wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and held on. He felt Jim's arms go around him and pull him in tightly enough to lift his feet off the ground and hold him up a bit. It was just as well. His legs were giving out anyway.

"Shhh. I'm right here, baby. I'm right here. We don't need words, sweetheart. I know how you feel. It's okay."

"Jim!" Simon had pulled up on the scene, and while the others had held back to let Jim have his moment with the frantic man who'd been ready to merge with the flames moments earlier, the captain was intent on getting the story right then and there.

"The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Jim quipped, still holding Blair, who didn't seem to care if the president was there to talk to Jim. He wasn't letting go. "Is he hurt?" Simon asked, wondering if Blair had been in the truck with Jim.

"No, just scared shitless, I think." Jim took a moment to give Blair a little squeeze. "I need my neck back, Chief," he said softly into the nearest ear. Blair was still crying and refused to loosen his grip.

"He thought you were in the truck?" Simon asked finally.

"I guess everyone at this end of the line did. I bailed when I lost control of it, and it crashed and exploded. The ambulance guys spotted me right away, but it took everyone else a little time to find me because I was sitting in the back of the ambulance getting checked out." Jim inclined his head toward Blair. "Give us a minute?"

"Yeah, I'll go have a look at the skid marks." Simon moved away from them and Jim turned his attentions back to Blair, who was quieting considerably but not letting go.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. I'm alive and I'm fine." Blair reluctantly freed Jim's neck and stepped back a little, still hiccuping. The tears were still coming, and he seemed unable to stop them. "Oh, baby, come on, look at me. I'm just fine. Just a scratch or two," Jim consoled gently, taking Blair's face in his hands.

"I wanted to...go with you," Blair managed.

"Blair, look at me," Jim said firmly. "I'm alive. I'm fine. I wasn't in the truck. Now get a grip." He grasped Blair's shoulders and shook him once, gently. "What happened to your face, sweetheart?" Jim leaned over and kissed the red patch on Blair's cheek.

"I guess I got a little hysterical. I think Ryf let me have it," he responded, trying a little smile. "I'm sorry I freaked out, but I thought...God, Jim, I was so damn scared."

"I know. Feeling a little steadier now?"

"Yeah. I feel like an idiot, actually."

"Don't. It's kind of nice to know how much you're loved. I'm not objecting." Jim slid arm around Blair's shoulders and led him toward where Simon was looking at the skid marks.

"Can I hang out with you today? I don't want to be apart right now." Blair looked up at him hopefully, and Jim melted like he always did at that pleading little look.

"Won't let you out of my sight." He squeezed Blair's shoulders as they made their way over to join Simon.

"Brakes went out totally, huh?" Simon asked as Jim and Blair joined him, Ryf and Brown at the spot where the truck left the road.

"I started gaining speed on the first curve back there, and when I took my foot off the gas and hit the brake, nothing happened." Jim looked over at the smouldering remains of the truck. "The brakes were fine this morning on the way in, and they were working when I ran over to the courthouse earlier. I suppose they could have been gradually letting go, but I would be more inclined to think something happened to them while I was at headquarters, because they didn't seem overly responsive on the way out of town, but they were working."

"You've had the truck in recently for maintenance?" Simon asked.

"Just a week ago. Everything checked out fine."

"So it happened at the station?" Blair finally spoke up.

"Almost looks that way," Jim replied, relieved to hear Blair sounding like his old self again. "Of course, if someone were going to target me, that's certainly one place they could be sure of seeing my truck."

"Or they could blend with the atmosphere sabotaging it there if they already parked nearby themselves."

"Sandburg, you aren't seriously suggesting another cop did this?"

"Simon, last week I wouldn't have seriously suggested that three Vice cops would shove my head in a toilet for kicks, but it happened. I don't have a lot of naive trust left anymore."

"Plus we have evidence now that Patterson was behind the sexual harassment charges made against Blair. His daughter is friends with Nicole Pierce, the girl who made the accusation."

"Can you put that evidence together for the DA?"

"I have to talk to Dean Ryman again and get the exact story, but I don't think it'll be a problem," Blair replied.

"Good. I want a report on my desk by the end of the day. Have him sign it." He pointed at Jim as he moved away to talk to the men preparing to approach and inspect the smoking wreckage. Simon had apparently accepted that on more than one occasion, Blair took Jim's notes and wrote the reports while the detective engaged in more official activities with which Blair couldn't help.

"Well, if you're going to hang out with me, Chief, I need a lift out to Henry's place."

"Just like that? You almost died, man. Aren't you a little freaked out by that?" Blair asked, all expressions and gestures. Jim just chuckled.

"No, sweetheart. You're freaked out by it. And it wasn't even close. All I got were a couple bruises from jumping out of the truck." Jim sighed at Blair's still troubled expression. "I'm fine, baby. I'm this far out in the sticks, and it'll be a while before that thing cools down enough for them to analyze anything, so I might as well finish what I started. Henry'll like you anyway. Probably give me what I need free."

"Great. What is Henry? Some kind of sex pervert?"

"Yeah. I bring him sexy young men for his sick pleasures in return for information. You don't mind putting out so I can get a few leads on the Carpenter case, do you?" Jim asked innocently.

"Asshole," Blair shot back, laughing.

"Coming from you, that could be a love name." Jim stole a quick kiss and then jogged around to the passenger side of Blair's car.

After visiting Henry, the two men returned to headquarters where Jim typed up a perfunctory report of the failing brakes incident, and was informed that the preliminary word was that the brake fluid had been drained out of the lines. The next stop on their itinerary was the loft, where Jim changed into some clean clothes (with the marginal distraction of Blair hovering over him and making more of a fuss over his bruises than the ambulance attendants had). Refreshed and tidied up, they made their way to Dean Ryman's office.

Charlotte Ryman was discussing something with her secretary, standing in her outer office, when Blair and Jim arrived. She brightened immediately and finished her discussion with the other woman.

"Blair, I was just about to call you."

"Charlotte Ryman, Jim Ellison," Blair introduced. He smiled a bit smugly at the approving once-over Charlotte was giving his lover. It was a common reaction from most women when they met Jim, and it never ceased to give Blair a little tingle that this gorgeous specimen was all his.

"Blair's had a lot of good things to say about you," Jim spoke up, accepting her offered handshake.

"I could say the same. Why don't you two step into my office?"

"We need to find out the details about Nicole and Pamela," Blair explained, as soon as all of them were seated.

"Well, Nicole was fairly weak as far as her resolve to stick to her story. I simply had a little talk with her, asked her if she fully understood the gravity of the charges she was making, and also reminded her that if those charges were disproved and if it was later discovered that she had intentionally made a false claim, it would mean a dismissal from the university. She held out a moment or two, then broke down and told me that she was lying for a friend of hers."

"Pamela?" Jim asked.

"She said that Pamela asked her if she would help out with a plan, and explained that Blair was making things difficult for her father at work, and that he would like to see Blair move on from Cascade. Nicole refused at first, but apparently Pamela had enough evidence of Nicole's marijuana habit to coerce her into doing it to avoid being arrested."

"And she just told you all this?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"It's amazing what a stressed out girl who's only 18 years old and is away from home for the first time--and is in significant trouble--will say when she finally sees some help in sight. My goal for Nicole was to get her into a drug rehabilitation program, which she has signed up for this morning. If charges are pressed against her, I would assume that would help her case."

"Definitely. It shows her intention to discontinue the habit." Jim smiled. "You ever consider a job in law enforcement? I could use you at my next interrogation."

"This is as close to being a cop as I can handle, thank you," she responded, chuckling a little.

"What's going to happen to Pamela?" Blair asked.

"Well, at this point, I think we'll take our cue from the police. Nicole agreed to cooperate with the authorities in any way on this matter, and I certainly am willing to testify or make any statements necessary."

"The next thing we have to do is present this information to the DA, who will determine what, if any, charges will be brought against Nicole or Pamela. My guess would be that since Nicole is cooperating, she'll probably get off the hook with a slap on the wrist and a requirement of drug rehab, which she's already agreed to do on her own. Pamela is another story. I don't know how that'll play out yet."

"Before you do anything, let me talk to Pamela. If this becomes a law enforcement issue, I doubt you'll have her cooperation."

"You're probably right about that. Her father's attorney will be advising her if we handle it, and she'll probably keep quiet," Jim rubbed a hand over his chin. "I know you and Blair tossed around the idea of appealing to her father to confess and save her neck, but I wouldn't count on that being a viable option."

"If Pamela were to cooperate, what would happen to her from a legal standpoint?" Charlotte asked.

"I'm not the DA, and that's his call, not mine. My guess? If she cooperates, she'll probably get something very mild--probation, most likely. What we're actually talking about here is two-way blackmail. Her father didn't want money from Blair, but he did what he did in order to force Blair to behave in a certain manner--thus, to achieve a 'pay off' of some sort. In turn, she coerced Nicole into lying by using the drug threat against her. Given that she was acting on behalf of her father, she's very young, has no prior record...she'll probably come out of it just fine--better, actually, without her father's lawyer putting a gag on her."

"I'll get Pamela in here for an appointment. Better yet, I'll try to catch her by surprise."

"Good idea. If she has time to sound the alarm to her father, we're probably finished," Blair added.

"I'll need Nicole's address and phone number," Jim spoke up. The Dean opened a file folder she had handy on her coffee table and dictated the address as Blair wrote it down.

"I hope Simon's not going to give you the run around about helping you out with the cost on this truck," Blair said as he walked the rest of the way up the stairs to the bedroom. Jim was already in bed, waiting for his partner. He smiled as he watched Blair approach the bed and climb in, dressed for the cold night in his sweatpants, socks and t-shirt. Jim figured most of the garments would end up on the floor in the next ten minutes, but Blair looked impossibly cute dressed that way, so it was worth the effort. He laughed when Blair wriggled around to shed the t-shirt and sweats and tossed them on the floor, leaving only his socks and boxers.

"You know me too well, Chief." Jim doused the light and pulled Blair close to him, enjoying the warmth that emanated from him.

"I figured they were history anyway," Blair said, grinning against Jim's chest. "Besides, body heat's more effective skin to skin. Purely from a scientific standpoint."

"Of course." Jim smiled and slipped his hand into Blair's hair. "Simon said the department would cover this one. It isn't nearly as much as the others were, and this way I don't have to make a claim on my insurance."

"Do you think it's somebody at the PD?"

"God, I don't want to think that." Jim exhaled loudly. "I mean, I can see those guys harassing us, and I'm not even real surprised about what happened with Walker and his stooges. But attempted murder... I really hope it isn't another cop."

"I'm sorry this screwed everything up so bad for you, man. I never wanted to mess up your job."

"You didn't, sweetheart. Don't apologize."

"Today, when I thought... I love you, Jim. I don't say it enough. I just kept thinking that I hadn't said it to you--"

"Blair, baby, you've told me you loved me about a dozen times a day since we got together. And before that you told me in all the zillion little things you did for me all the time. I'm real clear on that point."

"I was so scared." Blair cuddled closer against Jim. "The worst thing had already happened, so it wasn't like there was anything else I could be scared of. But I was afraid of living without you. I knew I couldn't. I can't, Jim."

"You don't have to. I'm not going anywhere. But you could do it." Jim held Blair tightly against him and kissed his forehead.

"I'm sorry," Blair managed as he started to cry softly against Jim's shoulder.

"Shhh. It's okay, baby. I'm right here. Don't cry, love. I'm fine." Jim shifted onto his side so he could wrap Blair completely in his arms and legs. Blair's arms were like steel bands around his waist. The tears were coming out in wracking sobs now. It was on the tip of Jim's tongue to comfort Blair by stating the obvious again, but he refrained. He tried to put himself in the position of thinking Blair was dead, of feeling all the pain and horror and the heartbreak, if only for a few minutes.

"I'm glad you're okay," Blair choked out, squeezing Jim more tightly in his arms.

"But for that few minutes, you went through all the same things you would have if I'd really died in that damn truck. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I never expected you to get there that fast, so I didn't think to get out of the ambulance. Those guys spotted me coming up the hill and had me get in the back and sit on the gurney so they could check a few things out and clean up a couple scratches. The truck had just started to show signs of catching fire, so I didn't even think about what it might look like."

"None of it would matter without you. I realized all of a sudden that I didn't want the Ph.D. or my other friends or...or anything. None of it meant anything."

"You're my heart and soul, sweetheart. You know that. I feel the same way."

"I love you, mine." Blair had calmed to an occasional sniffle.

"I love you too, Chief. Try to relax and close your eyes. Come on." Jim shifted again so he was on his back with Blair snuggled comfortably against his side, head on his shoulder. "Get some sleep, baby."

"Maybe tomorrow'll be better," Blair mumbled as he dozed.

"Maybe," Jim replied softly with a little grin, dropping a kiss on the top of Blair's head.

//What an amazing blessing to be loved this much,// Jim thought, smiling to himself as he settled in to sleep.

Pamela Patterson did not go down as easily as Nicole Pierce. Loyal to her father and more than aware of her tenuous legal position, she denied any knowledge of such a plot and feigned indignation that her unsavory roommate would use her to wriggle out of a tight situation. She further blasted Nicole both barrels, giving dates and times of dorm parties where Nicole had furnished the pot, among other substances. She strode out of the Dean's office, head held high, having avoided incriminating herself in any way. She had obviously inherited her father's cold, unemotional demeanor.

Both Jim and Blair were disappointed in that outcome, but not terribly surprised. Nicole had been a pawn in the plan, a definite textbook "weak link". It was in Nicole's best interest to cooperate, but in Pamela's case, it would have meant betraying her father if she had admitted to the plot. Both tried to focus on the fact that the important thing was foiling the plot and clearing Blair of any charges, and nailing Patterson for being behind it would have just been a nice bonus.

Blair tried to ignore his nagging unease about moving around headquarters alone. So far, he'd been dunked in the toilet and harassed in the garage. When he saw two detectives from Narcotics headed his way from the other end of the hall, he schooled his features calm, though his heart was thudding up in his ears. Both men knew him, both normally spoke pleasantly to him (before the revelation about his relationship to Jim), and both had good reputations on the force. He still didn't hold out much hope of not getting a sour remark or at the least, a dark glare.

"Hey, Sandburg, I hear you kicked Miller's ass in the garage the other night," Mark Kendall said through a snicker. His partner, Steve Curtis, slowed down as he did to talk to Blair.

"He was getting in my face. He wasn't leaving me a lot of options."

"Miller's an arrogant asshole. God, it was funny watching him come back in and stagger into the john," Steve added. "You shoulda heard him trying to come up with a good reason why a police observer a head shorter than he is took him out with a couple well-placed moves," he concluded, laughing. "So, Sandburg, you gonna start teaching self defense around here?"

"More like asshole control," Mark interjected, sending all three men into laughter.

"I minored in psych and asshole control, actually," Blair quipped. "So, everybody's not pissed about me about Miller?"

"Pissed? They'll probably give you a medal," Steve started moving away, and Mark followed suit. "Not all of us are living in the Stone Age, man. People have a right to do what they want with whoever they wanna do it. As long as we don't have to bust 'em for it, we really don't give a shit."

"That's really good to hear coming from somebody here." Blair smiled a little. "The last time I ran into more than one cop in the hall, I ended up with my head in the toilet."

"Some of the guys in Vice have real attitude problems. I'm not saying all of them, but I think they start getting confused that you don't push people around like the scum you raid in the porn joints. Anyhow, nice move with Miller," Mark concluded, following his partner down the hall.

"Yeah. See you guys later," Blair responded, smiling but still reeling from the shock of receiving a few words of support. He had a definite spring in his step when he returned to Jim's desk.

"You look happy. Better not be Diane in Traffic again."

"That was, like, forever ago, man. She doesn't even work down there anymore."

"Then Linda the bagel girl." Jim was smirking a little.

"Actually, it's this cop in Major Crimes with the big, throbbing rod of manhood," Blair whispered as he reached past Jim to grab a paper clip. The other man stifled a chortle and went back to trying to concentrate on his computer screen.

"So what is it?"

"What?"

"You've looked like someone just shot your puppy all day around here and all of a sudden you look...normal," Jim finally concluded, unable to find just the right words.

"I ran into a couple guys from Narcotics who congratulated me on kicking Miller's ass. It was kind of nice to get a little support."

"That's great, Chief."

"I really think you should reconsider the whole resignation thing."

"You do, huh?" Jim was pecking away at the keyboard, grimacing at what he saw in front of him.

"What're you working on?"

"Just some background stuff for the Burnette case. Trying to narrow the field a little. Right now I'm checking out parolees who went to prison for cutting up women."

"And they got paroled?"

"Most of them weren't homicide cases. The majority were aggravated assault, some rape charges, and the rest were domestic violence and spousal abuse."

"Nasty case, man. Any chance they'll leave us out of it from here on?" Blair asked, surprising Jim a little. His partner normally liked to see things through to their conclusion, whether they were easy or not. Their partnership with Vice in trying to bust Julian Corman, the head of the biggest drug, prostitution and porno business in Cascade, had been an uneasy one from the start. Jim had a few good friends left in Vice, but he had also locked horns with several in the past--including men like Walker, Hooper and Patterson. Now, with three veteran Vice cops suspended without pay and pending trial on felony charges for assaulting Blair, there was little hope for the situation not to turn into a nightmare.

Corman's girlfriend had turned up dead, cut up in a very creative manner. The homicide had drawn Major Crimes in on the act. While the crime boss, a man in his early forties with dark good looks and a commanding presence, had an airtight alibi for the night of the killing, the police felt confident he was behind it. Maria Burnette was leaking information to undercover cops. Her death would not only have to be swift, but gruesome, to make a point to any others in Corman's inner circle who entertained similar thoughts.

"We're probably in it for the duration. Or I should say, I'm in it. I would just as soon see you stay out of it from here on in. We'll be dealing with a lot of guys who were tight with Walker and his cronies. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm your partner, man. If you're in, I'm in."

"I'm just saying that if you're in, you could be in danger. We both could be."

"So you don't want me in on it, is that what you're saying?" There was a definite tone of anger and hurt in Blair's voice.

"I'm saying that this case isn't about us proving some...social justice point. It's about nailing a murdering bastard who makes his money off other people's perversions."

"Us sticking together as partners in this department is about more than a 'social justice point', Jim." Blair shook his head. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. You seriously want me out of your hair so you can work this case, don't you?"

"That's an unfair crock of shit, Sandburg, and you know it. You saw Maria Burnette. Corman plays for keeps, and I can't be spending half my time defending your honor when I'm supposed to be working a case!" Jim wanted to retract the words as soon as they'd escaped. To say Blair looked stricken was an understatement. He slowly rose from the spot where he'd perched against Jim's desk.

"In that case, you're on your own. Good luck with your case." Blair started for the door.

"Blair, wait a minute. I didn't mean--"

"Yes, Jim, you did. You never wanted to come out with me in the first place, and you're not happy to be out now," Blair responded, keeping his voice at a level low enough only Jim could hear it. Blair didn't see much point in handing Jim his freedom and at the same time, irreparably humiliating him in front of his co-workers. "And I'm not happy being stuffed back in the closet the first time a sticky situation comes up. As far as 'defending my honor', no one asked you to. I can take care of myself, which is precisely what I intend to start doing."

With that, Blair turned on his heel and strode determinedly out of the bullpen, leaving Jim standing there with his mouth slightly agape. He considered running after Blair, but there wasn't much point. At least not until the younger man cooled off a little. Blair had the patience of a saint, but when you pushed the final one of his buttons, he was capable of real anger. A deeply wounded Blair could usually be sweet-talked and cuddled into forgiveness. A pissed-off Blair was better left alone until the wounded one surfaced. That usually took a day or two. This time, Jim figured he was in for a good week of sexual frustration and emotional turmoil.

He tried to dismiss it at that, not acknowledging the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he would go home to an empty loft and a "Dear Jim" letter.

Blair rode the tide of his anger as he stormed out to the police garage, thanking every deity in the universe that he'd driven his own car there that morning. He only taught one class in the late morning, so it was easier for them to drive in separately on Fridays so Blair could slip out to the campus and back without interrupting Jim for a ride.

"Don't move," a voice came from behind Blair as he inserted his key into the car door lock. "Hands up on the car, now!" A breathy command that was barely above a whisper. It was Walker's voice. "Gimme the cuffs," he said to whomever was with him.

"You're making a big mistake," Blair said as the cuffs were snapped into place, restraining his arms behind his back. "If you guys leave me alone right now, we can forget this ever happened."

"You'd like that, tinkerbell. But that isn't the way this is going down. We're going to take you somewhere where they'll really appreciate your talents. Now move." Blair felt the gun against his back and found himself surrounded by just the three men he expected to see--Walker, Hooper, and Patterson. The parking garage was nearly deserted at this late hour. Most cops were either out on their beats, home with their families, or sitting hunched over their computers like Jim. //Jim...//

"Get in!" Blair hesitated momentarily before stepping into the back of the dark blue van, but a knee in the rear from Walker encouraged him forward. He climbed in and Patterson got in behind him. The back doors closed and locked.

"You shouldn't have messed with Pam, you perverted little son of a bitch," Patterson spat.

"You shouldn't have put your daughter up to committing blackmail for you." Blair was silenced when he was backhanded sharply by the other man.

"Hey--don't mess up his face." Walker was getting the driver's seat, Hooper climbing in the passenger seat. They were all dressed in dark clothes, Walker in his usual leather gear. Just like any other undercover night.

"Good point. I could whip his ass, but we want that to look good too, where he's going," Patterson taunted, still pointing a gun directly at Blair. Making a break for it would be suicide, and Blair knew it.

"Maybe Julian'll let you test drive him," Hooper quipped, laughing a little.

//JULIAN??// Blair's mind screamed at him, as all the blood drained out of his face and he felt his extremities go cold. //Julian Corman with the cut up girlfriend...Julian Corman who had a vast network of prostitutes--female and male both...// Walker and his buddies had been part of the undercover operation to bust Corman. Blair had never actually met them prior to his encounter with them in the restroom that day, since they spent most of their time in the field, two planted as drug contacts for Corman, and Walker as a high-level pimp. //Poor Maria--she probably trusted one of these clowns, and that's why she's dead. They sifted her information, gave the brass little tidbits that wouldn't really nail Corman, and then turned Maria in to her merciless boyfriend.// Blair shivered.

"I think he's cold, guys. You figure Julian'll have something for him to do to get him warmed up?"

"Without a doubt," Walker retorted, calmly steering the van into the sparse late-night traffic.

"This is kidnapping. If you get caught--"

"Don't start advising us on the law, you smart-assed little faggot. If you keep your mouth shut, you just might make it to Corman's with all your teeth." Patterson leaned back against the wall of the van. "Before this is over, you and me are going to settle up for what you did to Pam."

"I didn't do anything to Pam. Her only hope of not getting into this deeper and deeper and ending up in jail is if she cooperates now. You're the one who used your daughter to cover your ass."

"Gag him," Hooper suggested helpfully, tossing an old rag of some sort at Patterson, who was due to lunge at Blair. "If you beat the shit out of him now, he isn't going to be any good for anything else."

"What are you going to do wi--" Blair was cut off by the gag being shoved in his mouth and firmly tied at the back of his head. The van was moving fast now, and a jump would have been too dangerous. With bound hands, Blair didn't have the needed leverage to try anything.

The rest of the ride was completed in a tense silence. Tense for Blair, anyway. The other three men were relaxed, smug even, at their plans for the evening. Their captive, rendered silent by the gag and motionless by the gun pointed at him, finally closed his eyes and started praying for the strength to endure whatever they had planned. He was sure of one thing: involving Julian Corman, it would not be pleasant.

Concluded in part four.