TRUTHS THAT WAKE

(c) July 2002 by Charlotte Frost

PART THREE

Jim felt the bed shift.  Again.  He pushed his mask up from his eyes.  The digital clock said it was 3:33 AM.  He reached over and placed his hand on Blair's back.  "Still can't sleep?"  Jim had been dozing off and on.  Having someone in his bed felt different, though not as different as it obviously did to Blair.

Blair was turned away from him, dressed in his summer sleepwear of boxers and T-shirt.  "It's okay," he replied softly.  "It's just that my whole world changed today.  In a good way, of course," he quickly assured.  "I'm trying to adapt."

Jim reached around Blair and pulled hm back towards his own chest.  Much better.  He rubbed along Blair's chest now, feeling the tightness in the other man's body.

"I guess," Blair continued, "it's like when you hear about people suddenly acquiring fame or fortune.  After finally having what they've always wanted, they have this big insecurity about losing it all.  I guess that's sort of how I'm feeling.  This is the coolest thing, what's happening between us.  But it's like, beneath the happiness, there's this sheer terror that it's all going to be taken from me somehow."

"It won't," Jim assured.

"You can't know that," Blair huffed, still turned away.  "You could go to work tomorrow and get blown away.  Poof!  In the instant of a firing of a gun, no more Jim Ellison."

Jim shifted onto an elbow, still rubbing.  "Yes, and somebody could drop an atomic bomb in downtown Cascade tomorrow.  And I could fart in church on Sunday."

Blair snorted.  "You don't go to church, Jim."

"All right then.  I could be interviewing a group of seventy-year-old ladies and I could accidentally cut a huge, loud, stinky fart right in the middle of the interview.  What am I going to do about it?"

Blair chuckled.  "All right, all right.  I know I'm being impossible, but I can't help it.  Be patient with me."

Jim moved his hand up and stroked Blair's hair.  "Of course.  You've been patient with me for years."  Then he said, "You know what I think?  I think you're nervous about being in bed with me."

"That, too."

"Maybe we rushed this."

Blair shrugged.  "If I wasn't up here, I'd be down in my own room, lying awake, scared to death that I'm going to lose what we have before I even have a chance to enjoy it."

"But you wouldn't be worried about me," Jim pointed out.  "Is it that you're afraid I want to jump your bones, or is it that you're hoping I'll jump your bones?"

"Neither."  Blair rolled onto his back and reached up to run a finger along Jim's cheek.  "Seriously, neither.  I just feel that I'm invading your space."

"It's not my space any longer," Jim said, though he knew words wouldn't be enough.  "It's our space."

Blair released a pent-up breath.  "It's going to take me a while to get used to that."  He snorted with humor and shook his finger at Jim.  "You know, you're going to be sorry later that you've encouraged me to think of everything as both of ours.  Because that means that you won't be the boss about everything."

Jim took the finger in hand and kissed the tip.  "Right.  That means I won't be the boss about everything anymore.  Some days I'll really regret that."  He smiled warmly.  "But that's a small price to pay for having you forever."

Blair's smile also turned warm.  "James Ellison, the romantic poet."

"Blair Sandburg, the object of his affections."  

Blair's smile widened.

Jim noted, "You seem a lot calmer now.  Maybe you shouldn't have tried to stay so far onto your side of the bed."

"I was afraid of being too restless and disturbing you."

"Maybe you won't be so restless if you curl up right here next to me.  You said I have a healing touch."

Blair turned onto his side and snuggled back against Jim.  "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Hi, Blair," the secretary greeted when he walked into the Departmental Offices of Anthropology.  The fall semester -- his last -- had started at the end of August.  Classes had been going for a week.

"Hi, Mandy.  Professor Toesky left a message that he wanted to meet with me.  Is he in?  I think I'm actually early."

She picked up the phone.  "I'll tell him you're here.  Have a seat."

Blair remained standing and turned his attention to the paintings on the walls, which he was already well familiar with, having visited these offices literally dozens of times throughout his years at Rainier.  Toesky was the current department head and Blair had met with him a few times before for various reasons.  He was a decent guy.

"Blair."  A man with a long, grey beard emerged from his office with an outstretched hand.  "How are you, young man?"

"Not so young anymore," Blair chuckled as he shook Toesky's hand and joined him in the office.

Toesky closed the door behind them,  "Have a seat."  He moved around his desk and sat.  "I'll get right to the point and not waste your time."

Blair nodded.

"You know, a couple of years ago, they built that Center for Pacific Native American Studies in Spokane.  The director there is retiring at Christmas.  The man in the position closest to him doesn't want the job because he's got a sick parent in long-term care in the hospital and it takes a lot of his time.   No one else who currently works there has the education necessary for the director's position.  So, he called wanting to know if I'd recommend anyone.  You occurred to me for a number of different reasons, not the least of which is that you'll be graduating right at that time and I'm not aware that you're considering any other offers."  He looked at Blair questioningly.

"No," Blair replied, feeling both excitement and trepidation.  "I'm not currently entertaining any offers."  Spokane.  Two hours away.

"Then let me tell you about the job."

Jim sniffed appreciably as he paused outside the loft door to find the right key.  Baked chicken, as Blair had promised on the phone.  There were definite advantages to Blair not spending all his spare time at the PD.

He turned the lock, opened the door, and hung up his coat.  "Hey, Chief.  Smells great."  The table was already set.

"Hey," Blair greeted, his back turned as he removed the chicken from the oven.

Jim paused with his hand on the back of a kitchen chair, realizing that something was different about Blair.  Something that was making the younger man uneasy.

Blair cut into the chicken, glancing at Jim through his glasses.  "How was your day?"

"Same ol', same ol'.  How was yours?"

"Interesting," Blair said without enthusiasm.  He placed chicken slices onto a platter.  "We need to talk about something."

So, that explained the unease.  "Something interesting?" Jim asked hopefully.

"I guess so."

They spent a few minutes getting everything on the table and then sat down.

"I'm starved," Jim said.  "This is great."

Blair managed two bites before he blurted, "I got a solid lead on a job."

Jim listened while Blair relayed everything Toesky had told him that afternoon.  Blair talked rapidly and with enthusiasm as he laid out the facts.  When he wound down, he shrugged and said, "I don't know if I should even pursue it."

Jim dabbed his mouth with his napkin.  "Of course you should.  Unless you have a good reason to think you absolutely don't want it, there's no reason to close the door on an opportunity like that."

Blair tapped his finger against his water bottle.  "Jim, it's in Spokane.  What if it's a great job and I accept it?  I couldn't commute. That would be crazy."

"Then we'd have to move there, I guess."

Blair blinked.  "What about your job?  The loft?"

Sometimes Jim really wished Blair wasn't so selfless.  His selflessness almost seemed to make him selfish.   "What's the salary?"

"Negotiable.  But Toesky said that he knew that a middle manager position paid something like sixty grand.  So, the director has to be at least eighty."

Jim shook his head, grinning.  What a no-brainer.  "Chief, eighty grand would be almost twice what I make.  Hell, I wouldn't even have to work.  You could support me and I could watch sports all day."

Blair's mouth twisted in frustration.  He cut aggressively at his chicken.  "Jim, I would never let you do that, even if you seriously wanted to.  You can't waste your sentinel abilities doing nothing."

"All right," Jim relented.  "Last I heard, there was a police department in Spokane.  So, I'd relocate and that would be my new tribe."

"Just like that," Blair said doubtfully.  He shoved a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

"No, not 'just like that'," Jim scolded.  He picked at a particle trapped in his front teeth.  "You're a long way from having a job.  You've got to have an interview and if you pass there will probably be additional and more rigorous interviews after that.  Just because this Toesky recommended you surely doesn't mean the Center isn't going to also accept other applicants.  Even if you survive all those hoops and they want you for the job, there's nothing to say that the guy with the sick parent won't have that parent die between now and Christmas and then he decides he wants the position after all.  That might rule out the outside applicants, depending upon their policy.  Even if you're accepted for the position, there's still a lot that could happen between now and Christmas."  

Jim paused to take a bite of green beans.  He chewed briefly, then swallowed.  Blair seemed to be waiting for him to keep talking. "So, I'm saying that relocating isn't something we need to think about right now.  But if it happens, it happens.  We could sell the loft or rent it out.  It's not like we're up against a brick wall here, Chief."

Blair nodded, but he asked, "You think you could leave the Cascade PD that easily?"

"Not easily," Jim admitted.  "I don't like change, but I'm a pretty adaptable guy when I need to be.  I couldn't have been an Army Ranger if I wasn't.   I'd miss Simon and the other guys if I no longer worked there, but we could still see each other for Sunday barbeques.   Plus, I'm sure I'd eventually warm up to my new colleagues."  He sipped his water.  "Then we'd both be working and we'd have a decent income, so maybe we could save to retire early or... whatever we wanted."

Blair drew a deep breath.  "Yeah, that makes sense.  I'll call the Center tomorrow and see what I need to do from here.  It seemed worth looking into, though Toesky didn't know that much about what the day-to-day stuff would be like."

"Probably pushing paper," Jim said.

"Probably," Blair chuckled, buttering his roll.  "But it's also an educational position.  Toesky did know that the Center works closely with colleges that teach Native American studies."

They spent a few minutes eating.  Then Blair tentatively said, "Jim?"

Jim looked at him, chasing down the last of his food with a swallow of water.

"Have you ever thought about freelancing your sentinel abilities?"

"Freelancing?  What do you mean?"

"Going out on your own.  Like being a private detective.  Only, you'd be a special kind of detective.  That would be the hard part -- letting people know you're special without telling them why you're special.  But it would allow you to help people besides just those who have reported crimes with Major Crimes.  And you would be independent of the bureaucracy of the PD."

Jim shook his head, wondering how long that had been in the back of Blair's mind.  "Never thought about it.  Like you say, how could I promote my sentinel abilities without revealing them?  It doesn't seem possible."

Blair shrugged.  "I don't know."  He focused back on his dinner.

Simon inhaled the last puff of his cigar, warming his chest with its smoke, as he gazed at the snowy streets below.   The first cold front had hit unusually early this year.  He turned when he heard a knock.  "Come in."

Jim entered his office with a file in his hand.  "Hey, Simon, there's nothing else we can do on this Larson case until Dan's able to look at the body later this afternoon."

"Yeah," Simon sighed, "we'll just have to wait to see if Dan finds any discrepancies."

Jim's expression relaxed.  "How about bracing for the cold and joining me for a hot dog?  My treat."

Simon noticed that Jim had said "join me" instead of "join us".  "What about Sandburg?"

"It's Thursday and the new semester at Rainier started a couple of weeks ago.  He had class."

Like he was supposed to remember Blair's schedule semester to semester.  Fifteen years' worth of semesters.  Simon shook his head, putting out the cigar.   "Ever wonder how strange it'll be to him to never have classes again?"  He took his coat and put it on.

"He's looking forward to that time," Jim said, leading the way into the bullpen.  He put the file down and reached for his own coat. "He just wants to publish his diss, take some final class he's required to take, and teach this last class of 101 students.  Then he'll be done."  They headed for the elevator.

"He have any plans yet?" Simon wondered.  Surely, that was the case if Blair were anxious to be done with school.

"Nothing anywhere near definite."  They stepped into the elevator and started down.  "He's got an interview at some Native American center next week."

Well, I'll be.  "Hmm.  What do you know?"  Simon grinned.  "He might actually get a real job, like a regular person."

"Maybe," Jim said with distinct casualness.

The elevator opened and they headed out to the street, finding the hot dog cart outside.  They spent a few minutes getting what they wanted, then moved to a stone wall beneath an overhang that afforded a little privacy and shelter from the cold.

Simon ate half his hot dog before he said, "Sandburg has seemed kind of focused lately.  More centered or something."  It was a very difficult thing to describe.  He would almost say quiet or distracted, but that didn't seem quite right.  Maybe intense... yet not. Keeping himself chained to Ellison's desk and keeping conversation to a minimum.  Except when talking with Jim.

Jim said, "He admits he just wants to pass this last class.  I don't think he's putting much effort into it.  He's really tired of the whole academic scene."

Hmm.  That was an interesting non sequitur.  "If he's not paying that much attention to school and he isn't sure what he's going to do when he gets out, then what is he so focused on?"

Through the corner of his eye, Simon saw Jim look at him, his expression calculating.  Simon sighed internally.  He knew that he wasn't going to like whatever Jim had decided to tell him.  He wished he'd taken some antacid tablets from the bottle in his desk.

He pushed the last of his hot dog into his mouth and waited.

Jim looked straight ahead, away from Simon, having demolished his own hot dog.  "He's... I guess he's focused on adjusting."

That was an interesting word.  "Adjusting to what?  The idea that he's not going to be getting a free ride from the government any longer?"

Oh, damn.  He could kick himself for saying that.  He didn't begrudge Blair whatever government funding he'd gotten for his schooling.  

But Jim didn't seem to notice the jab.  He still looked thoughtful, calculating, as he gazed into the distance.

The antacid tablets would be really helpful right now.  Simon released a sigh.  "Jim, I've been a detective for a damn sight longer than you have.  What are you trying to carefully tell me while trying oh-so-hard not to tell me?"  He frowned.  "I've already figured out that I'm not going to like it."  He raised a scolding finger.  "And don't start in about how I'm supposed to start looking for a job for Sandburg within the Department."

Jim glanced down while shuffling his feet.  "That's not an issue any more."

Huh?  "What do you mean it's not an issue?  You just said that he's not anywhere close to having a job somewhere else."

Jim looked at Simon.  "It doesn't matter.  Blair and I have decided to stay together.  Regardless of what happens."

Simon blinked.  One Ph.D. down the toilet.  "What?  So, if he gets a great job offer somewhere else, he's just going to automatically turn it down?"  He made no effort to hide his disapproval.

"No, Simon.   If he gets a terrific job offer somewhere, he'll move.  And I'll move with him."

"What?"  Simon demanded on a high note.  He leaned back against the stone hedge.  "Dammit, Jim.   What's this all about?"

Jim relaxed then, turning to face Simon.  "We're committed to each other.  It's no longer about what he's going to do with his life.  It's about what we're going to do."

Simon's mind had searched for every possible meaning when he first heard "committed".  But now his brain was filled with a history of Ellison indiscretions.  He sighed, shaking his head emphatically.  "For the love of God, why is it that every time I start thinking you're the most asexual man I know, you pull some... stunt."  He watched Jim flinch.  "With the worst possible people."

"Simon - "

"Remember that supposed widow of the mafia boss's son?" Simon urged.  "Dangerous enough job, but no, you had to go and make it even more dangerous by sleeping with her.  And let's not even get into that Alex character."  He shuddered.  "Or whatever the hell her real name was."  He jabbed his napkin at Ellison.  "Or what about the ex-flame who married one of your best friends from the army and did everybody in?"  He shook his head, wishing all the more for the antacid.  "Or that goddess-looking hit woman from Hong Kong?  Damn, Jim, you sure know how to choose the worst possible people for yourself.   And let's not even get into your one indiscretion with Jack Pendergrast's lady.  Happens to the best of us, I admit.  But why -- just once -- can't you go out with a regular person and date them like normal people do?"

Jim's jaw had tightened during Simon's tirade, but it loosened for him to say, "I tried normal once.  Why don't you call Carolyn in San Francisco and ask her how well that turned out?"

Oh, damn.  That's right, Jim had tried normal before.  It had failed quickly, but at least he and Carolyn had ended up friends.

Simon pulled out his gloves and put them on.  "So now Sandburg is warming your bed."  He shook his head, not hiding his disgust, or his disappointment in them both.  "So, how long has this been going on?"

Jim's voice remained mild.  "Blair and I have been living together for over four years, Simon."  His tone was wistful.  "That's a lot longer than Carolyn and I were together.  That's far, far longer than I've ever been able to tolerate another person being in my space. Despite all the vast differences between us, Blair and I have always managed to find a common ground that we've both been able to accept."  He drew a deep breath, glancing out at the distance again, his mouth threatening to smile.  "We've even been through some really tough times.  And we're still together.  How can any two people be any more committed to each other than that?"

God, he hated when Jim got downright naïve.  His best chance of getting through to him was to focus on Sandburg.  "It doesn't bother you that staying with you will hold Blair back?"

"Hold him back from what?" Jim demanded with a confidence that made Simon uneasy.  "Simon, that's exactly what I've been doing all these years.  That's the mistake I made."  He glanced away again.  "I was just too much of a dumb ass to realize it."

"What are you talking about?"

Jim looked toward the sky, as though seeking help in how to deal with the imbecile that Simon was.   But when he looked back at Simon, his voice was calm.  "When it comes down to it, at the end of our lives, what is it that means the most to us?  The medals we earned?  The money we have?  The big house we live in?  How disciplined we are at working out in the gym?"

Simon stared back at him.  He'd never heard Jim talk like this.

"No, Simon.  When it gets down to it, what matters the most, after all is said and done, is who we love."  He drew a breath.  "Blair's known that all along.  If nothing else, that's the one thing he's always been sure about:  that he loved me.  Despite all these years of my trying to deflect that love from him, he's never given up on me.  Because I was that important to him."

Crap, Ellison sounded worse than a Hallmark card.  "Jim - "

A held up hand stopped him.  "No, let me finish.  I used to always try to convince myself that it was because of the sentinel thing, even though I knew the truth, deep down.  Then after the press conference, I tried to believe that he was just scared about his future and staying with me was the 'safe' thing to do."  Jim shook his head, his expression incredulous.  Then he snorted.  "Christ.  Safe? Loving me is safe?  Especially when I kept trying to throw his feelings back at him?"  Shaking his head firmly this time.  "No, Simon. I've been the coward.  Blair is the one with the balls.  Brass balls.  But the hardening of his balls hasn't hardened his heart."  His voice softened.  "Not in the least."

Simon rolled his eyes, his stomach knotting.  "Blair doesn't walk on water, Jim."

Jim looked at him sharply.  "No, of course not.  He drowned in water."

Oh, fuck.  What a completely stupid-assed thing for him to have said.   Simon pulled his cigar case from his pocket, already knowing it was empty.  Double fuck.  He straightened, shifting uncomfortably.  "I'm trying to say, what about you?  What about what you want, Jim?  I can't imagine it's healthy for any person in a relationship to just think about what the other person wants and ignore their own needs."

Jim demanded, "What about when my need is to have somebody to love?  To give myself to somebody?"  A snort.  "What?  Am I such a bad guy that I'm not supposed to have that?  I'm not allowed?"

Simon put his hands in his coat pockets and leaned back against the railing, determined to be less confrontational.  "I'm saying that maybe you've been burned so much before in relationships that you took what was right in front of you, because it was offered and aren't giving yourself a chance to find out what else is out there."  Carefully, he pressed, "I'm saying that maybe you... settled."

"Settled?" Jim said, his voice tinged with anger.  "You mean settled for less?"

"No, I mean settled for what was available, instead of for what you wanted."  Gently, Simon added, "An easy mistake for single, lonely, middle-aged men like us to make."

Jim mirrored Simons's stance, exhaling loudly as he relaxed against the wall.  "You're wrong, Simon," he said simply.  "Because, see, I've always wanted Blair to stay with me.  These entire four and a half years I've never wanted him gone.  I've been as terrified as he's been about what his future holds, because I was afraid summoning his future meant he was going to leave me."  Even more emphatically, Jim said, "It's been ridiculous for us to deny ourselves being together, when that's been what we've both wanted most of all."  He paused thoughtfully.  "Except all the denying has been on my side.  He's always been open to anything I would give him. He's waited all these years for me to admit that I love him and that that love takes priority over everything else."

This was too much to assimilate.  Simon said, "So, you're telling me he's had a jones for you all this time?"

Ellison's mouth twisted to such a degree that Simon was almost sorry for his crassness.

Jim's head shook in a way that seemed to say it was all too difficult to explain.  But he said, "That's the beauty of it, Simon.  This was never about sex.  Ever.  I guess that's why I'm so sure about us being together.  It's not about frustrated urges being mistaken for love."

Simon had no idea how to interpret that.  In fact, Ellison had never answered his question a while back.  "So, just out of curiosity, how long have you been sleeping together?"

Jim was looking off into the distance, a grin creeping up the side of his face.  Without looking at Simon, he said, "Sleeping together?  We've been sleeping together for a few weeks."  

Oh, okay.  That wasn't so bad.  Maybe this was just some kind of middle-aged fling that would burn itself out.  But why was Jim grinning like the cat that ate the canary?  "Why are you wearing that stupid grin?"

"Because I'm enjoying the fact that you don't understand what I mean."

Oh.  Fine then.  "So what do you mean?"

Jim turned to look at him, the grin fading but his eyes alight with mischief.  "We've been sleeping together, Simon.  Just sleeping." Eyes twinkling.  "Blair tends to get cold easily. You know.  And my bed is plenty big.  It's sort of nice to snuggle."  He shrugged.  "It's been mutually beneficial."

Simon had to think about that a long time before he was certain of what Ellison was saying.  Once certain, he thought he heard Twilight Zone music playing somewhere.  "No sex?" he finally whispered.

Jim shook his head.

The music in the back of Simon's mind grew louder.  "So... in addition to committing to each other, you've both also committed to a life of celibacy?"  Sandburg celibate?  

"No, not at all," Jim replied with infuriating casualness.  "We just haven't had the need to go there yet."

Simon sputtered.

Jim looked at him.  "If it makes you feel better, I'm sure the need will pop up eventually."

Pop up.  Jesus Christ.  Simon's voice sounded distant to his own ears.  "But aren't you worried about... you know, being compatible?  Sexually?  Sandburg I can believe is every kind of sexuality known to man.  But you...."  He came out and said it. "Aren't you worried about being grossed out?"  He definitely was.

"I love him, Simon.  Whatever he needs, I want to provide it.  And he's always provided for my needs, when I've let him."

"But what about... you know, the way Sandburg likes to sleep around?  Is he just going to give that up?"

"He's already given it up.  I guess you haven't noticed that his daily bragging has almost completely disappeared the past year."  Jim shrugged.  "I think it got to be too much effort for too little reward."  He tilted his head, a loving smile lighting his face.  "Despite his upbringing around promiscuous adults, he's pretty well-grounded when it comes to what he wants."  He looked at Simon, his face softening even more.  "He wants me.  Not as some kind of sexual conquest.  But because he wants to be with me.  In all these years, that's never changed."  In a tone of finality, Jim said, "This is for real."

Simon had to fight down the disbelief and envy that welled up.  All right.  Okay.  Just because he didn't have anybody special in his life was no reason to begrudge his friends the same.  

While Jim looked around for a wastebasket. Simon said, "I realize you didn't have to tell me this."  They both tossed their trash into a receptacle and turned back toward the PD.

Jim paused and stepped in front of Simon, looking intently at him.  "I want a favor from you."

Of course.  Jim was too private a person to have told Simon all of this just because they were friends.  "Sure.  What is it?"  He hoped it wasn't anything that would compromise his position within the Department.

"If I'm wrong -- if this whole situation blows up in our faces -- or if... if something happens to me..."  Jim's eyes deepened.  "I need to know that he can go to you.  For anything.  He'll need somebody.  To sympathize.  To listen to him.  To not judge him."

Did Ellison really think he needed to ask?  "Of course, Jim.  I care about the kid too, you know."  He waited until Jim relaxed.  "That's why I'm not too crazy about this whole thing.  I can't pretend to be happy about it.  I can't help but feel there's disaster lurking around the corner."  Maybe that was rather melodramatic.  They resumed walking.  "Ah, hell, maybe I'm just too old-fashioned."  That hurt to say out loud.  "I've never considered myself to be stuck in old ways of thinking, but maybe I am."

"You care." Jim reached for the entrance door of the station.   "That's all that matters."

Blair shifted the backpack on his shoulder and started walking across the campus toward the parking lot.  The sun was finally peeking out after two days of cold drizzle.  

He wondered if he would still carry a backpack when he was no longer in school.  He'd feel very strange and probably very naked without it.

As he always did these days when allowed moments to himself, his reflections turned to himself and Jim.  How things were changing between them.

He had gotten used to sleeping in Jim's bed, though he still kept all his clothing in his old room.  He'd been really nervous that first time; it had felt so strange.  Then Jim had cuddled him and rubbed his chest and that had changed everything.  Now, that's how they always started out -- him spooned inside of Jim -- though they usually drifted apart during the night.  It was special falling asleep close to Jim, feeling cherished.

The other big change was their television viewing.  Or rather, what they did while watching.  They used to each have their own sofa. Now, they sat on one sofa.  Or, rather, Blair lay down with his head in Jim's lap, which always had a sofa pillow.  Jim would rub and pet him inside his shirt.  That had felt strange, too, the first few times.  But it felt so good that Blair eagerly looked forward to it. Sometimes he got a hard-on, but it was the pleasant-ache kind, not the relief-or-die kind.  

Last night, he had decided it was Jim's turn and insisted that their positions be reversed.  Then it was Jim whose body had been tight with the awkwardness of allowing Blair to gently scratch and rub at his shirtless skin.  It took a long time, but he had finally relaxed.  Blair had felt special then, that he could do something so simple and nice for Jim.  It enforced that Jim wasn't a person accustomed to being shown affection and it was therefore hard for him to accept it.

That realization made Blair all the more eager to please Jim in other ways.  To do simple things that would be pleasant and wonderful.  Most of today, he'd been fantasizing about sitting Jim in a tub of warm bath water and slowly and gently sponging him off.  Just because it would be a loving, caring thing to do.

Of course, to do that, he'd have to see Jim naked.  Not that he hadn't already seen Jim naked a few times, but with the sex thing being only speculative at this point, outright nudity might be  a bit much.  Blair was wondering more and more when something was going to happen sexually.  He supposed Jim was probably deferring to him to take the initiative.  Blair could do that, but he was also feeling nostalgic about whatever remained of their innocence.  He wanted to believe that he would be able to look back later and cherish these days of slow advancement.  In a weird way that he'd never expected of himself, he thought their current behavior indicated a mutual respect that few ever got to experience with their significant other.  

Then there was the simple idea that Jim was, indeed, his significant other.  His.  Though they hadn't stood up in front of family and friends and declared their commitment to each other, Jim had said that's what they were -- and Blair certainly hadn't objected -- and he knew in the deepest part of his soul that Jim would always honor that commitment.  Some moments, he felt as though he were walking on air.  That he wanted to shout to the world, "I'm the luckiest man alive, because James Ellison loves me!"  

Yet, there were other moments when he couldn't deny that he was filled with terror.  It wasn't fear that Jim would someday leave him or push him away; it was the fear that Jim wouldn't.

Is that neurotic or what? he wondered now.  He was so accustomed to feeling that there was something wrong with his wanting to always be with Jim that it was hard for him to embrace -- to believe, deep down -- that he and Jim were a permanent team.  That Jim belonged to him and he to Jim.

He also knew that the sex issue was going to involve more than simply letting nature take its course.  Neither had any experience with men, but Blair didn't think he would have any trouble touching Jim, sucking his cock, making him feel good, beyond his own insecurity about his lack of technique.  His enthusiasm for being the provider of Jim's pleasure was all the motivation he would need to overcome any shyness.  He would also be patient and understanding of whatever insecurities Jim had.

What Blair knew he would have to discuss with Jim beforehand was the idea of intercourse.  He was outright afraid of it and he thought he had good reason.  He wanted to get past that fear.  He could only imagine the intimacy that would result from that kind of physical closeness.  He wanted to feel Jim inside him.  He was less interested in the idea of topping Jim, and he assumed that would hold minimal appeal for a macho man like Jim, as well.

In many ways, his life was in even more upheaval than it had ever been before.  Yet, in that upheaval was the excitement of what was happening and the determination to enjoy every moment that led to whatever future he and Jim ended up in.  

When Blair reached the parking lot, he thought he recognized a young woman sitting on a bench nearby.  She was studying her hand with a loving smile on her face.  "Tracy?"

She looked up at him and her smile widened.  "Blair!"

"Hey, how are you?"  

She was someone he had seen often in the library over the years and they occasionally struck up a conversation.  She hadn't been interested in going out with him, so he had stopped trying a long time ago.

"I'm waiting for my fiancé."  She held up her hand, displaying the ring on her finger.

"Congratulations!"  He moved to sit beside her.  "Anyone I know?"

"I doubt it.  Brent Spiegler, a chemistry major."

Blair didn't recognize the name.  "When's the big day?"

"Not until June.   We're both finishing up this semester and then we'll move to Ohio, where he's originally from."

Blair shook his finger at her, trying to recall.  "Nutrition major, right?"

She nodded.  

"Probably just as many of those jobs in Ohio as there are here, if not more."

"Yeah," she said unsteadily.  Then, "I may not go to work right away.  We're talking about starting a family.  He's old-fashioned and wants me home taking care of the kids."

Automatically, Blair asked, "What about what you want?"

"Oh, I'd like that, too."  She smiled again.  "Besides, I can always try working later, when I get tired of being a housewife.  The great thing about an education is that nobody can take it away from you."

Blair nodded congenially.  "That's true."

Politely, she asked, "What about you?  Anthro major - ur, Masters - "

"Ph.D.," he supplied.  "Right.  Anthropology."  He sighed.  "Just this class this semester and I'm finally done."

"Got a job lined up?" she asked.

"There's a possibility in Spokane.  I go for an interview tomorrow, but I'm not expecting much."

She seemed unsure of what to say.  "I suppose there aren't many jobs that look specifically for an anthropology major."

"Right," he agreed.  "It's pretty specialized.  But at least all these years that I've been a consultant to the police department has given me a diverse background in," he curled his fingers to indicated quote marks, "'real life experience'.''

"Yeah," she said, "but too bad most places tend to look at what's on your resume and can eliminate you based upon what it says on paper.  It's hard to cover all your best qualities in writing."

"Supposedly, that's what interviews are for."

"If you aren't eliminated right off the bat, based on your resume," she said.

He knew she was right and he wanted to share with her his own joy.  He wanted to tell her about Jim.  Tell her that, like she, he had someone who would provide for him and take care of him and love him, no matter what job he ended up with.  Or if he ended up with no job at all.

But he didn't know if it was okay to tell her that, or if Jim would object for some reason.

Blair felt a flair of resentment.  He should be able to tell his friends and acquaintances anything he wanted about his personal life. After all, the fact that he and Jim were together -- permanently -- had nothing to do with the sentinel stuff.  He shouldn't have to ask for permission.  Plus, Jim had told Simon about them the other day (though Blair still wasn't sure how to decipher Jim's version of what was said.  He just knew that Simon regarded him with even more disapproval than before.)

But still, he didn't feel right about telling Tracy about Jim right now.  Not without their having decided what they were going to say to others

"I better run," Blair said, picking up his backpack.  "See you, Tracy."

"Bye."

As he went to his Volvo, he wondered if he would ever reach a point where he considered himself Jim's equal, instead of the odd step-relative who needed to ask permission each time he wanted to feel a part of the family.

The worst of it was that he knew his inferior feelings weren't Jim's fault.  If anything, Jim was the one who had expected more of him than anyone else Blair had ever known.  Jim expected him to carry his weight in situations where it was appropriate.  As a result, Blair was much more a man than he'd been prior to knowing Jim, for reasons that went well beyond having simply gotten older.

But why am I so unsure about everything? Blair wondered as he threw his backpack into the passenger's seat.  What can I do to stop feeling this way?

Jim's cell phone rang.  Sitting at his desk, he fished it out of his jacket pocket.  "Ellison."

"Hey."

It was impossible to tell what the verdict was from that one word.  "How did it go?"

"We'll talk about it tonight."

Still not enough voice inflection to get an idea.  "I don't get a preview?"

"Well, I guess I can say there's no way that I can say I have the job.  And that there's no way I can say that I don't have the job."

That was to be expected after a first interview.  "Where are you now?"

"Just got on the highway leaving Spokane.  I think I'll be out of the city limits before rush hour starts.  It should be faster heading back.  If you want to hold dinner, I'll push the speed limit and not stop.  I already got gas."

Yes, this was feeling like being married.  Always thinking in terms of whether or not they were having dinner together, rather than just fending for themselves.  "If you get stopped by state patrol, it's not going to help you get here any faster.  So, don't get crazy."

"I have my observer's pass.  That'll probably take care of it."

"Sometimes other cops don't care," Jim noted, though Blair displaying that he was at least a peripheral part of the law enforcement fraternity would probably be convincing.

Jim heard a tell-tale beep.

"Oh man, Jim, I gotta hang up.  The battery's dying.  See you later."

Jim broke the connection, wondering what he could fix for dinner that would be worth Blair's hurrying home for.  Maybe heating up the leftover fried chicken would suffice.  Except fried chicken was an ordeal for Blair, since he always discarded the skin and soaked up the grease from the meat with a paper napkin before eating it.  Which was incredibly stupid, since the whole point of frying chicken was for the texture of skin.

He'd think of something.

Jim looked up to see Simon standing over him.  He tried to remember what he was supposed to be working on.

"Sandburg's been scarce lately," Simon noted, as though an unpaid consultant was expected to be there.

Jim shrugged.  "He's all nervous about the interview he had today and he's done overkill in preparing for it."  And then there was the $400 suit I made him buy, with my money, so he wouldn't be eliminated for appearances alone.  Blair had looked darned dashing in it.  In fact, Jim had given him a sendoff with a kiss on the mouth.  Their first kiss, except he didn't think it counted, since he hadn't given Blair time to react before ushering him out the door.

"That's today?"  Simon asked, sitting down in the chair on the other side of Jim's desk.

"It ended a little while ago.  He'll give me the details tonight when he gets home."

"Where was it?"  Though the tone was merely conversational, Jim knew that Simon was very interested.

"Spokane."  As he replied, Jim wondered if he'd mentioned that before.

Simon's eyebrows shot to his forehead.  "Spokane?"

Okay, he obviously hadn't mentioned it.  "Yes.  That's where the Center for Pacific Native American Studies is located."

Simon released a sigh.  "And if he gets the job...?"

Jim shrugged.  "I suppose we'll be moving there.  It's the director's position.  The salary ought to be excellent."

Simon's brow furrowed.  "Wouldn't they want a Native American running a center for Native American studies?"

"They can't select on that basis.  Besides, other people besides Native Americans like to study about Native Americans.  Blair himself knows quite a bit about American Indians.  It's primarily an education position.  He'd be great at it."  He realized that Simon was finding his cheerfulness downright annoying.  He had to admit he was getting some pleasure out of it.

Simon shifted in his chair.  "So, if this all works out, how soon before I find your resignation on my desk?"

The question had been asked with a casualness that equaled Jim's.  "The position isn't open until after the holidays.  I don't know how soon they expect to decide.  Certainly not just after one interview."

Simon looked away and muttered, "I'm not happy, Jim."

Jim took pity on him and dropped the casual air.  "Look, Simon, neither Blair nor I have any desire to leave Cascade.  But if he gets a great-paying job that's challenging to him... well, I can be a cop anywhere."

Simon didn't speak, but tapped his fingers against the desk.

Now Jim felt guilty.  "If it's any consolation, it would be fine with me if Blair didn't work at all.  I make enough to support us both, if he wanted to indulge in some private research project, or write a book or whatever.  And then he could join me here on occasion, if we could renew his observer's pass."  He sighed.  "But I think he'd be too restless and always uneasy about the fact that he wasn't contributing to the household coffers.  Plus, I think he's had his share of research for a while.  He's anxious to get going with a regular life."

"Regular life?" Simon asked incredulously.

Jim wasn't sure if Simon was teasing him, or genuinely commenting on his and Blair's living arrangement.  He focused on the file in front of him.

Simon left.

Jim ended up buying barbecued beef ribs from the deli to bring home.  They ate with a heavy serving of napkins while Blair told him all about the interview.  Blair thought the current director considered him a good candidate for the job and they had even talked casually about the hopes for the Center as the interview wound down.  There were a dozen applicants, however, and the interview ended with the promise that Blair would hear something one way or another within ten days.

"Sounds like you handled yourself well," Jim noted, using the warm towel Blair provided to wipe away the remaining stickiness on his hands.

"Yeah, once we started talking, the worst of my nerves went away."  Blair was clearing the table.  "It didn't even feel like an interrogation or anything.  He seemed more interested in what I wanted to tell him on my own than me answering any pre-set questions he had.  It made me feel more comfortable, like he was really interested in me and my ideas."

Jim watched while Blair gave the table a quick wipe, then used the soap at the sink to wash his hands.  Blair still had his glasses on, his hair a bit frizzy after he'd released it from the failing ponytail upon arriving home.  He'd already changed from his suit to his jeans before leaving Spokane.  Throughout the meal, he'd spoken so seriously about the interview.

I think Junior's all grown up now, he thought with affection.  Yet, he still looks so cuddly and adorable and just begs to be taken care of, whether he intends to or not.

Jim turned his chair and when Blair passed close enough, he reached and caught him by the waist.  "Sit down here a minute."  He pulled Blair into his lap.

Blair grinned at him as he put his arms around Jim's shoulders.  "Aren't I heavy?"

"It'll be all right for a few minutes."  Jim reached up and rubbed Blair's cheek with the backs of his fingers.  "I'm proud of you for going to that interview today."

Blair countered, "It's not like I have the job yet."

"Doesn't matter.  I'm proud of you for going.  Taking first steps like that can be scary."

Blair released a breath.  "The scariest thing would be if I actually get the job."

Jim patted his hip.  "We'd figure out the best thing to do."

Blair rested his head against Jim's for a few moments.  Then he said, "Jim?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to talk to you about something, but I don't want you to feel like it's a problem you have to solve.  I just want to tell you some things I've been feeling lately."

That sounded intriguing.  But why wouldn't Blair want a problem solved?  Jim pulled back to look into Blair's eyes.  "What?"

"Well, for instance, there was the other day when I ran into a longtime acquaintance on campus.  She was wearing this engagement ring."

Jim's mind rifled ahead.  Jewelry was really important to women.  Was it also important to male lifemates?  To have that symbol of commitment?

"She was telling me about what she and her fiancé were going to be doing after the semester.  It just seemed natural to tell her about me, too.  I mean, about how I was in this relationship, too.  Only, I didn't say anything because I didn't feel I had a right to.   But I do have a right.  I just feel like I'm supposed to check with you about everything first, concerning us.  I get mad at myself for feeling that way, because I don't think you want or expect that of me."

"No, I don't," Jim said carefully.

"We've never talked about, you know, what we're going to say to other people."

"I guess I thought we'd deal with it each time it came up.  I don't plan on hiding anything."

"But how would you define us?" Blair asked.

"I guess I think of us as being committed to each other.  That's all.  You aren't my wife," Jim thought out loud.  "You aren't my husband.  You aren't my boyfriend.  Roommate doesn't say enough.  Lover seems way too limited and rather inaccurate, at least for the time being."  He paused.  "Partner might make the most sense and say as little or as much as people want to believe."

Blair kissed Jim on the cheek.

"What's that for?" Jim asked.

"All my life, I've always imagined any kind of serious relationship I'd have would be an unconventional one.  Turns out, it's so unconventional that there are no words to describe it.  That's kind of cool."  Blair laughed.  "Even if it's confusing, too."

Cautiously, Jim said, "You mentioned that girl the other day having an engagement ring.  Would you like something like that?"

"No, I don't think something like that is necessary."

Jim squeezed Blair's arm.  "I'm not talking about what's necessary.  I'm talking about what you want."

"Jim, I'm still getting used to what is.  I can't even think in terms of how I'd like things to be."  He released a heavy sigh.  "It's like my head is just going in circles all the time.  I keep feeling... anxious.  But then I think there's really no reason to feel anxious.  It's not like something bad is going to happen."

Not sure if he were joking with his next words, Jim asked, "Isn't anxiety a normal state for you?"

Blair chuckled.  "Probably.  But I'm used to having one anxiety at a time.  This feels more like... there's some Really Important Stuff going on, all at once.  Changes.  It's a lot to assimilate.  For my entire adult life, I've always thought of the future in terms of the next semester.  Now there is no next semester.  I have this relationship with you," he ran his fingers along Jim's shirt, laying his head on his shoulder, "and it's like I'm afraid I'm going to mess it up somehow.  That I'm going to disappoint you."

That sounded rather familiar.  Jim tapped Blair's leg to reprimand him.  "You think you're the only one scared here, Chief?"

His head still on Jim's shoulder, Blair replied, "You don't seem scared."

That was almost funny.  "This from the man who once wrote that all my choices are fear-based?"

"But you seem so cool all the time, even though things are really different now and they might become more different still."

Gently, Jim said, "Just because I don't wear my fears on my sleeve doesn't mean they aren't there.  You know better."

"I still admire it," Blair told him.  "I've always admired how you don't let the other guy know what you're thinking, unless you choose to."

Jim tapped Blair's nose.  "Don't you dare try to be like me."

That brought a pleased smile.  "I don't have to try to be like you to appreciate how you're different from me.  Besides, I like being me most of the time."  Blair's smile grew warmer.  "Being me means I get to have you."  His arms tightened around Jim's shoulders.  

Have you.  That could be interpreted a number of different ways, depending upon where one's head was at.  "Speaking of having...."

"Uh-huh?"

Those arms felt so good.  Jim closed his eyes a moment to savor them.  Then, softly, "One thing I'm afraid of is when something happens between us.  How much I might disappoint you.  How much you might wonder why you ended up with me instead of somebody young and fresh and pretty."

Those eyes that were so close gazed at him intently.  "Really?  You worry about that?"

"Of course."  How vulnerable it felt to admit that.

Blair's cheek rubbed against Jim's shoulder.  "Well, even if it turns out you're really lousy in bed, Jim, I'd still want to stay with you. We could teach each other to be better.  Or, if you're a lost cause, then I'll just become a master at beating off."

Jim moved the few millimeters that allowed him to kiss Blair's cheek.  "You're so reassuring."

Blair grinned.  Then he grimaced.  "Jim?"

"Hmm?"

"Before anything happens, we'll have a chance to talk about it first, won't we?"

Blair's fear soothed his own.  Jim teased, "I guess that kills any possibility of spontaneity."

"It depends on what we're going to do.  There are some things I could be spontaneous about."

Jim could imagine the thing Blair wouldn't want to do without discussing it first.  Though he could be wrong.  Maybe Blair had an aversion to the flavor of semen.  Or maybe he'd choked on a cucumber as a child.  Or....

Silly, really, to speculate.

"Do you want to talk about it now?" Jim offered.

"No," Blair said firmly.  "I want to do this right now."   He rested his cheek against Jim's, his arms pulling more snug.

Jim put his own arms around Blair and held him.  So nice.

The phone rang.

They pulled apart, both groaning their discontent.

Blair hopped off Jim's lap and grabbed the phone from the counter and handed it to Jim.

Jim rubbed at his legs as he pressed the button to answer.  "Ellison."

"Jim?  This is Tina."

He gentled his voice.  "Hi, Tina.  How are things?"

"Well, I've just spent the last few days going through things that Stephen and I had in storage.  I found some childhood things of his. Toys and such.  I thought you might like to have them."

"Uh.. sure."  His throat tightened.

"It's just one box.  I ended up in your neighborhood after errands today, so I could be there in fifteen minutes, if that's all right."

"Sure, that would be fine."  He met Blair's worried eyes.

"What's the unit number again?"

"307."

"Okay, see you in a bit."

Jim hung up.  "Tina's coming by to drop off a box of Stephen's stuff."

Blair turned to the kitchen counter.  "I'll start on the dishes so she doesn't think we live like pigs."

As Blair rapidly cleaned the dishes, he felt unaccountably nervous, even though he knew there was no reason for it.  He supposed it was just that Tina was a member of a family that Jim was a part of, but which he wasn't.

Except... was he a part of it now?  This thing with himself and Jim hadn't happened until after Stephen's death, so there'd been no opportunities to test if anything was different.

Jim had been busying himself with dusting the furniture while Blair did the dishes.  He went to the door just as a knock sounded.

Blair put a casserole dish in the drying rack and dried his hands.

"Let me take that," Jim said as Tina stood with a large box in her hands.

"It's not very heavy," she assured.

Tina was a petite woman with short reddish hair.  As Jim set the box on the floor, Blair said, "Hi, Tina.  What can I get you to drink?"

"I'm fine, Blair.  I'm just going to be a few minutes."

"No rush," Jim said.  "Have a seat."  He sat on the sofa nearest her and she sat, too.

"Oh, what a beautiful fish tank!" she exclaimed.  "I don't remember that from before."

"It's Blair's," Jim said as Blair went to stand beside it.  "He's just had it a few months."

Blair smiled proudly.  "Jim got it for my birthday."  Tina got up to inspect it and there were a few minutes of conversation about the fish.  Blair started to relax, and when they sat back down he took the sofa opposite.

Tina indicated the box.  "As I said, it's just childhood toys.  Maybe you'll just end up throwing them out, but I thought you might want to look through them first."

"I appreciate it," Jim replied.  "That was thoughtful of you."

She seemed at a loss for words.  Then, as though summoning her courage, "Uh, Blair, do you mind leaving Jim and I alone for a moment?"

Blair's mouth fell open, his stomach churning with all the old insecurities.  Of course, how silly of him to think that anything might have changed.  He was just about to reply sure when Jim suddenly spoke.

"Anything you say to me, you can say in front of Blair.  He's family."

"Oh."  She looked from one to the other, as though uncertain of how Blair had reached that status.

Blair took pity on her and was about to concede when Jim spoke again.

"Blair and I are lifemates."

For a moment there was silence and Blair felt his chest tighten with gratitude.  Lifemates?

"Oh," Tina said again, embarrassed now.  "Stephen never told me that."

"He didn't know," Jim said gently.

More silence, Jim obviously choosing not to explain that they hadn't known either when Stephen was still alive.

"What did you want to say?" Jim prompted.

"Well, it's certainly nothing secretive," she glanced apologetically at Blair.  "But I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it."  Her attention turned back to Jim.  "I'm taking the kids and moving in with my parents at their farm in Missouri.  I just can't stand to stay here in the house in Cascade.  The memories of Stephen are everywhere and - "

"You don't need to explain," Jim said quickly.  "You have to do what's best for you and the kids.  I just hope they'll be able to come back this way and visit sometime."

She smiled with relief.  "Thanks for understanding.  I was afraid that, with so little family left, you'd be mad that I was taking the children away."  

"I have all the family I need right here."  He looked at Blair.

Blair had to remember to breathe.

"Yes, well," she glanced uneasily at Blair as she stood, "I can only hope that your father is as understanding about his grandchildren leaving.  I'll tell him tomorrow.  He hasn't looked particularly well lately."

Jim was also standing and he sighed loudly.  "It's been a shock for all of us."

"Have you seen him lately?"

Jim shook his head and Blair knew he felt guilty about that.

"Without us around, he's going to be all the lonelier."  She put a hand on Jim's chest.  "I know you and Stephen and your father never had the best relationship, but we should learn to forgive before tragedies like this happen.  Life is too short."

Jim nodded uncomfortably, accompanying her to the door.  "Thanks so much, Tina, for the box.  Drive safely."

Blair joined Jim as the door closed.  He squeezed his arm.  "Thanks, man.  Though I can certainly understand her wanting to talk with you alone."

Jim nodded offhandedly, for he had turned to stare at the box.

Blair followed his gaze.  There was a toy plane, Tonka truck, legs sticking up from a GI Joe.

Silently, Jim dropped to his knees before the box.  His mouth fell open as he pulled out a war plane and stared at it.

Blair caught the glistening of tears in Jim's eyes.  He knelt beside him, wanting to say something reassuring, but deciding to stay quiet.

The plane released from Jim's fingers and he dug into the box to produce more playthings, his eyes growing brighter as he stared at each one.

He dropped the latest item, a parachute man, and closed his eyes as his head bowed and his shoulders sagged.

Blair's heart broke.  "Jim," he murmured, reaching for him.

With a harsh sob, Jim turned to Blair and threw his arms around him, squeezing mightily.

Blair felt a momentary panic that Jim was too large for him to support.  But they found a balance and Blair's arms tightly held Jim's head and shoulders while both their bodies shook with deep, masculine, pain-filled sobs.

As tears streamed from his own eyes, Blair silently prayed, Thank you, God.  Thank you for allowing him to need me.

The circumstances were far different from what Blair's fantasy had been, but it was with some degree of déjà vu that he slowly rubbed a washcloth across Jim's bare shoulders, squeezing the water out as he did so.

Jim sat in the bath, his knees up, his face weary from his catharsis, which had ended nearly an hour ago.  He had rallied enough to gruffly protest, "I'm strictly a shower man" when Blair had suggested the bath.  Blair had countered, "Tonight, you're a bath man."  He then proceeded to dig up an ancient bottle of "foam bath", which had bubbled up nicely when he turned the water on full blast.  Jim had allowed himself to be undressed and guided into the warm water.

Other than occasional, muttered reassurances, Blair had remained quiet.  The intensity of Jim's grief had shown that it was about much more than the recent loss of Stephen's life.  Jim had insisted, on what Blair now thought of as their anniversary day, that he had grieved for the loss of Stephen as his brother many years ago.  But knowing the Ellison way of dealing with loss, that had probably been a matter of muttering, "fuck him" and proceeding on with his life, all emotion about Stephen carefully boxed away. Now the physical loss of Stephen had also brought forth all that long-buried emotion about the loss of their relationship as brothers, all those years before.

Blair had spent quite a long time carefully sponging Jim off, the contact and caring much more important than any cleansing by the water.  Jim was still vulnerable, letting Blair do that without protest.  But the water was getting cooler and the bath would, unfortunately, have to end soon.

Quietly, Blair asked, "Do you think we should maybe visit your father in the next day or two?"

"I can't," Jim replied.  His eyes were still puffy, his expression exhausted, his voice strained.  "It wouldn't be fair.  My resentment of him for what he did to Stephen and me is too fresh right now.  All I would do is hurt him.  I'm sure he's hurting enough."

"Yeah," Blair said as a blanket agreement.  But, "Some real honesty between you and your father might not be a bad thing.  Surely, he has some guilt about the past.  It might open up the door for him to apologize and you both might end up feeling better in the long run."

"I can't deal with it right now, Blair."

Blair squeezed Jim's arm to assure him that he wasn't going to push the matter.  "Ready to get out?" he asked gently.  "The water's getting cold."  Without waiting for an answer, he reached for the big, fluffy, full-bodied towel he'd given to Jim as a Christmas present.  

They rose together, Blair wrapping the towel around Jim as he stepped out.  When Jim was covered in it, Blair took another towel and began drying Jim's neck and arms and any bit of flesh that appeared from beneath the larger towel.  He squeezed his shoulder. "I'm going to get your robe."

As he passed the living room, he thought about doing something with the box.  But it wasn't his place to move it, and he wasn't sure that Jim was done with it yet.  Instead, he went up the stairs and retrieved Jim's robe.  

When he came down, he started turning off lights, making it clear they were going straight to bed.
 
 

END PART THREE  

PART FOUR

Comments to regmoore@earthlink.net