TRUTHS THAT WAKE

(c) July 2002 by Charlotte Frost

PART FIVE

The rented house was a small square-like ranch design that looked like it might be 700 square feet, tops.  The neighborhood was a good fifty years old and most of the houses had cheap siding.  

Blair pushed the doorbell.  He couldn't hear it ring, so he opened the torn screen door and knocked.  After a moment, he heard footsteps from inside and then the door opened.

"Hey, Blair, my man," Daryl greeted.  "Come on in."

Blair entered and they high-fived each other.

A petite-looking teenager stood back to one side, smiling shyly, holding a laundry basket.

"Come on," Daryl prompted, "Blair doesn't bite."

She stepped forward with a nervous giggle, leaving the laundry basket on the floor.

"Blair, meet the love of my life, Sheila."

Blair held out his hand, feeling her cold hand in his.  He bent and kissed her cheek, grateful that she was quite a bit shorter than he was.  "How very nice to finally meet you, Sheila."

She smiled warmly at him and then said, "I'll leave you two to your man talk.  I'm going out with the girls."  She reached for her purse.

"Yeah," Daryl said with mock sternness, "talk with all your girlfriends about all the man-bashing that goes on on Oprah."

She laughed, put her arms around Daryl's neck, and spent a long time kissing him.

Blair's eyes widened at Daryl over her head.  When they separated, Daryl savored, "That's my woman."

Sheila squeezed his arm.  "And that's my man.  Later, baby."  She waved at Blair as she went to the door.  "Nice meeting you finally."  She left.

"Whoo," Blair teased, "that's a lot of woman in that little body."

"Yeah," Daryl drawled longingly.  "I tell you, Blair, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me.  As soon as we get on our feet financially, I'm going to marry her."  He turned toward the kitchen.  "Beer?"

"Sure."  Without thinking, Blair asked, "Does your dad know?"

Daryl's expression hardened as he held out a beer.  "No.  I'm not ready to talk to him yet."

Blair sighed as he accepted the bottle and twisted off the cap.  "He's worried, you know."

They both took a seat on the sofa.  Daryl snarled, "Yeah, yeah.  He's worried."  He looked directly at Blair.  "He's wants me to fail, you know?  With Sheila.  He wants it to not work out with us so he can say 'I told you so.'"

Blair drew a tight breath and protested, "Come on, Daryl, I don't think you're giving him a fair shake."  Though, actually, he suspected there was some truth to Daryl's statement.  "He's just been around the block enough times to know that relationships are really, really hard under any circumstances.  You and Sheila are really young.  The odds are so against you, and no father wants to see his child suffer heartache."

Daryl shook his head, snorting, "He should have thought of that before he and my mom divorced."

Blair sipped his beer.  "Yeah, but you know parents aren't perfect either.  They have their problems, too.  Loving their kids doesn't automatically hold all the bad stuff at bay."

"Yeah, maybe.  But I had to get out of my dad's house.  Staying with him after messing up at Duke... man, every time he looks at me I know all he sees is this big failure."

Blair slowly shook his head, solid in his belief.  "That's not true, man.  I know it's not.  If anything, I think he feels guilt for pushing you to go to school clear across the country and leave behind everything you knew."

"It wasn't that.  I was actually pretty excited about being away.  I made new friends.  I just," Daryl shrugged lamely, "I dunno... I just couldn't seem to concentrate.  It's like nothing really mattered anymore."

"I hear that," Blair said and took another swallow.

"What do you mean?"

"I suddenly lost interest in my schooling about a year ago.  I've been in college since I was sixteen.  It was the only life I knew.  I loved it.  Then, for no reason, it's like it didn't really matter anymore.  Getting these last three credits for my Ph.D. has been such a tough thing.  It's like I don't feel motivated, because the end result -- earning the title of 'doctor' -- just doesn't mean that much now."  He took another sip.  "I'll pass the class and get my degree, but it feels like that last mile...," he gestured with a hand, "just keeps getting longer and longer."

"That makes me feel better," Daryl said quietly.

Blair put a hand on his friend's back.  "I think a lot of young people have felt what you're feeling right now.  It's a good argument for not going into college right after high school, unless you're clear on exactly what you want to do."

"Yeah," Daryl said, "I wouldn't have minded taking a semester or even a year off.  But I had the scholarship, and I didn't think my dad would ever forgive me if I wasted it.  Plus, by then, I was thinking maybe I really didn't want to follow in my dad's footsteps and go to the police academy."  He brightened.  "Now I'm glad I came back because I met Sheila.  She's such a sweet person.  And funny. Man, when I lived with my old man, he was so damn grumpy all the time.  Sheila is like a breath of fresh air, every day."

Blair grinned, recognizing the love in Daryl's voice.  "Well, I've always thought myself that Simon could use a few happy pills in his coffee."  He waited a moment.  "Daryl, I'm just asking out of curiosity: what do you think you want to do from here, besides marry Sheila?"

"I got a good job working at the dock.  Sheila does babysitting for the family down the street.  So, we're doing okay. Sheila has family here and they're real supportive.  But for the long term....," Daryl shook his head.  "Man, I don't really know what to do. Sometimes I still think about the police academy.  It's the only job I can think of that makes me feel proud."

Blair put his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and rested back against the arm of the sofa.  "If you have inner yearnings for something, you have to listen to them.  No matter what anyone else thinks."

"Man, Blair, I wish my old man would think like you."

Blair laughed sharply.  "He'd wash your mouth out with soap if he heard you say that."  He let a moment of silence pass, then nudged Daryl with his foot.  "You going to call him?"

"Not yet," Daryl said with lowered eyes.

"Can I tell him I talked to you?"

"Yeah, sure.  You can tell him I'll call him when I'm ready to talk to him.  When I'm ready," he emphasized.

Blair nodded.  "I'll do that."

Daryl grinned slyly at him.  "So, bro, are you getting any lately?"

Blair grinned.  "Yeah, I am.  I guess your dad didn't have a chance to tell you."

Daryl's face went blank.  "Tell me what?"

"About Jim and me."

Furrowed brow.  "Jim and you?"

Blair's foot nudged him again.  "Yeah.  I figured out that I've been on the right path for a lot of years now.  Only that path had nothing to do with academics.  It had to do with Jim."

Daryl's mouth fell open.  "You and Jim are doing it?"

Blair found the younger man's astonishment amusing.  "We're sleeping together, yes."

Daryl covered his face in his hands.  "Oh, man.  I can't even picture --  I can't even imagine --  " He pulled his hands away and shifted to face Blair.  "You're shitting me!"

Blair shook his head.  "Uh-uh."  Then, feeling his heart beat softly, "Jim is the love of my life.  He has been for a long time."  He made a motion with his hands.  "I just didn't realize it for the longest time, because the roles we played for each other kept shifting.  I guess he didn't realize it either until he was faced with the possibility of me leaving at the end of the semester."

Daryl frowned.  "Are you leaving?"

"Not without Jim."

Blair proceeded to catch Daryl up on what was happening in his life.

Simon inhaled his cigar an extra long moment, then slowly released the smoke.  There was something romantic about a good smoke while standing near the water's edge, even if that water was surrounded by a busy marina harboring to the dinner crowd.

He walked along the sidewalk which paralleled the marina.  He caught the sound of a young couple laughing on a distant dining boat.  He wondered if he and Joan had ever sounded like that.  

Probably.  In a much more innocent era, a long time ago.  Before a child, before his indiscretions (which Joan had so graciously and foolishly forgiven), before the divorce which he himself had initiated, before his three gunshot wounds in the line of duty, before his son had forsaken a full scholarship to a major university, before his realization that he'd done everything wrong as a father, before Joan had announced her engagement to another man, before a pair of the few friends he had left had developed tentative plans to leave him behind.

Ah, hell.  

He sat down on a bench, looking over the water.

What is it Jim -- once upon a time tight-ass Jim Ellison, no less -- said a while back?  "At the end of our lives, Simon, what is it that really matters?  The people we love."

Simon flung the ashes from his cigar to the pavement.

Damn.

The list of people he felt intimate with seemed to keep shrinking.  He wasn't even sure if his own son was on it anymore.

What can you do?

Not much, it seemed.

What was that saying that his sister said Alcoholics Anonymous was so fond of?  Something about Grant me the serenity to accept the things I can't change, the courage to change the things I can change, and the wisdom to know the difference.

What was it he had the power to change anymore?

Simon quickly jabbed his cigar back into his mouth, his heart pounding with his reluctance to face the answer that came to mind.

Damn.

He took his cigar between his fingers and held his bowed head in his hands.

Damn, damn, damn.

You're a grown man, he chided himself.  You're supposed to be intelligent and disciplined and capable.  And fair.

He straightened and released a heavy breath.

Time to forgive him for all the things that were never his fault in the first place.

Simon reached into his coat for his cell phone.  He hit the speed dial for his secretary, knowing he'd get her voice mail since it was after-hours.  He took another breath while waiting for the beep.  Then he said, "Good morning, Rhonda.  I'd like for you to schedule an appointment for me with both the Chief and the Mayor as soon as they have an opening for a dinner date.  Let me know the details ASAP.  Thank you."

He put the phone away and took another deep inhalation of the cigar, this one feeling more satisfying.

It wasn't until the waiter took their menus that all three men relaxed in their plush corner booth.

"So, Dad," Jim began and Blair knew he was determined to get the conversation going, "have you said goodbye to Daphne and Gary, or are you going to be able to see them one more time?"

William Ellison's gaze was to one side as he replied, "I'll stop by when they're getting ready to leave Saturday morning.  I want to give Tina a check to put toward the kids' schooling.  She'll want to keep them in a private school when they're in Missouri."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that."

Blair said, "It must be hard for you to have your only grandkids leaving."

The older man's gaze shifted to him.  "It's not like I haven't had family leave before."

Blair lowered his eyes, not having meant to bring up a sore subject.  But the senior Ellison seemed to be taking it in stride.

"Dad," Jim shifted uncomfortably, "I don't know what Tina may have told you...."

Blair reached for his water.

"You mean about you and Blair here?"

Blair couldn't tell what the older man thought from his tone.

"Yes," Jim replied hesitantly.

An amused grunt.  "She said you popped a surprise on her."  Now more grimly, "She seemed embarrassed that she and Stephen hadn't known."

"We didn't know," Jim said softly.
   
Pale eyes looked from one to the other.  "You've lived together a lot of years now, haven't you?"

Blair glanced at Jim, wondering if his mate wanted him to take over.

"Yes."  Jim seemed determined to meet his father's eyes.  "A lot of years.  Good years.  But... we were just friends.  Partners. Researcher and researchee."  Without taking his eyes off his father, Jim reached opposite and Blair took his hand, clasping it openly.  "Perhaps, in a way, it took Stephen's death to make me realize," thick swallow, "that Blair was the one person who was never going to leave me."

Blair felt his throat tighten.  He squeezed Jim's hand, then offered, "I think we sort of went through a natural evolution.  Neither of us expected anything like this to come of our association.  But, at a certain point, it just seemed like nature taking its course."  He was glad that William seemed to be listening.  But then, the elder man had always treated him well.  Blair added, "I love Jim with all my heart."

Jim glanced back and smiled warmly at him, before returning his attention to his father.

The older man ran a finger around his glass.  Then he settled back.  "So, what do they call it now?  A commitment ceremony?  Is that what you two are going to do?  Or have already done?"

Jim said, "We haven't even talked about anything like that."  He shifted so his arm could go around Blair.  "Whatever Blair wants."

That filled Blair's heart with warmth, but he decided to lighten things up.  "Actually, there's so much going on right now that we haven't given any thought to stuff like that."  Belatedly, he realized that he'd touched upon another potentially sensitive subject.

Jim took his hand back, shifting again.  "Yeah, Dad, Blair's got a good job possibility in Spokane.  We should be hearing any day if he got it or not.  If so, we'll be moving there."

There was no hiding the senior Ellison's frown.  He stared at his water.  "Hmph," was all he finally said.

Blair felt a pull to assure William that he was welcome to come to Spokane, too, if he wanted to be with what little remained of his family.  But it wasn't his place to say that without his and Jim's agreeing to invite him first.  Also, William Ellison didn't seem like the kind of man to leave his home of fifty-plus years at this stage.

"Leaving Cascade isn't our first choice," Jim went on, "but it would be a great job for Blair.  I can be a cop anywhere."

The older man released a heavy breath.  "When it rains it pours, hm?  First Stephen, then your," he gestured to the two of them, "relationship.  Then Tina and the kids moving away.  Now you moving away."

Blair tried to assure, "It's two to one against me getting the job.  I'm one of three final candidates."

Jim grinned back at him.  "You'll get it."

Blair blushed.  To William, he said, "My number one fan club."

William seemed to relax at that and even smiled faintly.

There was talk about what the job at the Center would be like.  Then, shortly after the appetizers were brought, Jim excused himself to go to the men's room.

Blair got back in the booth after letting Jim out.  He said, "Jim is everything to me."  He clinked his knife against a fork.  "He has been for a long time."

William regarded him a long moment.  "Is it like they say?" he asked curiously.  "You people instinctively know each other?"

It was hardly a politically correct question, but Blair admired the man for his honesty.  Gently, he replied, "I'm not sure I'm a 'you people' and I don't think Jim is, either.  I mean," he beamed, "Jim is unique all on his own.  Anyway," Blair shrugged, "I never thought of him... like that.   I wasn't like that.   But once we decided to be together -- live together -- like...that... well...."  He watched William's brow furrow and he knew he was doing a very bad job of explaining it.  He finished, "We ended up figuring we may as well do that, too."  He laughed nervously.  "Be everything to each other."

Blair sipped his wine, then tried again, "If something happened to Jim and he couldn't... you know, do anything... I'd still want to be with him.  He's been the only close family I've had these past few years.  I can't imagine my life without him."

William's gaze grew distant.  "That's the way a lot of us feel when we're first in love.  Then the years go by and...," he drifted off.

Blair assured, "Jim and me were friends first.  For a long time."  He laughed shyly.  "We're still really new at this being in love thing. Well, me, most especially."  He shifted in his seat.  "It's kind of neat, you know, feeling all that wonderful goofiness when I'm with somebody I've known for such a long time.  It's like some grand reward at the end of it all.  Only... now that we're at an ending, it means a new beginning."

He wondered if he sounded silly.  He decided to be more serious.  "Bill, if I get this job and Jim and I move, I hope you'll try to stay in our lives.  Jim and I don't have much family between the two of us."

William bowed his head and nodded, as though that was too emotional a concept for him to respond to out loud.

Jim appeared and the conversation returned to more mundane topics.

Simon glanced up at 852 Prospect from across the parking lot.  The lights were on from inside unit 307.  He finally put away his cell phone, having decided not to warn them of his visit.  He wasn't sure why.  Maybe he felt more in control to be able to surprise them for a change.

As long as it wasn't too late.  

If it was.... well, he'd console himself with the philosophy that it wasn't meant to be.

He made his way to the elevator, which started the slow journey up to the third floor.  He had decided he wasn't even going to try an offer of dinner this late on a Saturday evening.  Surely, Jim and Blair had already eaten.

He knocked, then grudgingly put out his cigar.

"Simon," Jim greeted with a big smile.  "Come in."

"Hi, Jim."  He entered.  "Sandburg."  

Blair was stretched out on one sofa, watching the fish tank.  "Hey, Simon," he greeted happily, looking as surprised as Jim.

Simon said, "I was in the neighborhood," as he relinquished his coat.  Liar.

"Sit," Jim beckoned as he pointed to an easy chair.  "Beer?  We've got some leftover stir-fry."

"Thanks," Simon said as he settled himself, "but I'll pass on both."  He was a bit surprised at how easy it was to relax.  "So, what's new with you two?"

"We're depressed," Blair announced.

Depressed?  Granted, Sandburg was a little less bouncy than usual, but he hardly looked melancholy.  And neither did Jim.

"Blair got the job in Spokane," Jim said from behind him.

Oh, no.  Simon turned to look up at Jim and make sure he was serious.  He was.  But if they're depressed does that mean....? "Congratulations," he finally managed, though he wasn't sure he meant it.  He watched Jim move over to the sofa where Blair was and nudge at him.  Blair shifted to give Jim room to sit on the cushion near his feet.  "So, why are you depressed?"

Blair glanced at Simon.  "We've saved all but two of the fish from a plague.  Now, if we move, most of them probably won't survive the trip.  According to all the research I've done on the internet, moving fish stresses them big-time.  Big-time stress usually means death."

Oh.  They must really like the fish to be that concerned about them.  "A plague?"

"Ich," Jim supplied, placing Blair's feet in his lap and rolling off his socks.

Ick?  Simon watched as Jim started rubbing Blair's bare feet.

"The whole aquarium had an outbreak," Blair said.  "But we saved them.  All but two.  Just so we can kill them in the move."

"Unless we can figure something out to lessen the stress of the move," Jim said.

Enough about the fish.  "So, when did you hear about the job?"  How long have you been keeping it from me?

"Last night," Blair replied.

Oh.  "And you accepted?"  Simon's heart beat faster.

Blair laughed freely.  "I told them I'd have to think about it over the weekend.  Cause, you know, they were only going to pay me ninety-two G's a year."

Ninety-two grand a year?

Blair laughed again.  "And a full benefit package."

Jim was grinning, too, as he continued to rub Blair's feet.

"So," Simon softly cleared his throat, "is there any particular reason you might not take the job?"

Blair shrugged.  "Just the fish."  Simon wasn't sure if he meant it.  Blair added, "But then, when we move into a house," he emphasized to Jim, "with a yard, we can get a dog."

Jim rolled his eyes.  "We don't need a dog, Chief."

"Hey, Ellison," Blair nudged Jim's thigh with his foot, "I figure that even though this partnership is fifty-fifty, since I'll be the primary breadwinner, what I want automatically breaks any stalemates."

Jim looked at Simon, his hands now moving up to Blair's ankles, beneath his sweats.  "Let me tell you, Simon, don't ever get married again.  Because then you're stuck with this person for the rest of your life who is completely incapable of appreciating your superior wisdom."

Simon was grateful they were including him in the conversation.  "I don't know, Jim.  A dog makes perfect sense if you're going to buy a house."

"We aren't necessarily buying a house," Jim replied.  Then, to Blair, "A nice town home or condo would keep us from having to do yard work, which we'll have no time for anyway."

They'd obviously been thinking about this.  "You been looking at places... on the internet?" Simon guessed.

"Jim won't let me," Blair said.  "Not until we," he mimicked a gruff voice, "'get all my student loans together and sit down with a financial advisor and figure out what we can really afford.'  Quote unquote."

"Sounds reasonable," Simon commented lamely.  "Jim, you contact the Spokane PD yet?"

"I will on Monday."

Okay.  I guess they're not exactly chomping at the bit with their suitcases packed.  Simon picked at some imaginary lint on his clothes.  "Uh, look, you two.  For what it's worth, I took the Chief and the Mayor to dinner last night and talked some stuff over with them."

Jim's hands stopped and he sat back on the sofa.  "What sort of stuff?"

"About losing a fine consultant who has never had an official title as a consultant, even though we've been introducing him with that title for years."

Blair straightened.  "Yeah?"

Good, they were paying attention.  Simon decided that he wasn't in any hurry to relay his news.  "So, they were interested in what I had to say."

"Yeah, and?" Blair prompted again.

Simon got more comfortable, relaxing into the contours of the chair.  "After the Zeller mess, I had approached them with the attitude that the PD owed you something, Blair, and that if you went to the academy and became Jim's partner, then it would be to the PD's benefit, as well.  This time, I took the more correct approach that Cascade would be the only one losing out if you went elsewhere."

Jim leaned forward.  "What are you saying, Simon?"

"I'm saying that I told them there was no way there couldn't be a place for Blair, since Blair has had a place for a few years now.  So they talked budgets and I talked about Blair's value."

Blair looked over at Jim.

Simon continued, "I'd even brought with me some of the cases that Blair has been vital to solving, albeit unofficially.  Then I pointed out other cases where he'd indirectly been a big help via backing you up, Jim."

Jim urged, "What's the bottom line here, Simon?"

"Heh, heh," Simon grinned.  "Be patient."

Jim frowned while Blair demanded, "Come on, Simon, did they agree with you or what?"

Simon drew a breath.  "They were firm that they couldn't hire you, Blair, unless you were underpaid for your level of education and experience.  But in the murky world of accounting and government and politics that I don't understand, they figured out that they could afford to hire you as an independent consultant on specific cases where your expertise would be of use.  That means that you would be working for yourself and you wouldn't be on the City's payroll.  So, you wouldn't be owed benefits or a pension or anything like that.  What you would do, instead, is invoice the City for your time for the cases you help with."

Blair blinked a few times, glanced at Jim, then looked back at Simon.  "You mean... I'd be doing what I've been doing all along, except I'd be getting paid by the hour?"

Simon rubbed at his lower lip.  "Yes.  But your hourly rate would be a Ph.D.'s rate -- whatever that is.  They would expect to pay top dollar for your professional assistance.  You'll have to see the Chief about it, but I think it's more standard for consultants to charge by the day instead of the hour.  Or even by the case. "  

Jim held up a hand.  "Wait a minute, Simon.  If Blair's only being hired for certain cases, then that doesn't necessarily mean he'll be working with me."

"No, it doesn't," Simon admitted. "But the cases Blair is most likely to be helpful on are the more serious cases -- serial killers and that sort of thing -- that get sent to Major Crimes; and you, Jim, are most often the senior detective I assign to those cases.  So, while Blair may have to assist some other divisions at times, more often than not he's going to be working with you.  But I thought the best part," Simon tried not to preen, "was that when he's not assigned to any specific cases, he can still ride with you, Jim.   He just won't be able to invoice for his time.  But he'll have a PD ID for being a consultant, so there wouldn't be any problem with him hanging around."

"What's the downside?" Blair asked breathlessly.

"Since you'd be self-employed, you'd have to provide your own health insurance and sign more waivers about not holding the Department responsible for any injuries you might get.   You'd have to pay your own income taxes, start your own pension fund. Also, I was under the impression that any contract the City would have with you would be one that doesn't obligate them to guarantee you any number of cases.  That's why this appeals to them so much.  They wouldn't even have to provide an office for you. If you aren't needed, they don't have to pay for you.  If budget cuts come down the line, they can simply decide not to use you anymore.  In short, you don't have any job security."

"I've never had job security, Simon."

"That's what I figured.  So, you aren't really losing anything.  But what you would have is your freedom.  If you aren't working on a certain case, like I said, you can hang out with Jim for free.  Or you can teach part-time if that appeals to you, or work on whatever research project.  In short, it frees you up to get your name out into the world as someone to be reckoned with in whatever field you want to be known in.  But, actually," Simon puffed out his chest with the pleasure of presenting his trump card, "I thought the long-term outlook might be even better than the short-term.   Depending upon how well you've laid the groundwork, when Jim gets old enough to retire -- or, God forbid, gets an injury that keeps him from working the streets -- then you might have built up such a reputation for yourself that you can have your dream of freelancing Jim's abilities."

"What?" Jim looked at Blair.

Blair's eyes remained on Simon.  "What do you mean?"

Did he really not get it?  Simon grinned and shook his head.  "If you've proven yourself helpful to law enforcement, then maybe down the line other law enforcement types of agencies -- or even individuals -- could hire you for help.  Your 'help' might be in the form of Jim's sentinel abilities, but nobody except you and Jim would know that.  That would keep his name and his abilities out of the limelight.  You'd be getting all the glory.  People could just think he was your butler or bodyguard or man toy or something."  Simon chuckled at his own choice of words.

Blair looked deep in thought.  "Wow, Simon, this is really incredible that you came up with all of this."

Simon shook his head, not believing Blair could view it that way.  "I didn't come up with it, Sandburg.  You did.  You're the one who mentioned freelancing.  You're just so focused on Jim all the time that you only thought in terms of Jim freelancing rather than doing it by yourself.  You need to value yourself more."

Blair looked up sharply, and Simon wondered if he'd said something wrong.

But Jim was swatting at Blair's leg.  "That's what I've been trying to tell him."

Now that he'd said his spiel, Simon began to deflate.  "I have no idea what the money will end up being with this arrangement. Surely not anywhere near the ninety-two grand you've been offered.  But if you charge for your time according to your doctorate level of education and experience, you'll be getting a healthy rate for the time you do put in for the cases you've been hired for."

Blair was staring at the floor.  "Money isn't everything," he said simply.

"I thought you'd feel that way."  Hoped you'd feel that way.  "You'd have your freedom, at least."

Jim pushed Blair's feet to the floor and stood.  "Are you sure you don't want a beer, Simon?"

Simon held up a hand.  "No.  Thank you, Jim.  I know you two have got even more to think about before Monday comes."  He, too, stood.  "I was afraid that I might be too late."

"No," both assured in unison.

Now Blair was on his feet.  "Thanks, Simon," he said gruffly, squeezing Simon's hand.  

He had the sense that Blair meant more than just the job offer.  Yeah, he'd done good.  Even if they still decided to move to Spokane, he'd done right by his friends   "I didn't actually spend the whole time talking about you at dinner.  My future got a little airtime, too."  A little.

"Really?" Jim asked.

Simon chuckled and waved him off, heading for the door.  "Nothing concrete enough to crow about yet."

He felt a large hand squeeze his shoulder from behind.  "Thanks," Jim said.

Simon nodded but didn't turn until he'd opened the door.  "I hope you'll decide to stay."

They both grinned at him, but didn't comment any further than that.  He understood.  They needed to talk it over.

As he moved toward the elevator, he thought about how they had been on the sofa.  Together.  Relaxed.  Easy in their companionship of each other.  Blair a lot calmer than Simon had ever seen him.  Jim interested, listening, mostly patient.

Maybe they were good for each other.  

Blair's cheeks billowed as he turned from the doorway.  "Man.  I can't believe Simon went through all that trouble."

"Why not?" Jim asked.  "He did it before, after the press conference."

"Right, right.  But I didn't take him up on his offer.  I've been feeling that he's liked me even less than usual lately."  Suddenly, a thought occurred and he looked at Jim directly.  "Did you suspect this was coming?"

Jim held up his hands.  "No, not at all.  I'm as surprised as you."  He turned toward the kitchen as he said, "Surely by now, Chief, you realize that Simon is fond of you, in his own way."

Blair followed him, snorting.  "I guess I go back and forth on it.  I know he likes me, despite himself.  But sometimes I've honestly thought that he wishes I would fail."  Geez, I sound like Daryl.  "Like, when he used to suspect me every time there was a leak to the media."  

Jim started to take the dishes from the strainer and put them in the cupboards.  "That never had anything to do with you personally, Chief."

Blair leaned against the counter.  "What do you mean it wasn't personal?"

Jim shrugged, continuing to put away dishes.  "I mean that it's always been his issue, not yours."

"His issue with what?"

Putting the last plate in place, Jim sighed as though he wasn't sure he should say what was on his mind.  Finally, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink.  "Don't you realize that every time Simon looks at you, you remind him of all the opportunities he's never had?"

"What?" Blair asked in puzzlement.  "What opportunities?  Simon's got a powerful job in an important community organization.  What further opportunity does he want?"

Jim lowered his gaze and his voice.  "I just mean that he had to fight extra hard to get where he's at.  Hell, the Rodney King riots in L.A. a few years back proved how prevalent racism is in modern society, even when we try to pretend it isn't."

Blair shook his head, not believing.  "In all these years, I've never known Simon to make a statement about race.   Not ever.  He's not - "

"Of course," Jim said with forced patience.  "It's not the kind of the thing he would ever admit to.  What purpose would it serve?"  His voice softened again.  "But I've known him longer than you."  Jim was avoiding his gaze.  "Every once in a while, something slips out.  He never makes a big deal out of it.  But it's pretty naïve to think that he's never been negatively impacted by the color of his skin."

Blair wanted to deny any naivety, but he had to admit that the possibility had never crossed his mind.  Simon had certainly never shown himself to be a victim of prejudice.  Daryl had never said anything about it, either.

"So," Jim continued, looking up, "I'm just saying that he sees you come into the Department, with no training at all, and instantly you're well-liked by everybody in Major Crimes.  You don't follow the rules.  You've been in school your entire adult life, supported a great deal by government grants.  To him, it's like it all was so easy for you.  Whereas, he had to fight undercurrents of racial prejudice getting where he is; and now that he's there, he has to put on the tough persona and keep himself distant from his men, while watching you become everyone's favorite civilian without even trying."  Jim shrugged, as though it was all so simple.  "He can't help but envy that."

Blair's mouth fell open.  He knew Jim wasn't trying to accuse him of anything, but it was hard not to feel attacked.  Misunderstood. He pointed to his chest.  "Does he think my whole life has been hunky-dory, while his - "

"Come on," Jim scolded.  "You know better than that.  And so does he."  He looked away and mumbled, "He can't help how he feels."  He looked back, a grin starting at the corner of his mouth.  "But he obviously decided he cando something about how he feels."

"What do you mean exactly?"

"Tonight.  He must have realized that all this time he's refused to go to bat for you with the higher-ups was for all the wrong reasons. This was the right thing to do -- to at least make an effort.  Especially when he doesn't want to lose you, either."  A casual shrug.  "I guess he just had to figure that out at the eleventh hour."

"Man," Blair said, trying to absorb what Jim had said.  Maybe he had been naïve about Simon all these years.  If so, what a magnanimous gesture on Simon's part to have tried to find a position for Blair so he could stay with Jim, even though Simon didn't seem too happy about their relationship.  "I guess I just never realized," he finally admitted.

"Of course, you didn't," Jim said.  "Simon didn't want you to know what makes him tick inside. You don't have anything to apologize for."

"But a lot to be thankful for," Blair realized, feeling a lot better.  He hoisted himself up on the kitchen island, facing Jim.  He grinned.  "So, what's your preference for our future?"

"Is there any question?" Jim smiled back.  "I'd prefer to stay."  He stepped closer to place his hands on Blair's knees.  "The only drawback to staying is the money and I don't care about that.  Not at all."

Wow.  Jim's feelings didn't surprise him; it was just the way he stated them so forthrightly.

Blair nodded.  This was too simple.  "Yeah, and if we stay we can at least keep the fish safe."

Jim gazed into his eyes.  "What about challenges?  The director's position would probably hold some of that for you."

Blair shook his head back and forth.  "Not even an issue.  If the cases at the PD aren't challenging enough -- and they've always been more challenging than my schoolwork -- I'll have the freedom to find all sorts of other things to occupy my mind with."

"So, we're staying."

Blair's grin widened.  "We're staying.  I'll call the Center on Monday and tell him I'm turning it down for a better offer."  He leaned forward to slip his arms around Jim.

Jim hugged him, one hand rubbing up and down Blair's back.

After a time, Blair admitted, "I was sort of looking forward to us moving to a new place and starting a life of our own.  You know," he straightened to look Jim in the eye, "sort of like being newlyweds and setting up our own house."  He looked around at the walls of the loft. "Not that there's anything wrong with the home we've already set up."

Jim kissed him.

Blair kissed him back, and he felt as though he was sinking into a pool of passion as their lips stayed connected for a long time. Blair slid to his feet, still locked with Jim, and grabbed Jim's buttocks through his jeans.

Jim pulled back to groan, "Don't do that unless you mean it."

He meant it.  Jim was so wonderfully predictable when he was grabbed there.  Blair kept massaging the muscular mounds, digging as deep as he could, his fingers in a non-stop dance of worship.  

Jim's grip was firm but gentle as he placed his hands on the sides of Blair's face, his breath hot as their lips joined once again.

Blair's fingers felt toward the front until he found the snap to Jim's jeans.  He pulled it apart and lowered down the zipper, feeling the firm flesh through the boxers.  As soon as Jim pulled back to draw a breath, Blair dropped to his knees.  He pushed the boxers down to Jim's thighs, pulling the front away to clear the leaking erection.  He grabbed Jim's buttocks in both hands, then devoured the firm cock.

He'd come to love doing this.  Loved the way it allowed him to feel Jim's ass while listening to his sensitive sentinel groan so deeply. Loved fulfilling his oral need to suck so happily, the fact that he was causing pleasure merely a bonus.  Jim's cock was big and difficult to maneuver, but Blair had learned how to do it so that it took the least amount of effort for the maximum gratification.

He re-gripped Jim's ass, listening to yet another groan, the flesh he suckled becoming all the harder.

Jim pulled on Blair's shoulder.  "Not yet," he gasped.

Blair yielded and stood, his eyes barely open, his face tilted up.  Hot, malleable lips descended upon him.  He had to fight to keep his grip on glutei muscles as Jim's aggression made him lean back, Jim's hand rubbing forcefully up his shirt.

Blair groaned loudly, wanting to yield further, to lose control.  But wanting even more to finish Jim.

Jim also wanted finishing, for he pulled his lips away and growled as he pushed on Blair's shoulder.  

Blair dropped back to his knees, his hands keeping their eager grip of Jim's ass cheeks.  He nuzzled the moist, sticky tip of the leaking phallus with his cheek.

Jim planted his legs more firmly and released a whimpered groan.

They were good at pleasuring each other now.  Even when they had relaxed casually on the couch, Jim's fingers had done some very nice things to Blair.  Blair had also noticed, in recent weeks, an increased confidence in himself.  

His lips parted to accept the head.  Only the head.  He tasted the strong bitterness of the sticky bead resting at the tip.

Blair let the tip slide off his lower lip and down his chin as he looked up at Jim's passion-narrowed eyes.  "I want you inside me tonight."

He enclosed Jim's length and re-gripped his ass.  Two bucks of his hips and Jim was coming in Blair's mouth, crying out from deep within his chest.

Blair let his mouth go slack, for Jim was always ultra-sensitive after the first spurt.  Jim pulled back a moment later and Blair swallowed the emission.  He stood up, pressing against Jim as strong, loving arms came around him.

Jim kissed his forehead, rubbed his back, made small murmuring noises.  

Blair stepped back enough to tuck Jim away, zip him up.

He was aware of his own throbbing center.

Jim knelt just enough to grab Blair about the waist and lift him up to the kitchen island, next to the stove.  Blair felt a thrill run through him as Jim grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, then covered Blair's mouth with his own.

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.  Blair bucked awkwardly upon the counter, seeking friction, and moaned his delight at what was happening.

Jim's hand pressed firmly against Blair's groin, and Blair's screech was lost in Jim's mouth.

Jim pulled his lips away and moved around the counter, while tightly holding Blair's arm.  Then Blair felt himself being pulled back against Jim, so that he was partially reclining, his legs draped over the side of the counter.  Jim's hand appeared and wrestled the snap of Blair's jeans apart.  Then that big hand was diving into his clothing, claiming his hardness and drawing it out.

Blair tilted his head up and turned his face to press it against Jim's neck.   The firm grip pulled at him in the most delicious way and he tried to buck into it, wanting more.

"I know," Jim cooed in his ear.  "Let me do it."  

Blair gasped and groaned while trying to hold his hips still.  The sensations built from Jim's rhythmic strokes.  He clutched at the arm that was wrapped around him.  He wanted to squeeze his own balls, but was afraid that reaching would disrupt the perfect rhythm.

"Oh - my - God!" he cried as climax was upon him.  He was aware of his anal muscles gripping nothingness as his lower organs moved to deliver semen through his body, the sensation like no other.

Blair took a deep, gasping breath, then relaxed, aware of the sticky fluid still dribbling upon his belly, for Jim's hand had left his cock and was now stroking lovingly along his ribs.

"Dear God," Blair whispered, closing his eyes and letting Jim's weight support him.

He wondered if he'd ever look at the kitchen the same way again.

Later that night, Jim wasn't sure how long they lay in bed dozing before it was obvious that they were both more awake than asleep. He had his arm wrapped around Blair, who was snuggled next to him, his head on Jim's chest.  It was only natural, then, for Jim to stroke up and down Blair's back.

Their lovemaking had been special tonight.  Blair had allowed Jim to be patient.  Then, in the moment of joining, there had been a small gasp of pain from Blair, and he'd gone slack, his body accepting Jim inside him.

That moment had been precious, powerful, and beautiful.  Jim had made their loving last as long as he could, which was a long time because of what they had already done in the kitchen.

The closeness... the intimacy... neither had dared talk about it, for fear of breaking the mood, when they had finally moved apart.

"So this is how it feels," Blair whispered now.

Jim kissed the top of his head, and his arm slowed in its petting of Blair's skin.  "I take it you liked it," he whispered back.

There was an awkward pause, then Blair laughed softly.   "Oh, no, I meant -" Another gentle laugh and he shifted just enough to look up at Jim.  "Yes, I definitely liked it.  But I meant this is how it feels to know what the future is like."

Before Jim could comment, Blair continued, "It's weird.  You know?  I don't even know what's going to happen when I talk to the Chief next week.  Yet, I feel like this big weight has been lifted from my shoulders.  Like I know that the future is all going to be okay, even if I don't know the exact details yet."

Jim said, "I think that's your self-confidence talking."

Blair was thoughtful.  Then, "Yeah, I guess.  But where did it come from all of a sudden?"

Jim shifted to face him.  Their exhaled breaths gently blew across each other.  "I don't think it's all of a sudden.  You've had some big changes come down the pike lately, Chief.  You've risen to the occasion for all of them.  Success tends to feeds on itself, which leads to even greater confidence."

Blair shifted to rest on his back.  "I'm weeks away from getting my doctoral degree -- proving how intelligent I am -- and I'm not sure I understand what you just said."

Jim chucked softly.  He got up on an elbow and placed a hand on Blair's chest.  He rubbed in a slow circle, feeling the little hairs. "Just looking at the past summer, what have you had to deal with?" he challenged.  "The biggest thing was your relationship with me."

"But that was a good thing."

"You could have run away from the idea," Jim pointed out, "either because you were afraid of finally having what you wanted -- to stay with me -- or because you didn't trust that I wanted you, too."

Blair shook his head.  "No way would I ever have turned you down, Jim."

"Maybe not," Jim relented.  His hand continued to rub.  "But despite all your fears you've expressed since we've been together, you've still had the courage to allow our relationship to grow, even when you were afraid that you might lose it all."

"I guess I don't see it as courage," Blair hedged.

Jim decided Blair was being stubborn, so he moved on.  "You had no idea what you were going to do for a career.  So, even though it meant uprooting our lives, you went on those rigorous interviews and did such a good job that you beat out a dozen other applicants."

Blair grinned, resting a hand behind his head.  "I did do that, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."  Using his forefinger, Jim traced a pattern on Blair's chest.  "And then, despite you and Simon being cool towards each other the past year, you earned his respect -- for who you are, not who he wanted to make you into.  I think, in a lot of ways, that might have been more important to you than you even realize."  After all, Jim thought, Blair was a sucker for masculine approval.  Not at all surprising, considering he grew up without a stable adult male influence.     

Blair stared at the skylight.  "Yeah, that one still amazes me.  I mean, not just that Simon went to bat for me, but that he actually respected my need for a lot of freedom.  I thought he figured I was just whining when I told him I didn't like the idea of a job with a set routine."

Jim circled his finger around a little nipple.  "He thinks the world of you, Blair.  He respects you."

Blair was silent for a long moment, still staring at the skylight.  Then he laughed and his eyes darted to Jim.  "What was it he called you when he was talking about me freelancing your abilities, only acting like it was my own abilities?  My butler or bodyguard or -- what was it?"

Jim grinned at the memory.  "Man toy."

Blair's laughter shook his whole body.  "Oh, yeah, that would be funny.  Me arriving somewhere for my new assignment, in my plush BMW, and you being at my side.  'Hi, I'm Doctor Sandburg, and I'm here to help your city with your serial killer case.  This is my aide, Jim Ellison.  He's my bodyguard by day, and my plaything by night.' "

Jim poked Blair's ribs, making him laugh harder.  "Funny, Chief."

Blair's body curled in reaction to Jim's tickling.  He laughed, "At least you would be out of the limelight."  Abruptly, he sobered. "Except that everyone would be looking at you, because they'd want you, and they would resent me for having you."

Jim moved on top of Blair.  "Nobody would resent you," he whispered.  He bent and kissed Blair on the forehead.  "You're the only one insane enough to want me."

Blair studied Jim's face for a long moment.  "You were great tonight, man." His voice was so soft, so sincere.  

"So, were you."  It had felt incredibly good.  Not just the direct sensations, but the intimacy of their unity.  "Chief?"

"Mm?"

"You can be on top, you know, anytime you want."

Long silence.  Then, "I thought you didn't want to keep score."

"I don't," Jim assured, shifting to Blair's side.  "I just want you to know that it doesn't have to be one-sided.  I don't have any hang-ups about the idea.  Besides, why should I miss out on the enjoyment you seemed to be having?"

More silence, but it was relaxed this time.  Accepting.

"Jim?  I really love you, man."

Jim squeezed him closer.   

"With all of my being."  The words were choked.

Jim pushed Blair onto his side.  He spooned up behind him, their usual position for falling asleep.  Only, this time, he pressed himself all the closer to Blair's back, his mouth close to Blair's ear.

Jim whispered, "You're all the things I never knew I wanted, because I already had them in you.  I want nothing, except to love and be loved by you."

Blair's hand came up and cupped the side of Jim's face.

Jim kissed the corner of Blair's mouth.

Blair closed his eyes and his body relaxed, his hand dropping to the mattress.

Jim settled more comfortably, pulling the covers over them both, and lying with his cheek pressed against Blair's shoulder, his arm wrapped around Blair's waist.  

He soon fell asleep.

Simon loosened his tie as he walked from his car to the house.  He'd put in a few hours at the office, despite it being his day off.  He wondered if he would ever be a normal schmuck who looked more forward to weekends than to work days.  It was just that weekends tended to leave him with too little to do.

At least future weekends were looking more promising, especially when Blair finished school next month.  Jim and Blair were staying.  There could be golf, barbecues, fishing trips... and maybe a greater effort to do those things more often.

Simon unlocked the door and pushed it open.  He almost gasped in surprise.

Daryl stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking hesitant.  "Hi, Dad.  I hope you don't mind me using my key."

"Dear God, no.  Of course not."  Simon shrugged out of his jacket.  "I didn't see your car outside."

"Sheila dropped me off on her way to work."

Trying not to sound suspicious, Simon asked, "Is everything all right with you and Sheila?"  He hung up his jacket in the closet.

"Oh, yeah, it's great.  I really think she's the one, Dad."

It was on the tip of his tongue to caution Daryl about being too young to make such decisions about the future.  But that wouldn't get them anywhere.  I'm going to have to allow him the freedom to make his own mistakes.  Without judgment.  He rolled up his sleeves as he headed for the kitchen.  "I've got some fried chicken to heat up.  How about it?"

"Sure," Daryl replied, following.

Simon removed the Tupperware dish from the refrigerator.  "Have you talked to Sandburg lately?"

"Uh-uh.  I tried calling him once, but I didn't leave a message when no one picked up.  Last I heard, he and Jim were thinking about moving to Spokane."

"Sandburg got the job, but he ended up turning it down."  It felt so good, saying that.  Though he couldn't imagine anybody turning down ninety-two grand a year.

Simon laid chicken pieces onto a platter.  "Instead, he's going to be working at the PD as an official consultant."  Simon turned to Daryl and grinned.  "He's going to officially be Doctor Sandburg, if you can believe that."  Like I would ever call him that, he snorted to himself.

"Cool, man."  Daryl was sitting at the kitchen table.  "So, when's his graduation?  I'd like to go."

"They don't have the ceremony until spring.  But he'll be official when all the paperwork is finished for the end of the semester.  He just has another four weeks of school.  And then he'll probably be at the station full time.  There are already a couple of old cases the Chief wants him to take a look at, because there's renewed interest for one reason or another."  Simon put the platter in the microwave and pushed "High".

"Dad, speaking of the holidays...."

Simon turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.  "Yes?"

"Sheila and me are inviting her parents over for Thanksgiving.  We want to invite you, too."

A greater weight lifted from Simon's shoulders.  Life is getting better.  Still, he felt obligated to ask, "What about your mother?"

"I already know she's going to be with Jeff's family."

Jeff.  Her fiancé.

Does this mean, since Daryl hasn't even asked her, that I'm not the consolation prize this time around?

"Yes, Daryl," Simon said as he cleared his throat, "I'd very much like to come and meet Sheila's parents."

"You'll like them, Dad.  You will.  They're funny like Sheila."

Unlike you, Simon read between the lines.  He pushed down his hurt.  Well, all right, maybe I deserved that.

And maybe it's time I started treating Daryl as an equal.

After all, if Blair was no longer somebody that he thought of as "the kid" -- which always insinuated that there was something half--baked about him -- maybe it was time he treated his son with the same respect.

Jim was reading the newspaper in the break room when his senses alerted him that Blair was coming down the hall from the men's room.

Then he heard Joel's voice.  "Hey, Blair, what's with this memo from the Chief?  Dr. Sandburg this, Dr. Sandburg that.  'Welcome Dr. Sandburg.'  Is that what we're supposed to call you now?"

Blair groaned, "Oh, God, no.  I can't believe the Chief put out a memo like that.  For one thing, I'm not even a doctor yet."

"But you will be, right?"

"Yeah, one more week."

Jim shook his head with a grin.  That had been the litany around the loft in recent days.  One more week, one more week, one more week.

Jim heard Blair continue, "And then I'm done for good.  But Joel, man, I'd really rather that nobody call me Doctor.  It's just too weird."

"You did earn it," Joel pointed out.

"I know, I know.  But as they say, the joy was in the journey, not the reward at the end of it."

"So, they're paying you now, I guess," Joel continued conversationally.

"Yeah, yeah, they're paying for the cases I'm assigned to."

Jim could sense Blair's embarrassment.  Blair would be making more money than Joel could ever dream of.  Since Blair had known he was holding all the cards when it came to his value to the PD, he'd turned out to be quite the able negotiator.

The Chief never knew what hit him¸ Jim thought with satisfaction.

"So, you get an office and everything?" Joel wondered.

"Oh, no, man.  I mean, they probably would have given me that if I'd asked.  But Jim and I have always done okay with the two of us at his desk.  I'll just plug my laptop into the PD's network lines if Jim and I both need to be on the computer at the same time."

"Man, Blair," Jim could hear the smile in Joel's voice, "I'm really glad you're going to be with us permanently.  I always dreaded the idea of you graduating and going off to another state or something."

"Thanks, Joel.  I'm glad to be staying."  Then, whispering conspiratorially, "My real reason for staying is to keep Jim in line.  He's nothing without me to back him up."

You're going to pay for that, doctor or no, you little rascal.  Blair knew damn well that Jim could hear him.  Jim looked forward to retaliating tonight.

Joel was laughing.  "Yeah, right, Blair.  Just don't let Jim hear you say that."  His heavy footsteps started to move off.

"Somehow," Blair said forlornly, "I have a feeling his ears are already burning."

Jim shook his head at Blair's antics.

Blair pushed the door to the break room open and moved aggressively toward the coffeemaker.  "Can you believe that memo?  I'm not even a doctor yet.  And I don't start officially working here until the week after next."

Jim said, "The Chief probably figured that with how much they're paying you, there should be some sort of announcement about you."

"It's just so stupid because I've already been here for years."  Blair poured himself a cup.

Jim sensually checked the outer hallways.  He decided there was little chance of anyone coming into the room in the next few moments.  Still, he lowered his voice.  "Hey, Chief."

Blair sat across from him.  "Yeah?  What's up?"

"Earlier this morning, I overheard Christy downstairs talking with some new clerk about your availability."

Blair shrugged and seemed genuinely puzzled.  "You think I'm interested?"

Jim picked up Blair's left hand, surprised that it was himself who was going to make the suggestion.  He rubbed his thumb along Blair's ring finger.  "I think maybe it's time we did something to let others know that we're off limits."

"You mean... like wedding rings?"  Blair grinned crookedly.

Jim felt reluctant to make too much of it.  "Unless you have a better idea."

Blair gazed at Jim for a long moment, his expression growing softer.

"What?" Jim whispered.

Blair's eyes never left his.  "Wedding rings symbolize a promise.  I've never believed in those ceremonies because they make promises about the future.  No one can ever guarantee they'll act a certain way in the future because there's too many unknowns, too many changes that people go through, to say nothing of the events around them that are out of their control. That's one reason I've never really believed in marriage itself, or even long-tem relationships."

But? Jim almost whispered out loud, hoping there was a but.

"I don't need you to promise me anything, Jim.  I don't want you to.  When two people are secure in what they are to each other, they shouldn't need to promise each other anything."  He nodded.  "I'm that secure."

Jim wondered if there was documentation of sentinels ever melting into goo.

"Still," Blair smiled lovingly, "I'd be honored to wear a symbol that says I belong to you.  And you to me."  His eyes lowered.

Jim swallowed.  "We'll go to a jeweler after your last day of school."

Blair grinned.  "Once we both show up with wedding bands, well... that'll keep the gossip mill going for a while."

Jim chuckled.  "I guess we can tell who we want and let the others keep guessing."  He suddenly realized, "It's a good thing you never accepted Simon's first offer to go through the academy and become my official partner.  They have rules against spouses being partnered together.  As of last year they started recognizing same-sex relationships as being equal to hetero ones."

Blair smiled widely.  "It really seems that this all worked out like it was supposed to, doesn't it?"

Jim wasn't sure he was ready to believe whole-heartedly in fate.  He was relieved of the need to reply when Simon strode into the room, humming.

They watched him head to the sink with his coffee cup.

"What are you so happy about this morning?" Blair asked.

Simon glanced at them while rinsing out his cup.  "Daryl has decided to start the police academy next term."

Blair spoke for both of them.  "I thought you never wanted him to be a cop."

"Changed my mind."  Simon joined them at the table.

"That's great," Jim told him.  He nudged Simon on the arm.  "All right."

"Wow," Blair said, "I'm glad you were able to accept what he wants.  Only, I thought he'd given up on the idea."

Simon sighed deeply.  "As both of you know, he's been confused and in a world of chaos the past year.  He's finally starting to sort things out, and it turns out that following in his old man's footsteps is what he wants to do."  He hesitated, "Of course, Sheila is a little nervous about it, but she's determined to support him in whatever he wants to pursue."

"He seems serious about this girl," Jim said.

Simon nodded.  "I think he's going to propose to her next week and set the date for after he graduates from the academy."

Blair smiled broadly.  "Wow, that's great!"

Rhonda poked her head in the door.  "Simon, the Mayor is on line two."

"Duty calls."  Simon moved to the door.

A cell phone rang and both Jim and Blair felt for their pockets.

"That's mine," Blair said, pulling his out.  "I'm sure it's my problem student who's worried about her grade."  He opened the flap. "Blair Sandburg speaking."  He rolled his eyes at Jim.  "Yes, Kathy, hi.  Right, you really, really have to get at least a C on the final in order to pass the class."

Jim went to the sink and poured out the cold coffee from his cup.  For years now, he'd listened to Blair talking to his students on the telephone.  He wouldn't be sorry to see it end.

Everything was changing.  It seemed everyone Jim knew had something new or different going on in their lives.  Even a pair of guppies in the aquarium had produced a surprise in the form of offspring last week, and he and Blair had worked frantically at scooping as many of the remaining fry as possible into a special floating net that protected them from being meals for the other fish. Blair was already beaming about the idea of raising them to adulthood.

At least he's stopped wanting a dog.

Well, the way things were going financially, maybe there would come a time when they'd both want to buy a house, with a yard and all the trappings.  Then Blair could have his dog.

And what do I get?

Jim refilled his coffee cup, then leaned against the counter and studied Blair from the back.  "Doctor Sandburg" was able to keep his voice amazingly patient while he told the hapless Kathy for the third time in two minutes that she had to get a C or better on the final in order to get a passing grade for the class.

I get to grow old with him.

That was the brightest future of all.

END

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