Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, and neither is Megan. They belong to TPTB, UPN, and Pet Fly, who aren't anywhere near as imaginative with them as we are, but have a bigger budget for special effects. <g>

Notes: Nita, if I didn't love your stories so much, I would be majorly upset with your muse. <G> (Just kidding, Nita's Muse! Please, inspire her away!) As it is, I'm reserving it for my muse, which obviously has never heard of the term 'peer pressure.' As soon as I read You, I felt her perk up, and when I read your post on POV, she pounced. I was also thinking about a couple of spots in Neighborhood Watch, and this is the result—and yes, it is second person present. Not anywhere near as good as Nita's, of course, but not *horrible*, I don't think. I hope. Oh dear. <g> Oh well! It's also a Megan POV—I haven't seen anything from her POV yet, and I just love challenges, don't you? <Owlet snickers> I'd better stop now, before this gets longer than the story.

Warnings: This is a second person story, so if that's not yout thing, don't read. It is also a

Slash story, mentioning, though not in any sort of detail, a male/male relationship. If you are not into that sort of thing, or if you are underage, you probably don't want to be here. Contains minor spoilers for Neighborhood Watch, but in many ways this is a pretty darn unspecific story, and *I'm* not even sure just exactly what she's talking about.

Through The Eyes Of Another by Owlet

You look across the room at them. There they are, both of them, huddled together over something at Jim's desk, whispering. You don't know what they're saying, but whatever it is, you know that you aren't a part of it. Whatever skills you have, however hard you try, you're on the outside, and you know it. It's a weird feeling, seeing it from the outside. Usually it's you that people look at, wondering what you are thinking, what's going on in that stubborn, infuriating, mysterious mind of yours.

You've kept your secrets, though you were tempted, weren't you? When Jim was trying so hard to convince you that he was psychic without actually saying it—he's a cop, after all, and careful about perjury—and you told him you had a confession. I wonder what he was expecting you to say after that. And you wanted to tell them, but not without learning their secret first. Yeah, you are competitive, aren't you? You couldn't stand to be so vulnerable as to give them yours while they cling to theirs.

It all boils down to secrets, doesn't it? Theirs, yours, everyones. Everywhere. And so many of them!

For one, they're sleeping together, lovers as well as partners and friends and…something more, somehow; it's something they hide well, but they can't hide it from you. Not being the way you are. But that's not the only secret they're keeping. How do they sleep at night, you wonder, shifting a little at your desk. Captain Banks gave you a real desk, to keep you out of trouble and out of his office, you suppose, and not just in that order. And it's a little cramped, but you don't mind, since it has a great view of where Jim and Blair are talking so conspiratorily about…whatever.

Another way the three of you are similar, you guess. Not just that striking similarity between Jim and you—you've never seen someone so much like you, and it's rather disconcerting at times to you because you can feel that you aren't fooling him at all. But it goes beyond that, something deeper.

You all know what it means to have secrets from the rest of the world.

You don't even know what the secret is, but you know it's there. It could be anything, but one thing you know it isn't. Jim Ellison is definitely not psychic. If he was, he'd have chosen a different cover story, something that would allow him to keep you off his back, but yet not let you get close to the truth. And if he was, you'd have sensed it, the first time you met, those few weeks before at the airpost.

And he'd have sensed it, too.

They lied to you. You could tell, even without trying anything, just from the awkward body language, the anxiety and the dancing around the truth that Sandburg gave you when you caught them. Jim just gave you that sardonic bland look that he gives everyone when they've made some assumption that he's not going to argue with, but Blair really didn't know what to do. You like to think he didn't want to lie to you. You acknowledge that he probably did because he felt he had to.You don't know what was happening, what was going on underneath the surface.

Maybe you should find out?

No. You promised yourself a long time ago, never again. Never again would you hold someone in your hand, stripping away all the layers to find the Truth, not for curiosity, not for necessity. Never. It was a lesson that was hard-learned, but it did get through.

So you'll just have to wait. Be patient. You can be patient, another hard-won lesson, but you're a good student. You can wait, and eventually they'll let something slip. Push, just a little, like you did on the stakeout, push them both about what Jim is, what Blair is, why Blair is there, why the two of them are together. What their relationship is. Cause you hate to see a mystery, and you'll be damned if it'll be about someone you know.

And who knows? Maybe they'll find out your secret, too. The eyes of another can be sharper than we'd like, and as you look at Jim, you think… you don't know, but you think… that he has very sharp eyes. Will they be sharp enough?

What will you do if they guess?