Riders on the Storm
-------------------
Part 2

    "Ellison, my office.  Now."  The words bellowed out from the
captains office, leaving silence in the bullpen behind them. 
Blair trotted automatically over to Jim's desk, dropping his
knapsack onto the floor and plonking himself into the chair.  Jim
watched him out of the corner of his eye as he made his way to
Simon's office.  He knocked, waiting for the growled "come in"
before entering. 
    "Close the door."  The voice matched the captain's expression
and Jim automatically stood in front of his desk at parade rest,
hands lightly folded together behind his back, eyes looking
straight ahead at the wall, above Simon's head.
    "Sir?"  Jim queried, breaking the growing silence and the
somewhat unnerving stare of the older man.
    "I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't put an end to your
partnership with Sandburg."  The words dropped like stones into
water and pulled Jim's eyes to Simon's face.  The big man
shrugged casually.  "In my estimation he's becoming too much of a
distraction..."
    "I don't see it that way, Sir."  Voice rough, Jim was back to
staring at the wall behind Simon's desk.
    "Maybe if you explained to me exactly what's going on
between the two of you and how this sudden change in behavior
isn't affecting your work, I would feel more confident in
allowing this partnership to continue."
    "I don't see as how our personal lives come under your
jurisdiction, Sir."
    Simon stood, bringing his palm flat against his desk with a
loud thump.  
     "Damn it, Jim, I'm your boss and your friend and
something is obviously going on between the two of you and it's
affecting your personal *and* your professional lives.  As your
boss and your friend, I take an interest in both."  Simon let
Jim's silence fill the office until the air was thick with it. 
"How long are you going to make me dance to this tune, Ellison?"
    Closing his eyes, Jim swallowed several times before finding
an answer.  "I can't...I need for you to let this go Simon.  It's
hard enough without your badgering."
    "What I'm trying to tell you, Jim, is that maybe if you were
to share this with me I could help."  Simon's exasperation made
his voice gruffer than usual and Jim pursed his lips.
    "Simon, I've asked you to just leave it alone.  Blair's been
through enough, he doesn't need you to start yanking his chain
about his job here.  I need his help with this Sentinel stuff.  I
need him with me on the job.  It's that simple.  And threatening
to revoke his status here at the station is not the way to endear
yourself to either of us.  I will not continue to work here
without him."  Startling himself with his own words, Jim took a
step back as they echoed in his head.  {I need him.  I need him. 
I need him.}
    "What the hell are you talking about - been through enough?" 
Simon put his hands on his desk, leaning forward to glare into
Jim's eyes.  "Just what did you do to him, Ellison?"
    {Forgot him. Forgot his love and the gift of his innocence...
And then cursed him for managing to make a life without me.}  But
he remained silent, refusing to voice the words that accused him.
    Pulling off his glasses, Simon raked a hand tiredly across
his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger
and thumb.  Letting Jim stand silent and stiff, he sat back down
and slowly prepared his cigar; cutting off the tip, and lighting
it.  Sucking in the fumes, he held them in his lungs for a moment
before blowing out in Jim's direction.
    "I need you to go down to records and make me copies of the
files on Gilles Spender and William Sunting.  I believe you were
the officer in charge on both of those cases."
    "Very good, sir."  Turning on his heel, Jim had reached the
door before Simon casually added; 
    "And send in Sandburg, please."
    Hand on the doorknob, Jim froze, his body stiffening as he
turned an angry face towards the captain.  
    "Sir I don't think -" 
    "Just do it."  The clipped words interrupted him, leaving no
room for argument.  
    Jim glared a moment longer before leaving.  Letting the door
swing shut with a bang behind him, he called out to Blair as the
young man looked up from Jim's desk at the noise 
    "Simon wants to see you."
    Blair glanced from Jim's retreating back to Simon's closed
door and back, running his palms up and down his legs.  He waited
until Jim's back disappeared into the elevator before taking a
deep breath and making his way to Simon's office.  
    A quick knock and he opened the door, letting himself in. 
Making a face at the smoke that filled the office with a faint
haze he cautiously approached Simon's desk, hands shoved deep
into the pockets of his jeans.  
     "Jim said you wanted to see me..."
    "Sit down, Sandburg."  Simon waved his cigar in the general
direction of the chair, before taking another deep puff.  "I need
you to tell me what's going on with you and Jim."
    Blair was shaking his head before Simon had finished his
sentence.  The older man narrowed his eyes as Blair spoke.  
    "I can't do that, Simon."
    "You know, I'm getting a little tired of hearing that."  He
glared intimidatingly at the younger man, but Blair only
swallowed and drew a little further into himself.  "You know,
Sandburg.  I've put up with you're tagging around after Jim like
some kind of lost puppy for his sake.  He seems to think that he
can't handle this sentinel stuff without you.  But right now
you're obviously more of a hindrance than a help and if the two
of you can't solve this problem on your own and don't see fit to
tell me about it..." Simon stood, towering over Blair across the
desk as he punctuated his words with his cigar. "Well, quite
frankly, I can't see why I should keep your observer status
active."
    "You do what you have to do, Simon.  I can't betray, Jim." 
The words were soft, barely audible and Blair wouldn't meet
Simon's eyes.  His right hand dropped to the pass clipped to his
belt, holding it in a white knuckled grip.  Simon almost expected
him to pull it off and hand it to him.
    For a moment he wished Blair would do just that.
    And then the defeated curve of Blair's shoulder's registered,
echoed by the stony face of his best detective making his way
slowly back towards the captain's office, and Simon sighed,
sitting down heavily, reluctantly letting it go.  For now.  But
sooner or later, and he was betting on sooner, one of them would
crack and he would get to the bottom of this mess and things
would go back to normal.

***

    Jim lay in bed, eye mask keeping the bulk of the light from
his eyes, ear plugs working their white noise magic, keeping most
of the cities noises at bay.  But he couldn't sleep.  They had
less than six hours before they had to be at Grunweld Furriers. 
Just him and Blair in the confines of the truck's cab.  Normally
more room than they needed, it had seemed claustrophobically
small of late.  
    {Blair.} Just thinking about him sent some sort of automatic
homing signal to his brain and his senses worked to locate him. 
The scrape of pen across paper came first, followed quickly by
the airy sigh of breathing and the solid thump of his heartbeat. 
Scent flowed up, tickling at his nose, teasing his brain with the
memories of night's spent wrapped around a slender trusting body.
    He relaxed into his bed, breathing deeply, letting the soft
heartbeat count the seconds as he waited for it.  For what he
knew was coming.  The scratch of the pen ceased.  Feet padded
softly to the bathroom and back again.  
    Jim held his breath, not wanting to miss a moment of the
ritual.  He didn't want to care, didn't want to eavesdrop as
Blair performed this desperate act of faith, but he had to.  The
memories of the boy he'd loved demanded that he at least be
witness to the man's constancy.
    As Jim listened to Blair undress, he could easily picture the
compact square hands undoing buttons and sliding down zippers. 
His body stirred and he shifted restlessly.  When no one was
watching Blair lost all traces of self-consciousness and moved so
beautifully.  Jim knew, because Jim had watched, whenever he
could, long years ago.  Every chance he had, he'd watched the
youth that he loved.  And, as much as he hated to admit it, he
wanted to watch now.
    Shirt and jeans were dropped to the floor, socks were bundled
and thrown into a corner.  Jim waited almost breathlessly for the
removal of the t-shirt and boxers that were a staple of
Sandburg's wardrobe.  As they had been since he first knew him. 
It seemed that the loft itself held its breath, if a place could
be said to breathe.
    Rising on his elbows, ears straining for the first sounds...
the soft rustle of fingertips through hair as Blair shook it out
and fluffed it over his shoulders...That always came first. 
Although he had only witnessed this ritual a few times after he
initiated it, Jim knew exactly the order things went in. There
might be minor variations, but it was always the same pattern. 
    The world outside faded. The sounds became background noise,
the scents of oil and gasoline and rubber and ozone no longer
tickled the back of his nose.  It had happened so many times that
he wasn't even aware of it now.  Held in that perfect moment
between, in the limbo of waiting, a thought formed in Jim's mind.
Lumpy, doughy, raw, it was also uncomfortable.  {This hasn't
changed. Why do I want to believe everything else has?}  Harshly
he stomped on the thought and then listening was everything
again.
    In the room beneath him, Blair stood in front of the mirror,
hands at the hem of his t-shirt, frozen in the moment before he
pulled it off.  He looked at his own face, but all he could see
was Jim.  Jim standing in front of him, his hand wiping away
Blair's kiss.  {Damn it Blair I told you that was over.  Damn it
Blair I told you that was over.}  The words rang out over and
over in his mind, their echo locked there forever by the harsh
angry look that had accompanied them.
    His hands dropped away from his t-shirt to fall limply by his
side as he stared at the man, this stranger, in the mirror. 
Where was the butterfly Jim had taught him to see?  Where were
the bright wings he'd learned to soar with?  Beauty he'd once
believed in was washed away by hopelessness.
    With a vicious swipe he pulled the chain on his desk lamp,
plunging the room into darkness, blanketing his mirrored image in
shadows.  Jim, with his sentinel vision, still could have seen
him.  But that was just the point, wasn't it?  If Jim were there
to see the beauty, the butterfly, *him*, if Jim were there to see
it, looking for it, Blair wouldn't be standing alone and lost in
the dark.   Loving Jim was such a large part of his life.  How
could he possibly imagine going on without that?  How could Jim
ask that of him?  
    As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he watched his reflection
slowly appear in the moonlit room.  Reaching out a gentle hand he
traced the lines of his face.
     Maybe tomorrow he could find a glimmer of the butterfly, but
tonight he couldn't. Tonight he couldn't even try. Just couldn't.
    Moving to his bed, he slipped under the covers and curled
into himself, eyes closing against the moonlight that suddenly
seemed determined to brighten the room.  His shoulders shook, but
no tears fell.  Hugging his knees tightly to his chest he drifted
into a slumber disturbed by images of from their case.  The
devastated room of butterflies.  All those beautiful butterflies
that would never again be whole.
    Blair was already in bed before Jim recognized the snick as
the light being turned off.  He played the sounds back to when
the pen had stopped, not able to believe that Blair had failed to
perform the ritual.  He lay stiff and unyielding, muscles tensed
and waiting.  Waiting for Blair to get back out of his bed, turn
on the light and finish undressing.  Waiting for him to shake out
his hair and run his hands along his body.  Waiting for him to
find the butterfly within and make it shine.  Because he wasn't
sure he could live, thinking that he'd killed that in his friend.
It would be like Michelangelo taking a hammer and smashing his
David.  Destroying the beauty only he could find.   
    And suddenly it hit him.  All those women, that endless
parade he resented so much, and not one of them had seen that
beauty.  Blair was James' David.  For every night Blair had
stayed out, there was another where he had stood in front of the
mirror, finding that David, searching for the butterfly Jim had
shown him.  The butterfly he needed to see.
    They had to be on a stakeout in just a few hours.  Jim needed
his sleep, he needed to be alert.  But the ritual had become as
much a part of his night as Blair's.  And he couldn't sleep. 
Instead he lay there stiffly, listening to the point of a
zoneout, waiting for Blair to perform it.  
    When the alarm went off several hours later, he was still
awake.  Waiting.

***

    "This is David 152, checking in. No action over here." 
Saying the words quietly into his radio mike, Jim shifted
slightly in the seat. Learning to be still and silent for long
periods of time had been one of his first lessons in the Rangers.
Hard-won, the ability stood him in good stead now.  It was also
something Blair had missed entirely.  But tonight an observer
wouldn't have been able to guess that.  
    The smaller man sat on his side of the old truck, pressed
into the door, staring out into the dark sky, clouded by rain
that would fall later.  One hand rested motionlessly in his lap,
palm up, and the other was twisting at a lone curl of hair.  And
Jim knew that movement.  {Oh god.}  Sitting so still and small,
that one hand betraying his anxiety, the moonlight casting his
face into half-shadow, it was like his Blair was sitting beside
him.  Not bouncing with excitement or teasing him, but an echo of
the anxious young man he had kissed that first day, when Blair
tackled him at the door to his condo and kissed Jim onto the
wildest emotional roller coaster ride of his life.  A life that
had been dull without him.
    "Chief."
    Starting slightly, Blair swung his head around to look at
Jim.  
    "What, man? Aren't we supposed to be quiet?"
    {There.  *There*.}  His rebellious mind turned his hearing up
almost without his control and Jim heard it.  The fear.  The
bashfulness.  The uncertainty.  His Blair wasn't gone. And the
harder Jim pushed him away, the crueller he was to him, the more
of that younger self peeked through.  He could almost - almost
forgive himself for it, if he believed that.
    "Nothing, Chief. Sorry to disturb your thoughts."
    "I wasn't thinking of much, Jim. Just wondering. You know."
    "I've been doing some wondering myself, Chief."  Momentarily
expanding his hearing beyond their range, into the fox ranch they
were watching, Jim flinched at the sounds of unhappy animals and
pulled back again. There was nothing human there.  Blair waited
for a reply, not even pushing Jim.  Getting irritated at this
un-Blairish attitude, Jim frowned and spit out the first thing
that came to him.
    "Wondering why you didn't do the mirror thing tonight. Who
are you punishing, you or me?"  He watched as the color slowly
drained from Blair's face, the young man becoming even smaller as
he pulled himself against the door.  "So suddenly you have
nothing to say, Chief."
    "I really don't want to fight with you tonight, Jim.  I don't
have the energy."  
    The defeat in his voice cut Jim to the bone. {You did that} A
voice accused him.  {You gave him himself, a thing of beauty and
then you took it away again because you thought you had no need
for it.}  He lashed out, his anger at himself curling and
twisting and going straight for Blair, as usual.  
    "Giving up already?  I thought you were so dedicated to
staying true, to keeping *our* love alive."  Jim mocked, voice
taking on a falsetto over the last words.
    "Please, Jim. Don't. Not tonight, not now. Just...Don't." 
The words fell like hot tears between them, defeated, sad and
lonely.  Then Blair took a deep breath and spoke again, with
belligerence this time, seeming to gain strength from his own
pain.  "I was wrong. What we had wasn't love. Love would have
lasted for both of us. It might have been lust...but it was a
long time ago. I'm grown up now and I have you to thank for
that." Finishing with a sneer that looked out-of-place on his
features, Blair returned his attention to the open window and the
sky beyond it.
    "What are you talking about, of course it was love, how could
you say it wasn't?  Damn it Sandburg, I loved you!"  Twisting in
his seat, Jim grabbed Blair's arm, manhandling him around to
glare into his eyes.  He brought his other hand down hard on the
steering wheel to emphasize his point and the horn bleated
loudly, making them both jump.  Releasing the younger man, Jim
turned back in his seat, hand rubbing at his face.  
    "Shit."  His headset buzzed angrily as the other team of
detectives demanded to know what was going on.
    "Ellison! Are you *trying* to give us away here?!"  Hissing
angrily, Jim pressed the mike closer to his mouth as he answered,
his eyes fixed on Blair, pinning him to his seat with a glare.
    "Sorry, sir, just a minor problem. We'll keep it down."
    "Keep it down? Cut it out is more like it! Shut up over
there!" Simon's voice was less than forgiving as it thundered
into too-tuned Sentinel ears.  Cutting the connection, Jim closed
his eyes and waited for the spike of pain to fade before opening
them and stabbing Blair with blue lasers again.
    "I would have never believed that you could say that.
Everything we meant to each other - I was willing to give up my
career for you, to risk going to prison for you. *You* were the
one who said no."  
     With his eloquent hands fluttering helplessly at his sides,
Blair answered in a voice too choked with hurt to be understood
by anyone else.
    "And *you* were the one who sent me away and forgot me."  The
tremor of rage that caused in Jim was visible to both of them. 
But Blair didn't back down, even pinned as he was but Jim's eyes.
Those eyes demanded the truth and he gave it. Devastating,
hurtful, agonizing truth. "I *have* to believe it wasn't love,
Jim. It hurts too much otherwise."  The next words floated
through the air like butterfly wings, as fragile and
insubstantial as beauty itself. "To know I had that and I blew
it."
    Reacting as if he'd been slapped, Jim stiffened in his seat,
head bumping into the window behind it.  When he looked again,
struggling for words that would say something that would fix
this, he found Blair turned away, staring out the window, his
breathing even and calm.  And the words wouldn't come.

    Several long, still wordless hours later, they were called to
another site.  As Blair had predicted, the animal-rights people
had hit a target, but this time they had been thwarted by the
presence of watchful cops.  He was mildly surprised that they
hadn't attacked the furriers, but it seemed there were many
business worthy of their attention.
    Jim drove them to the truck yard silently. Parking between
two huge eighteen-wheeled rigs, both with cattle trailers
attached, he winced and dialled his sense of smell all the way
down.  The trailers smelled of piss and shit and dumb-animal
terror.
    "They didn't catch them, Chief." he said as he got out, as if
Blair hadn't heard the words over the headset twenty minutes
previously. "And I'm not going to be able to smell *anything*
with this stink."
    "Then you won't need me. I'll wait here." Without even
looking at him, Blair answered with a new strength that did more
to worry Ellison than he earlier misery had.  But considering all
the times he'd told the younger man to do just that, he certainly
couldn't argue about it now.
    "I'll be right back." the promise felt hollow on his tongue
and Jim turned away before he said something he would really
regret.
    "I'll be here. Waiting for you." Still calm, still stoic. 
Accepting.  As he walked quickly away, Jim fretted silently,
wondering exactly *what* his partner had accepted as true in that
quicksilver mind of his.
    Blair watched him  go, slouching back despondently against
his seat as Jim entered the building.  His own words echoed in
his head, mocking him.  Waiting for Jim, like he had been for the
last ten years of his life.  It was his own fault really.  To
have had something so special and to let it slip away so easily. 
He should have fought for it, should have insisted that he come
first in Jim's life.  But with the arrogance of youth he'd
thought they had all the time in the world.
    He was going to have it all; be a famous anthropologist, head
expeditions, write papers and books.  And he was going to have a
lover to come home to, to share everything with.  And then he let
it go.  For the first time in ten years, Blair couldn't remember
what Jim had shown him, the beauty he'd taught him to see, to
remember and hold onto.  Couldn't remember what it had felt like
the firs time Jim touched him.  That tearing combination of fear
and joy that had led to his awakening as a sexual being.
    It had taken him ten years to forget what Jim had forgotten
in an instant.  Well, actually, he had no idea how long it had
taken that helicopter to crash.   But that was when *his* life
had ended.  He just hadn't known it then.  He might as well have
been on the helicopter crash.  Died with Jim's men.  Somehow that
idea seemed more palatable than having spent the last ten years
living a lie, holding a false memory close to his heart.
    By the time Jim came back to the truck, Blair sat quietly in
his seat: hands quietly folded in his lap, face composed, heart
beating evenly.  The eyes that watched the older man return held
in them that quiet, gentle seventeen year old in the bosom of an
old man, ravaged by life's pains.
    Jim let the door to the truck slam closed, the unexpected
clang not causing even a slight flinch from his companion.
    "We didn't get much.  They were spooked off when they
realised we had the place staked out and got away clean." 
Turning to look at Blair, he raised an eyebrow at the lack of
response.  "I told forensics to keep an eye out for the flyer,
but I think we can be pretty sure that it's the same group.  You
have them nailed, Chief and it's only a matter of time before
they hit where you expect them to."
    "Whatever, man."  Blair shrugged, eyes sliding briefly,
lifeless over Jim's form.  "What's our next move?"  It was a
question that Blair had asked before, a hundred times on a
hundred different cases.  But tonight it seemed different. 
Tonight, Jim heard uncertainty in the word.  Instead of asking it
as a way to focus Jim on the matter at hand, Blair was asking
because he didn't know.
     Jim started the truck with an angry flick of his wrist, the
engine catching noisily.
    "We go home and get some sleep.  Simon wants us back on this
by noon."  Blair nodded, hands still silent in his lap.  Jim
spared him another glance before turning his attention to the
road, making their way back to the loft among the soft tendrils
of dawn.
    Blair watched the scenery pass by without actually seeing any
of it.  Instead he cringed inwardly, ashamed and embarrassed by
his actions in the last ten years.  How could he have forced all
his childish emotions and histrionics on Jim?  He was lucky the
older man hadn't kicked him out of his life wholesale...tracking
him down to Cascade, following behind him like some lost puppy
dog he'd inadvertently fed and who now wouldn't take the hint
that he wasn't wanted.
    God, he'd been so naive.  His driver's license asserted that
he was 28, but his actions growing out of his school boy crush no
doubt had Jim convinced that he was still 17 at heart.  
    Their journey home was completed in silence, the two men not
even exchanging a good-night as they made their way to their
respective bedrooms, though Jim had turned to Blair only to be
faced with his back disappearing into his room, the French doors
closing behind him with a loud thump.  
    Stripping quickly, Blair caught sight of himself in the
mirror, hardly recognizing the hard, quiet face that looked out
at him.  The face of an adult. A man who had learned his lesson. 
He slowly walked over to his bed, pulling a brightly patterned
sheet it.  Turning back to the mirror, he carefully draped the
sheet over it, being cautious to not catch even a glimpse of
himself in it again.  He would never look into it again.  That
part of his life was over.  The butterfly was dead. 
    He slowly slid under his covers, lying on his back with his
hands folded in front of him, resting on his chest.  He forced
his eyes to close and waited patiently in a semblance of repose
for another day to begin.

    Still in the living room, listening and ashamed of it, Jim
sighed heavily when he heard the rustle of cloth on glass. Blair
was, of course, the one who had taught him to distinguish sounds
that specifically, but he'd never thought he would be using them
on him.  No mirror. No ritual.  No beauty to be seen by
pain-filled eyes.  {I didn't do this. It wasn't my fault I
forgot!} the anger rose suddenly, startling him, quickly followed
by an echo of Blair's words, in Blair's voice.  {I have to
believe that. Otherwise it hurts too bad.}
    Collapsing onto the couch, ignoring the sharp pain of his
shin bumping the coffee table, Jim dropped his head to his hands.
He had loved him. Deeply, truly, passionately.  {Does he think I
threw out everything I knew about myself, risked everything
important to me, just for a casual fling?}  
    Now he raised his head, absently breathing in the scent of
the loft, comparing it to the olfactory memory of his condo in
Oklahoma.  He had lived there for nearly as long as Blair had
lived here. But it had never smelled like home, the way this
place did. Thinking on it, Jim realized that this place hadn't
smelled like home until Blair moved it.  Whatever home *smelled*
like.  {I have to do something. I can't let him lose that vision
of himself because of something I've done.}
    Even as he rose and walked up the stairs, heading for his
desk, he heard his heart's response to that thought.  {I gave it
to him in the first place. I was the first to see and the only
one to ever see it so clearly.}  At the desk he opened a lower
drawer and lifted out a battered address book. Untouched for
years, it still brought back vivid memories.
    "Call me when you get settled." Dondo had said, shaking his
hand and looking like he wanted to hug him again.  The way he had
when he'd arrived in Washington to pick Jim up and take him home.
A stray thought flickered through Jim's mind as he relived the
memories.  {I've never hugged Blair. Not since I've known him
this second time. Why is that?}  But he was too busy processing
other thoughts to dwell on it.
    {Dondo must have known Blair was looking for me. And he
didn't tell him where I was. Was that because I forgot or because
he didn't want me to remember?}  It was a hell of a position to
put your best friend into. Die and then come back from the dead
with no memory of the teenager you were in love with. In a
relationship with that said best friend didn't understand or
approve of.  {What could he have said that I would have believed?
Would it have been easier for me to remember then?}  So much
would have been different. But would he have tracked Blair down,
or would he - newly come from a harrowing experience in the
jungle, going crazy with his senses - have been willing to renew
that relationship in the face of the civilian world?
    He would never know the answer to that. But other things...
other things he could ask lt. Aredondo.  It had been nearly a
decade since he called this number and Jim had no faith that his
one-time best friend would still be here, but he had to try. 
{Perhaps I let my friendship with him lapse because of what
he did, maybe I knew subconsciously.}
    Settling on the couch again, he turned the TV on to a low
murmur, masking the sounds of dialling and his quiet exchanges
with the people at the other end.

    Nearly two hours later he had a lead.  A Major in charge of 
Ranger Mobile Unit, he was at his desk at 12:53 p.m. in Greenland,
as Jim walked out to the balcony and waited to be put through.
    "Hello?" His voice sounded older, more tired, and tougher.
"This is Major Aredondo. How did you get this number?"
    "I paid a corporal for it." Torn between an insane urge to
either laugh or cry at the welcome familiarity of the voice and
the joke, Jim recovered enough to respond with only a hint of
sadness.  There was a moment of silence, during which Jim
catalogued his friend's vital signs. The quick intake of breath
and sudden spike in heart rate were enough to tell him that the
Major recognized him as well. "Hey, Dondo. How's it hanging?"
    "Ellison? James Ellison?!"  A burst of sound, threads of
anger and remorse and happiness twining into an aural quilting
square.
    "Yeah. But it's Jim now. Has been since I got out."
    "How's civilian life treating you? You ready to come back and
play with the big boys?"  Happiness won, and the threads
dissipated as Jim listened to his friend lean back in his chair
and get comfortable.  {He did what he thought was right.} That
much Jim understood, now. {Eli never did anything he questioned.}
    "Hey, Detective of the Year last  year. Highest case-solved
ratio in the state. Why would I want to come crawl in the mud
with you?"
    "Damn. I always knew you'd be great at something, Ellison.
You were always destined for greatness."
    "I wouldn't go that far...."  A moment of silence. Checking
on Blair, Jim heard a stifled whimper, but the vitals said his
partner was sleeping. Restlessly, but sleeping.  They were due
back soon, he needed his rest.  "So. How are you, Eli?"
    "Good, good. Got three kids now. Andrew is six, Rosie is four
and the new one, he's ten months."
    "A family man? When did that happen?"
    "About six years ago, when Andrew was born. His mom and I
didn't get off to the best start, but we worked it out. She's a
medic."
    "That's amazing."
    "Funny you should call. The little one, his name is Jimmy.
It's her father's name, but I was kind of thinking of you when he
was born. Wondering, y'know, if you'd ever gotten married or had
kids or anything."  There was no censure in the words and, as
they talked, Jim noticed that the voice lightened, became more
like the voice of the man he had known then.
    "I did get married, but it didn't work out. Carolyn was a
good woman and we had a lot of fun together...we were just better
as friends than spouses."
    "I had just wondered." Another awkward silence and Jim heard
the knock on his friend's office door. Eli covered the receiver
but Jim heard his words.
    "Give me ten minutes! And keep everyone out of the office!" 
He came back with an apology. "Sorry, James, but you know how it
is. I'm late for a practice jump."
    "You're still jumping?" Jim was surprised, usually
higher-ranking officers were chained to their desks.
    "They can't keep me on the ground. I never thought I'd see
the day you became a ground pounder."  There was a question
behind the words and Jim answered it, getting things out into the
open.
    "Well, you never thought you'd see the day I took a man to my
bed, too. But these things happen."
    "You did remember." It was a sigh, a breath and an apology
all rolled into one.
    "Why didn't you tell me?" No anger now, just curiosity. After
talking to this man, remembering him, Jim knew there had been no
malice in the decision. Just a case of impossible choices for a
young lt.  Now the chair creaked and elbows hit the desk with
muffled thumps.
    "I didn't know what to say. He was happy, he was seeing some
girl...I thought it was the way you wanted it. I mean, you
couldn't have forgotten him so completely if you didn't want to,
right?"
    In his bedroom Blair shifted, his restlessness bringing him
awake. Jim heard him sit and pull the covers tighter around
himself although the loft was warm.
    "I don't know, Dondo." His sadness made his voice plaintive. 
"He found me. Years ago. Became a part of my life, my best
friend..."  Another in drawn breath and then a rush of words,
concerned and angry.
    "How did he do that? Why did he do that? Is he just trying to
screw up your life? Is that why your marriage didn't work?"
    "No, no. nothing like that. I only just remembered. He never
said anything, never did anything. Just wanted to be close to me.
He's changed so much, Dondo, you wouldn't recognize him."
    "He was very young, James."  A sob from behind the French
doors caught Jim's attention. he didn't know if he could stand to
sit hear and listen o Blair cry, yet again.
    "Not so young that he didn't truly love me." A pause and on
the other end of the phone he could hear his friend waiting for
the next line. Hearing it in his voice. "I don't remember, Eli,
and now he says he was wrong. He says that it wasn't love if I
could forget and he's tearing himself up over it."  Eli must have
heard the question in Jim's heart, because he answered it so
quickly.
    "It *was* love, James. Despite all the rest of it - even I
could see that it was love."  
    Blair stumbled out of the bed, Jim heard the blanket slither
to the floor.
    "Thank you, Dondo. I needed to hear that." Preparing to get
off the phone, Jim listened to Blair as he staggered around his
little room.  Opening and shutting drawers, digging for clothes?
    "Wait, James. I have something for you. Something I kept,
when you got all your stuff back. You sent it to me before you
left for Peru, do you remember?"
    "I have to go, Dondo. Whatever it is, send it to me."
Rattling off his address for his rapidly-scribbling friend, Jim
managed to get off the phone before Blair came out of the
bedroom, headed for the bathroom, clean clothes in hand.  He
looked tired but collected. Calm.  Jim scarcely heard his
friend's good-bye before he hung up the phone.
    "Hey, Jim. I can't sleep. Thought I'd fix us some food and we
could get down to the station, okay?"  Blair ducked into the
bathroom before Jim had a chance to reply, but an inane response
echoed in the older man's weary mind.  {Anything but pancakes,
Chief.}
    He was perversely disappointed when Blair fixed tuna
sandwiches with pickles on the side.  But they were good - Blair
hadn't lost his forgotten his way around a spice cabinet - and
Jim ate two of them. Then he rinsed the plates and wiped the
table and they were back to square one, staring at each other
warily.
    "There's not that much to do at the station." Jim said at
last.  Blair shrugged, hands spreading in a I-can't-stay-here
gesture as he replied.
    "Then we'll work on the case. I still think a door-to-door
with those businesses on my target sheet might be effective."  
    Jogging up the stairs, Jim returned with the mentioned sheet.
Blair had spent several hours working it up - a list of all the
businesses in and around Cascade that he thought fit the profile
of the targets.  Letting it flutter as he jogged back down, he
stopped and looked over it, not actually seeing it, and spoke to
his partner.
    "We told you, Simon and I, why this was a bad idea. Too much
manpower, not enough promise of results. If we go out there with
this we could be gone all day..."  He glanced up and blinked as
the words echoed in his ears.  Gone all day.  Out of the loft
*all day*.  Busy all day.
    Looking back at the paper, he frowned at his own eagerness to
avoid the man he claimed as his best friend.  But things had
changed.
    "Maybe we should give it a try."  The relief in Blair's eyes
somehow caused him actual pain.  That wasn't possible, was it? 
{Face it, Ellison. He's so glad to avoid being penned up with you
all day he'd dance naked at the station if it would keep you both
busy.}  Suddenly the image was there, in his mind, drawn in
flames; Blair, naked, dancing. To a tune only heard by Sentinel
ears.  Climbing into the driver's side of the truck, he groaned
softly.
    What did this mean?

   "Yes, sir. We got a few leads, sir. No, Sandburg doesn't think
they'll hit again that quickly. And when they do we'll be ready
for them."  The moon had risen hours ago and they had just gotten
home. Blair had retreated to his room in seconds and now all Jim
could hear was the clicking of computer keys and something sad
crooning out of the stereo.  After listening to a five-minute
lecture on how he let the younger man run his life, Jim was at
last allowed to hang up the phone.  Standing in the kitchen, he
debated disturbing his friend, but concern won out.
    "Sandburg? You hungry? I'm going to fix a couple of
sandwiches. Is grilled cheese okay?"  The minute the words left
his mouth he winced.  One hand rose to scrub at his face. He
hadn't meant to say that.  "Or I could go get something...." on
second thought, that sounded like a pretty good idea. "I'm going
to go pick up some tacos. Maybe swing by a couple of those places
that received a flyer, just to check on them."  Going to the
door, he picked up his keys and was swinging into his jacket when
Blair's door opened.
    "Hang on, man, I'll come with you."  With his jacket hanging
half-on and half-off his shoulders, Jim shrugged it the rest of
the way on.
    "You don't have to do that." In the dark of the loft, this
late at night, Blair's tired face was cast into relief. The
shadows picked out hollows and tendons, making him look more
exotic. A model, photographed as art.
    "No, if you're gonna go by those places, I should be with
you. In case you find anything, you'll need backup."
    "And you are my backup." Jim offered a small smile that Blair
returned coolly.
    "Just let me shut down this program and we can go." 
Following him to his door, Jim caught sight of the mirror,
covered with the sheet. It was the first time he had looked at it
since then.  But he ignored it, choosing instead to keep the
conversation professional.
    "I thought you said they wouldn't hit again so soon." 
Leaning one shoulder on the door frame, he watched as Blair saved
whatever he was working on and shut down the laptop.
    "I said I didn't think they would. But if they're on a
timetable - and that feels like it would fit, to me -  then
getting stopped tonight screwed that up. They might try someplace
else to catch up."  Heading for the door, Jim snagged Blair's
jacket and tossed it to him, not stopping to wait for him to put
it on.  In the elevator he glanced at his friend.
    "Tacos okay?"
    "Isn't that Indian place open all night?"  Jim waited for the
flash of grin that should accompany that statement, and frowned
when it didn't come. So Blair was going back to moping, was he?
    "That sounds good." He gave in, not really knowing why. "I
like the steamed chicken."
    "It's about the only healthy thing you like." The grumble was
more normal and Jim relaxed.  The elevator dinged and the door
opened. Jim sniffed and decided that it was going to rain.  But
he didn't say anything to Blair about it. That would just be
setting himself up for another bout of testing.
    Two hours later found dawn closer and their stomachs full. 
And their eyelids getting heavy. Blair was holding the list high,
turning it so the dome light in the truck illuminated it, reading
over it aloud.  For the fiftieth time or so.
    "Just pick one, Sandburg." Jim didn't quite growl as he
pulled over to the side of the road. "We'll do three more and
then head home to sleep. Simon will set up another stakeout for
tonight, so we need to be rested."  Lowering the paper, Blair
pushed his hair back, using both hands to skin it tight. The
motion made Jim suck in his breath. It was exactly the same
mannerism he'd had ten years ago, and Jim didn't think he'd seen
it since then.  Of course, he hadn't seen a lot of things in
those years.  Hadn't seen Blair graduate from college.  Hadn't
seen him get his master's.  Hadn't seen him discover women. 
Which the younger man had done with all the enthusiasm he brought
to everything else in his life.  The thought brought a smile and
Blair looked over at him.
    "What?"
    "Nothing." Pulling away from the curb, he lifted the list
from Blair's grasp as he drove, one hand on the wheel.  "Did you
choose?"
    "The three marked in blue - I thought they would be too
obvious as targets, but they're all on this side of town."  The
smaller man shrugged, hair falling into his face again. "We may
as well swing by."
    "Djorn's Meatpacking." Jim read the first one and lay the
list back down on the seat.  A picture leapt into his mind and he
studied it.  Driving, in the Bronco, Blair asleep on the seat
beside him. The teenager's head pillowed on his leg, one hand
curled trustingly to his stomach.  Suddenly the distance between
them in the truck, a completely normal distance between driver
and passenger, was far too large.
    "They slaughter pigs." Blair grimaced.
    "Ah, evil purveyors of cholesterol." Jim teased. But there
was no response.  Taking his eyes off the road as they sat as a
deserted red light, Jim saw that Blair was once again staring out
the window, sitting very still.  {He'll get over it. He has to.} 
The thought wasn't as comforting as it should have been.

    Wrinkling his nose, Jim grabbed a tissue and wiped, then held
it there. They were still a ways down the road from the
slaughterhouse, but the stench of pigs and filth and slop was
already too strong for him.  Then Blair's hand was on his
shoulder and his voice was speaking to Jim, calm, cool.
Impersonal.
    "Dial it down, Jim. Picture the dial marked 'scent' and turn
it down as far as you can. That's it, that's good..."  He crooned
until Jim's eyes cleared and he blew his nose once, forcefully,
ridding himself of the last lingering traces of the foul stench.
    "Park and listen?" Blair asked. It was the pattern they had
followed all night. Parked nearby, Jim would listen for anything
out of the ordinary, until he was convinced everything was okay,
and then they would go on to the next stop.
    "Yeah. Right up there." Jim pointed to a darkened spot out of
reach of the scattered street lamps.
    "Good." The noncommittal response brought another twinge to
Jim's stomach, but he swallowed it down.  {He'll be back to his
old self in no time.}  He stoically ignored the little voice that
questioned: Which old self?  They parked. Blair cracked the truck
door and slipped out to stretch, in the protection of the
doorway.  He rested against the side of the truck, arms crossed
in the window, while Jim cocked his head, closed his eyes, and
listened.  And after a few minutes his eyes opened wide and he
moved quickly.
    "There's someone in there." He hissed, coming around the
truck.
    "You're kidding." Blair sounded disbelieving. "Someone that
doesn't work there?"
    "I don't think the employees discuss the best places to set
bombs." Pulling out his cell phone, Jim handed it to Blair, who
took it.
    "I know, call for backup and stay put."
    "Actually, call for backup and move closer. I might need
you." Moving away quickly through the darkness, Jim heard Blair's
words, angrily whispered as he dialed the phone.
    "You haven't needed me for years."  They stuck in his head,
even as he carefully jimmied the lock in a back door and worked
his way through the storage area of the plant. Here hundreds of
pigs were stuffed into tiny pens, waiting to die tomorrow. Used
to the presence of humans and perhaps drugged as well, they
didn't react to his intrusion.  He heard the voices toward the
front. Three of them, a woman and two men. They were arguing.
    "If we kill the animals then we're just as bad as the people
we're trying to teach." The woman was saying.
    "But if we plant it here, in the office, they might find it
before it has a chance to blow."
    "They're going to kill them anyways, better to let them die
for the cause than leave them to be transferred to another place
of death and murdered there." This man sounded as pompous as his
words.
    "I don't like it." The woman said. "But I guess you're
right."
    Ducking behind a large vat - there was a row of them, at
least ten feet high and as many feet around - on the other side
of the storage space, Jim was surprised to feel that the metal
was cold. What were they keeping in it?
     The three perpetrators filed out of the office. One of them
was carrying what looked like a shoebox.  
    Scanning the space more closely, Jim noted the system of
wires and catwalks up near the top of the 30-foot height.  There
were ladders spaced at intervals along the walls. Keeping low,
creeping, he made his way toward one.  They walked directly to
one of the vats and began fussing at the bottom of it. There were
no words, they knew what they were doing.  Jim climbed to ten
feet up, protected by the shadows, and turned up his hearing,
hoping he could hear if a timer was set on the bomb.  
    Instead he heard Blair, approaching the slaughterhouse,
walking in the opened door in the back.  {Shit. Shit, shit shit.}
These people would kill, had killed. What was Blair doing
following him in here like this?  {Trying to save you, most
likely.} Swearing silently to himself Jim climbed back down and
turned to head back the way he had come. But then the woman spoke
again and he paused.
    "Okay. How long do we want it for?"
    "Six hours. That will make it right smack in the middle of
the day, when the most people are in here."  The pompous one
didn't speak. Jim reviewed his options.  He could let them set
the bomb and then let Taggert and his men worry about disarming
it. But that would put the captain and his men at risk.  Drawing
his gun, Jim adjusted his sight and focused closely on the
shoebox. The lid was off it, lying to one side of the woman.
    In the box was a digital timer and a bundle of wires
connected to a bottle. He couldn't try to smell whatever the
liquid was, turning his sense of sell backup in this giant pigsty
would be just asking for a zone-out, but the fact that it was
being used for a bomb kind of established that it was flammable. 
But it was well-protected, cradled in something, probably to make
transportation safer.  The timer was at one end of the box, the
bottle at the other. Quickly Jim calculated the odds. And heard
Blair's whisper, from the back room, pitched at Sentinel-level.
    "Jim?"
    There was no more time to decide. The woman was reaching to
set the timer. Crouching on one knee, raising his gun, Jim
sighted along the barrel, feeling his vision constrict and
narrow, until all he saw was the five-inch box of the digital
timer.
    The shot cracked in the empty space like a rifle, echoing. 
Then all hell broke loose.  The three terrorists jumped to their
feet, shouting and drawing guns.
    "Cascade PD!" Jim bellowed from his spot behind the vat.
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"  There was a rush of running footsteps and
then Blair was behind him, pressing himself closely to the cool
metal curve, breathing heavily.
    "There you are." He panted, giving Jim an excited grin.  From
his preliminary survey Jim knew there were only two ways out of
this place. That door in the back and the big truck bay that was
still locked tight. The front door was through the office and set
on a timer.  They would never get through it. He knew it and they
knew it.  And he was between them and the back door.  Carefully
he stuck his head around the edge.
    A flurry of shots rang out, but Jim was already moving. His
targets were splitting up, two of them heading up the nearest
ladder and the third doubling back toward the office.  Behind him
he heard Blair shriek, and he skidded to a stop, a new scent
filling the air, thick and heavy and deeply nauseating.  Blood.
Lots of it. Cold, thick, and filled with chemicals. Even with his
scent turned almost all the way down Jim couldn't avoid it.
    "BLAIR?!"
    "I'm okay, Jim! Just got showered! Get them!" His Guide's
voice was filled with horror, but he sounded under control. So
Jim turned again and slithered up the ladder after his prey.  He
could gear the sirens getting closer.

***

    Jim handed the last perp over to Smith for his ride downtown
before turning towards his truck.  The first fingers of dawn were
reaching from the sky and for a moment, Blair was thrown into
relief as light beamed behind him, bathing him in a red glow. 
Jim felt a lick of desire flicker through him, warming him like
the fledgling sun.  He ignored it, battling it down as he pulled
out his sunglasses against the brightly shining ball low on the
horizon.  As he came closer to Blair the halo effect from the
light dissipated, but the red glow remained.  Wrinkling his nose
in distaste, even though he couldn't actually smell his
blood-soaked friend, Jim waved him away from the truck.
    "What?"  Blair asked, stepping closer.
    Jim backed away.  
    "Just don't...come near me."  Several of the terrorists
bullets had penetrated the thin steel of the large vat while
Blair was standing beside it. He'd had no chance to avoid the
blood that had come pouring from it, as thick as river sludge. 
It hadn't stopped him from capturing the third, unarmed
terrorist.  In fact he had to wonder if it had been an advantage.
They had wrestled briefly, but Blair soon had the upper hand.  He
was sure a good portion of his victory could be attributed to the
criminal's distaste of the blood that soaked Blair's clothes and
coated his body.
    He grinned up at his partner, for the moment forgetting the
past ten years, forgetting the hurt of the last few days, seeing
only the beloved face in the morning sunlight, nose wrinkled,
mouth twisted, eyes watering ever so slightly.
    "Come on, Jim.  What's a little pig's blood between friends?"
He teased.
    Jim's hands came up as he backed up another step.  
    "And if you think you're riding in my truck covered in that
slop..."  He trailed off as Blair laughed up at him, an answering
smile warming his own face.
    "I want the reports on this one ASAP.  No one goes home until
we have this thing wrapped tighter than a Macanudo cigar!"
Simon's bellow broke the spell and Jim watched as Blair's teasing
grin faded, stretched into the plastered smile that attempted to
hide all the hurt.
    "So uh..." Blair's voice faded as he flung an arm towards the
truck before letting it drop to hang limply at his side.  "I
guess I should get a lift with one of the squad cars, huh?"
    "Why not try Simon.  His car is new, I'm sure it's got that
stainguard stuff on the upholstery."  He hurried towards the
driver's side of the truck, not wanting to prolong the moment. 
The few moments of normalcy made this thing now between them seem
all the more awkward and painful.  "I'll see you down at the
station."  
    Blair watched him go until he rounded a corner, trying not to
take Jim's sudden departure personally.  The whole slaughterhouse
had to be driving his senses crazy.  Turning, heading towards
Simon, Blair laughed as he watched the captain's eyes go round.
    "Not in *my* car you don't!"
    "You've got stainguard, don't you, captain?"  Blair ignored
the tug of pain at his heart as he echoed his one-time lover's
words.  Simon was shaking his head now, but Blair just made his
way to the passenger door.  "I've got to get down to the station
somehow, Simon.  I suppose I *could* walk...but you did say you
wanted this wrapped up as soon as possible, didn't you?"
    Simon sighed heavily. "Get in."

    "Hey Hairboy, you must be one of us now - you're bleeding
like a stuck pig." The catcalls and voices of the cops heckling
him faded as they fled in his wake. Peeling off his clothes, he
looked around somewhat wildly, trying to decide what to do with
them.  The garbage beckoned, and he finally succumbed to it,
desperate now to get under the spray.
    He turned the hot as high as he could stand it and let the
water sluice over his body, grateful as the smell began to fade
under the assault of the water.  He startled as Jim's voice rang
out behind him.  
    "I'll just leave a towel and the clothes on the bench back
here, okay Chief?"  
     Blair nodded as he kept his face turned to the wall, feeling
vulnerable.  He could feel Jim's eyes on his body and he longed
to be able to enjoy the visual caress.  It reminded him of when
Jim had fallen into the vat of oil on the Cyclops rig.  The older
man had showered unselfconsciously in front of Blair, apparently
unaware of Blair's eyes, taking it all in from under heavy lids.
    He shivered suddenly, knowing the older man had left the room
as quietly as he'd entered.  Feeling the loss of his eyes.  He
leaned his head against the cool tile and let the spray beat at
him, an angry lover's fingers massaging his aching body.  Soon
nothing remained of the pig blood.  
    He wished he could erase the last ten years as easily.  He
wished he'd never met Jim.  He gasped as he recoiled physically
at the thought, his heart beginning to pound as if attacked. 
{NO!}  {NO!}  It didn't matter what had happened since.  He loved
Jim.  He loved him with everything he had in him, as much as he
knew how to love another person; far more than he could ever love
himself.  He would never wish away meeting Jim.  He would never
wish away losing him and finding him again only to discover that
he was un-remembered.
    He would try the mirror again tonight.  He would.  Because
the mirror was a gift that Jim had given him all those years ago.
The gift of Blair himself.  And if that was all he had left, that
and the friendship of this man he wanted so badly to love him,
then he would hold onto it as hard as he could.
   His hands trembled slightly as he picked up the sweatpants and
t-shirt Jim had left him, the older man's change of clothes for
those days he couldn't make it home before going to the gym.  The
steam from his shower swirled around, making the air damp and
heavy.  He pulled the shirt to his nose, breathing deeply.  It
was faint beneath the fresh clean scent of laundry soap and
fabric softener, but it was there.  Jim.  He sat down heavily,
wondering if he could bring himself to accept only friendship
from the man he loved so deeply, so completely.
    Pulling on the sweats, he laughed at himself.  {I've wanted
to be inside the man's pants since I found him again.  Be careful
what you wish for Blair.  Fate just might let you have it, but
that doesn't mean you'll get what you want.}  He rolled up the
cuffs and tucked in the t-shirt, trying not to picture how the
outfit would have looked on Jim.  He had to walk back through the
bullpen and was bound to be teased enough without sporting an
erection, visible against the soft gray cotton.
    Standing, stretching, he closed his eyes to concentrate on
the feeling of the cotton falling against his skin.  Wearing
Jim's clothes just seemed so...intimate and he couldn't shake his
hopes and desires.    His cock began to harden, rising against
the soft cotton inside the pants, unimpeded by underwear.  His
hands drifted down his body toward his growing erection, stopping
at the waistband, waiting there for approval to continue.  {Just
this once.  Who would it hurt?}
    Clenching his fists he willed himself over to the sinks to
splash cold water on his face.  He had vowed not to touch himself
like that until Jim and he were lovers again and he wouldn't
break that vow, not if it killed him.  And kill him it might if
Jim never came around.  
    He stared at the slightly pale face in the mirror. The
haunted blue eyes seemed dark and young, but he felt old inside. 
Too old to have ever been that shy teenager.  Pulling his hair
back, he noticed it accented the dark circles under his eyes and
abruptly left it loose.  Simon had been asking too many questions
already, questions that Jim didn't want to have to answer, and he
still had to go back to the captain's office to retrieve his
wallet and backpack.
    Shoulders squared, head high.  None of his inner turmoil and
pain showed as he made his way back to Major Crime.

    Simon grabbed the backpack and wallet that had been flung on
his desk in Blair's hurry to comply with his growled order that
the younger man get out of his office and get cleaned up
immediately.  Turning to place them on the table bookcase behind
him, he cursed as the smaller item slipped from his fingers,
tumbling onto the floor.  Its contents sprayed beneath his desk
in an almost artistic arc.
    Grumbling, he bent, picking up the scattered pieces and
shoving them back into the soft black leather case.  A cool
smooth surface danced beneath his fingertips and he looked down
at his hand, dropping the item in surprise.  Pushing the rest of
the mess aside, he sat down heavily in his chair, eyes fixed on
the picture he retrieved once again from the floor.
    "Oh my god."  Jim and Blair smiled up at him from the
laminated photograph.  Standing at the edge of a canyon, arms
looped around each other's waists, they were very young and very
obviously in love.  The edges of the picture were softly white,
creases lining the picture itself.  It had obviously been handled
a lot before it had been entrenched behind the protective
plastic.
    A knock sounded on the door and Simon lifted blazing eyes,
growling an order as the object of his ire appeared in the
doorway.
     "Come *in*. Jim.  Close the door behind you."
     Raising his brows slightly, Jim closed the door before
settling himself against the table.  "What's up, Simon?"
    "Where's the kid?"  The older man growled, standing to face
his detective.
    "Still in the showers, and he's not a kid, Simon."
    "Well he sure as hell is here!"  Flinging the picture at Jim,
Simon stalked around to yank at the blinds, bringing them down. 
Jim bent slowly to retrieve the picture from where it had landed
on the floor at his feet, the blood loud in his ears as it rushed
to his head.  Pulling up abruptly he gazed down at the picture,
memory slamming into him, cutting like the rocks they'd scaled
that day.

    Blair's slim body working ahead of his, sweat and musk
filling the air.  The view at the top rivaled by the young man
standing next to him.  The love shining from those blue eyes. 
Jim felt his body tighten as each glorious moment of that day
shone in his mind.  Everything had been so clear that day.

    "Well?  Are you planning on telling me exactly what the hell
has been going on here?"  Simon's angry snarl broke through his
reverie, bringing him crashing back to the present, and he felt
the weight of time crushing him.
    "I told you we knew each other a long time ago."  He forced
the words out quietly.  
    Crossing his arms over his chest, Simon stared at him, eyes
glaring, daring Jim not to continue.  A minute passed.  Neither
man looked away, neither spoke, their bodies tight, angry,
un-giving.  Simon broke first.
    "Damn it, Jim, what is he?  Fifteen?  You were dating a kid
my son's age?  Were you fucking him too?  Do you know what that
makes you?"  Jim's body tightened, coiled tighter as his face
paled, his eyes becoming glacial.
    "He was 17.  And nothing else is any of your goddamned
business."
    "God *damn* you, Jim.  He was just a kid, even if he was 17. 
You had to have been, what?  At least 25. "  Jim didn't move, not
even the muscle in his jaw twitched.  "James Ellison, you are an
officer of the law.  You and your *partner* are under my command.
That makes this my business."  Voice softening slightly as he
backed away to lean against the desk, Simon tried to reach his
detective, worried for a moment that Jim was zoning. "Jim, I care
about you, about both of you.  I'm not prying here to gossip or,
or try to butt in between you.  Something his obviously very
wrong and has been ever since the vandalism at the museum.  You
two obviously aren't handling this and I just want to help."  
    Jim heard the words coming from far away.  He felt them
batter at his tense body, intent on shattering him.  His senses
faded in and out, his control spinning wildly as he held his
emotions in check, held himself still.  The air pummeled him,
beating him with tiny fists, demanding answers.  He knew he was
staring at the wall over Simon's shoulder but couldn't focus. 
And then everything snapped back into place.  His eyes found
the lines of a diploma, Simon's name standing out among the
flowery words, as his ears were filled with a heartbeat that led
him back to his control.  The soft voice answered a jibe and
gentle footsteps he would know anywhere moved Blair closer.
    His muscles unclenched slightly and he turned his head to
meet Simon's penetrating gaze.  
    "Leave him out of this."  Handing the picture back to Simon,
he pointed towards the shuttered door.  Simon's eyes widened as
he realized Jim was telling him that Blair was on his way.  "He's
in enough pain.  He doesn't need you adding to it."  He turned as
Simon's mouth opened, questions ready to flood out. Moving to the
window, he left his back to his captain, hand clenching on the
pane.  "We're linked.  Him and me, the Sentinel stuff... it's
because of him." His jaw snapped shut, regretting the words
already.
    "Are you saying he did something to you?  What does this have
to do with you being lovers a long time ago?  And why are you
still together if you aren't lovers?"  Simon's questions barked
at him in rapid succession and Jim held up his arm, hand flat,
palm out, bringing a halt to the torrent of words.
    "Simon..."  His voice faded.  What could he say?  What could
he possibly say that could make his friend understand, when he
didn't understand it himself.  A few moments ago, an hour ago, a
day ago, he had been so sure he knew where he stood.  But then
he'd seen Blair in the shower. His body trembling, turned away
from Jim, hiding.  Unable to even look at him.  Unable to help
himself, Jim had stared at Blair, naked and wet and safe. Had
heard his heartbeat and smelled his distress.  Knowing that he
was the cause of it - after he had promised that he would never
hurt him, so many years ago - that had hurt.
    "I don't love him anymore."  He said it as if it made sense,
the words bouncing from the walls mocking him.  Each syllable,
each sound shattering against his ears.  Don't.  Don't.  Don't. 
Love him.  Love him.  Him.  More.  More.  More.  He shook his
head slightly as he heard the air rushing into Simon's lungs.  He
couldn't listen to what the captain was going to say.  His own
questions roared through him, daring him to admit the truth, 
{Coward.  Do you really not love him anymore?  Or are you just
hiding out from yourself?}
    A soft knock broke the tension that held the room taut and
Jim turned to watch his partner enter, at Simon's bidding.  He
felt the floor drop out from beneath him as his butterfly
appeared so clearly in front of him he thought for a moment he'd
been transported back in time.  Blair, almost as pale now as he
had been then, sick and hurting, looking like an urchin in
clothes too big for him.  Only then Jim had been the one to care
for him, help him; now he was the one causing the pain.  His
mouth tightened.
    "Let's go, Chief."  He strode from Simon's office, eyes fixed
firmly on his goal, veering neither right nor left to meet the
two pairs of eyes that bore into him.  He heard Blair's tired
thanks to Simon as he collected his pack and wallet before
falling into step behind Jim.  Jim looked down at his hands,
realizing he still held the photograph.  He slipped it into his
pocket, unable to hand it back to Blair.

***

    Sitting on the edge of his bed, Jim listened as Blair moved
about his room, touching items, picking them up and replacing
them as quietly as he could.  The ride home had been quiet, the
air hanging under a weight of sadness, and the younger man had
gone directly to his room as soon as the door was opened.  He
wasn't doing anything, as far as Jim could tell. Just wandering.
Perhaps thinking?  
    Sighing deeply, the ex-ranger turned his attention to the
pile of mail he'd dropped on the bed.  Not wanting to sit in the
living room and have Blair think he was listening to him, he had
just carried it all up here with him.  Blair seldom received any,
and if he had any in this pile Jim would just take it downstairs
and leave it on the table for him to find.  The bed creaked
softly as he stretched out on his back. The only illumination in
the room was his desk lamp, but he didn't need more to read.
Thumbing through the envelopes, he muttered almost silently to
himself.
    "Junk, junk, bill, credit card offer, phone bill, hm?" 
Half-sitting, he propped himself on an elbow as the rest of the
pile fluttered back to the bedspread.  The envelope he selected
was a small cardboard one with bright red-white-and-blue stripes.
Overnight mail. He wasn't expecting anything this important. 
Flipping it over, he studied the return address.  Major Eli
Aredondo.  Greenland.  {He said he was going to send me
something I needed....} Unwilling to speculate, Jim pulled the
tab on the envelope and opened the flap.

    The sheet rustled to the floor with barely a whisper of
sound, but Blair still glanced nervously at the door.  He'd never
felt so awkward. Even that first night with James...but things
were different now. He was different.  {I'll wait the rest of my
life, if I have to.} Sitting in his desk chair he untied his
shoelaces, caked with drying blood, with a grimace. He set the
shoes aside to wash another time, and then began undressing. His
movements were matter-of-fact, casual, as if what he was about to
do wouldn't decide the course of the rest of his life.  {If I
can't see it tonight, I'll quit looking. I'll still love him and
I'll still wait, but that mirror will have to go. No sense
keeping something that causes so much pain.}  He stood now, naked
and at ease with himself. His cock hung limply, swaying as he
stretched, just another part of a healthy body.

    The photo slid out of the envelope after a bit of shaking. 
Catching it in his palm, Jim stared at it for a few long minutes
before retrieving its mate from his pocket and laying them both
side by side on the blue comforter.  Blair's eyes gazed at him
lovingly, against a backdrop of the most beautiful blue sky he'd
ever seen.  It didn't compare with those eyes.
    The double image blurred before him and he drew his sight
back to avoid zoning. As a distraction he opened his sense of
smell and the reek of film chemicals stung at it.  His picture
looked almost new, uncreased, the colors still bright, next to
the slightly faded version of Blair's.  And his smelled strongly
of chemicals.  Picking up the laminated one, Blair's, he brought
it to his nose and sniffed.  And closed his eyes with a sigh.  It
smelled like Blair.  The chemical scent was still there, but
beneath it, growing steadily stronger, was the unmistakable smell
of the younger man. Given enough time, it would eventually
replace the unpleasant chemical smell.
    Letting it drift back to the bed, Jim lifted his own picture.
He hadn't thought about it in years, if course, but he remembered
what it had been like to leave it behind.  Eli had told him not
to take it.

    "If your men see this they'll never respect you, Ellison. Let
me take it, I'll keep it safe for you."  Jim had refused, but
Dondo had been insistent.  "Come *on*, man, what are you going to
do, tell them he's your brother?! Nobody with *eyes* is going to
believe that."  He had touched Jim's arm - the rough grip of a
man's touch, friendly but almost a warning. "James, I understand.
I mean, I don't *understand*, but I understand."  Standing on the
runway, the small military plane waiting to take him to the new
base and the covert ops assignment, James had looked into the
dark brown eyes of the man who had become his closest - his first
- real friend.  And then he had pulled out his wallet and handed
over the picture, still crisp and new.  Eli had promised to take
care of it.  And he had.

    He studied the picture, trying to see it with the eyes of a
stranger.  {If I picked this up off the street I could tell with
a glance that these two guys are in love.} He thought it with
wonder. Perhaps it had been too new then, perhaps he hadn't been
seeing anything but Blair. Because he certainly hadn't seen that
look in his own eye, or the hungry way the kid has stared at him.
{It's a miracle I managed to put him off as long as I did.}
    Just seeing it brought a pain to his chest, and a shortness
to his breathing.  {I could see that again...}  His hand spasmed
as if the photo had burned it. It dropped to the bed, turning
over lazily in mid-air, and landed face-down.  And there were
words on the back, word she had forgotten were there at all.
Before, he had been too enthralled with the subject of the photo
itself - the kindly woman who had taken it was far from his mind.
Now he read them aloud.
    "Dear Mr. Ellison - " it was written in small curly letters
that had faded slightly with age, "- I hope you and your young
man have as many happy years together as I did with my husband."
    Falling back onto the bed, Jim raised the picture over his
face and touched the letters, tracing them with a fingertip.

    The candle was lit.  The mirror glimmered with reflected
light.  Standing to one side of it, breathing deeply, Blair
prepared himself.  Tonight he would find the butterfly Jim loved,
or he would quit looking forever.  {There's a time to leave
things behind.} he remembered his mother's words of wisdom.  She
knew he carried this torch, but she'd never known that it was for
this man.  This James.
    Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs - the candle was
vanilla, scenting the still air lightly - and exhaled slowly. 
Then he stepped in front of the mirror.  And he opened his eyes. 
And blinked.  He saw himself - as he had been, as he was now. 
Too short, shoulders too broad, too furry. His nose was too big
and his eyes too wide for beauty.  Trying to see James behind
him, trying to feel his breath on his neck, he closed his eyes
and strained his imagination, but when he opened them again there
was nothing there.  No big pale body behind him, framing him with
strength and tenderness.  No butterfly, newly released from a
cocoon of youth.
    His arms wrapped around his chest, hugging himself
desperately.  The words choked out of him as desolation loomed, a
Sentinel's presence forgotten in a moment of pain.  
    "I can't."  The wide staring eyes snapped shut again,
squinched tight, and he hugged himself tighter, holding in the
pain.
    "Try again."  Jim's voice surrounded him, caressed him,
holding him and he breathed in a quick hiss, feeling heat behind
him.  He almost didn't want to open his eyes and break the
illusion.  But it had worked in the past and if he could hear
Jim's voice again he would be able to see him again, his mind's
eye remembering that first time so clearly.  There was a warmth
on his neck and he shuddered, amazed that he could feel even that
of the memory.
    Slowly, carefully, Blair opened his eyes.  And then made a
sound of pain, so thick that it drove all of the air from his
lungs.  He could see Jim.  Could *see* him.  Standing behind him,
the beloved face inches from his ear, the big body so strong and
pale and smooth in the soft yellow light.  He shut his eyes
again, so fast he made himself dizzy, and swayed slightly. 
Behind him, the illusion breathed a word.
    "Butterfly..."  And Blair felt his lungs expand again. 
Without thought, without fear, he leaned backwards, his already
swaying body willing to fall, waiting for that strength to catch
him.  Arms, as tight as steel bands, came around his chest and
his back settled against a wall of muscle that felt just the way
he remembered it.  His head tipped back, the long curls brushing
his own shoulders and Jim's mouth closed over his own, stealing
his breath again.
    A loud groan escaped him and both small hands went up to
clutch at Jim's neck.  After a heavy, hungry kiss Jim slid his
mouth back to Blair's ear and sucked behind it. His right hand
rubbed warmly over the thickly-furred chest and then lower, hot
circles that called life to Blair's cock even as Jim's rose,
pressed tightly to his lower back.
    "Look." Jim urged. "I can see you. My butterfly. I'm so sorry
I took this away from you, Blair. Let me give it back."  The hand
closed over Blair's cock and he groaned louder, already gasping
for air.  "*Look*." Jim was insistent now, commanding. "*See*." 
Staring at the vision in the mirror, Blair opened his mouth and a
laugh fell out.
    "Jim. I can - I see - you're - oh -"  Joy vibrated from him
as he thrust into Jim's hand, feeling the answering pressure on
his back as Jim moaned.  "It's for both of us." Blair gasped.
"You're giving it back to us both!"
    "Yes." Jim grunted the single word and then words became
unimportant. His hand controlled Blair with precision, bringing
him to the edge and dangling him there, the sturdy body writhing
in his arms as Jim rubbed harder into his back.  "So beautiful
like this." Jim muttered, panting, as Blair whimpered with need,
unable to stop moving. "Show me the butterfly, Blair. Show me
your self!"
    The butterfly danced in the mirror.  
    Both men came explosively. Blair's seed pumped over the
mirror, bathing their images in the essence of love, and Jim's
burned a path down his back, to run between his legs, seeping
into the gift he had saved for Jim, all these years. He shuddered
again.  Jim caught him as his legs gave out and carried him the
twin bed, falling on it with his butterfly clasped to his chest.
    Although they were both breathing harshly, bodies
replenishing after the work of orgasm, the small room was quiet,
blanketed by a decade of silence and need.  Jim held Blair
tightly to him, every sense filling with his lover; how could he
have forgotten how good they were together; how could he have
denied them for so long?  Stiffening with his self-recrimination,
he almost missed the whimper.  Almost.
    "What?"
    "Don't go."
    "I'm not, I'm..." he relaxed back into the body in his arms,
letting his head rest on the solid shoulder in front of him.
    "Blaming yourself," Blair finished for him.  Jim laughed
humourlessly.  
    "How come you always know how I'm feeling better than I do?"
    Shrugging, the movement brushing his ass against Jim's cock,
Blair waited a moment before answering.
    "Because I love you."
    Jim hugged him tightly, arms closing around his body in a way
that was at once familiar and new.  The older man's cock was
filling rapidly, pressing tightly against his butt.  Holding his
eyes closed tightly, Blair let the sensations of Jim around and
against him fill him until the rest of the world faded into
nothing; until even the cotton mattress on the bed beneath him no
longer existed and they floated there, together, in a world made
entirely of nothing but the two of them.
    Tentatively, carefully, he rocked back against Jim, wanting
more than anything for his lover to make love to him, to join
their bodies the way their hearts were joined.  A tremor went
through him as Jim's hips matched his motions.  He wanted this,
had wished and longed for this for ten long years, had saved this
part of himself for Jim, but what if Jim didn't want it, what if
he was too eager and it turned the older man off?
    "What's wrong?"  The body behind his stilled as Jim's voice,
husky with need sounded in his ear.  Shrugging, low laugh echoing
in the small room, Blair opened his eyes and watched Jim's hand
smooth gently along his chest, flattening the curls there.
    "I guess I'm just a little nervous.  I mean, I've never..."
    Gently Jim's hands tuned him around. The older man looked
both sorrowful and determined.
    "You don't have to tell me. I was way out of line when I said
those things about all the women. I understood, from the first,
why you did it. I just - just didn't want to accept that I'd
fucked up so badly."
    Backing away, Blair propped himself against the wall and
rubbed his hands over his face.
    "It's always so easy in the movies." He complained.
    Jim mirrored the movement, leaning on the headboard.
    "At least in real life we get more than a couple of hours and
one sex scene." Jim countered with a faint grin. That made Blair
snort and lower his hands.
    "I waited for you, Jim. I waited that first year. Thought
that you didn't want me anymore. And after I thought you were
dead - I waited some more. But it was like - like-"
    "Like a part of you was dead." Jim agreed, reaching one hand
to grab one of Blair's and hold it tightly on the bed between
them. "I remember that feeling, from Peru. I couldn't remember
you because it would have killed me, to remember you and not have
you."
    "Sometimes I would think, y'know, what if you did come back?
And then what if you did remember? What would you think? But it
was so hard, to see you and want you so much..."  Leaning close,
Jim scented the air around Blair deeply. It was thick with the
scents of their lovemaking, heady and intoxicating. Blair stared
at him, his eyelids drifting low, shadowing those brilliant blue
windows.
    "Hey, Butterfly. I was the first person to see how sexy you
were. I was the first one to touch you that way. I like to think
I'm the one who taught you about sex, at least in the beginning.
I knew then that you were going to love it and be good at it.  I
can't blame you for being the way I knew you were going to." He
stopped and grimaced. "That sounded stupid, didn't it?"
    "It sounded like you." Blair gazed at him and moistened his
lips with the tip of his tongue.
    "So I don't need to know what you've done or who you've done
it with." Jim finished, his eyes caught by that pink twitch.  
    In slow motion, Blair lifted their clasped hands and kissed
the back of Jim's.
    "I want to tell you this." He waited, for permission or
approval, for something...the silence in the room grew, gathering
the scents that laced the air to it.  Jim's hand tightened on
his, the contact giving him strength.
    "So tell me.  I want to hear everything you have to say."
    Blair turned his face away, pressing his cheek to the wall in
a singular move that spoke eloquently of his discomfort and
worry.  It seemed that it was only worry, and not fear, and that
was good.  But he had to look at Jim, had to see his eyes when he
told him this, even if it did embarrass him. The flutters in his
stomach reminded him of that first time, and how very frightened
he'd been. Wanting it so badly, Jim's touch, but so sure he was
going to be laughed at, humiliated...even though he'd *known*
James would never do that to him.
     But he had since then. Not knowing, he had, if only in small
measure and with good intentions. And then, knowing, he hadn't
ridiculed, but rejected.  That was what made the next words so
hard to speak, and Jim's eyes so hard to meet as he spoke them.
    The cool blue was warmed with concern and love. Blair
recognized it when he saw it, in Jim's eyes - *James'* eyes - 
but still wasn't quite ready to trust it.  His own clear and
dark, unknowingly telling the tale of his inner struggle, he told
Jim what he thought was important now.
    "I never touched another man. I never wanted another man." 
He paused, took a deep breath, glanced away, looked back. Jim's
eyes caught his, held him steady, supported him.  "I have dreamed
of this, fantasized about it, for so many years...the one thing
we didn't do before. You said I was too young. You were right,
and I've privately thanked you for your restraint a thousand
times since. Loosing you would have hurt *too* much if we had
shared that as well."  Another pause. Jim raised his free hand
and wrapped it around Blair's, so the smaller hand was cradled
between the two larger.  The touch, and the calm in Jim's face,
allowed him to finish.  Because he knew that Jim *knew*.  "I want
you to make love to me. To be -inside me. I've waited for you to
do that, man. So damn long."  Feeling his face flush, he ducked
his head and grumbled quietly.  "Oh, geez, I am too *old* to
blush like this..."
    Jim's hands let go of his and reached up to cradle his face. 
A gentle kiss touched his lips and then Jim was rubbing his cheek
along the red of Blair's own.
    "You will never be too old to blush.  You will never be too
old to be my sweet butterfly."  Another kiss, this one lingering
and long.  "There is nothing I want more in this world than to be
inside you, to be a part of my beautiful butterfly."
    "When you talk like that I feel all of sixteen again."
Blair's mouth quirked in a half-grin.  Jim smiled back, hands
moving to run through the tousled curls.
    "When I'm with you *I* feel sixteen again - invincible, like
I'm going to live forever.  Like I have the whole world in front
of me and it's just mine for the taking."
    "It is. If you're my world - and you are, Jim, you've been
the center of my universe since we met - then I should be the
center of yours." The words were spoken with the quiet
self-confidence Jim was used to in the modern Blair, that he had
never heard from the younger version. With a small movement Blair
scooted closer on the bed, his feet sliding between Jim's,
messing up the bedcovers. "Here's your world, man." He gestured
expansively at himself, Jim still holding his face. "But you
can't take it, because I'm giving it, freely and of my own free
will."  A patch of light appeared on the wall and travelled
across it as he spoke, briefly limning his face with golden
brightness and then it vanished, the truck outside turning the
corner, leaving the image of a glowing Blair imprinted on Jim's
retinas.
    "My world," Jim murmured, "my butterfly.  Mine."  He leaned
forward slowly, eyes never leaving Blair's until their lips met
and he let his lids drift closed to better enjoy the feel of silk
against his mouth.  His hands moved around to Blair's back,
pulling him completely into his arms and their bodies touched,
slightly twisted until he slid down to lie on his back, pulling
his lover to lie on top of him.  His hands roamed along Blair's
back, re-exploring the territory he'd once known so well.  Still
thin, Blair had nonetheless filled out; muscles surrounded the
bone now, reminding Jim that ten years had passed since he'd held
him like this.
    "God, the time I wasted..." his voice faded as he rested his
forehead against Blair's.
    "Not wasted." Blair whispered against Jim's lips. "Lived,
learning, growing...not a minute of your life has been wasted,
because it finally led you back to me." He gently inhaled Jim's
breath.  Jim's arms tightened around him and his lips were taken
in a passionate, bruising kiss.
    "God, I love you so much."
    Blair's voice was muffled by the kiss, but he managed to get
a few words out as they broke for air, his voice both amused and
deeply sad.
    "It's about fucking time."  Without giving Jim a chance to
reply he dove in to renew the kiss, revelling in the taste, the
feel of his lover against him, holding him so tightly. Tactile
memory sprung to life and he honestly couldn't detect any
differences between the James he had known and the Jim he held
now.  It felt the same, and it was like being transported back in
time, feeling his stomach curl with anticipation, his body shiver
with nerves and need.  Grabbing Jim's shoulders much the same way
he had then, Blair tore his mouth free and mashed his face into
Jim's neck, right where it met his shoulder, and clung there,
shivering and panting.
    "I want you so much...I could die from wanting." He panted.
"You taught me this."
    "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you, Blair."  A
quiver passed through the body beneath Blair's, the hard flesh
pressing against his groin jerking.  Hands moved down to grasp
his ass, kneading and spreading it, fingers lightly skimming
along the crack.  Jim's voice, when he spoke again, brought
goosebumps to his flesh.  "Let's teach each other how to love
*this* way."
    Squirming to get more sensation, Blair raised his head to
look down at Jim.   There was no doubt or hesitation in the older
man's eyes or on his face and some of Blair's worry faded.
    "We can learn together." The words were scattered by his
movements, increasingly more rhythmic as he pushed himself
against Jim.  His legs spread wider, on the outside of Jim's, and
he raised his hips in the air just a little bit, offering himself
to the older man while he spread kisses over Jim's jaw and neck. 
His hands kneaded the heavy muscles of Jim's shoulders as he
slowed his movement, holding his body still as it quivered. 
"ahh..." He sighed, with worry, with need. "Jim, touch me."
    There was enough fear in the words to tell Jim he was still
afraid that this gift would be rejected.  Jim continued to
massage his ass, hands moving sensuously over the globes, one
finger teasing at his entrance, and then pressing more firmly. 
Suddenly Jim stopped, hands moving to his hips to push him away. 
    "Wait."  The older man gasped, voice rough with need.  "Wait.
I'm not going to hurt you, we need...something."  The large hands
dragged up his body to frame his face and eyes, dilated almost
completely to black stared glazedly up at him, breath panting
harshly from the chest beneath his.  "We have to stop.  We need,
I don't know, something to ease the way.  I won't hurt you
Blair, no matter how much we both want this it can wait until
we're prepared."  He pushed his hand between their bodies,
grasping their erections and beginning to work them together. 
    With an ungraceful lurch Blair went sideways, Jim grabbing
after him, the younger man rolling to the floor to land on
hands-and-knees. When Jim rolled to his side to see what was
wrong, to reassure, most of the covers spilled over too.  Digging
through them with both hands Blair seemed intent on whatever he
was doing. His butt waved invitingly in the air, knees a little
apart, his whole body sheened with sweat, shining.
    "Blair...Butterfly...please...I need you, I love you.  We
just have to wait for *that* until we have all the right stuff." 
Jim's voice was desperate with the need to reassure and with the
need to finish what they had started.  "Please, come back to bed
and let me finish making love to you.  I need you so bad."
    Waving one hand in Jim's direction, Blair's voice was
breathless, he was still panting. Ducking down lower, his weight
forward on an elbow as he reached under the bed, this presented
his butt to Jim.  It could have been lewd but it was actually
sweet in an innocent way.  Blair was pulling things out from
beneath the bed; a stack of books, dusty folders, some balled-up
dirty socks... and a shoebox with a piece of duct tape wrapped
around it, holding it closed.
    "Got it." Sitting back suddenly, Blair cradled the battered
cardboard in both hands, beaming up at Jim with totally Blair
enthusiasm.  "Here. I, uh, I got this when I first moved in. I
was so sure you'd remember, man, as soon as I got into your
space..." he bit his lip and the changed the subject. "Everything
should still be good, it was never opened."  Written on top of
the duct tape, in black magic marker, were two words in Blair's
careful block print.  One Day.  He offered it to Jim, the blush
returning to faintly stain his skin.  "You, you open it."
    "Blair, what...?"  Taking the box being thrust into his
hands, Jim tore at the duct tape with shaking hands.  The duct
tape proved stubborn and Jim stopped to aim a mock glare at Blair
who only beamed back at him and made encouraging tearing motions
with his expressive hands.  With a tug, he ripped the box top in
half, the sudden giving way causing the contents to spill out
onto the bed before him.  Four tubes of lube -each a different
brand, each still sealed in it's box.  He looked up into Blair's
face, noting the blush was back full force and loving the way it
made his face glow.
    "I, uh, I thought you might want to choose. With your senses
I didn't know which one you'd like. Just, y'know, grab one, it's
not a big deal..." Feeling his face heating up even hotter, Blair
gave up and hid it in his hands, ducking his head so his hair
curtained it.  This time he couldn't bring himself to say
anything.
    Jim threaded his hands through Blair's curls to frame his
face, turning it up so that their eyes met.  Moving slowly
forward, he placed a long, slow kiss on the full lips beneath
his.
    "I love you, you know."
    The crimson in Blair's face deepened, but their was no
mistaking the love shinning from his eyes.
    "Yeah, I know."  The words were somewhat breathless and
suddenly the urgency was there, a living entity between them,
urging them into each other's arms.

     Blair's body was hot in his arms, against his chest, and Jim
shifted to lie on his back, bringing Blair down with him,
blanketing himself with the warmth of his lover.  Because Jim had
listened to Blair complain about the cold for more than three
years, this was a surprising sensation, and he worked to get more
of it. More hot Blair skin next to his, as much as he could get. 
It was quickly apparent that some parts of Blair were hotter even
than others. Specifically the length of satin-smooth stretched
flesh that pressed tightly to Jim's flank.  Wrapping his arms
around the smaller body and holding tight, he felt Blair shiver.
    The atmosphere of the room seemed to have changed. Where
before it had been happy, a little mischievous, even
light-hearted, now there was a solemn quality to it.  Not
unpleasant, not even dark, exactly.  Just serious. Serene.  The
small lamp seemed to have dimmed of its own volition.  And
another source of light was illuminating them.  Surrounding them,
floating like a reversed shadow, it gleamed softly, and Jim found
himself blinking, trying to focus on it.  In his arms Blair made
a soft noise and clung tighter and suddenly Jim was gripped in a
powerful tactile memory.
 

     The first time he had heard Blair make a sound like that.
     The first time he had held him naked.
     It had been much like this - Blair in his arms, his curly
head pressed to Jim's shoulder. Trembling, more than he was now.
Then it had been a powerful combination of anxiety and
embarrassment and uncommon desire.
     Now it was more.

     Thinking of the years that separated that Blair from this
one, Jim was struck by the resemblance between them. *His* Blair
was here, right here, in his arms. Where he had always been meant
to be.
     A little older, a lot wiser - but still loving Jim.
     "You feel so good." He whispered into Blair's ear, feeling
the shiver the words produced. "Like you never left. I could walk
out the door and we'd be back in your dorm, trying to be quiet so
we didn't wake anyone..."
     With a twitch Blair made a snuffling sound that crossed a
giggle with a snort. Continuing with a grin, Jim shook him
slightly
     "You weren't such a smart-ass then."
     "Well I am now." Tipping his head back, Blair stared up at
Jim with big round eyes. The same eyes Jim had fallen for more
than ten years ago.
     "But you're just as beautiful now." Lowering his mouth
slowly, Jim heard Blair's heart, already beating rapidly, speed
up. "My butterfly. You became such a wonderful man."
     Pulling back just a little bit, avoiding the kiss for a few
seconds, Blair answered seriously.
     "I wouldn't have if you hadn't loved me."
     Setting aside his response to that - knowing it was a
conversation for another day, regretting that his Blair had lost
sight of himself for even a moment because of Jim's own
stubbornness - Jim turned his attention to satisfying a decade
worth of dreams. Dreams he hadn't even known he was carrying.
     Blair's lips were warm and soft and wet.  Jim could have
spent the rest of his life just kissing him, but he let his mouth
wander over the planes of Blair's face, knowing now that he had a
lifetime to try and grow tired of that intoxicating mouth.
Flipping them over, so that he lay atop the younger man, he
closed his eyes and let his mouth and his fingers map the body
beneath his.
     Blair spread his legs, cradling Jim's body, arching up to
meet every touch, every kiss. The quiet night air was filled with
moans and grunts of pleasure, sounds from the two of them, but
Jim couldn't have distinguished whose was whose as the noises twined
around him, a symphony of their pleasure. At last they settled,
as comfortable as they could with their nerves stretched so thin,
Blair lying on top of Jim, his hands cradling Jim's face while
Jim's arms were around him, holding him tightly.
     There came a moment of peace, and they just looked into each
others' eyes.
     "Now I know what the poets were talking about." Jim
muttered, hands flexing on Blair's back.
     "You've been a poet for me." Blair smiled slightly, but his
lips were licked nervously as well. "I'm ready, Jim. I've been
ready for so damn long."
     "I forgot to protect myself." Jim whispered. The room itself
seemed hushed, the world waiting for their next actions. "If I
had remembered you - remembered this - and not been able to
have it..." Fumbling with one hand in the box beside the bed, he
found a tube with a flip-top cap and opened it. "I would have
curled up and died."
     Running the back of his hand down Blair's curved spine,
fingers coated with cool gel, he watched Blair's face when as he
used the other hand to part his cheeks.
     "You've always been the strong one." Gently, almost
hesitantly, he slid a single finger in, watching Blair close his
eyes and catch his breath. "Strong enough for both of us for all
these years."
     With a deep sigh Blair relaxed and Jim's finger slid in
deeper. He moved it curiously, having never done this before with
anyone. The muscles of the passage gripped it tightly and he felt
the tiny striations as it quivered.
     Making a muffled sound - sounding so familiar - Blair buried
his face in the crook of Jim's neck and shivered.
     "Am I hurting you?" Whispering, Jim turned his head to kiss
Blair's neck tenderly. He got a head-shake in reply, and
remembered *that* clearly. "Okay. Tell me if I do." The
admonition wasn't necessary but he felt he had to say it anyhow.
Withdrawing the first finger, he returned with two, and now Blair
shivered harder. Checking over him Jim found that length of
silken flesh and moaned softly when he realized it was still hard
and so hot. "You want me."
     "I want you." The affirmation was whispered against his
skin, the words tickling. "I love you."
     Shifting slightly, Jim began to work three fingers in, and
Blair was pliant and still, panting loudly but otherwise silent.
     "I think that's good." The whisper was loud enough for Jim
to hear it clearly, which made the older man more comfortable.
     "You're ready?"
     "I'm ready." Blair's arms crept around Jim's neck and he
held on tightly. Resting both hands on Blair's butt Jim
considered the position they were in.
     "Blair - Butterfly - I think we need, to, um, move." He
shifted again, feeling awkward.
     "I don' wanna." Clinging tightly, Blair wiggled his hips and
tilted his pelvis forward, pressing his cock more tightly to
Jim's stomach. "I like this. It makes me feel so -safe."
     Stroking one had through the curly hair, damp now with
sweat, Jim let his fingers trail down Blair's crack, traveling
gently over the perineum and cupping his balls His own cock was
tightly wedged there, Blair's testicles warm lumps over it. The
curly little hairs sent shivers through him as Blair wiggled
again.
     "This is what I missed most." Blair was still whispering
into Jim's neck. "Feeling like this when you held me."
     "We can work this out." Jim said slowly. "Like this,
love..." Using both hands, he guided Blair's hips, gently,
letting Blair move with him, not forcing it, until Blair's back
was arched upwards and his ass was more-or-less lined up with
Jim's cock. Pressing his face tighter to Jim's neck, Blair moaned
softly and Jim felt his lashes flutter there. "Ready?"
     "Been ready for ten years." Blair panted quietly.
     "Just be still and let me work it in, okay?"
     "Do it already, man." The irritation was mild but there and
Jim fought the urge to grin.
     "I'm doing it." he whispered, turning his head to kiss
Blair's cheek. "I'm making love to you."
     As gently as he could, using one hand to steady his cock and
the other to hold onto Blair, he pushed the head in.
     Hissing between his teeth, Blair shuddered and held on.
     "Oh God." Jim moaned, and then pressed in father. He'd done
his work carefully and there was little pain for Blair, the
shudders and shivers said far more about his emotions than his
body.
     Then it was done. Jim was in, his pelvis pressed to Blair's butt,
as much as it could at this angle. Letting go of Blair's hip he
used both hands to pull Blair's face from his shoulder and move
it to where he could kiss him.
     Relaxing his back, Blair lay almost flat on Jim.
     "How's it feel?" releasing his mouth, Jim watched Blair's
eyes, searching for truth.
     "Not bad..." Blair drew the word out. "Odd. I like the fact
that it's *you*..."
     "But?"
     "But it's a dick up my ass." Jim watched while Blair blushed
faintly and ducked his head, muttering. "Guess I'm not as
different as you thought I was."
     The grin that split Jim's face felt as wonderful as the body
that squirmed slightly on his.
     "You'll always be my butterfly." He chuckled, wrapping both
arms around Blair and holding tightly. "You can be brash and bold
or shy and sweet, it's all you and I love all of it."
     "Good." Wriggling, the slender body squirmed until Jim
loosened his grip, then Blair used both hands on Jim's chest to
push himself up, pushing Jim's cock deeper into him at the same
time.
     Pulling his knees up to sit on, he stopped about halfway
with a gasp, hands clenching.
     "Oh. Man." Panting, Blair moved his hips tentatively. The
blush was still bright, and his head dropped forward to screen
his face with hair. Immediately Jim's hands were on his hips.
     "What? Is it hurting?"
     "No-ooo." Tipping his head back now, Blair let his hair hang
down the other way, his eyes closed tightly. "I wouldn't say
that."
     "Then what?" Jim's voice was more of a growl now as his body
began to rebel against the control he was exerting. Squeezed into
that tight, hot place, all his cock wanted to do was move, and
take the rest of him with it.
     "It's good, man." Moving again until he was sitting upright
on Jim, Jim's cock deeply embedded within him, Blair shivered
visibly. But now he looked at Jim, stared down at him, his eyes
blue and round and dark.
     "Not so shy now." Jim chuffed gently. His hands began to
stroke and caress Blair's hips and thighs, feeling the tightness
of the muscles. Soon they were straying to Blair's heavy cock,
thick and weeping, light touches that made the shivers become
shudders.
     "Whenever you're ready, Jim." Blair took a deep breath and
exhaled it. His hands were braced on Jim's broad chest, fingers
playing with hardened nipples.
     Without saying anything else, Jim Ellison lifted his hips
and thrust gently into his lover.
     "Mmmm." Blair purred, looking at him with a shining face.
     "Like it?" Jim asked, suddenly panting.
     "Yeah." Blair sighed. He rose on his knees, giving Jim more
room and Jim pulled out, then thrust in again.
     "Feel good?"
     Blair nodded, his face tightening.
     "Still weird...but good."
     A few more strokes and Jim was feeling great, his body
singing with need, but he wasn't as sure if Blair was enjoying
it. The younger man had his eyes half closed and he was riding
Jim's strokes like an electronic pony, rising and falling, each
movement punctuated by a sigh.
     "Blair?" The boldness of the position reminded Jim that this
was the man he knew and loved now, not the boy he'd known and
loved then.
     "Yeah Jim?"
     Slowing, willing to lay quietly for a moment, Jim tightened
his grip on Blair's hips as he spoke.
     "You're not doing this just for me, are you?"
     "I'm loving this, man." The smile was as sweet as a
butterfly's and radiated happiness. "I've waited so long for
this."
     "If you say so." Smiling back, Jim resumed thrusting,
watching his lover and wondering. He wasn't completely unfamiliar
with same-sex lovemaking, and now he found himself thinking about
the things he'd read in an effort to slow his excitement. And he
remembered something he should have been doing.
     The next time he thrust, Jim lifted his hips a little bit
more, tilting them forward and changing the angle of the thrust.
Holding on, Blair opened his eyes and then, when Jim felt his
cock rub over the hard little nub inside the younger man, Blair
moaned and clutched at him.
     "Oh my God! What was that?!"
     "Good, huh?" Doing it again, Jim grunted with effort and
banged his cock firmly into Blair's prostate. Suddenly Blair was
moving on him, moving with him, thrusting back hard into Jim's
thrusts, trying to prolong the sensations he was getting, and a
long, low moan was coming from his open mouth. When Jim moved a
hand from Blair's hip to wrap it around the younger man's
straining cock, Blair practically took over. It was all Jim could
do to keep up with him.
     "Jim! Jim! Jim!" The shouts rose in volume as Blair's body
flushed with sweat and his balls drew up tight.
     "Yes - give it to me, Butterfly, give it to me love!"
Coaxing, Jim stroked faster
     "Jim! Oh God! Jim!"
     Looking at Blair, seeing his face so open and radiant, Jim
had a flash of memory that superimposed one face over the other.
His Butterfly; sweet and innocent and vulnerable - and *Blair*;
bold and brash and giving.
     One and the same.
     Giving to him.
     With a particularly hard thrust he set his cock right over
that spot and Blair writhed in ecstasy as he came, his seed
spurting over Jim's stroking hand, the scent filling the older
man's heart with sweet memories. Then Blair's ass spasmed around
his cock and he shook through his own orgasm, unable to resist
the force of it.

***

     Driving quickly but carefully, the windshield wipers
thumping in a soothing rhythm, Simon Banks was trying to not
think. He'd done enough thinking for one evening. Too much,
judging from his current actions. But it was just time.
     Slowing for a yellow light, he stopped reluctantly. The
tires of his car gripped the slick road with a moaning sound and
he marvelled at the weather. It had been clear and sunny this
afternoon, but, in typical Cascade fashion, the sun had vanished
beneath a bank of storm clouds that rolled over the peak of Mt.
Ranier just when most people got off work and could enjoy the
sun.
     Waiting, the only car at the red light - and that was the
most irksome sensation in the world - the big police captain took
both hands off the steering wheel to rub them over his face. The
rain came down in erratic sheets, first pouring buckets and then
slacking off to a drizzle. With a private grin he acknowledged
the feeling that the weather was mocking him, and what he was
about to do.
     Having watched his best friend Jim Ellison dance around his
younger partner for the past three years, he'd finally been told
the big secret between them. And what a secret it had been.
Stunned by the information, Simon had been forced to question
himself in a most uncomfortable fashion, and answers had been
eluding him.
     Until tonight. Sitting harmlessly in his own living room,
watching some television, some imp or demon had possessed him -
and would he have chosen those words if Sandburg *wasn't* a part
of his life? - and the next thing he knew, he'd been in his car,
on his way to the loft his friends shared.
     To set them straight.
     Shattering the silence with a guffaw of laughter at his own
unintentional pun, Simon stepped on the gas when the light
changed and turned the corner onto Prospect.
     "Set them straight." He chuckled, rolling his eyes. "It
would work better if I bent them a little."
     Seeing an empty parking space about halfway down the block,
he took it. He would get wet running for the building, but it
would be worth it if he could get them to see reason. Sometime
over the past few weeks, he'd looked at Jim, and seen an unhappy
man. That unhappiness had been tripled in Blair's expressive
eyes, the weight of it grinding the exuberant young man down. And
Blair was taking Jim with him.
     After fretting about it Simon had managed to convince
himself that it was his job to keep them both from sinking. Throw
that life preserver, haul that rope. Tie them together until they
fixed whatever was broken between them.
     Setting the parking brake, he paused, and sat in the
darkened car, in the rain, and thought.

     There were two things that were important here, two things
he needed to make clear to his friends.
     Jim and Blair were meant to be together.
     Whether it was a Sentinel thing or something deeper, he didn't
think that mattered. All he knew was that the two of them were
better - were *stronger* - together than they could ever be
apart. The second thing was more personal, and he would have
hesitated to bring it up if he hadn't thought it was so
important.
     He would always be their friend.
     No matter what they were to each other, no matter how they
expressed that. He would be there for them.
     Simon knew himself as a big man, and he liked to think he
had a big heart. He could be the big wall that protected them
from the perils of the bureaucracy.

     It was dark, and the only sound was the shushing of the rain
as it fell, quietly, cleansing his city of the grime she wore.
Just as his hand was reaching for the door handle, a laugh pealed
out through the quiet darkness.
     Recognizing it, as much from its recent absence as
familiarity, Simon turned in the seat and looked out the back
window, where a single working street lamp aimed a cone of warm
yellow light down at the sidewalk.
     Another laugh, this one deeper and rougher, and then he saw
them.
     Walking hand-in-hand.
     In the rain.
     Soaked to the bone.
     Their clothes were clinging to them, Blair's hair hung in
thick ringlets around his smiling face, and Jim looked perfectly
happy to be out in this mess.
     Watching more closely, a smile playing at the corners of his
mouth, Simon took a chance and made a tiny little wish.
     It was granted more quickly than any had ever been.
     Entering the circle of light, Blair twirled himself around,
laughing again, the joy of being alive shining from him, and then
tilted his head back and laughed into the falling rain.
     Jim took his face in both hands and laughed with him.
     For a moment Simon couldn't breathe.
     Then Jim stepped close to Blair and pulled him up onto his
toes, kissing him with such passion, such openness, that the
captain felt tears prickle at the backs of his eyelids. When
Blair yielded and sank into Jim, his arms around the larger man,
holding on for dear life, Simon shook his head to clear his
clouded sight, and then sighed deeply.
     Well okay then.
     They didn't need his help, and he was thankful for that.
Not that he would have minded that conversation....
     Realizing with a start that he'd been staring again, he gave
in and turned more fully in his seat.
     He had never seen a visible love.
     This was a privileged moment, granted to only a special
few, and he felt honored to have witnessed it.
     He knew he would treasure this memory for all the years
to come.

<the end>