Hazy Shade of Winter, part two

[snycock]

part one and warnings, etc. here

Blair opened his eyes slowly.  The room was dim, lit only by a sliver of light from the half-shut door.  He heard voices, fairly close; one he recognized as Emily’s, high and light, the other was deeper, a warmer baritone that tugged at his memory.  He frowned.  Usually he awoke long before the bookstore opened.

Blinking, he struggled to sit up, his body aching and sore.  He felt as though someone had been using him for a punching bag.  Maybe he was coming down with something.  His eyes felt swollen, hot and grainy; he raised his hands to rub them, then stared at the neat white bandage on his right hand.  Where had that come from?

Fragments of memory floated through his head, coalesced, and he realized the other voice he’d heard was Jim’s.  Now he recalled meeting Jim at the diner; remembered hearing his news; remembered fleeing in a blind panic, running into a waiter.  He knew he’d come back here, but the rest of the night was a blur.  He ran a thumb over the gauze wrapping his palm.  He must have hurt his hand, but he couldn’t remember how, couldn’t remember dressing it.

In spite of having just woken up, he felt tired, dull and listless, detached from everything around him.  He knew that he’d been upset, last night, at the news that Jim had been forced into retirement, but he couldn’t feel it.  It was as if he was watching himself on a movie screen.  He just didn’t have the energy for any of it anymore.

He heard the voices again, Jim saying something he couldn’t make out, Emily laughing.  After the scene he’d made last night, Jim must be worried about him.  He’d probably come by this morning to check on him.  He supposed he should go out there, let Jim know he was okay, so Jim could go back to Cascade with a clear conscience.

His jeans were folded neatly at the end of the bed and he pulled them on, a wave of dizziness passing over him as he stood.  He stumbled, caught himself, took a few deep breaths, and the dizziness passed.  He searched the room, but he couldn’t find the shirt he’d been wearing last night.  He couldn’t muster the energy to worry about it, though.  Shrugging resignedly, he unlocked his footlocker and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of socks.

He shuffled out into the vestibule, hands tucked into his armpits for warmth, blinking against the bright sunlight streaming in through the front windows.  Emily was behind the counter, and Jim was standing at the front door, the sleeves of his dark sweater pushed up, glazing one of the small panes of glass in the door.  Blair frowned.  Had he broken it last night?  He didn’t remember doing that…but he had been upset.  Maybe he’d closed the door too hard and shattered it.  He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn’t noticed.  If the pane had been broken all night…they were lucky that someone hadn’t come in and robbed the place.

“So, you just need to let this cure,” Jim was saying, smoothing the last of the glaze with a careful finger.  “It should take a day or two.  Fortunately, I think the weather’s supposed to be clear.”  He gathered the tools and turned, catching sight of Blair.  “Hey, Chief,” he said quietly.

Emily turned, a too-wide smile across her face.  “Blair, you’re awake!” she chirped.

“What time is it?” he asked, his voice coming out hoarse and raspy.  He cleared his throat and continued.  “Wasn’t I supposed to open today?”

He saw Jim and Emily’s eyes meet surreptitiously, over his head, and then Emily waved her hand at him casually.  “Oh, don’t worry about it, dear.  I had to come in anyway to do some paperwork, and you seemed like you needed the sleep.”  She had moved over to the coffeepot and now placed a large steaming mug on the counter in front of him.  “Here, want some coffee?”

He ignored the mug and addressed himself to Jim.  “Look, I’m sorry about ditching you last night; I just had a little panic attack, that’s all.  It’s no big deal, everything’s fine now.”

Jim put the tools and glazing supplies on the counter and moved over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “Good, Chief, I’m glad to hear that.  How about some breakfast?”

“Uh…thanks, but I’ve gotta work this morning….”  He tried to inch out from underneath Jim’s hand, but Jim’s grip was as firm and implacable as iron.

“Oh, that’s okay, Blair,” Emily said brightly.  “I can hold down the fort by myself for a few hours.  You should get a chance to visit with your friend.”  She glanced over at Jim again.

He knew he should feel worried, or angry, or something, because they clearly had been talking about him, but he didn’t.  He didn’t feel anything at all, really.  Just numb.  Shrugging, he turned to go back to his room. “Let me get my shoes on and get my coat,” he said flatly.

It was cold when they got outside, in spite of the sunshine.  “There’s a restaurant in my hotel, about three blocks away,” Jim suggested, and he nodded, not really caring where they went.  But he was shivering by the time they’d walked the short distance to the restaurant, and grateful for the large cup of coffee the waitress brought to their table, especially since he’d refused the coffee Emily had offered him.  He wrapped his hands around the cup and took a sip, feeling the warmth permeate his body all the way down to his toes.  Pity it couldn’t touch the numbness in his heart.

“So,” Jim said, “what looks good?”  He glanced at Blair over the top of the menu.  “Get whatever you want.  My treat, since dinner last night didn’t, uh, work out.”

“Jim, you don’t have to do that,” he protested.

“My pleasure, Chief.  I figure I owe you.”

The waitress, whose nametag proclaimed her to be Helen, sauntered over to their table.  “You guys ready to order?” she asked.

“I’ll have a bagel,” he said.

Jim glared at him, then looked at Helen.  “He’ll have scrambled eggs with that, and a side of bacon.  I’ll have the same, except toast instead of a bagel.  Wheat toast.”  He handed the menu back to her.

“Jim,” he started reprovingly, but he ran out of steam.  He didn’t even have the energy to complain.

“No arguments, Chief.  You need protein.  You didn’t have any dinner last night, and, from the looks of you, you haven’t been eating right for a while now.”

He made a weak attempt to obfuscate.  “Well, you know, Tibetan monks, they don’t have access to much protein…milk and cheese, maybe, but very little meat…”

“Sandburg,” Jim interrupted him, leaning across the table, his gaze serious and intent, “I know you didn’t go to Tibet.”

That took the heart out of him completely, like air out of a punctured balloon, and he just sat there, unmoving, for several minutes, unsure of what to say or do next.  “How?” he whispered eventually.

Jim drew breath to say something, but just then the waitress brought their breakfast.  Jim watched her impatiently as she set their plates down, then fussed over them, bringing them salt and pepper, ketchup, jam; refilling their coffee cups.  “Got everything you need?” she asked, brightly.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jim said, with barely concealed irritation.  Once she was gone, he turned back to Blair.  “Naomi called the loft, looking for you, about two weeks after you’d left, and we compared notes.”  He dug into his eggs.  “I was going to go looking for you when the senses hit the front page.”

Blair felt a jolt of guilt.  He grabbed his fork and picked desultorily at his food, more out of a need to do something with his hands than out of hunger.  “How did you find me?” he asked dully.

Jim was shaking his head.  “It wasn’t me,” he said.  “I tracked you as far as Santa Fe, and then you just vanished.  I figured…”  He paused, staring sightlessly out the front window.  Blair could see his throat muscles working.  Then, with a slight shake of his head, he continued.  “Emily called the station, asking to talk to someone who had worked the murders at Lastings Park.  They routed her to Simon.  It took a few tries, but eventually she convinced him that she wasn’t some nutcase; that she really knew you, knew where you were, and believed that you were in some kind of trouble.”  He took a long drink of coffee.  “He tried to get in touch with me, but he couldn’t…it was around the holidays and I…I was hard to find.  By the time I got the message it was after the New Year.  But as soon as Simon told me, I was on the next flight out.”

“Well, I’m not in any trouble,” Blair said, quietly.  “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

Jim gave him a measuring look.  “You don’t seem fine.”

He pushed the eggs around on his plate slowly.  “Well, I am.”  The handle of the fork poked his bandaged palm and he winced, dropping the fork.

Quick as a cat, Jim had reached over and grabbed his hand, turning it palm up, his fingers questing gently over the gauze.  “So, you want to tell me what last night was about, then, Chief?” he asked gently.

Blair tried to pull his hand away, shame flushing his cheeks as the memory of his loss of control last night came back to him with brutal clarity.  He struggled to maintain his composure, his breath whistling in his throat.  His face felt like it was on fire.

“Blair, come on, talk to me,” he heard Jim say.  Jim’s voice was low and soft, but it sounded as if it was coming from very far away.  His own heartbeat was thundering in his ears.  Jim still had a hold of his hand and was lightly rubbing his thumb over Blair’s wrist.

“Not…not here,” he heard himself say.

“Okay,” he heard Jim say, and then heard him ask Helen for the check.   Then they were leaving the restaurant and Jim was maneuvering him towards the elevators, a firm arm around his shoulders.  “Come on,” Jim was saying, “we can go up to my room,” and Blair just gave up and went along with him.  He was so tired, and he couldn’t think straight.  He might as well just tell Jim everything.  It didn’t matter anymore.

***

Jim slid his key card into the door and turned the handle, pushing the door open.  He ushered Blair inside and over to one of the chairs.  “Sit here, Chief,” he said.  “I’m going to take a look at that hand.”

He watched as Blair sat down listlessly, his face devoid of all expression.  There’d been a minute there, downstairs in the restaurant, where Jim had thought he was going to run again, just like last night, but then he’d just withdrawn, shut down.

He retrieved some supplies from the bathroom and pulled the other chair over so he was facing Blair.  Gently taking Blair’s injured hand in his, he carefully unwound the gauze.  The cuts on his palm looked okay; they were still red but didn’t look puffy or inflamed.  He moved his fingers across them lightly, dialing up his sense of touch, but couldn’t detect any more heat than in the uninjured areas of Blair’s hand.  No infection, then.  Just to be sure, though, he washed the cuts with hydrogen peroxide before rewrapping the gauze around Blair’s hand.

Blair watched the whole thing with a look of detachment, his eyes focused on his hand.  He didn’t wince or change expression, even when Jim put the peroxide on.

He finished wrapping the gauze, tucking the end away neatly and patting the back of Blair’s hand.  “There, all done.”  He didn’t let go of Blair’s wrist, though, feeling a need to keep some kind of connection between them, however tenuous.  “So…you were going to tell me about last night?”

Blair raised his head, looking directly at Jim, his blue eyes dark with sorrow and pain.  “Why’d you come after me?” he asked.

“You were upset,” he answered, “I’d never seen you that upset.  You ran right into that waiter and didn’t stop, didn’t say anything, just kept going….I was worried about you.”

Blair’s gaze didn’t shift.  “No, I mean why did you come to Chicago?”

He frowned.  “Because I was worried about you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?  Naomi didn’t know where you were, I didn’t know where you were…”

“So?  I’m a grown man, Jim.  I don’t have to tell you, or my mother, where I’m going.  Maybe I just wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Then why lie about it?  Why tell me you were going to Tibet?”

Blair shrugged.  “Maybe I didn’t want to have to deal with you asking me endless questions about it.  Maybe I just wanted to be gone.”

He opened his mouth to make a sharp retort, then stopped.  Something wasn’t right here.  That first time, the first night he’d gone to the bookstore, Blair hadn’t been annoyed.  He’d been scared.  Scared and miserable.  That didn’t seem like the kind of reaction you’d get from someone who’d just wanted to be gone.

Come on, Ellison, he thought, just tell the truth.  Out loud, he said, “Because I needed you.”

Blair didn’t even blink at that, tossing back a question of his own.  “Because of the Sentinel thing?”

And there it was, the opening he’d wanted.  The perfect opportunity to broach the subject of his feelings for Blair.  And, just like he had that night in the truck, when they were looking for Incacha, he walked right past it, his courage deserting him just when he needed it most.  “Yeah.”

Blair’s head dropped, and his shoulders slumped, and Jim had the sinking feeling that he’d just given the wrong answer.  “I can’t be your Guide anymore, Jim,” Blair said, dully.

“What?” he said, the beginnings of alarm stirring in his chest, “Why not?”

Blair was shaking his head slowly.  “I can’t be a Guide, or a shaman.  I don’t know who I was trying to kid.  I’m no good at this.  I’m a fraud, a failure.”

He reached out and grasped Blair’s shoulders firmly, shook him a little.  “Chief, that’s crazy.  You saved my life.  If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead, squashed flat by that garbage truck.”

“If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have even been in front of the garbage truck.  If I hadn’t totally fucked up what I was trying to tell you, you wouldn’t have gotten upset and stormed off.  You probably wouldn’t have zoned, either.”

“Blair, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, the alarm growing.  “You taught me to control my senses.  If you hadn’t come and found me in that hospital, I’d be a basket case right now.”  He squeezed Blair’s shoulders gently, tried to catch his eyes, but Blair just stared down at his lap, his head still moving back and forth in negation.

“You would have figured it out eventually.  You’re used to discipline.  Or you would have just suppressed them again, like you did before.  You never really wanted them anyway.  It was just something I talked you into, like letting me stay in your spare room.”

“Sandburg, where’s all this coming from?”  This attitude of Blair’s was really starting to worry him, now.

Blair stood and went over to the window, staring out at the city below.  “I had a dream - a vision, really,” he said in a flat, strange voice.  “My dissertation got leaked to the press and they were following us around, asking you all about your senses.  You couldn’t do your job; you were furious with me….”  He trailed off, swallowing hard, then took a deep breath and continued, “I realized that I was putting you in danger.  Not just the research, although that was a big part of it.  But everything, I was doing everything wrong.  Everything I did with Alex….”  He trailed off again, shaking his head.  “I’m not a Guide.  And I’m endangering you by pretending to be one.”

Jim stood, guilt gnawing at his insides.  “Chief, listen, Alex…that was not your fault.  Or at least not yours alone.  I made plenty of mistakes on that one, myself.”

But it was as if Blair hadn’t even heard him.  He was still looking out the window, still talking in that odd, distant voice.  “You were right.  You said it.  It was a breach of trust.  You’ve got to be able to trust your partner, and you can’t trust me.  I keep screwing things up.”

He went over to stand behind Blair, cupping his shoulders in his hands.  “Look, I’m sorry I said that.  I was angry, and I…I didn’t mean it.  You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”  He gave Blair a gentle shake.  “We’ll go home, we’ll figure this out, together, just like we always do.”

Blair was shaking his head again.  “No.  I’m not going back to Cascade with you.”

“Sandburg, come on!”  He was starting to feel annoyed.  “It was just a dream.  My senses have already been exposed, and you weren’t there, so it couldn’t have been your fault.”

“I know,” Blair said, his brow furrowing.  “I don’t know what I did wrong, but I must have done something, misunderstood something, because it happened anyway.”

An idea occurred to Jim.  “Maybe the dream was warning you.  Maybe it wasn’t about me at all.  Maybe you needed to get out of town, because if you’d been there, maybe you would have gotten sucked into it, too.  That reporter, she would have found out about you, looked at your early papers - just like Brackett - your research would have been publicized; who knows how your committee would have reacted?  This way, you can come home and pick up where you left off.”

Blair pulled away from him and headed for the door.  “Weren’t you listening?  I said I’m not going back to Cascade.  I can’t.  I can’t help you.  I can’t be your Guide.”

“Chief, come on, this is absurd…”  He reached out for Blair, frustrated at his inability to get through to him.  This had been so much easier last night, when all he’d needed to do was hold Blair, keep him safe, soothe him.  He was much better at the non-verbal stuff, the tactile stuff, than the talking.  His hand touched Blair’s shoulder, but Blair twisted out of his grasp, his hand on the doorknob.  In desperation, Jim played his trump card.  “What if I need you?  What if something new, something strange happens with the senses?”

Blair looked up, his hand on the door, and his eyes were like cinders in his pale face; dark and flat and hard.  “I told you I can’t help you.  You’ll have to find someone else.”

“Blair….”  He was too stunned to say any more.  He couldn’t believe Blair was about to just walk out of his life, and he had no idea how to get him back.

Blair paused, his shoulders slumped.  “Come by the bookstore tonight and I’ll give you my laptop and all my notes,” he said quietly.  “So you’ll have some references if something weird does happen.”  Before Jim could reply, he had pushed the door open and left.

Jim slumped onto the bed, his face in his hands, feeling torn between despair and putting his fist through the drywall.  For all his caution about going slowly, he certainly seemed to be fucking this up.  But at least Blair hadn’t shut the door entirely.  He’d get one more chance tonight.  But he’d have to make it good.  And it was clear that he wasn’t going to stand a chance simply arguing with Sandburg.  He needed to be devious, to play dirty.

God, he was such an idiot.  You never really wanted the senses, anyway, Blair’s voice rang in his head, It was just something I talked you into.  It wasn’t the truth, although it was obvious to him why Blair felt that way.  He’d acted resentful from the day they’d met, and fought Blair every step of the way, every suggestion, every test.

He blinked.  That gave him an idea…

***

Jim got a wary look as he entered the bookstore that evening, carefully balancing a six-pack of beer on top of a large pizza.  “What’s that for?” Blair asked, standing at the cash register.

Jim slid the pizza box and the beer onto the counter.  “Dinner,” he said succinctly, “and an apology.”

“Pizza and beer are not going to make me come back to Cascade.”

“I never thought they would.  The pizza’s better here, anyhow.”

Blair’s gaze was still suspicious.  “I don’t want to argue with you about this anymore.”

Jim nodded, raising his hands in surrender.  “I get it, Chief.  No arguments.  Just something to eat.”

A customer came up to the counter, and Blair relented.  “Okay.  But you’ll have to wait until I close, in about twenty minutes or so.”

“No problem,” he replied evenly.  As Blair rung up the customer’s purchases, he wandered over to the front door, checking the glazing he had done earlier that day.  It looked like it was curing nicely.  Almost absent-mindedly, he pulled the door open to let the customer out, then closed it again.  He looked up to find Blair standing next to him, looking at the pane, his hands in his pockets, his eyes shadowed.

“Did I do that?” Blair asked softly.

“No,” he replied, “I did.  I followed you back here from the diner, but you had locked the door.  I had to break the pane to get in.”  He ran a light fingertip over the glazing.  “Figured it was only fair that I fix it.”

He glanced over at Blair, who was looking down at the floor, his cheeks red.  Blair drew breath as if to say something, then seemed to think better of it and walked away.  Jim sighed and went to browse among the stacks of books.

About a half an hour later, Blair was throwing the deadbolt on the front door and drawing the shades, and Jim was lighting the gas logs in the fireplace.  Blair brought the pizza and beer over.  Sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire, he dug in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife and opened two beers, now slightly warm, handing one to Jim, who was ensconced comfortably on the red horsehair couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed.

Jim watched to make sure Blair had taken a piece of pizza before grabbing his own.  They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Blair glanced up at him.  “So, what did you mean about an apology?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, affecting a nonchalant air.  “I’ve just been thinking about what you said this afternoon, Chief, and I figured I owe you one.”

“What for?”

“Well, you made me realize that I’ve been a lousy Sentinel.”

The speculative, guarded look was back.  “How so?”

“Sandburg, I’m well aware that you dragged me into this kicking and screaming the whole way.  You’re right, I never wanted these senses.  I never appreciated them, never appreciated what you were doing.”  He caught a furious look from Blair and held up his hand.  “I’m not arguing.  Bad Guide; I got it.  But misguided or not, right or not, you were still only trying to help me.  And I…I was a total bastard about it, to be honest.”

“You…you really weren’t that bad,” Blair said, weakly.

Jim snagged a second slice of pizza.  “I think I’ll have to disagree with you there, Chief.  I threatened you - assaulted you, in fact - the first time we met.  You could have had my badge for that.”

“Second time, actually…but you were under a lot of stress…”

“I wouldn’t tell you when my senses were acting up.  I ignored your advice and then got mad at you when things went haywire.  I shouted at you, pushed you around; I pulled a gun on you, and I kicked you out of your own home.”

“That wasn’t…that wasn’t your fault, man.  You didn’t realize…”

“I lied to you, I went and did things behind your back, and I didn’t trust you.  You asked me not to read your dissertation chapter, and I did.  Jesus, I got you exposed to a lethal dose of Golden, because I couldn’t admit to my own limitations.”  It was turning out to be a lot easier to make this conversation authentic than he had expected.  His throat was tight as he realized just exactly what Blair had had to put up with during his time with him.

Blair was quiet, sliding his half-eaten piece of pizza back into the box.

“I got you killed, Chief.”  He didn’t have to pretend that his voice broke at that. Taking a deep breath, he continued.  “No, I don’t think you can take all the blame for the failure of this Sentinel thing.”

Blair got up from the floor and sat on the couch next to him.  “Look, man, it’s not a failure.  You’ve still got the senses, you’ve still got control.  You’ll find another Guide.  Even if you’re not a cop anymore, there are a hundred things you can do, a million ways to still serve and protect the tribe…”

Jim shook his head.  “You’re not listening to me, Sandburg.  Even if I could find someone else who would put up with my crap, why bother?  I mean, it’s not like my attitude is going to change.  Maybe it would be best if I just repressed them, made them go dormant again.”

“Jim, man, don’t be ridiculous.  You’re throwing the baby out with the bathwater here.  What you can do is amazing.  These senses, they’re a gift, and you’re…you’re….”  He trailed off, staring at Jim, comprehension dawning in his eyes.  “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that?”

Jim allowed himself a small victory smile.  “I’m just pointing out that if you made mistakes, then I did, too.  If you think your performance was bad, well, then - mine was pretty piss-poor as well.”

Blair was silent, staring down at his lap, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“So, maybe,” Jim ventured, “we could call a truce on this argument and declare ourselves both pretty mediocre?”

Blair snorted, and reached down for his beer bottle.  Without looking at Jim, he held it up, and Jim clinked his own bottle against it.  “To mediocre Sentinels and Guides,” Blair said, still not meeting Jim’s eyes.

“Hear, hear,” Jim replied, taking a drink.  And suddenly the opening was there again, and he didn’t stop to think this time, but just plunged in.  “That wasn’t the biggest mistake I made, though.”

Blair took a long swig of beer, still not looking at Jim.

Jim took a deep breath and continued.  “The biggest mistake I made…I had this really great friend - funny, caring, compassionate.  We’d been through some pretty weird shit together, and he’d always pulled me through.  Well, he asked me to go on this amazing trip with him.  It was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the brass ring - everything I’d ever wanted.  But I was too scared.  I turned him down, told him I wasn’t ready.”  He shook his head slowly, turning his beer in his hands, smoothing the label over the bottle with his thumbs.  “Worst decision I ever made.”

There was a long silence.  Finally, when Jim had just about decided that he was screwed, Blair cleared his throat.  “Well,” he said, his voice rough, “I bet the offer’s still open.  I bet your friend would still take you on that trip.  If you asked.”

“You think so, Chief?”  He looked over and met Blair’s eyes, feeling the cold knot that had been in his chest since he’d come to Chicago dissolve.  Blair had a small smile on his face; tears shivered at the ends of his lashes, but his eyes were shining.

And somehow he crossed the distance between them, both literal and metaphorical, pulling Blair close with a hand on the back of his neck, brushing his mouth against Blair’s.  He’d meant the kiss to be gentle, but the feel of Blair’s mouth on his was just too good, too right…and then Blair’s mouth opened and he slid inside…before he realized it he was cradling Blair’s head in both hands, his thumbs stroking along Blair’s jaw, right below his ear; devouring Blair’s mouth, the taste of him intoxicating, exotic; he couldn’t get enough…

Blair pulled away, panting, hands flat on Jim’s chest; Jim could feel the heat of them through his shirt.  “Whoa, man.  Need a little bit of a breather.”

Jim lay back on the sofa, stretching his legs out and pulling Blair down on top of him.  Blair wobbled for a moment, then shifted, their bodies fitting together; their dicks, half-hard, bumping together, sending an anticipatory shiver down Jim’s spine.  He drew Blair close, kissed him again, savoring the taste of beer and pizza, and, underneath, Blair’s own unique taste, like oranges and cloves.

This time he broke the kiss before he could get too carried away.  Blair sighed, resting his forehead on Jim’s.  “You okay?” Jim asked, his voice low, his hands restlessly stroking Blair’s shoulders.

Blair nodded, licking his lips, the sight of which sent a shaft of heat straight to Jim’s groin.  “I’m fine…but we went from being on the outs to sharing spit in, like, sixty seconds.  I need a little time to catch up, okay?”

“Okay,” Jim said agreeably, having no intention of letting Blair’s head get back in the game and derail things.  He rocked his hips against Blair gently, his hands sliding down to cup Blair’s ass.

Blair groaned.  “Prick,” he said.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Jim said smugly, then made a show of looking down between their bodies.  “Oh, look, you have one, too,” he said, mock surprise in his voice.

That made Blair laugh out loud, and the sound of it was so welcome that Jim closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the way it rang inside him like a bell.  Serious now, he stopped moving, framing Blair’s face with his hands.  “Hey.  In case I didn’t make it clear, earlier: I love you, okay?”

Blair nodded, blinking hard.  “I…I love you, too,” he whispered, chewing at his bottom lip, and so Jim just had to rub his thumb across the tiny indentations, soothing them, and then follow that with his mouth, and then his tongue, and then one thing led to another and somehow they ended up on the fluffy rug in front of the hearth; clothing, pizza box, and beer bottles scattered to the four corners of the room; the fire their only illumination.

Poised over Blair, on his hands and knees, Jim immersed himself in sensation.  He nuzzled into the crook between Blair’s neck and shoulder, breathing in his musky scent, heady with the perfume of arousal.  He bit down lightly, grinning at Blair’s yelp, savoring the various tastes he found there; nosed down his broad chest, enjoying the rough scrape of silky hair against his chin, his cheeks.  He sat back on his heels, sliding his hands gently down Blair’s sides, dialing up touch until he could feel the faint ridges of ribs under his skin.  He frowned; he might have to make this a weekly inspection until he was satisfied that Blair was putting some weight back on.

Blair looked like he was holding his breath, and then, just as Jim ran his fingers over a rib, he burst out laughing.  “Hey, man,” he gasped, “no fair tickling!”  Jim grinned, flexing his fingers a little before skating them playfully over Blair’s sides.  Blair wriggled and twisted, rolling to all fours and making a break for it.  Jim grabbed him easily and pulled him backwards, pinning Blair against his body.  A surge of lust rolled through him, making him dizzy; God, it was going to feel so damn good, sinking inside Blair, taking him.  He shivered, controlling himself, then pushed Blair onto his back and kissed him, hard.

He felt Blair’s hands slide around his neck, gently kneading the muscles there.  He pulled away slightly, gazing into those wide, dazed, midnight-blue eyes, and smiled.  With a swift, graceful motion he sat back on his heels, pulling Blair’s knees up and sliding his hands down the inside of his thighs, eyeing the stiff, garnet-colored cock that jutted up from a nest of dark, curly hair.  It bobbed up and down in front of him in time with Blair’s breathing; he licked his lips, taking a deep breath of his own, and bent forward.

But Blair was sitting up, then, quickly, and grabbing his hands.  “No, no, wait,” he murmured.  “Not unless you’ve got protection.”

Jim settled back on his heels.  “What’s the matter?”

“I’m…I’m not sure it’s…safe.”  Blair’s head was bent, his shoulders slumped, but even in the dim firelight Jim could see the telltale blaze across his cheeks.  “Uh…I was…I was seriously lost for a while, in Santa Fe.  I did some things…I mean I might have…I don’t really remember….”  He trailed off, and Jim felt the hands that held his tremble.

He quelled the protective instinct inside him that was clamoring that he haul Blair off to a doctor immediately, and lifted Blair’s hand to his mouth, kissing the palm gently.  “Okay,” he said quietly, “no problem.”

Blair raised his eyes to meet Jim’s, his look unsure, his cheeks still aflame.  “Okay?  You’re not pissed at me?”

The plaintive tone made his heart ache.  “No, not pissed.  Worried, maybe, but we’ll deal with it when we get home.”  He reached out and stroked his fingers down Blair’s face, the heat of his blush tangible.  “I’ve been lost before, myself,” he said, thinking about Vice, about coming back from Peru.  “I know how it can be.”

“Sorry,” Blair said morosely, deflated.  “I sure have a knack for killing a mood, huh?”

“Hey,” he said, gently taking hold of Blair’s shoulders, “this self-depreciation doesn’t suit you.  Listen to me: I’m not going to get upset about where you were or what you did.  I don’t care if you never ask me another question about my senses, or if you come up with a million; I don’t care if you decide to drop the whole grad school thing and get a job as a janitor at Cascade High.  Or become a cop.  I just want you in my life, okay?”  He pulled Blair in for another kiss, this one slow and searching and leisurely; he explored Blair’s mouth thoroughly, meticulously, and when he drew away Blair’s eyes were glazed and he was hard again.

Jim stretched out onto his back, knees bent, and coaxed Blair into straddling his hips.  His hands roamed gently over Blair’s body, shifting Blair until his dick was nestled in the crease of Blair’s ass.

Blair hummed under his breath, a slight grin playing across his features.  Then his eyes went wide as Jim rocked upward, canting his hips slightly, and then it was Jim’s turn to grin.  He wrapped his hand around Blair, starting a long, slow stroke, matched to the roll of his hips.  Blair felt so good in his hand, silken and hard and hot, and Jim groaned as he felt himself pulse in response.

God, Blair was beautiful, so beautiful, in this moment, just as he’d imagined in a thousand fantasies; his wiry, strong body moving easily above him; his hot, sleepy gaze; his full lips parted slightly, tongue sneaking out to wet them; throwing his head back, his throat bared.  Jim reached a hand up to caress Blair’s shorn head, his thumb trailing tenderly against Blair’s jaw.  The firelight limned Blair’s body in gold, highlighting the curve of his broad shoulders, the bunch of his biceps, the long tendons in his neck.

Need arched through Jim, the slide of his burning, aching cock against the cool satiny skin of Blair’s backside almost too much to bear.  He quickened his pace, and recklessly opened all his senses to Blair, concentrating on him, sinking into him.  He could feel the muscles of Blair’s legs quivering against him; could hear the soft, guttural noises Blair was making deep in his throat; could smell the sharp tang of sweat and the rich, organic scent of the drop of fluid shivering at the tip of Blair’s cock.  Everything Blair felt was magnified for him; echoing through him and inside him.

They moved like this for what seemed like hours, but eventually he could sense Blair teetering on the edge, and, taking a firm hold of Blair’s cock, he rubbed his thumb roughly across the sensitive bundle of nerves just below the head.  With a cry that was at once desperate and triumphant, Blair came, spilling across his abdomen, his body jerking.  Jim reveled in the sensations that washed over him, his own release almost secondary to the sight, smell, sound, and feel of Blair’s.

With bare presence of mind he tugged on Blair’s arm, coaxing him to stretch out against his side, his head pillowed on Jim’s shoulder, his body still quivering in release.  He wrapped his arm around Blair’s shoulders and drifted for a while on the wake of their pleasure, feeling loose, feeling good.

He felt Blair’s hand trail slowly up his chest and across his chin, fingers tracing gently over his mouth.  He smiled, letting Blair’s fingers read that, then turned his head and kissed Blair’s forehead; heard Blair sigh.  “A million questions, huh?” Blair said, his voice muffled against Jim’s shoulder.

“Sure.”  He was undoubtedly going to regret that promise at some point, but right now, if it got Blair back at his side, where he belonged, he didn’t care.

Blair lifted his head and propped it on his hand.  “So, tell me the rest of what happened.  What did you do once the story broke?”

Jim sighed, his smile fading.  “Put up with it for a while.  It wasn’t all that different from when I was working a big case.  You know, photographers and reporters hanging around outside the PD, that kind of thing.  But when the brass forced Simon to suspend me pending the outcome of the IA stuff, I went to live with Steven.”

“You couldn’t stand the constant attention, huh?”

Jim met his gaze evenly.  “No.  I couldn’t stand being in the loft without you.”  Blair looked startled; opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it.  Jim glanced away.  “I knew you’d gone to Santa Fe, but I couldn’t get any more information than that.  And I couldn’t leave town, since I was under investigation.  I tried to get Naomi to go, but once we found out that you’d taken a formal leave of absence from the university, she insisted that you were fine, that you’d turn up when you were ready, and that anything she did to disturb your “journey” would be bad karma.”

Blair chuckled ruefully.  “That sounds like Naomi.”

“By the time IA was done with me, I had pretty much come to agree with her.  It was clear you hadn’t been coerced and weren’t in danger.”  He glanced at Blair quickly, then looked away again.  “I just figured you’d had enough, and I’d finally driven you away.  Figured you’d put up with me and my faults and these damned senses long enough and you’d finally seen the light and moved on.  That was about the time Simon told me I had to retire.”

“Well, at least you had Steven there to be supportive.”

Jim snorted.  “He tried, Chief, but I was being a total bastard.  To him, to Simon, to everyone.  I was moody, sullen, irritable, snapping at people…I had a chip on my shoulder the size of the planet.  Finally, Steven couldn’t take it anymore, and he kicked me out.”  He noted Blair’s look of surprise.  “Yeah, well, I had it coming.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went to live with Dad.  Still couldn’t bring myself to go back to the loft.  So…I was an asshole at Dad’s, until…”

“Your dad kicked your ass?”

“No, actually, it was Sally.”  He laughed at Blair’s look of astonishment.  “Yeah, I was surprised, too.  One day, around the end of November, I was sitting in the den, and she came in to clean.  I got up to leave, made some crack about how I was just gathering dust anyway, and she just lit into me.  Yelled at me that I was being a fool, that I was acting like my life was over when it wasn’t, that I was pushing away all the people in my life who cared about me.”  He paused, swallowed.  “Then she told me my mother would have been disappointed in me.”

“Wow,” Blair breathed.

He grimaced.  “Yeah.  Well, she was right.”  He took a deep breath.  “I needed some time to think, so I went up to this cabin Dad has in the mountains.  Stayed up there about a month, working on some minor repairs, thinking a lot about my life, what I’d been doing, what I was going to do next.”

“So what did you decide?”

“I decided the first thing I was going to do was find you.  I didn’t care if it messed up my karma, or whatever.”  He stroked Blair’s cheek gently.  “I realized that I’d been given a second chance, that day at the fountain, but that if I didn’t take advantage of it soon, I’d lose you, for good.”  He smiled at Blair.  “And, I decided I was going to open a private detective agency.”  Blair raised his eyebrows at him, and he laughed.  “Yeah, Steven found me a job.”

“A job?”

“A guy he’d worked with at Lastings Park had started this biotech company, processing samples for drug studies.  The guy was worried that one of his employees was stealing samples, but he didn’t have enough evidence to go to the police, and he wanted to keep things quiet; didn’t want the big pharmaceutical companies to be worried about his security procedures.  He remembered the articles in the paper, figured I might have an…advantage, so to speak.  So he contacted me through Steven, and hired me.”

Blair was grinning.  “And you caught the guy with your senses.”

“Well, that and some good old-fashioned detective work.”  He shook his head.  “People always underestimate the detective work.”  He gave Blair a serious look.  “Thing is, I need a partner.  Someone to watch my back.”

Blair ducked his head.  “Jim--” he started, then stopped.

He put his hand under Blair’s chin, raised his head until their eyes met.  “A really mediocre one, you know?  Because I’m an arrogant, self-destructive schmuck, and hard to get along with, so I doubt I could keep a competent partner for long…”

Blair sighed, but his mouth curved up in an impish grin   “I think I know just the guy for you.  He’s a bit of a free spirit; kind of a neo-hippie witch-doctor punk, but I think he’s just what you’re looking for.”

Just looking at that mouth made his heart thump erratically; and made other parts of his body move erratically as well.  He leaned in towards Blair.  “Does he have a nice ass?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Sounds perfect,” he murmured, as he covered Blair’s mouth in a kiss.

***

Emily unlocked the front door, reaching up to muffle the bell as she pushed the door open.  She didn’t want to wake Blair if he was sleeping.  He’d looked awful when he’d come to work yesterday afternoon, pale and drained, moving around the store like a robot.  She’d tried to get him to tell her what had happened with Jim, but he’d just said, in a flat, quiet voice, “Emily, drop it, okay?  It just didn’t work out.”

She sighed to herself, disappointed.  When Jim had called her, when she’d heard the concern in his voice, she’d been so hopeful.  And when she’d come in yesterday morning to find Jim keeping vigil in a chair by Blair’s door, love and apprehension clear in his face, she was sure that everything was going to turn out okay.  But she guessed she’d been wrong.  Come on, Turner, she chided herself, just because you sell books doesn’t mean you should expect life to turn out like them.  Romance novels are just that - novels.  Fiction.  Pretend.

Leaving her purse on the counter, she crept silently to the back to check on Blair.  The door to his room was ajar; as she reached out to close it she couldn’t help glancing inside.  Her heart leapt at the sight of Blair asleep, with Jim spooned up behind him, the comforter wrapped snugly around both of them.  She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

She closed the door quickly, wincing as it squeaked, and hurried back to the front.  Going behind the counter, she dug for a piece of paper and a felt-tip marker.

“Emily?” a soft voice said, and she jumped, startled, and looked up to see Jim standing at the end of the counter.  He was wearing jeans, but his shirt hung open, and he was barefoot.  “I’m sorry,” he said, a tinge of red coloring his cheeks, “I…I should have left you a note, or something…”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she said quickly, “I was just writing something to put on the door; let people know we won’t be open until this afternoon.”  She smiled at him.  “So…everything’s okay, then?”

He smiled; a wide, boyish smile that lit up the whole room.  “It’s getting pretty close.  Not perfect, yet, but a lot better than yesterday.”

Her throat felt tight and she felt a prickling sensation behind her eyes.  “That’s great, really great.  I’m so glad to hear that.”  With a start, she realized she was going to cry.

Jim came behind the counter and enveloped her in a warm hug.  “Thank you,” he said softly, “thank you for calling, for everything.  Thank you for caring as much as you did.”

She looked up at him, blinking, her emotions under control.  “He’s a pretty special person,” she said.

She had thought that that smile couldn’t get any more blinding, but she was wrong.  “Yeah.  He is.”  He let her go, stepped back, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb.  “I’m, uh…I’m gonna get back…”

“Okay,” she said.  “I’ll see you both later…maybe we can all go out to dinner tonight?”

“That’d be great,” he replied, “my treat.”  He turned and headed to the back of the store.

She was still smiling as she closed and locked the front door, the note affixed to it firmly.  In spite of the winter chill in the air, the sun shining on her back felt like summer.  I guess I was wrong, she thought happily.  Sometimes love does conquer all.

End