FORGED FOR LIFE

By LilyK

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"Doctor Sandburg?"

Blair looked up from his hunched position on the cot in the police holding cell. He stretched his cramped legs and rubbed his eyes.

"Yes?" Solemn blue eyes met icy blue ones.

"I'm James Ellison."

"Oh!" Blair launched himself from the cot and raced to the bars of his cell. "Thank you for coming!"

Jim nodded curtly and got down to business. "I checked you out before I came, Sandburg. Right now, I'm willing to take your case. Anything comes up to make me doubt you, and I walk. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yeah, man. Thanks. Dr. Stoddard said I could trust you."

"Eli Stoddard is a good man. If he says you're innocent, I have no reason to doubt him. Don't make me sorry that I took your case."

"I won't. You have my word."

"You have a bond hearing in two hours."

"This is good news, I hope."

Jim shrugged. "It's the law, Sandburg. The judge will advise you of the charges and set bond. If you need a bondsman, can you cover, say, five grand?"

Blair paled. "That much? Geez." He ran a hand through his long, wild curls, and paced.

Jim watched the man closely. He could tell he was anxious about being incarcerated. A normal reaction for anyone who was not used to being arrested, especially for a half a million in stolen ancient artifacts.

Blair turned toward Jim. "Yeah, I can cover it. My mom left me some money when she passed away two years ago. I hate like hell to use it for this, but I can't prove my innocence sitting behind bars."

"I can ask a lawyer I know to represent you. He's good with criminal law and is experienced with your type of case. You would need to give him a grand to start."

"Okay, Mr. Ellison. I guess I need a lawyer."

"Yeah, you do." Jim's steel blue eyes stared hard at Blair. He had to ask. He needed to see and feel Sandburg's response. "Did you do it?"

Standing as tall as possible, Blair looked directly into Jim’s eyes and said softly but firmly, "No, I didn't."

Jim scanned Blair's vitals carefully. While he realized the guy was apprehensive about the entire ordeal, his senses told him that Blair Sandburg was telling the truth -- or he was the best-damned liar Jim had ever met. Jim guffawed.

"What?" Sandburg said warily, stretching out his arms questioningly. "I said something funny? Man, do not laugh at me."

"Relax, Professor. It wasn't about you, not directly anyway."

Blair stepped up to the bars and wrapped strong fingers around the cold metal. "Do you believe me?"

Jim stepped closer and put his hands directly above Blair's. "Yes, or I wouldn't have taken the case. Besides, Eli will wring my neck if I don't help you."

Blair swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Thank you."

"No problem, Chief. Let's get you out of here and then we'll go over everything in minute detail. By the end of the next few days, you'll come to hate me."

"Nah, man. That will never happen. You're helping me. I could never hate you." Blair smiled. "Thanks."

"Sandburg, you thanked me at least twice already. Just pay my fee and we'll be square." Jim couldn't help but examine the handsome face. He admitted to himself that he found the man attractive, but he berated himself for his interest. Business and pleasure certainly did not mix. "I'll see you in court." Jim turned and walked to the door of the holding cell's visitors' area. "Sandburg." Jim nodded his good-bye.

"I'll be there." Blair waved. "Later, man." He sank back onto the narrow cot and prepared to wait.

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The bar was full of dark wood and real cut glass lamps. The lighting was strategically placed to afford privacy, and the table that Jim had picked out was in a back corner with a clear view of the door. Jim sat with his back to the wall. Blair slid into the chair not across from Jim but on the side closest to him. The food and drinks were served quickly. Hungry, both men dug into the spicy steak and cheese sandwiches with sides of hearty fries and crisp cole slaw. They ate quietly until the food was almost gone.

"So, how do you know Eli?" Blair asked, wiping his mouth on a napkin. He took a long pull on his beer and waited for Jim to speak.

Jim shrugged. "Back when Eli was still Dean of Anthropology at Rainier, he sought my help with a case that involved a bunch of faked Chinese vases and some jade jewelry. Seems that Rainier had gotten the stuff on loan and didn't know it was crap before they received it. I confirmed the fraud and got Rainier out from under a huge insurance problem." Jim stopped and ate a couple of cooling fries. "We got along and now he recommends me when anybody needs a PI who specializes in art fraud." Jim chuckled. "When I get paid, he gets a bottle of twenty-year old Scotch. It's a good trade."

"Eli's a great guy. He's helped me more than I could ever explain." Blair's nervous fingers peeled at the label of his bottle of Killian's Red. "Listen, Mr. Ellison…"

"Jim."

"What?"

"Sandburg, call me Jim or Ellison. Mister isn't necessary."

"Oh, okay. Call me Blair, then." At Jim's nod, Blair continued. "I really appreciate your speaking up to the judge for me. Man, being released on my own recognizance wasn't something I'd anticipated."

"His Honor trusts my judgment. I've been in his courtroom at least a dozen times in the past ten years. He knows I'm a good judge of character. If I say you're not going to run, he knows you're not going to run."

"Is that because you believe I'm innocent or because you'll break my legs?" Blair raised an eyebrow.

Jim laughed deeply. "Either, or. I'm easy."

Blair swallowed hard, making Jim laugh again. "Settle down, Sandburg. I haven't had to break any legs -- yet. Just don't test me, okay?"

With wide eyes, Blair nodded. "Yeah, honest." He held up his fingers. "I swear!"

Jim took a swig of his beer. God, but the guy was so damned trusting. Those big blue eyes radiated confidence in him and he almost fidgeted under their sapphire scrutiny. "I charge a hell of a lot for my services, Professor, but I'm worth it."

Blair smiled. Jim sounded businesslike and appeared cool and collected, but Blair hadn't been an anthropologist for almost eight years without honing his sixth sense about people. He could tell that the stoic guy actually liked him. Calmly, Blair said, "You're worth every penny, Jim."

Now it was Jim's turn to raise an eyebrow. "And you know this, how?" Two more fresh bottles appeared, brought by the efficient waiter. Jim nodded to the man, who grabbed the empties and left.

Blair waited until the waiter was out of earshot. "Trade secret, man. A guy's got to have some mystery."

Jim laughed. "If nothing else, you're damned entertaining, Sandburg."

Blair grinned. "You, too."

"How long have you known Dr. Stoddard?"

"At least ten years. He was my mentor during my undergrad days at Rainier. I went on a few expeditions with him while I was working on my Master's. Then he saved my butt big time when my dissertation went to hell in a hand basket." Blair grimaced, remembering the past.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Blair nodded. "My specialty was something called Sentinels, tribal guardians with hyperactive senses. I searched for five years for a subject and had no luck. The university threatened to pull my grants and revoke my teaching privileges unless I coughed up a dissertation pronto." Blair sat back and took a swig of beer. Licking his lips, he continued. "Eli stalled the committee while I changed my subject. He got me a one year extension and pointed me in the right direction for a new diss subject, not an easy task at that late stage."

"But you managed?"

"Sure did. 'Practical Purposes and Uncommon Practices: Household Rituals of the Pre-Classic Maya.' I went into the field for six months in Belize, came back and wrote full time for another four months. I defended with two weeks left on my extension."

"Eli told me he didn't want to file charges against you. Apparently, somebody tipped off the Board of Directors and they pitched a fit. I need you to think about who on the Board might have some reason to be after your ass." Blair started to speak, but Jim held up his hand. "Don't answer right away. Think about it. Also anybody else who might want a piece of you." Jim felt himself blush at his last few words. He lowered his head and coughed into his hand while he hid his wayward thoughts and schooled his face to impartiality. Clearing his throat, he pushed back from the table. "Let's get to work, Chief. We'll go to my place."

Blair rose and grabbed his jacket. "I figured we'd go to your office."

"It's late. Besides, my house is my office. Saves on rent." Jim tossed some cash onto the table. When he saw Blair reach into his pocket, he waved off his money. "Save it, Sandburg. I'll just put it on my expense tab. You can pay for everything later."

"I guess we should talk about a retainer."

"A thousand will hold me for a few days."

"Check or cash?"

Jim shrugged. "Either, or, Chief. I'm easy, remember?"

Blair laughed and followed Jim through the bar and out to the parking lot. Glancing up into the starlit sky, he yawned and said, "It's kind of late. Do you want to do this tomorrow?"

Jim unlocked the passenger door of a classic blue and white Ford truck and pulled it open. "No way, Chief. You're my guest until this is settled. Until then, we're joined at the hip. My rep is that a hundred percent of my clients show at trial. You're not damaging that record." He manhandled an astonished Blair into the seat and closed the door.

"Jim, you fucking liar! You don't trust me!"

Jim trotted around, climbed in the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot into the nearly deserted street. "Relax, will you? We do this my way or not at all."

"What about clothes? What about my…" Blair abruptly stopped speaking. He crossed his arms and leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Your what, Chief?" Jim cast a sidelong glance at his passenger. Wrinkles furrowed the strong brow, making Jim wish he could erase the creases with his fingertips.

"Sandburg?"

"My job," Blair whispered. "I almost forgot."

"You'll get your job back when we prove your innocence. Until then, you'll cope."

"Yeah, man. That's me. Head 'coper'." Blair's laugh was harsh.

"I filled a duffel bag with some of your stuff earlier, Sandburg. I didn't think you needed to return to the scene of the crime." Jim didn't want to pass on the news that the Board had also ordered Blair out of his apartment in the museum-owned housing complex. He was puzzled as to why they would take such a step before Blair had been tried and convicted. Somebody on that Board was out for blood and apparently didn't abide by the premise that a person was innocent until proven guilty. They also had enough influence over the other members to sway them to their way of thinking.

Blair turned his face toward the window. "I guess you're right, Jim," he said so softly that Jim had to focus his hearing intently to hear the quiet voice. "I need to remember my life is not my own any longer. I guess I forgot that my apartment isn't mine any longer either." Blair slumped down in the seat and fell silent.

"Sandburg, you'll get your place back when the museum reinstates you. Listen, right now the evidence against you is circumstantial. You have to have faith in me. You know that it's because your place is owned by the museum that you can't stay there right now. You'll be okay at my place -- as long as you abide by the rules," Jim added.

"Sure, whatever," Blair muttered dejectedly. "You're in charge, man. I guess I'd better get used to it in case…" Blair sighed deeply.

"In case you're found guilty? If you go to prison?"

Blair remained silent but Jim could sense the apprehension wafting from the man's body. His heart rate and pulse raced, and he was sweating in spite of the chill in the air. Reaching over, Jim patted the jeans-covered knee. "I'll protect you." The words were out before Jim could stop them. Pulling his hand back quickly, he gripped the steering wheel tightly. 'What the fuck was that?' Clearing his throat, Jim glanced over at his passenger. Luckily, it seemed that Blair was lost in his own world and hadn't heard the words that had slipped out of his runaway mouth. Jim sighed gratefully and parked in front of his loft on Prospect Street.

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Blair woke with a start. Words echoed in the air: 'I'll protect you'. Wiping his messy hair from his eyes, he blinked and took stock of his surroundings. Anxious and with his eyes darting wildly for a few seconds, Blair finally lay back and sighed when he remembered that he was at Ellison's loft. Tossing off the blankets, he rose from the sofa and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. He closed the door and turned on the cold water, splashing his face and wiping the back of his neck with a handful of the cool liquid. Blair relieved himself, washed and dried his hands, and made his way out to the kitchen. He was standing in the middle of the room, feeling out of place, when Jim trotted down the stairs and saw him standing there, looking very much like a lost child.

"Chief?" Suddenly concerned when Blair didn't respond, Jim quickly crossed over to him. "Sandburg?"

Blair blinked and looked around. "What? Oh, Jim. Sorry, man. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, you did. You walk like an elephant and you had the water running hard enough to shake the pipes in the walls."

"How in the hell could you hear the water running in the walls, Jim? And I do not walk like an elephant. You got some sort of super-hearing or what?"

Jim ignored the inquiry. "Why are you awake? When we got in you could hardly keep your eyes open and now you're sleepwalking."

"I'm not sleepwalking. I had a bad dream, that's all. It woke me up. I wanted a drink of water."

"Bottled water good for you?" Jim reached into the fridge and passed a cold bottle to Blair.

"Thanks, this is good." Blair twisted off the top and tipped back his head, drinking deeply.

Jim watched Blair's Adam's apple bob as he drank. His eyes feasted on the long column of his neck, the warm creamy color of his skin, and the day's growth of beard dusting the interesting chin. Jim felt his blood rush through his veins while he focused intently. He heard the water run down Blair's throat and splash into his stomach. The man's steady heartbeat thumped out a comforting rhythm while pumping his blood through his lean body. Without realizing it, Jim moved closer until he was directly in front of Blair and he stood, frozen, with his senses entirely focused on the man before him.

Blair downed half the bottle before he stopped for a breath. He licked the liquid from his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he blinked, finally realizing that Jim was standing inches from him and that he was studying him resolutely. "Jim?" Blair whispered.

Steel blue bore into the ocean's depths. They gazed at each other for what seemed to be an hour but in reality it was barely thirty seconds. Jim licked his lips before biting his lower lip. Seemingly of its own volition, Jim's right hand moved, wrapping itself around Blair's neck. Blair never moved, but his breathing rose fractionally and beads of sweat appeared on his upper lip. Jim leaned down and pressed his lips to Blair's. It was a hard kiss, forceful and passionate. When Blair's mouth opened, Jim wasted no time in delving almost harshly into its depths. The water bottle fell from Blair's fingers, its gurgling contents ignored as it spilled onto the spotlessly clean floor.

Mouths fused together, hands groped at each other. Deep moans emanated from both men's throats. Before either man knew it, they were flat on the floor. Jim pressed his body against Blair's, aligned their cloth-covered erections and thrust forcefully. Pulling back to allow a quick shaky breath or two, Jim returned to the swollen lips, his kisses bruising the tender skin. When Blair's fingernails raked down Jim's back, raising welts, Jim wrapped a hand in Blair's hair and released his mouth. Their eyes met.

"Yes or no," Jim growled.

"Yes!" Blair blurted out, pushing his hips up against Jim's while digging his fingers into the skin of his asscheeks.

Tipping Blair's head back to expose his throat, Jim rubbed their bodies together roughly and, with loud wet noises, latched onto the exposed Adam's apple. Moving to the soft skin beneath Blair's ear, he sucked hard, marking him for his own. Blair howled when he came in long, hard spurts, releasing pulse after pulse of hot semen into his boxers while digging his fingers into Jim's sides, raising bruises there. When his orgasm rushed forth, Jim bit down on the nearest thing to his mouth: a tender earlobe, making Blair shudder and spurt yet again before collapsing onto the wet vinyl floor, boneless and sated. Jim collapsed on top of his lover, shaking and panting from the force of his orgasm.

Barely recovered, Jim dragged himself up from the floor, reached down and took Blair's hands, pulling him to his feet. He yanked the wet t-shirt and semen-coated boxers from Blair's body and threw them onto the floor. Pulling off his own shirt and boxers, he added them to the pile while Blair leaned against the counter, still shaking from his orgasm. Jim wrapped an arm around his lover's waist, tugged him across the apartment and up the stairs. Silently, the men collapsed onto the bed. Hands reached, touched, teased, tormented, and caressed. Mouths licked and bit. Fingers explored and found hidden places. Tongues delved in to taste new territory. Only the sounds of harsh breathing, whimpers, moans and groans echoed through the loft. With wild abandon, claims were made and then made again. Only after it was physically impossible to function any longer did both men fall into a deep sleep.

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Jim rose first, showered, and had toast and coffee on the table when Blair emerged from the shower late the next morning, clad only in a white tank t-shirt and blue silk boxers.

"How do you take it?" Jim asked, holding up the cup and trying to ignore the wet tendrils of hair that begged to be touched.

"Hot and black, please." Blair looked away quickly before he embarrassed himself by ogling Jim's broad chest encased in a burgundy t-shirt, and the enticing bulge in his black jeans.

"Good, because I don't have any milk." Jim poured large mugs and pushed the plate of toast toward Blair. "Jam's in the fridge. Peanut butter's in the cupboard."

Retrieving the peanut butter, Blair slathered on a thick coat. Four slices later, he leaned back. "Thanks."

"More coffee? "

"Please."

Jim rose and refilled the mugs. Pushing his plate aside, he pulled a notebook close and picked up his pen. He started taking notes while Blair sipped the strong, black coffee.

"You're thirty-one, Sandburg?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Just getting the details straight." Jim made a few more notations while Blair watched the pen slide across the paper.

Finishing his coffee, Blair asked, "You're what? Thirty-seven, thirty-eight?"

"This isn't about me, Sandburg."

"I was just wondering. You know… because…" Blair grinned, leaving his words hanging.

Jim shrugged. "Forty-ish," he muttered, refusing to confess to the actual number.

"Trust me, Jim. On you, forty-ish looks fantastic. Speaking of which…"

"Save it, Chief." Jim held up his left hand while his right kept on writing. He knew exactly where Blair was going.

"But, Jim…"

Jim's head came up. "Listen. It was the best sex I've ever had. You're -- so fucking hot, Sandburg. Nobody's done that to me in at least ten years."

Blair blushed under the compliment. "Yeah?"

Jim grinned. "I said it, didn't I?" Jim growled good-naturedly.

"And…"

Jim put on his best impassive face. "No, not now. It was what it was. I can't talk about it right now. You'll have to take my word that we'll talk after you're exonerated, but for now, we're going to save your ass -- which, by the way, is very attractive."

Blair looked at Jim's serious face and for a moment he was puzzled at the stoic expression. Then he saw that Jim's eyes were twinkling and that the crinkles around them grew deeper. Realizing that Jim was teasing, Blair barked in laugher and smacked Jim's arm. "You doofus!"

Jim rolled his eyes and grinned. "If you as much as look at me, I'll be fucking you senseless again, Chief. Please do me a huge favor and do not look at me like that."

"Like what?" Blair asked innocently, blue eyes wide and inviting.

"Oh, fuck." Jim groaned, shifting in the chair.

"Sorry! Really, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do anything. Honest!"

"Trust me, Sandburg. It ain't you. Well, actually it is you. Never mind!" Jim growled. "Work!"

"Right." Blair grinned. "Work first, play later."

"Chief!"

"Jim!"

"Do me one favor?"

"Sure, man. Anything," Blair said, giving him a warm smile.

"Go and put on a baggy shirt and loose sweats, please."

Laughing, Blair rose and unzipped his duffel bag that was lying on the floor behind the sofa. "Okay. So, where do we start? "

Jim talked while Blair dressed in more appropriate non-seductive clothes. "We'll skip the actual interrogation questions that the prosecution will ask. Your lawyer will handle that. I'm more interested in how you used each artifact, who knew about it, who had access, that sort of thing. Anything that will help me figure out who knew enough to have a replica of each and every object you wrote your articles on for the last…" Jim flipped back a few pages and consulted his notes, "… eighteen months."

"Okay. Shoot."

"You wrote twelve articles, each of which was part of a series that was published in Archaeology Today."

"Yes, two years ago I signed a contract to write a column on MesoAmerican artifacts, since that's my specialty. The contract was for twelve columns to be submitted before two years."

"So you fulfilled your part of the contract, submitted the articles, and now all of the items you wrote about are fakes."

"Yes."

"The museum discovered the fakes and you've been charged with their theft. Let's see, the insurance value was $486,790."

Blair sighed. "But I didn't…"

"Sandburg, just the facts, please. So you had access to each artifact. In fact, you were allowed to take them from the museum and to your apartment while you wrote the articles."

"Jim, I wasn't 'allowed' to do anything. I'm in charge of the entire floor! I'm responsible for each and every item on exhibit. I didn't have to request permission to remove an artifact. I just did it."

"And returned the same article each and every time?"

"Yes."

"Did you photograph each item you used in the article?"

"I personally took the photographs with a digital camera."

"What was your procedure for taking the item and returning it?"

"Since I didn't have to check out anything, I just chose what I wanted to write about, took the vase, relief or whatever home, photographed it, wrote my article, and returned the item."

"So who would know what item was being used?"

"I substituted a small photograph and a note that the item was on loan and would be returned to the exhibit within sixty days."

"How many artifacts are on your floor?"

"Eighteen thousand, six hundred and three."

"You're kidding."

"No."

"You know each and every item?"

"Pretty much. I've been arranging exhibits for almost seven years. I worked my way through my Ph.D. program with my job at the museum. When I graduated, I was offered a permanent position. Teaching at Rainier wasn't what I wanted, so I accepted. I'm still on the same floor. I love my work so I pay attention to all the exhibits, even though they aren't all in my field."

Jim chewed on the end of the pen. "Are there any other anthropologists or other curators writing about any other artifacts in the museum right now?"

"Not on my floor. I'm not sure about the other areas."

"So there's a possibility that someone in say, Renaissance paintings, is working on something and you wouldn't know."

"Yeah, entirely possible. Why? Are you thinking that other items are being replaced? You do think that's what happened, don’t you?"

"I think somebody knows what you've taken, has a copy made while you're working on the item, then replaces it with the fake one after you return it."

"Okay. They have to have access to people who can forge quickly and efficiently."

"The fakes only have to pass a cursory inspection. When they're behind the glass, there are very few people in the country who would notice a fake while just browsing the museum." Jim sat back and mulled over the facts he had so far. "What happened to tip off the museum that the artifacts were fake?"

"I agreed to lend an artifact that I had written about to Rainier University. One of their Ph.D. candidates needed it for her dissertation. When I removed it from the case, I took a close look at it and I knew it was a fake."

"And so…?"

"I went to Dr. Stoddard and told him. I checked the other exhibits and found the other eleven forgeries." Blair sighed. "I had to tell him, of course. I couldn't keep that kind of thing a secret."

Jim nodded. "I understand. You're a good man, Sandburg."

Blair gave Jim a half-hearted smile. "I'm a stupid man." Blair shrugged under Jim's silent scrutiny. "Thanks, man, but a lot of good it did me. So how do we figure out who's behind this? It has to be an inside job."

"I agree, Chief." Jim made another note before he asked, "How many people are employed at the museum?"

"In total, eighty-seven I believe. That includes janitorial and cafeteria staff."

"A good number to check out. Any one of them could be our man -- or woman."

"It seems like a lot. How will we ever be able to figure it out?" Blair's unsettled eyes met Jim's.

"We'll take it one step at a time. Or at least I will. It could be somebody who's already fenced the items. Hard to tell right now. First thing I need to do is make a trip to the museum and see if I can spot any other fakes among the exhibits." Jim made several notes. "I have friends in the Cascade PD. I'll have the entire employee list run through their database. Also, I'll ask Dr. Stoddard for a list of other people working on restorations of any kind." Rubbing his forehead, Jim mused, "Personally, I'm leaning toward somebody on the Board, but I have to cover all the bases. I'll handle it, Chief. Trust me."

"I do, Jim. I trust you and…" Blair blushed and shifted in his chair, almost blurting out that he was feeling lost and afraid, and wanted Jim to comfort him.

"What is it, Blair?" Jim asked quietly.

"Later, man. It will keep."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. How can you tell what's fake and what's not just by walking through the museum? Don't you need to run tests? Take x-rays? Everything that is used to authenticate?"

"Leave it to me. I'm the expert here." Jim fidgeted and tapped the pen on the edge of the table. "Chief, I have to ask you something."

"Sure, man. Anything."

"Have you been, ah, friendly with anybody who would have had occasion to be at your place while you were writing the articles?"

"What?" Blair sat up straight. "You think that I was sleeping with somebody who was spying on me?"

Jim shrugged. "I'm exploring all the possibilities here, Sandburg. So?"

"You want a list?"

"That many?"

"Screw you."

"You already did." Jim blushed. "Sorry. That was out of line."

"It was mean, Jim," Blair said in a hurt voice.

"I said I was sorry. You want me to help you or not?"

Blair sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. "I need your help, Jim, but please, don't fuck with me. I… Listen, about last night…"

Jim rose. Blair rose also, grabbing Jim's sleeve before he took off on him. "I don't do that sort of thing ever, Jim. I've never before... I try to have a relationship with the person before I sleep with them. Besides, I haven't had anybody in my apartment for two years. Two years! Got it!?" Blair shook Jim's sleeve for emphasis.

Jim clamped his hand over Blair's and when their eyes met, he gave Blair a crooked smiled. "Yes, I got it." Patting the warm fingers, he turned back to the table, closed the notebook and slipped the pen into the wire binding. "I'm going to get dressed and get to work. You have the run of the place, but I'm going to have to ask you not to leave for any reason. You have to abide by my wishes on this."

"But, Jim, you might need my help."

Jim smiled. "You want to help? How about mopping the kitchen floor and changing the sheets on the bed?" Jim blushed lightly and smiled. "I can smell the semen all the way down here."

Blair arched an eyebrow. "What? You smell semen. You hear water running. You're extremely sensitive to touch." At Jim's perplexed look, Blair chuckled. "Trust me on that one, Jim. Geez, you'd think you were a damned Sentinel."

Jim shrugged. "I have extra-good senses, what can I say? I've been this way since I was a kid. It's a curse of mine." Jim headed upstairs, leaving a puzzled Blair sitting quietly at the kitchen table. When Jim trotted down the stairs fifteen minutes later, looking very professional in a tan business suit, Blair was still staring into space. Jim crossed to the door and holstered his gun under his jacket.

Blair roused himself enough to speak. "Say, Jim, do you have a computer with internet access that I can use?"

"Yeah. It's in the office." Jim pointed to the small room under the stairs. "Don't touch my stuff."

"Hey, man, hands off." Blair rose, grinning. "Just the computer. I promise."

"I'll bring food. Change the sheets," Jim said on his way out the door.

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Blair spent the better part of the day on the net, researching Sentinels and hyperactive senses. Without his own research to review, still stored in several boxes in a closet in his apartment, he had to rely on the information available on the web and his own memory. After making notes on the information he had uncovered while surfing, he took his pen and paper out into the living room and sat curled in the corner of the sofa jotting down everything he could remember from his years of searching for an elusive Sentinel.

A knock at the door brought Blair out of the zone that he had fallen into while musing about his belief that Jim might be his Holy Grail. Through the balcony windows, he was surprised to see that the sun was setting and that he had spent the entire day researching and making notes, and had not mopped the floor or changed the sheets like Jim had asked. Suddenly feeling guilty, Blair jumped up and unlocked the double deadbolts.

"Hi, Sandburg," Jim said, smiling while he handed Blair a large brown paper bag. "I hope you like Thai."

"Love it, man. Thanks." Blair took the bag over to the table and set it down. "Why don't you catch a shower while I set the table?"

Jim nodded. "Sounds good." He set two white plastic grocery sacks on the kitchen counter. "Would you mind putting the groceries away, Chief?"

Blair shook his head. "Nope, be happy to." Waving a hand, Blair said, "Go. Shower and relax. I'll handle it."

"Thanks, Sandburg." Jim started up the stairs, stopping halfway. "Say, Blair?"

"Yeah?"

Sapphire blue eyes looked expectant. Jim swallowed, mesmerized by the enticing color. "It's nice having you here," he said softly.

Blair's face broke into a radiant smile. "Thanks. It's nice having you home."

Jim nodded.

Blair watched until Jim's feet disappeared. Quickly, he put the beer, soda and coffee cream that Jim had bought into the fridge. He put the other staples into the cabinets and found plates and silverware for dinner. He was setting the table when Jim came down the stairs in his robe and went into the shower. Blair raced up the stairs and rummaged through the dresser until he found a clean set of sheets. With the speed of the best hotel chambermaid, he stripped the bed and remade it in record time. Stuffing the dirty sheets into the hamper in the corner, he careened back down the stairs and out into the kitchen.

Blair found a cleaning rag and spray cleanser in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Wetting the rag with hot water, he got down on his hands and knees and gave the floor a quick wash. Rinsing out the cleaning rag, he hung it on a small hook under the sink to dry and washed his hands. Listening carefully, he heard Jim turn off the water in the shower. He pulled out the take-out containers and was lining them up in a neat row just as Jim was coming out of the bathroom.

"Hurry up, Jim. It smells great!"

Jim's nostrils twitched. He walked into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. "Beer or soda, Chief?"

"Beer is good. And bring some serving utensils so we can eat!"

Jim laughed at Blair's enthusiasm. He didn't say anything about the fact that Blair had forgotten to do the household chores he had asked him to do when he left that morning. Apparently, Blair had remembered after Jim had come home. He could smell the cleanser on the floor and he knew that if he went upstairs, the messy bed would now be made up with clean sheets. Jim shook his head and rolled his eyes, grinning knowingly. "Busy day, Sandburg?"

Blair blushed, realizing he was caught. "Yeah, it was."

"Anything you want to tell me?" Jim brought two opened bottles of Coors Light over to the table and sat down. "I wasn't sure about your preferences, so I brought two meatless dishes."

"Thanks, man. That's nice of you. I'm not a vegetarian, but I do try to eat healthily," Blair said while he put a helping from the first white tub on his plate. "Great choices, Jim. I love pad thai." Blair passed it to Jim. Jim opened another container and they exchanged boxes after they each removed a helping. "What else? Larb gai. Love it. Naem sod. You know your Thai, Jim." Blair passed another box over to Jim. "Last one." Peering into the container, Blair smiled. "I do have to admit, I'm not big on tofu except in pad phak taohu."

"It's the only way I'll eat the stuff," Jim agreed, putting a large serving onto his plate.

They ate quietly until their plates were cleared. During seconds, Blair finally asked, "Did you have much luck today?"

Jim nodded while he helped himself to a few more spoonfuls of the spicy noodles. "Some. You want another beer?"

"I'll get them. Tell me."

"I went to the museum. Spoke to Eli. Got a list of the Board members to check out. I did a cursory walk through the exhibits, but I didn't see anything that raised my hackles."

"What?" Blair set two fresh bottles on the table.

Finishing his food, Jim wiped his mouth on a napkin. "I get tingles when I spot a fake."

"You get tingles?"

"Yeah. Tingles. The hair on my arms stands up. It's my personal fraud alarm."

"Cool. How does it work?"

"I don't have a clue! I just get -- tingles." Jim shrugged. "It works. That's all I care about."

Blair watched Jim intently, filing away the information for perusal later. "Anything else?"

"Listen, Sandburg. I don't mind talking to you about your case in general, but I'm not going to tell you the details. It's better for you if you just know that I'm doing the best I can. It's also a personal thing. I haven't reached any conclusions, so I can't tell you anything specific anyway. It's the way I work. I investigate. I take notes. I follow leads. When I know something, you'll know something. Okay? You have to trust me here, Chief."

"I trust you, Jim. I want to help if I can."

"It helps having you here." Jim was shocked when the words tumbled out, but he hid his surprise at his own words.

Blair couldn't hide his own surprise at Jim's statement. "Really?"

Jim took a swig of beer to delay his response. Finally, he said, "Yes."

"How?"

"Sandburg!"

"What?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?"

"Yes."

"Great," Jim growled. At Blair's good-natured grin, Jim couldn't help but smile in return. "It's just that since I met you, I feel -- fuck, this is going to sound really strange."

Blair reached out a hand and put it on Jim's arm. "Tell me, please."

Looking into Blair's eyes, Jim blushed lightly. "You -- center me somehow. I can't explain it, but I feel -- clearer with you around."

"Clearer? As in you think clearer?"

"No, well, yes. But no, I feel…" With his hand on his own chest, Jim shook his head. "…better. Things look better, sharper. Smells are more intense… Hell, Chief, I'm not good explaining this."

"Jim, I think I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes. Do you remember when I told you that I was studying Sentinels -- people with hyperactive senses?"

"I remember. And so?"

"I think you're one. You're a Sentinel. I'll need to run some tests…"

"Whoa, there, Dr. Welby. You're not operating on me."

"Jim, not operating. Nobody's going to cut you open or anything. I'd just like to see how strong your senses really are. You said yourself that you have good senses. I think they're better than good. They're phenomenal."

"And you know this how?" Jim asked skeptically.

"Just a hunch. Anthropologists can get hunches too, Jim, not just cops and PIs," Blair said adamantly.

Holding up a hand in surrender, Jim laughed. "Back off, Sandburg. I wasn't insulting you. I'm just not sure where you're going with all of this."

"Jim, in ancient times, Sentinels were tribal watchmen -- guardians of the tribe and its people. You're guarding the tribe, man. Think about it. You're helping me, somebody you hardly know. Then there was that..." Blair pointed up toward the bedroom.

"That?" Jim mimicked Blair's action.

"You and me. I feel this pull to you. When you made love with me, it was as if my life was complete. I felt -- whole. You're a Sentinel and I'm your partner, Jim. Your Guide. We belong together."

Instead of protesting such a ridiculous notion as he normally would, when Jim opened his mouth to speak, the words that gushed out were not what he was expecting to say. Normally a man who was careful about what he revealed, Jim was once again astonished at himself when he said what was in his heart.

"There is something between us, Blair. I feel it also. I don't know if it's this tribal thing or not, but I do know that I want you more than I've ever wanted another person in my life. I want you in my life, and not just for a fast tumble in the sack. If you were a woman, I'd say it was love at first sight and ask you to marry me right now. I can't offer you marriage legally, but I can tell you that I think I'm in love with you and I want you if you're willing to have me."

"I want you too, Jim."

"Then it's settled. We’re partners."

Blair laughed. "Man, you do not waste words or time, do you?"

Jim finished his beer. "No. Why should I? Life is too short."

"Jim, will you still want me if I'm sent to prison?" Blair said softly, his eyes distressed.

Jim moved to the edge of his chair and took Blair's hand. "You're not going to jail. I'll protect you."

Blair nodded. "Thank you. Right now I hate saying this because it makes me feel so helpless, but I need to be protected. I need you, Jim."

"Come here." Jim tugged on Blair's hand until Blair was sitting on his lap, straddling the chair. "I'll protect you," he repeated, "or die trying."

Wrapping his arms around Jim's neck, Blair sighed contentedly and leaned in for a kiss. "That's a wonderful sentiment. Nobody's ever sworn his life to me before. I love you."

"Love you back, Chief." Jim let Blair believe that his statement about giving his life for Blair was a passing fancy born of passion, but he knew better. He knew that he would do it if it meant keeping Blair safe.

-------------------------------------------------

For the next few days, Jim left early each morning, determined to get to the bottom of Blair's case, while Blair passed the time by drawing up a step-by-step plan for testing Jim's Sentinel abilities. He made notes regarding the steps he needed to take to determine the limits of Jim's senses, and expanding on his methods of control and use. After Jim had picked his brain about any enemies, past and present, Blair could do nothing but sit back and let Jim investigate. He did, however, keep the loft neat and tidy, took care of their laundry, and watched too many hours of daytime television.

It was well past seven p.m. one evening when the telephone rang. The caller ID showed that it was from Jim's cell phone.

"Hello, Jim!" Blair said enthusiastically.

"Sandburg, I've got some bad news."

"What?" Blair asked, his excitement at hearing Jim's voice fading quickly.

"Ah, the cops got a search warrant for your place."

"Yeah, so?"

"They found things."

Blair held his breath. "Things?" he whispered. "What things? Jim, I don't have any 'things'."

"They found a rare jade mask and a duplicate in a false panel behind the wall in a closet."

"What? Jim! That's ridiculous!"

"Calm down. There's more." Jim waited, but Blair's unsettled breathing told him he wasn't going to calm down so he continued, "They found a bankbook in with the jade. It's for a bank in the Grand Caymans. It's a numbered account and the balance is $64,320."

"What the fuck! No way, man. I didn't take anything!" Blair's hand gripped the phone tightly, turning his knuckles white. "Jim, please!" he begged. "You've got to believe me!"

"I believe you, Chief. I really do, but there's something else."

"What else could there possibly be?" Blair shouted.

"The lawyer for the museum went before the judge and your bond is revoked. The cops will be by to take you into custody."

"But Jim, what am I going to do? I don't want to go to jail! I didn't do anything!"

"I'm really sorry, Sandburg. But I'm not giving up. I'd be there when the cops take you into custody, but I have to meet with a snitch in about an hour and it's very important. I can't blow it off. Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I've got a good solid lead on who I think is behind this entire mess. With any luck, you'll spend maybe forty-eight hours at the most in lock-up." Jim waited for Blair's reaction, but silence reigned on the other end of the phone. "Blair? Can you give me some time? I'm working on this as hard as I can."

The depressed voice that answered made Jim's heart break. "It's okay, Jim. You did the best you could. Thanks."

"Wait, don't hang up, Blair. Listen to me. You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine. You hear me?" Jim said adamantly.

"Yeah." Jim heard Blair breathe a deep sigh into the phone. "I appreciate your trusting me not to run, Jim."

"I know you wouldn't run. You're innocent. You just have to remember that."

"I'll try."

"The cops should be at the loft shortly. Captain Banks and Inspector Connor will take you in. They're personal friends of mine and they'll treat you with respect. Don't let anybody else in. Banks is a black guy and Connor is a pain-in-the-ass but somewhat attractive lady. You can trust them, Chief."

"Sure, Jim. Good-bye."

Blair disconnected, leaving Jim staring at the dial tone that emanated from the cell phone in his hand. "Fuck," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Chief," he added softly. "Don't give up on me yet."

-------------------------------------------------

Blair dropped the phone onto the kitchen counter and stood very still for several long minutes. Finally, he sighed and went to pack his few personal items into his duffel bag, figuring he might as well be ready for when the cops showed up. The thought of fleeing actually crossed his mind, but only briefly. He wasn't cut out for a life on the lam. Besides, he couldn't do that to Jim. Jim trusted him to turn himself in, and that's exactly what he would do.

Packing took only a few minutes and after dropping his bag beside the front door, Blair sat on the sofa and stared sightlessly out the balcony windows. The knock on the door startled him, making him leap to his feet.

At the door, Blair asked, "Who is it?"

"It's Captain Banks and Inspector Connor, Cascade PD. Ellison told you we were coming."

"Yeah, right." Blair turned the dead bolts. "ID?" he asked, not removing the chain from the slide lock. He glanced at the officers -- a rather large black man and an attractive older woman with blonde hair. When both officers held up their badges, Blair gave each a cursory look, noting the pictures and the faces matched. Sliding the chain, he opened the door. "Come on in."

When the officers entered, the man set a briefcase down on the floor and pulled cuffs from his belt loop.

"Are those necessary?" Blair asked. "I'm not going to resist."

"Regulations, sir," the woman answered.

Blair sighed and turned, putting his arms behind his back. Banks fastened the cuffs on tightly.

"Hey, man. That's really tight. My circulation's cut off already."

Banks loosened the cuffs a notch. "Wouldn't want to leave any bruises," he said.

Connor walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. She glanced upward quickly and positioned the chair. "Bring him here," she said.

Banks clamped a hand on Blair's shoulder and guided him over to the chair, pushing him into it.

"What's going on? I thought…"

"Be quiet," Connor ordered harshly.

Blair blinked, surprised. Ellison had said these two were friends and would treat him fairly, but the woman seemed cold and angry. He glanced up at Connor who looked over to Banks and nodded. Banks returned the nod, picked up the briefcase, circled around them and headed up the stairs.

"What's he doing?" Blair asked.

"I thought I asked you to be quiet?" Conner glared at the handcuffed man. She took a step forward and leaned over him menacingly. "I'm short on time. Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Hear what?" Blair whispered, suddenly afraid.

When Banks trotted back down the stairs and walked behind Blair, he tried to turn, but Connor's hands found his shirt collar. She pulled hard, almost lifting him from the chair. Her eyes burned into his and their noses almost touched.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked abruptly.

Blair shook his head. He could hear a soft, almost whispery sound from behind him, a few feet off to his left, but for the life of him, he couldn't interpret the sound. He tried to slide his eyes sideways to search out Banks, but Connor jerked him forward violently before pushing him back into the chair. Unbalanced, the chair almost tipped over backward. Quickly, Banks moved behind the chair and caught it before it fell.

When Blair regained his balance, he started to protest, but a brown image flashed by his eyes, catching his attention. Before he could form a question, a vice-like grip clamped around his throat. His eyes widened and his breath was immediately cut off. He struggled to rise. Connor grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet. The cutting sensation stopped for a brief moment, allowing Blair to take in a gulp of air. She nodded over at Banks, and Blair was pulled to his toes, his throat painfully squeezed shut once again.

Digging her fingers into Blair's chin, she forced him to meet her eyes. "You know what I hate?" Connor asked conversationally.

Blair struggled to breathe while something dug painfully into his skin. With only the tips of his shoes touching the floor, he swayed from side to side. Each time, the rope was pulled tighter. He blinked rapidly as tears formed in the corners of his eyes and his mouth fell open. Not even gasping sounds could escape the painful vice around his windpipe.

"I hate television shows when it takes hours for the stupid criminal to kill his victims. They have to talk and talk and finally, guess what? The cops show up and everything's over. The hero saves the damsel in distress. I've given myself fifteen minutes to kill you, Doctor." Connor laughed coldly. "Enough talk. I'm Meredith Van Horne." The woman looked at her partner. "Time?"

"Seven minutes gone," Banks said. "Eight left."

Connor nodded. "Mr. Sandburg, I'm on the Board of Directors for the Cascade Museum of History and Science. I set you up because you killed my daughter, Suzanne Nadine." Noticing that Blair's eyes were glazing over, she said to Banks. "Ease up a bit. He's almost unconscious. He needs to hear this."

Blair's body was in agony. His chest hurt as he struggled to draw in a breath. His throat closed from the incredible pressure, and his eyes rolled back into his head while the darkness descended. Harshly, he was brought back to reality when the rope was marginally loosened. Blair's heels touched the floor and his legs shook while he struggled to stand. He gasped for air and the pain intensified as his body protested the severe treatment. Blair opened his mouth to speak but only hoarse panting escaped.

"Do you understand me?" Van Horne demanded.

Only the woman's hold on his shirt kept Blair upright. When her fingers dug painfully into his cheek, Blair managed a small nod and tried to focus.

"Good. Anyway, you interfered four years ago when Brad Ventriss raped some stupid coed at Rainier. When the cops wouldn't file charges, you took it upon yourself to hire a private investigator who followed Ventriss. My daughter was in love with the stupid prick and he talked her into helping him steal a software program from his father's company. They broke into a house and killed the homeowner. They were caught in the act, convicted of murder, and sent to prison. Suzanne committed suicide in prison. She hung herself.

"If you hadn't interfered, she would still be alive today. Hence the reason why you're going to be so despondent over your crimes that you'll kill yourself also. I have a note prepared." Van Horne held up the paper before Blair's tearing eyes. "I know excellent forgers. No one will ever suspect." Glancing over at Banks, she asked, "Time?"

"Now."

Van Horne nodded and released her hold on Blair. He managed to turn his head slightly and through his watering eyes, he could see Banks had wrapped a rope around the large support beam at the end of the kitchen counter. Glancing up quickly, he saw where the rope had been thrown around the upper floor's metal railing. Blair barely had time to pull in a breath when he was hauled from his feet, his legs dangling. When the chair was shoved under his feet, he had a brief moment to gasp in another breath while the handcuffs were removed.

The rope was adjusted until Van Horne was pleased with the placement. Then she pushed the chair out from under Blair's feet, allowing it to fall over backwards. Blair's own body weight pulled painfully at his neck. Struggling, he kicked out violently while his hands flew up to his throat, but the rope was too tight for even a finger to slip under. He tried to think; to figure out how to stop the pain, but his brain refused to operate and he didn't realize that he was dying, only that his body was on fire and he wanted the pain to go away. With tears streaming down his face, he struggled futilely one last time. The blackness descended quickly and Blair fell into it in a headlong rush.

-------------------------------------------------

Jim Ellison raced down the hallway to his apartment. He didn't hesitate, but raised a foot and kicked with all his might. The door crashed inward, pulling the entire frame from its mounting. He raised his gun and careened headlong into the room. Jim heard a pistol cock and before the gun fired, he automatically dropped to his knees and rolled away. He came up on one knee with his weapon drawn. He barely had time to see the woman's gun pointed toward the door where he had been standing. He looked over at her and gasped, seeing Blair's body swaying at the end of a rope. A gun fired and the woman's mouth fell open. A large red flower blossomed on her chest and she crumpled to the floor.

The "real" Captain Banks was barely a step behind Ellison. He didn't hesitate when he saw Jim roll away as the woman fired at him. He raised his weapon and returned fire immediately. His aim was true -- the woman fell from a direct hit to the heart. Turning slightly, he turned his focus to the tall black man standing behind the large wooden column. It was his many years of experience that had him call out automatically, "Drop your weapon. Cascade PD." When the gun clattered to the ground, the "real" Conner skirted around Banks while he covered the man.

Pushing the man toward the floor, she ordered, "Face down and don't move!" The perp fell like he'd been shot and never moved a muscle while she slapped on the cuffs.

Simultaneously, Jim scrambled to his feet and raced to Blair. Hoisting him up to relieve the pressure from around his throat, Jim shouted, "Cut the rope!"

Both Banks and Connor dove for the knife block on the kitchen counter. Conner was quicker. She grabbed a large butcher knife and sliced through the rope in one swipe while Banks pulled his cell phone and called for an ambulance and backup. Jim caught Blair in his arms, carried him into the living room, and gently laid him down on the floor. He carefully removed the piece of rope that was digging into Blair's skin, and angrily threw it across the room. Simon fell to his knees on the other side of Blair's body.

"Ellison, is he alive?"

Too upset to focus with his senses, Jim pressed an ear to Blair's chest. "I don't hear a heartbeat."

"CPR."

Jim nodded. Tipping Blair's head back to open his airway, he breathed into his mouth. Banks massaged Blair's heart six times before Jim repeated his breathing. They continued until the paramedics arrived. Only then did Jim and Simon move.

"Please, Chief," Jim whispered. "I need you." He watched the paramedics working on his friend and he prayed for Sandburg's life to be spared. "Come on, Sandburg. Come on. Please."

One of the paramedics finally looked up at Jim. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Jim shouted. "This is not over!"

"There's nothing else we can do," the EMT said quietly.

"No!" Jim fell to his knees, pushing the paramedic aside. "Come on, Chief. Come on." Closing his eyes, Jim put a hand on either side of Blair's face. 'You said I'm a Sentinel, damn it! I'm supposed to protect you! What should I do, Chief? Help me!'

Jim felt a warmth travel from his torso, down his arms, and into his hands. He pulled his hands back and stared at them. He swore he could see a strange, glowing light emanating from his palms. He swallowed hard and clamped them back on Blair's face. Jim closed his eyes and he saw a large black cat -- a panther. The animal raced forward down a jungle path, snarling viciously. Suddenly from out of the brush, a wolf appeared. The two animals didn't run from each other, but raced toward each other until Jim thought they would surely crash together. He was startled when they didn't collide, but melded in a huge ball of white light and intense heat. As suddenly as it had come, the vision dissipated. Jim looked down into Blair's face. He saw Blair's lips move slightly and a small moan bubbled up from his damaged throat.

"Hey!" Jim shouted at the paramedics. "He's alive! Get back here!"

Captain Banks grabbed one of the EMTs by the sleeve and almost pushed him toward Blair.

"We got him," one of the paramedics said while he put the air bag over Blair's face. "Call the ER, Harry," he said to his partner, who nodded.

Jim watched while the two men stabilized his partner. There, he'd said it to himself. His partner. Blair Sandburg was his partner -- his lover -- his soulmate. Jim smiled. He liked it. 'You'll be okay, partner,' Jim thought. 'I'm sorry I wasn't quicker. I hope you'll forgive me. Love you, Chief.' Jim followed the attendants out to the ambulance and waited until his partner was safely loaded. "I'll be right behind you," Jim told the paramedics. "Be careful with him."

Harry nodded and smiled. "Of course, sir. We always are."

Jim nodded and closed the doors. The ambulance pulled away, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Jim followed, thoughts centered on his partner.

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Blair was warm and content. He floated on a cloud of serenity and had no desire to leave that place. He sighed softly and snuggled down into the comfortable nest under his body. Sleep flitted at the corners of his consciousness and he almost retreated into the beckoning darkness. A soft noise invaded his world. Struggling to identify the sound, Blair blinked several times before he could focus. The sound became distinct as Blair became more aware of his surroundings. The room was warm and lit by a single low-intensity light over his bed. He glanced around, knowing instantly that he was in a hospital.

Blair's hands moved by his sides. The softness under his palms was very inviting. He wrapped his fingers around the material, puzzled. Hospitals didn't have goose-down mattress covers, did they? Again, the funny sound echoed through the small room. Blair turned his head gingerly and his eyes found the source of the noise. Jim Ellison was curled up in a chair much too small for him and he was snoring.

Blair smiled, wondering how Jim managed to get those long legs wrapped up in that position. The man was going to have leg cramps if Blair didn't do something. Clearing his throat, Blair opened his mouth to speak, but the only sound that managed to escape was a weak croak. His hand flew to his throat and he felt the soft gauze wrapped around it. Blair remembered what had happened, but he didn't see any reason to panic. After all, he was alive and Jim was sleeping right next to him, so everything must be all right. Feeling remarkably alert, Blair searched for and found the elevation control for the bed. Pressing the 'up' button, he powered the bed to a more comfortable reclining position. The noise must have disturbed Jim because the man grumbled in his sleep and shifted slightly.

Blair grinned at his partner. He raised his hands and was pleased to discover that they worked like they were supposed to. Pouring a small glass of ice water, he drank deeply. Finishing one glass, he poured another and drained it also. Putting the glass aside, Blair decided to give his voice a try.

"Jim?" Blair whispered.

Jim stirred and mumbled something unintelligible.

Blair cleared his throat and tried again, managing to be a bit louder. "Jim!"

Jim's eyes fluttered. He yawned and lifted his head, blinking sleepily. "Chief?"

"Hey."

"Sandburg!" Jim unwrapped his long legs, grimacing at the protesting muscles.

"That doesn't look very comfortable, Jim," Blair said hoarsely.

"Blair!" Jim launched himself from the chair and groaned at the cramped muscles. Rubbing the back of his calf, he hobbled over to Blair's side. "How are you feeling?" Jim asked, taking one of Blair's hands in his and sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

"Not too bad, actually. Man, it was the strangest thing!" Blair said, coughing lightly.

"Take it nice and slow. What was, my love?"

Blair smiled at the endearment. "I had the whole shebang, Jim." Clamping his hand over his mouth, Blair coughed several times before he continued, "You know, the out-of-body experience! The life-after-death thing, but it wasn't at all like in the books and movies!" Blair's voice cracked and broke on the last couple of words.

"Sandburg, calm down," Jim said, concerned at Blair's agitated state. "You've barely woken up and you're getting overexcited."

Blair swallowed another few sips of water before he launched into the rest of his tale. "Sorry, man, but it was so cool! See, I think I was this wolf and there was this big black panther. We collided in a huge ball of light and bam! I'm back from -- wherever I was!" Coughing again, Blair covered his mouth with his hand.

"I had the same vision," Jim whispered.

"What?" Blair's eyes opened wide. "You and I shared a vision?"

"Yeah, seems so. I saw the wolf and the panther too, Chief."

"Oh, man. Talk about mystical experiences! You and I are -- forged for life!" Jim raised an eyebrow, making Blair smile. "Not forged as in faked, Jim. As in destined to find each other and be together." Blair held his hands together to demonstrate, interlocking his fingers.

"I don't know, Sandburg. This is kind of out of my realm. I don't know if I'm ready to accept all of this -- mumbo-jumbo stuff."

Blair's face fell and his voice was low and hoarse. "Oh, okay, man. Whatever."

Jim saw the disappointment on Blair's face and he was instantly contrite. "No, Chief! Please. I want us to be together. This is just -- strange and weird for me, but if you'll help me to understand, I'm willing to take whatever trip with you that we must take. Can you do that, Blair? Can you help me understand?"

Blair's face brightened. "Oh, yeah, man. Definitely. I'd love to help you figure this out. I've got a lot of comprehending to do myself. I don't have all the answers, but with you, I'd love to explore."

"Okay. Good." Jim smiled and wiped a stray strand of hair from Blair's face. He looked into his lover's eyes, saw the trust and love shining through and he was suddenly racked with guilt.

"Oh, God! Blair!" Jim cried, wrapping his arms around Blair's shoulders and pulling him close. "I'm so sorry!"

Blair patted Jim's back. "Jim, take it easy. Come on, man, it's okay. You saved my life. Thank you."

"I was almost too late! Can you ever forgive me? I feel like I've failed you," Jim said, burying his face in Blair's neck.

"Silly boy," Blair said soothingly, petting the back of Jim's head. "Nothing to forgive."

Jim pulled back and put his hands on Blair's shoulders. "I love you."

Blair gave Jim a brilliant smile. "I love you too, you big lug. Now give me a kiss."

Jim grinned, leaned forward and kissed Blair's forehead.

Blair raised an eyebrow. "If you expect forgiveness, you'd better try again."

Jim rolled his eyes and leaned forward.

Blair slid his arms around Jim's neck and guided their lips together. Tenderly, they kissed, brushing silken skin against silken skin. Pulling back, Jim traced Blair's cheek and chin with a finger. Running his thumb over Blair's lips, Jim smiled and returned for another soft kiss.

"I see Mr. Sandburg's awake," the doctor's voice interrupted, making both men look up.

Turning sideways so that the doctor could have limited access to Blair, Jim slipped an arm around his lover's shoulders. When the doctor looked at him questioningly, Jim lifted his chin. "I'm staying right here."

The doctor shrugged. "Okay by me, but do you think I might have say, a foot of room to give Mr. Sandburg an exam?" he asked in a friendly tone.

Blair laughed softly and pushed Jim gently. "Down, boy. I'm not going anywhere."

Jim nodded and glared at the doctor.

Blair smiled and patted Jim's hand. While looking at Jim, Blair said, "Doctor, Jim's a bit overprotective of me. He'll behave himself."

The doctor smiled. "Devotion is a good thing, but you need a once over if you expect to get out of here in the next few days."

Hearing the doctor's words and wanting his partner out of the hospital and under their own roof, Jim rose and went over to the chair. He sat down and looked so innocent that Blair laughed again. "May I leave tonight?" Blair asked.

"Let's give you a good exam and then we'll decide." The doctor read Blair's chart and examined his throat. "Now open wide and swallow."

Blair complied.

"How's it feel?" the man asked, removing the gauze and running his fingers over the bruised flesh.

"Tender. Dry. Sore."

"That's to be expected. Your voice will most likely return to normal in a few weeks. You've had some damage to your windpipe and vocal chords. The worse is that your voice might be a bit harsher than before but otherwise, I'd say you're a lucky man."

"Thank you. Jim saved my life."

"So I heard," said the doctor. He patted Blair's shoulder. "Get a good night's sleep and you may go home in the morning."

"Thanks. By the way, do all of your rooms have goose feather comforters on them?"

"Nope, just yours." The doctor cocked his head toward Jim. Smiling, he continued, "If you're hungry, I'll have some food sent in. Otherwise, rest is the main order of the day. Drink plenty of fluids and eat easy to swallow foods. Two weeks, no yelling, no Jags games, nothing that will stress that throat. You'll need a recheck next week. Those are my instructions. Okay?" the doctor asked with a smile.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Good night. You, too, Mr. Ellison."

"Night, doctor," Blair whispered, his throat raw from too much talking.

"Thank you, Doctor. Good evening," Jim said.

With a smile on his face, the man waved his good-byes on his way out the door.

At Blair's questioning look, Jim grinned. "Sorry, Chief. I felt that mattress. It was way too uncomfortable for you, so I brought you something from home. Like it?"

Blair smiled, patting the soft spread. "Yeah. It's wonderful. And so are you." He snuggled back and closed his eyes, sighing softly. "We need to talk," he said sleepily.

"Sleep, my love. We'll talk later," Jim said quietly while he lowered the bed and returned to his chair to watch over his partner.

-------------------------------------------------

Once home from the hospital and only after Blair was comfortably settled on the sofa with a glass of freshly squeezed ruby red grapefruit juice, did Jim oblige Blair with his story about how he found Blair 'in time'. Jim refused to think about Blair been declared dead.

Fussing, Jim asked, "Are you comfortable? Too hot? Too cold?"

Blair smiled. "Jim, man, I'm good. Just relax and tell me what happened."

"What do you remember?"

Taking a sip of the cool juice, Blair mused. "Not much actually. I let the cops in -- the idiots posing as cops I mean. They didn't waste any time. Once they put on the cuffs, the woman had me in a chair in seconds." Blair shrugged. "She barely spoke before the rope was dropped around my neck. Once I couldn't breathe, I had trouble understanding what she was saying. All I could hear was my own heart beating and my blood pounding in my ears. It was awful." Blair sighed. "It happened so fast."

Jim sat on the sofa and put Blair's feet in his lap. Rubbing the anklebones with his fingertips while he gathered his thoughts, he finally spoke.

"I was driving down Rampart to meet with my snitch at O'Malley's when I had the strangest feeling. The hair on my arms stood on end. It was almost like when I get tingles around fraudulent art." Jim sighed. "I got to the meeting place and had to wait maybe five minutes for her to show. I sat in the truck trying to figure out what the hell was going on. For some reason, I just wanted to come back to the loft. I almost left without the information, but Evelyn came just as I was about to leave. Seems that one of her johns…"

"Wait, your snitch is a hooker?"

"Yeah, and a damned good one too."

Blair laughed. "A good hooker or a good snitch?"

"Actually, both. Anyway, seems that she had a regular customer who visited twice a week. Guess who it was? Our police impersonator, Vernon Washington, aka "Captain Banks". He kept telling Evelyn that he was pulling in big bucks and wanted to share with her. She was keeping him company that evening when his cell phone rang. Apparently, it was Van Horne. She told Washington that tonight was the night and he had thirty minutes to meet her on Gold Miner Boulevard."

"That's the next street over from Prospect, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Imagine the luck that you have, Chief. The perp goes to my snitch and spills his guts during sex. Good thing I spread the word to all of my snitches. It paid off big time. I gave her $500 for the information and it was worth every penny."

"You paid that much for me?"

"Yeah. I'd have paid twice that much. Hell, Sandburg, I'd have given my right arm and a few toes." Jim smiled.

Blair chuckled. "Then what happened?"

"I'd already figured Van Horne was the problem. I just needed proof. When Evelyn told me that that was the night Van Horne was taking you down, I prayed that I'd be on time. I called Banks and told him to get over here pronto. It was pure luck that we arrived at the same time. Good thing, though, because Banks backed me up big time."

Blair nodded. "Seems like I have a lot of good karma, huh, Jim?"

"I'll say. Somebody up there," Jim pointed toward the ceiling, "is watching out for you."

"For us, Jim. For us." Blair reached out his hand.

Jim took Blair's hand in his and laced their fingers together. "When I heard her talking to you, Blair, my blood ran cold. I could hear your heart racing and I could sense your fear. I told Banks and Connor that they were trying to kill you and we ran up the stairs. I made it first and kicked in the door." Jim paused for a moment before he said quietly, "It was awful seeing you like that, Chief. I could have died right then and there."

"No, Jim, you couldn't. You had to try and save me. I'm happy you did."

"Me, too."

"So what about the IDs? I already guessed that they were listening in on our conversation somehow, but they showed up so quickly."

"Van Horne had a lot of money and could hire the best. She had a guy who specializes in fake IDs meet her on Gold Mine in his van. Criminals these days are way too organized." Jim shook his head and held up his fingers, miming quotation marks: "Forgers-R-Us. Open 24 hours a day."

Blair chuckled. "So she heard you tell me the cops were coming for me. She calls her forger and her partner. They meet. Take ten minutes to make IDs that I wouldn't look at too closely and then they pay me a little visit. In under an hour I was almost dead meat."

Jim grimaced. "Don't remind me."

"So Washington talked?"

"Hell, Chief, he talked so much that Vice and Major Crime closed three other cases with the information he coughed up."

"Good. I hope he rots in prison." Blair lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "I love you," he said softly.

Jim nodded, his throat suddenly tight. "I love you, too." Jim shifted a bit then bit his lip. Deciding that now was the time, he asked, "Will you move in with me? Stay with me always?"