LATE JULY, THIS YEAR

Jim Ellison lifted his head from its nest of drool-dampened hair and peered blearily at the bedside clock. Six-thirty... but it was Saturday. With a heartfelt sigh, his head dropped back down and Ellison allowed himself to drift on a sensuous cloud of scent from the hair, warmth from the body pressed up to him, and the peace and quiet of the loft...

The phone rang.

For a moment, Jim actually considered ignoring it and letting the answering machine pick it up, but his sense of duty was too ingrained for that. Sighing, he made a long arm and snagged the cordless phone from the bedstand. "Ellison."

"Jim? I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Stacey? Stacey! No, honey, of course not!" Lying next to him, Blair -- who had gone rigid at the sound of the phone ringing -- relaxed and rolled over. Jim could feel Blair's smile against his breastbone and they both snuggled into the pillows. "You can call any time, Stacey, you know that, but... is everything okay? Is anything wrong?"

She was laughing. "No, no, of course not, don't go all dad on me now, Jim," she said.

"That idiot professor not giving you a hard time any more? I swear, Stacey, I'm going to fly out there..."

Laughing harder, Stacey said, "No, I don't even have her any more. I tested out of everything she teaches at my PAS test last week. My advisor said I'm probably smarter than her anyway." Jim couldn't miss the hint of smugness in that statement and felt a surge of pride. Stacey had come so far from that cowering woman-child of four years ago.

"You probably are," Blair said, his voice muffled by the blanket.

"Huh? Was that Blair? Hi, Blair!"

Tipping the phone down so Blair could have better access, Jim grinned when Blair said, "Morning, sweetie," and managed to sound almost exactly like Naomi. Well, maybe Naomi with a chest cold.

"Is that why you're calling, honey?" Jim asked, still tipping the phone far enough for Blair to hear clearly.

"No, no, I was going to tell you that this afternoon, but I couldn't wait to tell you, what happened, last night, and... and... oh, Jim, Blair, he ASKED! Todd really ASKED me to MARRY him!"

Jim blinked. It took a moment for his sleep-fuddled brain to process what she had actually said, but finally it hit with the force of a tsunami. "Todd?" Jim choked.

"Yes!" Stacey was basically squealing now, and Jim could hear her jumping up and down. "Last night, with a ring, and he, he... oh, I'm so... I just... aaahhh!"

Poking his head out from under the covers, Blair examined Jim's face, which had gone pale and shocky. Shaking his head, he plucked the phone from Jim's nerveless fingers. "Hey Squirt, that's great! What a fabulous surprise!"

"Blair? Oh, Blair, I'm so... I'm so... oh, Blair!" Through the phone line, Jim could hear the sniffles as Stacey was obviously overcome by emotion. Probably not for the first time that day.

Meanwhile, Jim was still trying to process what he had just heard. Stacey was engaged to be married. Stacey. His Stacey. Well, technically, not his. But still. Stacey was engaged to be married! Jim groaned, almost in pain, and closed his eyes.

"No, no, he's happy too, you know Jim when he goes dad," Blair was saying, laughing at Jim's reaction. "So tell me everything, Chiquita. What did he say, and where?"

With part of his mind, Jim listened in to the conversation that dealt with going down on one knee, and presenting a ring, and words of undying love, and -- this could not be happening...

"Stacey, are you sure?" Blair was saying. "That's awfully soon. It's hard to plan a wedding at all, but December's only five months away."

"But Blair, you know we get the long break in December, the winter section break, I was going to come home then, remember? And Todd's parents are in Michigan, and all his family, and his mom's simply the best, I just love her to pieces. She thinks it's a fine idea. And then we can have our honeymoon right after, during the rest of the break and both of us graduate this spring! Well, different degrees, but still... But... But..."

"But what, sweetie?" Blair asked softly, sharing a grin with Jim at her enthusiasm. Stacey was so much the grown-up now; it was nice to see the little girl come back.

"I want to get married in Brighton, that's where Todd's family is, but I'm not sure since..."

"You just remember one thing," Blair said firmly, and Jim snorted. Talk about going 'dad' on her! "This will be your day. Anywhere you want it is enough for us. You could have it on the moon -- you know we'll be there."

"Oh, Blair," Stacey said, sniffling again. "You sure? 'Cause, 'cause, well, I, um, I wanted you and Jim to like um, give me away...?"

Something hard inside Jim's heart just melted at that point, and he found himself fighting back emotion. Realizing Blair was absolutely speechless (an incredibly rare occurrence), Jim grabbed the phone back. "Oh, honey, are you sure?" he asked thickly.

"Uh-huh," Stacey replied softly. "I wouldn't even think about anybody else, Jim."

Blinking back the tears that were obviously caused by an allergic reaction, Jim gave Blair a reflexive hug. "Then we'd be honored," he said sincerely. "Absolutely thrilled. Stacey, I -- I can't believe..."

"I know," she said, some of the bounce coming back into her voice. "I'm getting married!"

Grabbing the phone back, Blair said, "Listen, Stacey, we need to talk with Todd's parents. Because we're going to pay for this... no, no, you listen to me, young lady..." Jim tuned him out, agreeing completely. They would pay for it. Well, at least some of it. Whatever Stacey would let them pay. And maybe a little more, if he could get away with it. Insurance money and inheritance be damned. And first thing Monday, he'd run another background check on Todd, this time including his family, and their church -- including the pastor -- and the entire city of Brighton, and maybe Michigan had a database of...

He was yanked back to the present by Blair smacking him in the chest. "Okay, so let's try to get a phone call together tomorrow afternoon then. Let's see, two o'clock here would be, what, five there?"

"Yeah, that's right," Stacey said, "and I'll call Todd and get it set up. You know, it might be easier to do this online, since Todd's mom and dad are divorced. But regardless, I'll email you, okay? With their phone numbers and everything."

"Okay, Squirt. We'll talk to you then." Blair waggled his eyebrows at Jim, who took the phone as indicated.

"Love you, Stacey," was all Jim could say, before exchanging goodbyes and hanging up. Suddenly thoroughly exhausted, Jim collapsed on his back, ignoring Blair's chuckles.

"You are such a wuss," Blair said, settling comfortably on his chest.

"Stacey's getting married," Jim said, still trying the words on for size.

"Uh-huh. How you feel about that, daddy-o?"

"Stacey's getting married."

"Jim, ah, man, I think you already said that."

"Stacey's getting married. Blair, Stacey's getting married!"

Dissolving into helpless laughter, Blair shook his head. "You are going to be a total basket case before this wedding, aren't you?" he said, getting his laughter under control, but still grinning.

"I wonder how many Harrisons there are in Brighton?" Jim asked, abruptly but gently pushing Blair off his chest and rising. "I'll get his address when Stacey emails us... or... Would the school give it to me if --"

"Oh, no, no no no...!" Blair said, snagging his Sentinel by one arm before he could descend the stairs. "You are NOT going to start running any background checks again! Todd was enough! You hear me, Ellison?"

"But Blair..."

"NO! En-Oh!" Squirming in his grip, Jim broke free and pelted down the stairs, aiming for the office and the laptop therein. "Ellison! ELLISON!" Blair yelled, leaping out of bed and following his lover.

Jim's face was flaming -- even though Blair had left out the more intimate portions of that memory -- but Blair and even Sullivan were chuckling. "Jim's been an absolute basket case over this," Blair confided to her. "Ever since Stacey came out this past August. Every time one of us would start talking about the wedding, Jim would just choke and change the subject."

"I did not," Jim protested weakly. "It's just... Stacey's always... You know. She's... and the whole wedding thing..."

"Jim, give it a rest," Blair laughed when Jim couldn't seem to finish a sentence. "You are totally, utterly whipped. And it's just adorable."

"Oh, shut up, Sandburg."

The snow got heavier the farther east they went, but the interstate road crews were out in force and were keeping up with it easily. Jim made good time, the Jeep had good traction, and the reminiscing was making the time fly -- Sullivan seemed to want to encourage it, and in fact, was making an effort to talk about Stacey rather than herself. Before he knew it, they were about an hour from Ann Arbor, and night -- coming early between the time of the year and the overcast -- had fallen. Blair was engrossed in the road atlas, using his penlight to figure out how much further they had to go.

"Jim, man, have you seen the sign for Climax yet?" he asked, distracted.

"Yeah, we passed it about five minutes ago," Jim replied. "Should have been going in the other direction, since we passed Nirvana about fifteen minutes ago."

"No shit? C'mon, you're joking." Jim chuckled and shook his head.

"We're going to need to stop at the next exit with services," he added. "I need gas and we should probably get something to eat. All right by you, Sullivan?"

"Yes, that's fine," she replied, rubbing her eyes. She appeared to have been dozing. "I'll need to call and... report, anyway," she added.

"You can use my cell phone," Blair offered automatically. "I'm getting good reception out here."

"No, no, that's all right, I, uh, need to stretch my legs anyway."

There were signs for services at the next exit, and Jim took it, turning left to a small row of fast food joints, a Stuckeys, and two truck stops. The snow had calmed down to little more than a slow fall of fat flakes, beautiful in the lights from the highway and the parking lots. Jim pulled the Cherokee into the Arby's parking lot, and Blair groaned.

"Now, don't give me grief here, Chief," he said, chuckling and expertly sliding into a parking space. "I don't think Michigan has Wonderburger and there's no way in hell I'm gonna eat at MacDeath. You can walk over to the Stuckey's and get peanut brittle if you want."

"Oh, all right," Blair groused, the grin on his face belying his words. "At least they've got a salad bar. I feel the need for something hot anyway. All this snow is giving me a complex."

Groaning, joints popping, the three of them climbed out of the car and stretched, then hurried inside to the warmth of the restaurant. There was a line of people at the registers, and Jim raised an eyebrow at it. Sullivan disappeared into the ladies' room. "You want to order for me while I go get gas?" he asked Blair.

"Sure, man," Blair said, studying the menu. By the time Jim had filled the tank on the Cherokee and come back to eat, Blair had gotten them food and was waiting at a table in the back of the crowded restaurant. Sullivan was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Sullivan?" Jim asked, sliding into his seat opposite Blair.

His mouth was full, so Blair used this chin to point to the row of pay phones. Sullivan, her large leather attache case -- the one she refused to let go of no matter what -- on a strap over her shoulder, was hunched over one of the phones. Swallowing, Blair said, "I don't know why she wouldn't use my cell phone. I watched her feed about six pounds of coins into that thing."

"Well, if she doesn't hurry up, she's not gonna eat anything," Jim decided, tearing into his large, gooey sandwich. "I want to get back on the road right away. Do you know how much it cost to fill that tank up? Remind me never to get a Jeep, okay?"

Now that he knew where she was, Jim absently focused his hearing on her, filtering out the cacophony of the restaurant automatically. One part of him marveled at his efficiency, while another part of him wondered why he was doing it.

"...I told you, I'll be there!" she was snarling into the phone. "I can't do anything about the weather or the damn airline." Jim frowned. It didn't sound like her temper around her superiors had improved any. "...No, it's a rental. I'll pick up the contract in Ann Arbor at the Alamo place, when Ellison drops it off, then drive to Ypsilanti." Now that he thought about it, why wouldn't she have gone through the feds in Chicago to get a vehicle? Why the song-and-dance about the rental car? "...You'll get it, all right? I'll be there before midnight. Just wait." With that she slammed the phone down, and Jim winced a bit at the noise.

"Jim? Jim!" Blair snapped his fingers under Jim's nose, calling him back to the table. "Where were you, man?"

"Just... uh, listening. Hey, did Sullivan tell you anything about why she needed to go to Detroit?" Jim asked, following the woman with his eyes as she approached the counter to order.

"Huh? No, nothing, but didn't you say she told the stewardess something about a meeting she had to be at?" Blair was nearly finished with his sandwich, and was picking at his salad.

"Yeah," Jim said, still frowning. "Weird." Picking up his napkin, he reached across the table and wiped a dab of horseradish sauce from Blair's chin.

Blair grinned at him. "Thanks, mom."

"Not your mom, little boy," Jim growled, deliberately giving Blair a look guaranteed to melt his brains. "And don't you forget it."

"Don't look at me like that, man," Blair laughed quietly. "Unless you want Sullivan to know way more about our relationship than is probably prudent."

Jim just grinned at him, playing footsie under cover of the table. "Easier telling her than it was telling Stacey," he said.

LATE AUGUST, THIS YEAR

For a change, Stacey's plane was bang on time -- 4:30 on the dot. Jim and Blair met her at gate 37, and Jim grinned to see her. This trip she wore old, faded jeans, comfortable-looking sandals, what looked like a white tank top and a blue cotton shirt over all. He vividly remembered her first trip back west and the pinch-toed high heels that had ended up in the trash bin before she went back to Portland.

He rescued her backpack as she rushed to hug Blair, then traded it for her, plucking her out of Blair's arms and twirling her around as he soundly bussed each cheek. She giggled and hugged his neck tightly, and he could feel her vibrating with happiness.

"Okay, let's see it," Blair growled, his face splitting in a huge smile. Jim hadn't a clue what he meant until Stacey held her left hand up, fingers extended. Ah, the ring.

And there it was, shining on her left ring finger, a large diamond deeply set into a silver band. Silver? Jim looked again and decided no, it was platinum. And the setting was rather old-fashioned... must be an heirloom, then. "It's... lovely," he choked out. Oh, God. It was really going to happen, then.

He didn't miss the look that passed between Stacey and Blair, but decided to ignore it. "Well, come on, let's get your things," he growled. "The sooner we get home the sooner we can get going tomorrow. Oh, and Rhonda wanted to know if you'd like to go out with her and Megan tonight, for dinner."

Falling in between the two men, Stacey grinned. "That sounds great! Unless you two had something planned..."

"Naw," Blair said, wrapping an arm around her neck as they strolled towards the baggage claim. "We thought you might like to go out with them tonight, and then we've got you for almost a week while we camp."

"Are we going to the same spot? I love that spot," Stacey enthused.

"Sure are, Squirt, and the trout are already trembling in fear," Blair replied.

The conversation safely on other topics, Jim let the presence of two of his favorite people just wash over him, settling him down into complacency. He let their conversation ebb and flow around him, contributing when he thought he should, while he grabbed Stacey's suitcase and herded them out to the truck. As long as there was no mention of the 'W' word, Jim was fine.

Rhonda and Megan showed up at the loft at quarter to six, not long after they had arrived home. Jim had a moment of panic when he took Stacey's suitcase into Blair's old room -- a room that was obviously no longer used nightly. He and Blair hadn't really discussed what to tell Stacey about their relationship -- Stacey hadn't been out the Christmas before, so they hadn't seen each other in almost a year, which was about how long it had been since Blair moved upstairs. And it was not something you mentioned as an aside in email.

Stacey hadn't seemed to notice any difference, though, and then Rhonda and Megan had shown up, ready to whisk her away. Jim made sure she still had her key, in the unlikely case he and Blair went out while she was gone, then collapsed on the sofa, pulling Blair down with him. "Moment of truth, man," Blair said, easily snuggling into his side. "The look on your face when you opened the French doors..."

"We're going to have to tell her, aren't we?"

"Yup." Blair sank back into Jim's embrace, sighing in pleasure. "Don't sweat it. I'll bet you ten dollars she either knows already or has guessed."

Jim reared back to look Blair in the eye. "You told her."

"I did not," Blair said, yanking Jim back down. "Nor have I even dropped hints. Do we have a bet or not?"

"Ten bucks. You're on."

"Hah. Easy money." Conversation then shifted to dinner, which turned out to be a Blair production while Jim went over the last minute checklist for camping. By ten-thirty, Stacey still wasn't home, and they were back on the sofa, watching some wretched Sci-Fi channel show and making rude comments about it. Rude comments gradually turned into lewd comments, which gradually turned into copping a feel under the guise of tickling, which ended up with them making out. Nothing unusual for the Sandburg-Ellison household... until the lock turned and the door opened.

Jim had been so caught up in Blair he hadn't heard Stacey's approach until the key in the lock alerted him. Prying his lips from Blair's -- to Blair's dismay -- Jim tried to sit, button and zip back up, a dangerous undertaking at that moment. "Jim?"

Peeking over the back of the sofa, Jim saw Stacey standing in the doorway, two large shopping bags and her key in her hand. "Ah..."

Blair managed to squirm his way out from under Jim and also popped up. "Hey, Squirt, have a good time?" he asked, casually fastening his jeans under the cover of the couch, seeming to be far too nonchalant for Jim's taste. Jim was positive his face was radiating in the infra-red.

"Yeah," she said, closing and locking the door behind her. "Uh, can I come around or should I wait a bit more?" she asked, an impish grin fighting to come through. Jim blushed harder.

Blair gave Jim a look -- a long look -- up and down, then said, "Yeah, I think we're decent. Are you decent, Jim?"

"Shut up, Sandburg," Jim growled, burying his head in the sofa cushion. Stacey laughed and, kicking off her sandals, walked into the loft proper. She came into the lounge area and plopped down on the chair opposite them with a sigh.

"Megan is such a power shopper," she said. "I don't know how she does it. I'm just not that much into the whole mall thing."

"She wear you out?" Blair asked with a chuckle.

"Uh-huh." After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, she added -- carefully not looking at them directly -- "So, uh, were you guys going to tell me or just let me figure it out on my own?"

"Hey, I figured Megan would have filled you in by now," Blair said, thwapping Jim on the shoulder to make him turn around. Jim took a deep breath and did so, meeting Stacey's eyes with rueful grin.

"Well, she kind of did, but all she would do was hint," Stacey replied, blushing herself. "I swear, she makes me feel like a kid again sometimes, the way she talks. And Rhonda just eggs her on." All three laughed, and after another brief pause, Stacey continued. "You weren't, like, embarrassed to tell me, were you?"

"No!" Jim said emphatically. "No, nothing like that," he added. "And we were going to tell you, tonight or tomorrow. It's just... well..."

"Look, I love you two guys," Stacey said softly, sincerely. "I have ever since Blair found me and brought me here -- brought me home. I think... well, I think I figured out a long time ago that you should be together, that you had, you know, feelings for each other. But, well, I don't know... I wasn't gonna say anything, and, you know, it's not really any of my business, I guess," she finished lamely, shrugging and looking at the floor.

Jim looked at Blair, who looked back with an expression Jim was sure mirrored his own. "Of course it's your business," Blair said. "It's your business for the same reason that you asked us to be in the wedding. For the same reason that Jim can't even contemplate the wedding -- or more precisely, your honeymoon."

"Stop that," Jim said, giving Blair a glare that just bounced off his grin. "It's your business because... well, it's because we're a family, right?" Jim added, then snorted. "Now, what kind of family..."

"The Simpsons," Blair said quickly, then yelped when Jim reached out and grabbed his side to tickle him.

"Jim can be Homer!" Stacey laughed, watching them with delight.

"Well, the hair fits but I am so not going to be Marge," Blair said raggedly, trying to keep Jim's fingers from his side without a lot of success.

"No, you're Bart, shorty," Jim said, then ooofed when Blair simply turned and pounced on him, driving him back against the arm of the sofa and holding his hands down with his body weight. "Yeah, a family all right," Jim wheezed, still laughing, "a weird, bizarre, dysfunctional..."

"New age..." Blair said, getting into the idea with a grin. "Unorthodox, unconventional..."

"Unique. Avant-garde," Stacey added, giggling.

"But a family, sure enough," Jim interrupted, glaring at both of them. "The best kind... the one we picked ourselves," Jim finished, feeling foolish but meaning every word.

"Well, you know what they say," Blair said, his voice carrying that airy, 'I'm being a smartass and I know it' tone, "you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's noseUMPH!" He yelped as his lover dumped him on the floor and the third member of his family cheerfully joined the fray, giggling uncontrollably.

"Hey, HEY!" Blair yelled from under the dog-pile. "You owe me ten bucks, Ellison!" he managed to get out between laughing and squirming to get away.

"So, tell me about this wedding," Sullivan said once they were back in the truck headed east. She had a cup of coffee on her lap and seemed more awake. Jim studied her with his senses; her heart-rate was up and she seemed nervous, but he couldn't figure out why. The conversation he had half-overheard back at the Arby's still bothered him, setting off his warning bells, but again, there was no real reason for it. Resolving to be on the alert, Jim let it simmer in the back of his mind.

"Well, Todd's from Brighton," Blair said, in the backseat again at his own request. "His parents are divorced but are still civil to each other, and he sees both of them."

"Todd goes to MIT," Jim volunteered, forgetting Blair had already said that. He liked Todd, despite the fact the young man had designs on Stacey. "They told us all they didn't want a fancy wedding, just something simple at Todd's church, a Unitarian Universalist. The wedding itself will only have, what, about two dozen people there, Sandburg?"

"Yeah," Blair replied. "And the reception will have only about a hundred, max. The Harrisons aren't wealthy, but they aren't hurting, and we went in with them on the cost of the reception. Stacey allowed that anyway."

"Stubborn girl," Jim said with fond exasperation. "We wanted to at least help pay for the wedding, but she wouldn't let us. Absolutely refused."

"Then, of course," Blair said, chuckling, "she went and put our names on the invitation! It's not like she had to worry, though, nothing except maybe an earthquake knocking Cascade into the bay would have kept us away."

"Sandburg, don't go buying trouble," Jim said, grinning in the mirror. Blair stuck his tongue out at him.

EARLY NOVEMBER, THIS YEAR

"Along with the breakdown of one of the 'dads'," Blair added, passing the thick, gray card back to Jim.

"I can't believe she put our names on the invitation," Jim said, trying to figure out if he was pleased or appalled or confused or all three. Then what Blair said clicked. "Hey! I will not," he said, and Blair snickered.

"She can put anyone and anything she wants on the card, Jim," he said, hanging his jacket up on the hook. "She's paying for it."

"Yeah, I know that, trust me," Jim replied sourly. "She could have at least let us pay for her gown. I wanted it to be a wedding present."

Blair shrugged as he headed into the kitchen. Jim put the invitation on the counter then added his own jacket to the rack. "Stacey's been on her own for a while now," Blair said, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and asking with his eyebrow if Jim wanted one. At Jim's nod, he pulled out a second. "She probably feels very independent, very used to being solitary. Reminds me of me, actually," he added pensively. Then, more decisively, he continued. "Make no mistake, it was hard on her, growing through her teenage years without a mother and father; so it's only natural that she looks to us as her family. The Simpsons," Blair finished, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Don't start that again," Jim warned him, opening his beer and trying hard not to chuckle. He reached out and gathered Blair into his arms gently, allowing him to lean back against his chest comfortably. They stood there for a moment, drinking their beers, cuddling at the end of the day, until Jim sighed. "I'm glad you found low fares out to Detroit for us. I know this'll be a better 'vacation' than our trip to Texas was, even if we can't go golfing. I just hope it doesn't snow."

Blair shrugged, sending ripples down Jim's body. "It's Michigan; it's winter. It snows. We'll deal."

"Mr. Fatalistic," Jim grinned and gently bit Blair's earlobe.

Humming happily, Blair tilted his head, inviting more attention. "It's not like I'll have to drive, Mr. of-course-I'm-the-best-driver," he said. "And don't start something you're not able to finish, man..." he finished gasping, as Jim gnawed his way gently down to his shoulder.

"Who said I wasn't?" Jim growled into Blair's ear. Blair froze for an instant then took off for the steps.

"Well, bring it on," he happily caroled, thundering upstairs. Jim wasted no time in following.

Even had they not known about Ann Arbor, it would have been apparent it was a college town from the moment they hit the outskirts. "GO BLUE!" read the ubiquitous signs -- on billboards, bumpers and in shop windows. There was something indefinable about a town ruled by a big university, something that made it feel like a small town while still being a big one.

"U of M has a good shot at the Rose Bowl this year, don't they?" Blair asked idly as yet another sign appeared.

"Good team," Jim grunted, negotiating the snowy streets carefully. It was thankfully late enough that any rush hour was long past, but that meant that the roads were less traveled and therefore more snow-covered. "Where's our turn?" Jim asked.

"Should be another half-mile or so," Blair replied. "Look for Dobson, it'll be on the right. We're right bang on time, Stacey and Todd should be pulling in within fifteen."

Finding the still-open Alamo rental place was fairly easy, and Jim yanked the paperwork out of the glove compartment after parking. There was -- as yet -- no sign of Todd or Stacey. "I'll go in and take care of the bill," Jim said, then turned to Sullivan. "Do you need help with your bag?"

"No, no, I've got it," she said. "I'd like to come in with you, I want to take over the contract on this car to get to my meeting."

"Okay." Jim left Blair to get their suitcase and garment bag out of the car, as well as checking it over for leftovers and trash, while he went inside with Sullivan. When he emerged, leaving Sullivan haggling with the clerk, a large old-fashioned station wagon was just pulling into the parking lot, and he saw Stacey's big smile from behind the glass of the passenger window. Another car pulled in immediately after them, parking on the other side of the building.

"Jim! Blair!" Stacey was out of the car the moment it stopped and hugging the two men. Todd climbed out of the driver's side -- waiting for a moment as yet another car entered the lot and parked -- and came around to shake their hands.

"You made good time," he said, hefting the big suitcase. "Let's get this in the car and we can head home. I'm sure you're tired of driving..."

He got no further. Jim's attention had been wrenched away from the three of them when he heard a very familiar, very scary noise -- the snick of a gun being cocked. From the one car that had entered just after Todd, three big men emerged, holding automatic weapons against their legs. From the second car, four other men appeared, also carrying weapons. And two more cars were pulling in, far too rapidly for weather conditions.

Sullivan walked out of the building and froze as she saw the first set, then dropped her bag and pulled a gun from her purse. Jim yelled "DOWN!", gathered up Blair, Stacey and Todd and pulled them to the rear of the big wagon just as all hell erupted.

There seemed to be three distinct groups involved, Jim noted from behind the protective cover of the large car. Sullivan, still clutching her shoulder-bag/briefcase, had ducked behind a pillar and was firing at the first car. The men from the second car were firing at the first car too, and at the other cars which had just pulled in. Behind Sullivan, the huge picture windows of the Alamo store shattered with a tremendous concussion, spraying glass everywhere. The sound of automatic gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air.

Jim had dug through the suitcase until he found his holstered gun, but he didn't fire, not wanting to draw attention to them. He absently noted Blair's calm recitation of the location and facts into his cell phone to the 911 operator, and in the distance, already heard sirens. Stacey had one hand over her ear, and the other ear was buried in Todd's coat. Todd was wide-eyed and his mouth gaped open as he held her close.

The sirens were getting closer, and one of the cars -- the last to pull in -- slammed into reverse in an attempt to flee. Taking careful aim from around the corner of the wagon, Jim shot out two tires in quick succession, causing the vehicle to spin and flip onto its side, blocking the driveway. A good dozen police cars -- city, county and university -- pulled up then, blocking every exit, officers boiling out of them and shouting for surrender. One of the men from the first car leapt up and ran for the building, firing his semi-automatic at both the police and the second car as he went. Before Jim could do anything, a sharpshooter from the police got him, and he dropped like a stone.

That seemed to be the end of it. Miraculously, in all the cross-fire, neither they nor the car was hurt in any way.

Stacey gulped and lowered her hand from her ear. "Is it over?" she whispered.

Blair gave her a hug. "It looks like it, Sweetie," he said. "Jim?"

"Everyone okay?" Jim asked, pulling his shield out of his pocket before rising, holding it up and over his head. At their affirmatives, he added, "Stay down until we're identified. Don't make any sudden moves." More police were arriving, and three were jogging towards him, their weapons drawn.

It was amazing, Blair thought, how much cops were alike just about everywhere. Within ten minutes, Jim was on a first-name basis with about half the officers on the site. He had been offered coffee and travel advice; the captain on the scene had offered him a job. His report to them was succinct, and it was pretty obvious that neither he nor Blair had much to contribute to the story.

Sullivan's shoulder case turned out to be holding about half a million dollars in large bills. And, as it turned out, Sullivan was no longer Agent Sullivan. She had indeed been sacked after Stacey's case was concluded, and apparently had gone into business for herself, couriering money across country for arms dealers, drug dealers, or whoever wanted to hire her.

In this case, it was drug dealers, and rival gangs apparently wanted a piece of the action. Or something like that. Blair was beginning to wear down after all the travel and adrenaline, and found himself not really caring what the whole story was. As long as Sullivan was handcuffed, the bad guys were handcuffed, and he had a warm place to sit, he was happy.

That warm spot was in a diner across the street, where he, Stacey and Todd waited for Jim to finish up so they could leave. The patrons and employees of the diner were flabbergasted by the entire shoot-out, and pumped the three of them for the story or shamelessly listened in while they gave their statements to various police officers. Finally, at just before ten o'clock -- about an hour after they had arrived -- Jim breezed in, shaking snow and slush from his coat and boots. "Ready, Chief? Stacey, Todd? They're done with us now, so we can take off."

"Excellent," Blair muttered, waving to the waitress who had served them. "I am so ready for a warm bed and a good night's sleep."

"You and me both, Sandburg," Jim replied, giving him a surreptitious pinch to the butt. Blair mock glared at him, but leaned into his side briefly. "Todd," Jim continued, ushering them back to the Alamo lot, "I had to give the captain your phone number, in case they need further information. It's pretty doubtful, though."

"That's okay, Jim," Todd said. He had been curiously silent for most of the evening, and Blair was worried he was in shock. His next statement disproved that, though. "Do you think we'll have to testify or anything? That would be so cool. This whole thing... I'm just in awe. I feel like I'm in a movie! Does this kind of stuff happen to you guys a lot? You know, shoot-outs, drug running... how utterly excellent!"

Jim looked at Blair in horror, then rubbed his forehead as if it pained him. "Let's... let's just get home, okay, Todd? We can talk about it more in the morning."

"Oh, sure. Come on, you guys must be exhausted."

To Blair's surprise, Jim turned down the shotgun seat and instead opted to join Blair in the backseat. After buckling up, Jim scooted over as far to the middle as he could, pulling Blair to him with an arm over his shoulder. As the vehicle was old enough to not have shoulder harnesses in the backseat, Blair managed to snuggle quite nicely.

"I can't take you anywhere, Ellison," he said, his head dropping wearily onto Jim's shoulder.

"What'd I do?" Jim asked plaintively. "It wasn't my fault, I did warn you about Sullivan..."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair replied, yawning hugely. The busy day was finally catching up with him. "Trouble follows you like a magnet," he added.

"Oh, just me, huh?" Jim said, squeezing his shoulder. Blair meant to make a smartass reply, but the next thing he knew, the car was stopping and Jim was shaking him gently. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," he heard.

"Huh?" Blair tried to lift himself off Jim's shoulder and winced at the crick his neck had suddenly developed. "Wha--? Are we there?"

Jim reached up and rubbed the back of his neck gently. "You went out like a light, Junior," he said. "We're at Pat's house. Come on, it's late, I want to get this party horizontal."

"Such an animal," Blair muttered, grinning as he yawned, stretched and climbed out of the car.

It was even colder in Brighton, but the sky was beginning to clear and the stars were brilliant. Patricia Harrison, Todd's mother, met them at the door to her house, a modest ranch-style house probably fifteen to twenty years old. They went in, grateful to get out of the cold, and shucked boots and coats at the door.

"Jim, Blair, so nice to meet you in person, finally," Pat said. She was a tall woman with graying, sandy-blonde hair who looked to be about ten years older than Jim. She shook their hands, smiling warmly. "Your room is all set up. Todd and RJ are at their Dad's house, and Stacey will be here with you."

"Are you sure we're not putting you out..." Blair began, but she smiled wider and shook her head adamantly.

"Absolutely not. You're family now, as much as this little girl is." She gave Stacey a hug. "Todd, you'd best get over to your dad's place, it's getting late. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'm off, Mom," he said, kissing her cheek, then giving his intended a much better kiss. "I'll be over for breakfast. See you in the morning!"

Stacey was sleeping in the room that once belonged to Todd and his brother, Richard James -- RJ -- and Jim and Blair had their older sister's room -- a guest room now that she had family of her own. Blair eyed the queen-size bed appreciatively while Jim put their garment bag in the closet. Pat bid them goodnight from the door of the room, after showing them the amenities. "It sounds like you had a rather exciting night," she said dryly. Todd had called her from the road and briefly sketched in the details. "We can talk in the morning. Why don't you hit the hay? You look to be asleep on your feet."

"Thanks, Pat," Jim said, giving her a tired smile. "You're right. And this lump slept most of the way up from Ann Arbor."

For once, Blair didn't feel like refuting the gentle teasing, and instead just smiled sheepishly.

Even having to unpack to find things, they were ready for bed in record time. The bed had a thick quilt under the duvet, and Blair sighed with pleasure as he snuggled up to Jim, who obligingly wrapped his arms and legs around his ever-chilly lover. "We made it," he mumbled.

"Yeah. And in time for the rehearsal, too," Jim replied, nuzzling his hair.

The next day was busy. Jim woke early to brilliant sunshine on the snow, and the smells of frying bacon and perking coffee. Leaving Blair to sleep on, he wrapped himself in his robe and padded to the bathroom, then followed the smells to the kitchen.

Todd was already there, chatting with his mom, who was wrapped in her own robe and cooking breakfast. They turned when he walked into the room.

"Morning, Jim," Pat said, smiling. "Coffee?"

"I'd love some, but I'll get it. Just point me to the right cabinet," Jim replied, and pulled a mug from the one she indicated. "Morning, Todd."

"Good morning," Todd replied. "I've just been telling Mom all about what happened last night."

Wincing internally, Jim poured himself a cup of coffee, fixed it the way he liked it, and sat at the table with Todd. "Um, sorry about that," he said.

"It sounds very -- um, interesting," Pat said, her voice bland, her back to the rest of the room. "Todd, why don't you go get Stacey up? We can eat breakfast in about twenty."

"Okay, Mom," Todd said, leaving the room.

Pat walked over to the coffee pot and refreshed her cup, then turned to Jim, leaning on the counter. Her face was an interesting study. "Jim, please tell me this sort of thing isn't an everyday occurrence for you. Because I can tell you right now... my heart won't take the strain."

Jim smiled weakly into his coffee, purposefully not answering; he'd better not tell her he'd brought his gun, he decided.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Jim. The rehearsal was at two at the church, a pleasant place -- all soaring ceilings and skylights. The sun was shining brightly and it was bitterly cold, a condition that looked to continue for the wedding day. There was only one minor glitch; Todd's great-aunt Carrie (who had the unfortunate tendency to call her niece Patsy) insisted on a receiving line at the end of the wedding, something Todd and Stacey were adamantly against. The stress of the day and the argument had Stacey close to tears; Jim finally took her aside and gave her a hug, giving her his handkerchief.

"I'm sorry," Stacey whispered, shaking with the effort to hold back tears. "I feel so stupid."

"Hey, none of that," Jim said, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. "Didn't you know it's a tradition that the bride break down in tears at least once before the wedding?"

Stacey snurfled and smiled tremulously. "It is?"

"Uh-huh. Don't worry about it, honey. Everything will be fine."

"I'm so glad you and Blair are here, Jim," Stacey said, hugging him tightly. Then it was Jim's turn to hold back tears. He just hoped he would be able to get through the next day.

Eventually, Pat and Ed, Todd's father -- with Blair playing his usual peacekeeping force -- managed to get a compromise with Aunt Carrie. There would be a receiving line, but only the bride and groom, his parents, and Jim and Blair would be in it. And it would be at the church, not the reception hall -- just inside the vestibule in deference to the weather -- so that Stacey and Todd would be able to enjoy themselves and not have to stand forever. Aunt Carrie was slightly mollified, but was still showing her displeasure.

"And here I thought she'd object to the two of us," Blair muttered to Jim, while the minister was working out the logistics of the ceremony with Todd and Stacey.

"Naw," Jim whispered back, watching the two young people fondly. "Stacey having 'two fathers' doesn't bother her, as long as we obey the proper etiquette."

"Makes me want to spike the punch or dance on the tables, man," Blair said, barely containing his mirth.

"You might want to clear that with Stace first," Jim replied, grinning at Blair.

"Well, I do intend to have at least one dance with you, you know," Blair whispered, and Jim blinked.

"You do?"

A slightly feral grin was his only reply.

The weather held, and the wedding day dawned clear and cold. The snow had been cleared from the roads, and where it was unbroken on the ground, it had a hard, shiny glaze to it. Kathleen Phillips, Todd's older sister, was over by noon, and she, Todd's mother, and Stacey's best friend Amy -- who had flown out from Portland the week before -- sequestered themselves in the basement rec room, primping. Jim and Blair spent most of the day at Ed Harrison's apartment, watching football with the Harrison men. By four, they were back at Pat's house, getting ready to be at the church by five.

To Jim's amusement, it was Blair that seemed to suddenly develop a case of the jitters, while Jim, for some reason, remained calm and collected. Blair couldn't tie his tie, he broke one of his studs, and he lost the base to one of his cufflinks. Regardless, they were fully dressed and ready to go when Pat came upstairs, and she blinked at them, her eyes widening in appreciation.

"Whoa. You, um, you guys clean up nice," she said, swallowing and chuckling.

A clatter on the stairs announced Amy, Kathleen and Stacey, all of whom smiled appreciatively at the two men. Stacey picked up the two white rose boutonnieres from the kitchen table and fastened one on Jim, the other on Blair. "You two look absolutely scrumptious," she said, her voice calm and steady. But Jim could hear her heart, and it was beating like a trapped bird's.

"You look beautiful, honey," he said sincerely, kissing her cheek lightly. And she did; her gown was simple, just barely floor-length and ivory colored, with an overlay of antique lace at the throat, cuffs, waist and hem. Her hair was falling down her back in soft waves, but was pulled away from her face with pretty blue hairpins, threaded with baby's breath. She was a vision.

Kathleen and Amy, the matron and maid of honor respectively, were wearing simple dark blue gowns, mid-calf length, and were flushed and happy-looking. Pat was wearing a flowing pantsuit in a rich chocolate brown, and had her own corsage pinned to the lapel of her vest. "Are we ready?" she asked, looking around.

Stacey swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay," Pat continued. "Here's the plan. Kathleen will take Amy and Stacey, I'll take these two gorgeous guys -- boy, I hope Susie sees me with you two! -- and we'll meet at the church. The flowers are already there. Let's get this show on the road!"

Blair jiggled all the way to the church, his heart trip-hammering. Jim kept shooting him glances from the front seat as he chatted with Pat -- he still felt unaccountably calm and serene, as if all the stress and nervousness had been bled out of him before the wedding and now all he had to do was take a walk. When they walked into the controlled chaos of the church, Jim hung up both of their coats and steered Blair to the office, where they would wait with Stacey and the bridesmaids for the music to start. Blair stared at Stacey and kept blinking, and his breath coming in hitches.

Jim stood behind him and leaned into his shoulder. "You all right, Chief?" he asked, unable to keep a bit of amusement out of his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Blair replied, then sniffed. "I -- I just can't keep from thinking about her in a ragged hospital gown, clutching my Haida doll, you know?"

"Yeah. I remember." Jim felt a band tighten around his own chest as he looked at the girl who had become so very important in their lives. Neither of them had any burning need to be a full-time parent, to raise a child. But with Stacey, as with Jesse and Daryl and so many other young people, their lives had been -- were continuously being -- enriched.

The music started. Amy and Kathleen gave Stacey one last, brief hug, then gathered their flowers and preceded them out of the office, down the hall. Stacey took Jim's right arm and Blair's left, and was slowly escorted into the sanctuary, as the wedding guests stood.

Todd waited at the altar, his mother and father flanking him, his two groomsmen -- his brother and college roommate -- behind him. But he had eyes only for his bride-to-be, who suddenly stiffened and pulled her arm from Jim's. He gave her a quick, startled look, but her face was still calm. Then she pressed something into his hand -- her engagement ring. Oops, she had forgotten to remove it. He smiled at her reassuringly as he surreptitiously tucked it into his pocket.

Then they were there. The minister -- a middle-aged man with deep laugh lines around his mouth and eyes -- greeted them with a smile and launched into the ceremony as the music drifted to an end.

"We have come together today to witness a sacred rite, that of marriage," he began. "Marriage is an ancient institution which has changed many, many times over the ages, but today, we celebrate it with a melding of traditions, appropriate for this place, and for this time.

"The bride's heritage is Jewish, so among other customs we involve her parents as well as the groom's parents to present the couple to you. The groom's heritage is British, and so we invoke certain Christian rituals as well, melding them together much as we hope this couple will meld for all time.

"Who presents this young man to be wed?" the minister then asked.

"We do," Pat and Ed replied, Ed's voice cracking slightly, Pat's thick with tears.

"Who presents this young woman to be wed?" he continued.

"We do," Jim and Blair replied, equally overcome with emotion.

"Then I discharge you of your obligation, and ask that you lay down your guardianship at this time, so that these two people may join in matrimony."

Briefly hugging Stacey, Jim and Blair turned and took their assigned seats in the front row. Blair took Jim's hand the moment they sat, and held tightly as they watched. The ceremony wasn't long, but it was lovely. The minister had the couple drink from two goblets on the altar -- one filled with dark red wine and the other with pale golden wine -- symbolizing the bitter and the sweet of marriage. Both Todd and Stacey had chosen readings, and it didn't surprise anyone that Stacey's was from the Book of Ruth. As the minister read, "Whither thou goest..." Jim turned to Blair, feeling the words right down into his soul. Blair looked back, then leaned forward to touch his forehead to Jim's.

Todd's reading was from Bertrand Russell, of all people, and out of the corner of his eye Jim caught Pat smiling through her tears. Then they lit one fat candle from two long tapers, and the minister gave the benediction as the music -- Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring, from the Shaker hymn -- began.

"What has started as two, now becomes one, as I pronounce you husband and wife. May your life together be filled with joy, laughter and friendship, and may you live in harmony and peace for the rest of your days." Smiling widely, the minister finished by saying, "You can go ahead and kiss her now, Todd."

And Todd did, wrapping his arms around Stacey and planting one on her that had the crowd -- which was standing and applauding -- also chuckling. Wiping suspicious moisture from his cheeks, Jim stood with the rest and clapped, then followed behind Pat and Ed down the aisle to the front of the church, Blair's hand still held firmly in his.

It took a little while for Jim to catch up with the bride at the hall where the reception was, but eventually, he did so. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the antique engagement ring and handed it to her. Sheepishly, she slid it on to her finger over her wedding ring. "Thanks, Jim," she said, hugging him. "I can't believe I forgot to take it off."

"I won't tell if you don't," Jim quipped, hugging her back. Todd and Blair joined them, Todd handing his new wife a cup of punch, and Jim taking the beer bottle from Blair and draining half.

"Hey, watch it Ellison," Blair said, laughing as he snatched the bottle back. "Go get your own."

"The honeymoon must be over," Jim said dolefully, wrapping one arm around Blair's neck. "He won't wait on me hand and foot any more."

"You moron," Blair said, ruining the headlock by winding his arm around Jim's middle. "That was an absolutely beautiful ceremony, guys," he added, to Stacey and Todd, who were also arm-in-arm.

"Thanks," Stacey beamed.

"It helped that the minister is pretty open-minded and knew a lot about various ceremonies," Todd added.

"But you wouldn't break the glass, honey," Stacey said, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Not gonna go there, Stace," he replied, blushing.

As Pat and Ed joined them, Stacey laughed. "Hey, what I want to know is, when are you two going to tie the knot?" she said, indicating Blair and Jim. "I mean, you've only been shacking up for what, four or five years?"

"You have had too much champagne," Jim said firmly, lifting her punch glass from her hand.

"Have not," she replied, giggling. "It's a legitimate question -- it just took you two like forEVER to figure out why you were living together! I mean, I know you can't get married like us, even though that sucks..."

"It certainly does," Pat agreed.

"But haven't you ever thought about having a commitment ceremony or anything?" Todd asked. The band was starting to tune up, and he had to raise his voice.

Jim looked at Blair. Blair looked at Jim. Both frowned slightly, blinking in thought. Then, as one, they turned back to the four people facing them. "Naaaah..." they chorused, and everyone laughed.

Later that evening, after dinner, and toasts, and the bouquet toss, and the garter toss (which Jim refused to let Blair participate in), and dancing and drinking and a lot of laughter, Blair pulled Jim from his comfortable seat in the shadows. "C'mon, man, one last dance. I'll let you lead this time."

The band was playing a slow, bluesy tune that Jim almost recognized as he let himself be pulled to the half-filled floor. No one had so much as raised an eyebrow at the two of them that evening, and Jim was glad. He feared for the life of anyone who pissed off Stacey this night, and saying something about their relationship was a sure-fire way to do it. Wrapping Blair in his arms, he swayed in time to the music, enjoying the smell of his lover's hair, the feel of him in his arms, and the freedom to do both in public without censure.

"This has been a wonderful evening, hasn't it," he said softly.

"Yeah." Blair sighed with happiness, then looked up. "I love you," he said.

Jim felt his face might split with the smile on it as he replied, "I love you too." After a moment, he added, "You know, what Stacey and Todd said, about a commitment ceremony..."

Blair chuckled and shook his head. "What the hell do we need with a ceremony, Ellison?" he asked. "We're already committed to each other. Face it, man, you're mine."

Contemplating that, Jim nodded slightly, looking across the floor at Todd and Stacey, dancing together. "Yeah, I guess I am at that."

"And don't you forget it," Blair added, then put his head back on Jim's shoulder and squeezed his hand. "And I'm yours," he finished, so softly that none but a Sentinel could hear it.

And his Sentinel did, indeed hear it. And his Sentinel smiled.

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Author's E-mail: thamill@cox.rr.com
Author's Webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~foxsden