The whispered words had no sooner slipped out into the late night shadows of the loft than Jim realized something had changed in the sounds around him. Blair's sleeping heartbeat was no longer a sleeping heartbeat, and it was... closer. He hit the stop button quickly, and then turned off the television. Finally, he mustered the courage to turn around. How do you explain to someone that the worst moment of his life was the most precious moment of yours?

"Can't sleep?" Jim asked hopefully, clinging to the possibility that Blair hadn't heard the hushed words, and hadn't seen the image on the screen.

"Seems weird to see it on the screen, on tape," Blair said, moving toward the couch and sitting next to Jim. It was cool in the loft, and since he was dressed in a thick sweater accordingly, Jim realized that Blair's tank shirt and boxers wouldn't be a match for the temperature too long. He leaned forward and pulled the throw off the back of the couch and handed it to Blair, who just smiled a little and covered up with it, pulling his stocking feet off the floor, up to the relative warmth of the cushions. "Where'd you get that?"

"Don Haas, over at the network -- he dubbed me a copy," Jim admitted. He watched as Blair nodded, his eyes fixed on the dark screen where the press conference had played moments ago.

"Why..." Blair frowned, shaking his head a little. "Why would you want to watch that again?"

"I didn't mean for you to see it. I'm sorry about that."

"That didn't answer my question," Blair persisted. He finally shifted positions so he was facing Jim's profile, which remained still. "Maybe you can answer this one for me," Blair said, his tone gentle. "Did you mean what you said?"

Feeling the eyes boring twin holes in the side of his face, Jim finally turned, and looked down into the face of the man he'd been watching on the screen. Captivated by a two-dimensional image of Blair, he'd professed his love. Now, here was the real thing -- living, breathing, a little rumpled and bleary-eyed -- looking up into his eyes and asking for the words. Words he'd given freely to a videotaped image.

"Yeah, I meant it," he said, nodding slightly.

"Why...?" Blair gestured toward the TV again.

"What it meant, I guess. What you were really saying."

"You don't need a tape for that, Jim." Blair smiled a little, and Jim shifted positions to sit sideways and face him. Blair's hand rested over Jim's heart. "I love you."

"Then..." Jim enclosed the hand in his own, still holding it against his chest. "Why are you looking for another apartment?" Blair's expression froze momentarily, then he shrugged.

"I thought it was the right thing to do."

"And the jobs? You're job hunting too?"

"I need to pay the bills, Jim."

Jim released Blair's hand and stood up, walking over to the balcony windows.

"That's not a problem as long as you're here. I didn't think I had to spell that out."

"You don't. But I'm not a free-loader, man. The academy isn't going to cover my monthly bills, and even if it did..." Blair's swallow was almost audible from where Jim was standing, even without Sentinel hearing. He turned to look at the other man sitting there on the couch. Suddenly, Blair looked very tired... weary.

"What if money wasn't the problem?"

"It is a problem. It's not that I don't appreciate that you're here for me and that you're willing to help me out. I just... I'm used to pulling my own weight."

"I was going to wait and let Simon tell you officially, but there's no point in you losing sleep over it."

"Tell me what?" Blair frowned, confused.

"Simon did a little finagling with the brass, and with a little paperwork, you can start getting paid for your work as a consultant to the department -- at least until the academy starts up. I know it's not going to make you rich, but it might at least pay some bills. You just have to keep track of your hours, mileage, expenses -- things like that."

"Simon did that for me? I mean, I know I asked him about a job before, but that was before all this... mess. That was really... that was really great of him to do that." Blair seemed moved, but not relieved in the way Jim had hoped. He thought learning of the job would make things easier, maybe lift a little of the stress Blair seemed to be feeling. Instead, he looked more perplexed than before.

"It's not the money that's an issue with the academy, is it?" Jim prodded.

"I'm not sure, okay?" Blair got up himself now and started pacing, leaving the throw on the couch. It wasn't long before he started rubbing at his arms, almost unconsciously. "Jim, I... I don't know if I want to go through with it." Blair had forced the words out, and they had sounded fairly assertive, though his fingernails were biting into the arms on which his hands rested.

"What's wrong, Chief? Is it the gun thing?"

"Well, yeah, you know, I've never liked guns much," Blair answered, a bit too quickly, sitting on the arm of the couch, still not looking toward Jim to meet his gaze.

"Easy with the claws there, tiger," Jim said with affectionate chiding as he took a hold of one set of fingers and pried them away from the skin they were close to gouging. "You want to try the truth this time?"

"My being your partner is never going to work out," Blair said quietly, pulling his hand away and letting them both rest on his knees. "Doesn't matter if I'm a consultant or a cop. It just won't work now."

"It's worked for the last three years -- why wouldn't it work now?"

"It just... won't, okay?"

"Sandburg, that's almost as lame as 'because' as explanations go."

"I came by the station the other day."

"When? We were there today, but--"

"When Henri was chauffeuring you around, I stopped in to the station. Trust me, Jim. I know when I'm not welcome someplace, and I am not welcome around there."

"You're losin' me here. Simon, Joel, Henri -- they're as much your friends as they are mine."

"Yeah, and I'm really grateful for that. But you know what? Out of a whole police department, they're only one small handful of people. You didn't see the looks, hear the remarks... I felt like a fucking serial killer who got out on a technicality."

"Who hassled you?"

"Oh, that's good, Jim. What're you gonna do? Go take on every other guy on the force who makes a shitty remark? You can't do that, and neither one of us can do a decent job if we're spending all our time dealing with stuff like this."

"So that's it? You want to get a different job and move out because some people said some things or looked at you funny?"

"That's your world. And when all is said and done, it still is. I was only ever a tag-along in their eyes, and now I'm a fraud and a liar. Do you know how long your life is going to be worth anything with me for a partner? Not long, my friend, not long." Blair got up and moved past Jim, pacing again. "I want you to have some peace, Jim. That's what the whole press conference was about -- letting you have your life back, letting you have some peace to enjoy that life and do your job the way you're meant to do it. This isn't a martyr trip or a 'Felix Unger' act, or anything else -- it's just a statement of fact -- your life is going to be a hell of a lot easier without me in it this closely. We can still be friends, but you'll be able to do your job without the human stigma following you around."

"That's the biggest crock of shit I've heard you shovel yet, Chief. We worked this case like we've always worked them, and having you there helped me do my job better. Why do you think that a few rude people are going to change that?"

"I'm not officially your partner, Jim. When I am --"

"You are, damn it." Jim moved forward and grabbed Blair by the arms. "You never stopped being my partner, and I don't care what some asshole says to you at the station, or what some piece of paper about your ride-along status says."

"Your loyalty is probably one of the things I love most about you. The way you stick by me," Blair said, smiling. "Which is why I have to be the one to let go of you, because you're never going to let go of me, even if holding onto me is professional suicide."

"Letting you go is personal suicide, and I don't have a death wish." Jim held Blair's gaze for a long moment, and suddenly it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lower his head, to see Blair raising his just a bit, until lips met.

It was hesitant at first; close-mouthed, gentle and cautious. Then the lips beneath Jim's parted, and his tongue found its way between them, finding its mate. He finally relinquished his grip on Blair's arms and pulled him into a close embrace instead, deepening the kiss. He felt strong arms go around him, a warm, eager body pressing against him. He slid his hands into the tousled curls and held Blair there, prolonging the kiss until he could no longer breathe and had to step back, releasing his hold on the hostage hair.

"Um, Jim, unless the PD has some really different initiation rituals than I know about, we're talking about a different kind of partnership here," Blair said, his voice a little unsteady.

"I guess we are," Jim responded, his voice coming out almost raspy.

"I didn't know you... I mean," Blair swallowed. "How long have you...you know, thought about us... getting together?"

"Does that idea freak you out?" Jim asked quietly, one hand still in Blair's hair, the thumb stroking his cheek.

"I kissed back didn't I?" Blair asked, grinning. Jim laughed a little at that. "You're still avoiding my question, man."

"A while. Quite a while. I'm not sure exactly how long." Jim paused. "I know you're not gay because you're not that good an actor," Jim said, and Blair chuckled a little. "Have you ever been with a man before?"

"No," he admitted, looking back up into Jim's eyes.

"Why me?"

"I never felt about anybody the way I feel about you. And you kissing me kind of moved things along, too," he said, smiling again.

"You never said anything. I didn't keep it any secret that I was bi --"

"But you kept it a secret that you wanted me. There's a big difference."

"Yeah, I guess I did that, didn't I?" Jim rested his hands on Blair's shoulders, then frowned. "Did I do that, too?" He took a hold of Blair's right upper arm, checking out the yellowed bruise there. "No, it's too old. Like it might have happened a few days ago." Jim looked back up to catch Blair's eyes.

"No big deal. Somebody grabbed my arm because I ran into him in the hall."

"Hard enough to leave bruises? Who was it?"

"Let it go, Jim. This is just what I'm talking about."

"I'm supposed to let you just walk away after what just happened between us?"

"Look, maybe we could still... see each other. You know, without being partners. It would make it easier for you --"

"Like hell it would make it easier for me. You're not skipping out on me, Sandburg. Not now. Not because of a few narrow-minded jerks at the station. You're not a fraud or a phony. You've got no reason to slink around ashamed."

"I'm not slinking around. I'm trying to give you your life back, Jim. And I'm trying to put mine together -- I don't know how long I can go to work every day and feel like the station pariah."

"I'm sorry you had a bad time of it when you came to the station, but I'm not letting you quit on me, and I'm not letting you walk out that door. That's final."

"What if I can't cut it with the academy?"

"I know you can cut it. Do you want to cut it?"

"No," Blair said in almost a whisper, looking down now, avoiding Jim's eyes.

"So part of this is about not wanting to be a cop."

"Yeah, part of it." Blair sat on the couch again, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I'd do it if I honestly thought it would work out, but I think you're going to live to regret having me for a partner. You'll be swimming upstream all the time, fighting people's attitudes."

"This was big news around here for a while, but it'll die down in time, Chief." Jim sat on the arm of the couch and ran his hand lightly back and forth over Blair's upper back. "It'll be okay. People will get past it, and life'll go on." Jim paused. "Or are we talking about more than our police partnership now?"

"Maybe both. How long do you think you're going to have a comfortable life when your buddies start finding out you're not only partnered with a fraud, but you're shakin' the sheets with him in your off hours?"

"You're assuming I give a rat's ass about what they think."

"That's easy to say when there's no problem, but --"

"Blair." Jim moved off the arm of the couch and knelt in front of his partner, urging Blair's legs apart until they were almost nose to nose. "Shut up." Jim slid his hands into Blair's hair again, leaning forward and capturing his mouth, putting all the conviction he felt about the rightness of their partnership -- professional or personal -- into the hungry movements of his mouth on Blair's.

He moved up, pulling Blair with him and then pushing back into the cushions of the couch, covering Blair's body with his, never breaking the kiss. He relished the spicy-sweet taste of Blair's mouth, the softness of his lips, the prickle of stubble on stubble, and the odd combination of strength and softness in the body beneath his.

"Love you," Blair sighed against Jim's mouth as the kiss finally broke apart. "Are you sure?" Blair whispered, his eyes searching Jim's with something that bordered on desperation -- the desperation of wanting something so badly and yet fearing believing in it even when it's finally offered.

"That's my line, Chief."

"Yeah, I guess this isn't new to you."

"It's new, Blair," Jim said in a voice little above a whisper, his forehead pressed against Blair's. "I never loved anybody as much as I love you. So I'm sure," Jim responded, smiling readily, the response easy -- the desire to dispel the fear in those sincere blue eyes, overpowering.

"I'm sure too -- I'm just not real sure what to do about it," Blair admitted, laughing softly.

"We don't have to do anything tonight, not this soon."

"I hate to break this to you, Jim, but I think we do." Blair made a slight undulation against Jim, his rapidly hardening cock introducing itself to Jim's.

"I guess I don't have to worry that you're not gonna get turned on with me, huh?" Jim asked, grinning and stroking back through Blair's hair.

"Your leg okay?" His brow wrinkled a little in concern.

"My leg's fine, Chief." Jim kissed the spot where Blair's eyebrows had drawn together a bit in worry.

"Your place or mine?"

"Mine's bigger."

"You better be talking about your bed, Ellison."

"Whatever," Jim responded, shrugging and then laughing as Blair rolled his eyes. "Only way to prove me wrong is to let me see for myself."

"Your place," Blair decided, nodding.

Jim rose a little awkwardly, belatedly realizing that his leg really wasn't enraptured with all the activity. Blair made a delightful substitute for the cane as he slid his arm around Jim's waist and Jim draped his arm over Blair's shoulders. They made their way slowly upstairs.

"You've got at least two layers on me," Blair teased, smiling and tugging at the bottom of Jim's sweater. He obligingly raised his arms and Blair pulled the garment up and off, tossing it aside. Jim pulled the t-shirt beneath it, over his head and tossed it in the general direction of the sweater. Blair was eyeing him with open lust now, and Jim reached over and grasped the hem of the tank shirt Blair wore, disposing of it in much the same manner, adding it to their growing pile of clothes.

Blair moved forward and ran his hands lightly over the planes of Jim's chest, a sort of reverence about his movements. Then he leaned forward and began kissing a trail down the center, following the contours of skin and muscle until he reached a small nipple. Jim gasped at the electric jolt of pleasure he felt as Blair's mouth fastened on the little nub, sucking and licking at it as his hands moved down to unbuckle Jim's belt and unzip his pants.

He grabbed onto Blair's hair with both hands, holding him there, totally unconcerned with how he must look there, pants around his ankles now, head thrown back in pleasure. Blair moved off the first nipple, asserting his decision to move despite the grip of the hands in his curls, licking his way to the neglected nipple, sucking it into his mouth as Jim struggled out of his shoes and finally stepped out of them, leaving pants and shoes in a pile near the bed.

Encouraging Blair away from his chest, Jim pulled him up for another kiss. They moved carefully back toward the bed, still mindful of Jim's leg, and ended up losing their balance and falling on the mattress.

"You okay?" Blair checked worriedly, but Jim's ready smile answered him quickly.

"I'm great."

Running his hands down Blair's back, he slid them under the waistband of his partner's boxers and hooking it with his thumbs, pushed the underwear out of the way as he caressed the firm mounds there. Blair moaned into their kiss and wriggled out of them, his own hands going for Jim's underwear.

Breaking the kiss, Blair carefully moved them down and off, paying special heed to the healing leg. Then he moved back up Jim's body, grinning, coming up on all fours until he was back for more kisses, strong arms grabbing him and pulling him down, rolling them over so he was pinned beneath the larger body.

Jim trailed kisses down the side of Blair's face to his neck, fastening his mouth there and sucking hard, leaving his mark, smiling at the little groan of pleasure it brought. He rubbed his cheek against the silky chest hair now, absorbing the feel of it with Sentinel touch.

"Am I too hairy?" Blair asked, sounding a little disconcerted by Jim's concentration on the hairiest part of his chest.

"You're perfect, baby... love you so much," Jim whispered against a nipple before taking it in his mouth, licking and teasing and sucking it. //This is Blair's taste on my tongue, Blair's naked body breaking into a fine sheen of sweat under me, writhing around, moaning and panting because of my mouth on him...//

"Love you," Blair gasped in response, arching into the mouth that claimed the second nipple now before moving further down the path of hair to the hollow of Blair's navel, poking at it and teasing it with his tongue. As he nipped at the soft skin of Blair's stomach, he felt the hot, hard flesh of the rigid cock nudging his chin.

Blair's heart had been thundering with desire, but now it was beating rapidly for a different reason. Jim could feel a tension in the muscles, and Blair's hands were gripping his arms as if he were riding a corkscrew roller coaster instead of lying on his back in a nice safe bed.

Jim moved up and pulled Blair into his arms, hoping the reassurance of the embrace would settle the case of the jitters tensing up his bed mate. As soon as they were together again, kissing, hands roaming over damp flesh, all thoughts of jitters or cold feet seemed to fly out the window. Then Blair started writhing, very purposefully, humping against Jim so their erections slid together, rubbing against each other. The motion suddenly became more frenzied, and Jim could feel Blair stiffening out against him, a long cry of his name accompanied by a warm, wet slipperiness between them. Sliding even more easily now, Jim picked up his own pace, and grabbing hold of Blair's buttocks with both hands, he drove himself over the edge, calling out Blair's name, fingers squeezing the firm but pliant flesh under his hands as his completion mingled with Blair's.

For long minutes, there was no sound except their shared heavy breathing as they cuddled together, arms and legs around each other as they lay on their sides. Then Jim made himself move just enough to kiss Blair's cheek and nuzzle his curls.

"You're my partner, Blair... I always want you to be my partner," he said in a hushed whisper, pulling back and looking into sleepy blue eyes. "Always," he repeated, hoping Blair understood what he was trying to say.

"Life partners?" Blair whispered back, his lips moving against Jim's, sharing breath as he spoke.

"Life partners, sweetheart." Jim smiled at Blair's little grin.

"Absolutely, sugar muffin," Blair teased, nuzzling Jim's neck.

"Sugar muffin, huh?" Jim repeated, laughing.

"I'd call you 'stud muffin', but it would go to your head."

"Which one?" Jim countered, tickling Blair's side with a few dancing fingers, enough to make him laugh and jerk around to avoid them. "Blair, don't worry about the situation at the PD. We'll work it out, okay?" Jim said, becoming serious. He realized it had been far too long since he'd seen Blair really laugh, and even longer since he'd seen him relaxed.

"This isn't going to make things easier." Blair relaxed into Jim's arms again, letting out a long sigh.

"Nothing worthwhile is easy, Chief. You know that as well as I do. But it'll work out. Things have a way of falling into place."

"Did you mean what you said? Always?"

"Yeah, I did. You okay with that? This is sort of a 180 for you."

"I'm great with that," Blair responded, grinning widely.

"Then it's settled." Jim sealed the deal with a long kiss. "One permanent partnership formed," he announced, settling down and closing his eyes, sleepy and relaxed in the afterglow, glad to share the same breath with the man held close in his arms.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Is a 180 better than a 69?" Blair asked, and Jim could feel the grin against his chest.

"Say goodnight, Blair."

"Goodnight, Blair," came the expected reply.

The ringing of the telephone was an unwelcome intrusion that jarred Jim out of a deep sleep. He glowered at Blair momentarily, envious that he could sleep through the phone ringing. The glower turned to a smile when he really looked at the sleeping face. Giving in to impulse, he leaned down and kissed the tip of Blair's nose before answering the phone. There was a smile in his voice as he watched Blair wrinkle his nose and frown in his sleep.

"Ellison."

"Jim... it's Dad. Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, but that's okay. I need to get moving anyway. Anything wrong?"

"Not exactly. I was just reading this article in the paper about Eliot Jamison. That's a real shocker."

"I've heard a theory that wealthy white males commit the majority of the crimes in America." Jim flinched as Blair swatted his arm, obviously awake now.

"That's interesting, Jimmy. I'll have to keep an eye on my wallet when I go to the Club for lunch from now on," the elder Ellison shot back, matching his son's sarcasm.

"Did you know Jamison?"

"Everyone knew Eliot. The original Mr. Big Stuff. The staff at the Club genuflect when he walks in. Personally, I played a couple rounds of golf with the guy when we had the annual tournament last year... you could call him a casual acquaintance. I suppose I'm just snooping," he admitted.

"Are you close with anyone who was tight with Jamison?"

"We certainly have mutual acquaintances. Why?"

"The investigation into the theft is still open -- you know that from the paper. We're still investigating Jamison, looking for a possible link to someone inside the University."

"I see..." William was silent a moment. "You might want to talk to his ex-wife, Renee. Ex-wives usually have interesting tales to tell."

"I came across her name on the background check. Anybody else?"

"Well... oh, actually, Elaine Edwards would be a good person to visit. I've seen them at the Club together fairly often."

"Elaine Edwards? We're talking about Chancellor Edwards at Rainier?" Jim clarified, trading surprised looks with Blair.

"She and a few other administrators at the University have memberships at the Country Club as perks of their jobs. I've seen him with the guy who does the fund-raising out there a time or two -- along with half the fundraisers in Cascade high-end enough to hang out at the Country Club. His name is... oh, damn, it's John something, but I don't remember. Usually though, he's with Elaine Edwards."

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Eating lunch... talking, I guess. Is that significant?"

"Given that the theft took place at the University, it could be very significant. Look, Dad, keep this conversation under your hat, huh?"

"Sure, no problem. You think Edwards is involved?"

"I'm sure of it. Frankly, the way she stuck up for Brad Ventriss when Blair had that whole grade dispute with him -- that stunk right from the get-go."

"First Norman Ventriss and Henry Nadine, now Eliot Jamison. Cascade's high tech industry is certainly going through a bizarre criminal brain-drain. Not to mention the fun it's creating on the stock market. That Jamison bastard just cost me about $5,000 last week in crashing stock values."

"I guess you have a vested interest in being my informant, then?" Jim asked, a bit of sarcasm in his tone. His father actually laughed.

"I'm expensive, but my tips are reliable."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. I never pay my snitches in full until their information checks out."

"How is everything... after all that... flurry with the, uh... with the press?"

"Quieting down, fortunately. You gotten anymore phone calls?"

"No, none -- well, a few after the press conference, but nothing significant." William paused a moment. "I better get going. I've got a breakfast meeting with a couple guys on the Board of Directors."

"I thought you were retired."

"I am, but that doesn't preclude bedeviling the current CEO off the record. Earnings have slipped, morale isn't what it used to be... I think I'm being asked to come in and kick some corporate ass as a major stockholder."

"Do I detect a little sadism here, Dad?"

"You detect a lot."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. Let me know what happens with the Jamison thing, will you?"

"I will. Bye, Dad." Jim hung up the phone and looked over at Blair, then smiled softly and lifted a couple of wayward strands of hair away from his lover's face.

"What did he say about Edwards?" Blair asked.

"Oh," Jim stopped, intercepted from his mission of homing in on Blair's lips. "That he's seen Jamison having lunch with her quite a few times at the Country Club and that they seem pretty tight."

"Isn't that interesting..."

"Sandburg, did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" Jim covered the somewhat startled, partially open mouth with his own, and felt the immediate response, Blair's arms sliding around him. When they parted, Jim asked, "Any regrets?"

"Yeah. That we waited almost four years to get here, and went through a lot of crap that we probably wouldn't have had to if we'd just communicated a little sooner."

"Can't argue with that logic," Jim responded, pulling Blair into a hug. "But we're here now."

"We sure are," Blair agreed, returning the pressure of the embrace.

Blair parked the truck in the visitor parking, and stared straight ahead for prolonged seconds, taking in the sight of the building in front of them. Finally, he sensed that Jim was watching him.

"You okay, Chief?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine."

"Do you know this guy very well?" Jim asked, referring to John Matthews, Rainier's Director of Development -- the man Jim's father had mentioned seeing with Jamison on one occasion.

"Just from seeing him at a few University functions."

"Think he'll talk to us pretty frankly, or not?"

"I don't know how he'll feel about me after the press conference. I didn't ever get the impression he was really tight with Edwards."

"Guess there's one way to find out." Jim got out of the truck, and Blair followed.

John Matthews was a man in his early sixties who had retired from his position as CEO of a major corporation in Seattle prior to accepting his current job leading the University's fundraising activities. Being of average height with receding gray hair and wire-frame glasses, dressed in an obviously expensive dark blue business suit, white shirt and tie, he certainly fit the mental image of an aging "corporate man".

Once his secretary had left the men to their meeting, he extended an offer of coffee, which both refused with thanks.

"Mr. Matthews, I'm sure you've been following the developments in the case regarding the theft of a drug formula from one of the University's labs."

"I think everyone around here has. Jamison being arrested was frankly a real surprise." He leaned back in his desk chair.

"Did you know Eliot Jamison well?" Blair asked.

"No, not well. I spoke to him about a gift to our current campaign for the new athletic building. Obviously, Norman Ventriss isn't going to be funding it as we originally thought, and we're left with what amounts to a very large hole on the south end of campus," he added, his voice breaking with a little chuckle. I approached Jamison about a naming gift -- a significant enough donation to put his name on the building, in other words. He was considering it at the time of his arrest." Matthews shook his head. "So far, this hasn't been a good capital campaign for us."

"Most of your major donors are behind bars at the moment," Blair added. "Makes you wonder where the common denominator is, doesn't it?"

"I take it you have some theory on that?" he prodded.

"How well do you know Elaine Edwards?" Jim asked.

"She's a colleague. I don't really know her socially or personally. She was instrumental in bringing us the Ventriss gift, and she did pave the way for my discussion with Jamison."

"How instrumental was she in the Ventriss gift?" Jim asked.

"All I had to do was visit his office and pick up the first pledge payment. Unfortunately, that was his last, as well."

"How many of your major donors have come to you via Chancellor Edwards?" Blair asked.

"There was Ventriss, Complexiom Software -- Henry Nadine's company, and then Jamison. She also provided a list of names for me to contact for the campaign. I just haven't made the calls yet."

"Would it be possible for us to have a list of those names?" Jim asked.

"Not without a subpoena, I'm afraid. Our donor records are confidential. It's not that I don't want to cooperate with the investigation, but there is an issue of trust here. I can't just hand you a listing of major prospects for purposes of a criminal investigation."

"If we return with a subpoena, can you assemble that information for us?" Jim persisted.

"If the request is an official one with the right paperwork, we'll be happy to cooperate any way we can."

"Thank you, Mr. Matthews."

"Thanks, John," Blair added, shaking hands with him after they had risen.

"I saw your press conference, Blair."

"I think a lot of people did," Blair said, a bit uneasy.

"That must have been difficult. Good luck to you in sorting that mess out."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Blair said, smiling a little.

"We'll be in touch with a court order," Jim added.

"I'll be here the rest of the day," he responded, not appearing the least bit unnerved by the prospect of forfeiting the records.

"What do you think?" Blair asked as they headed across the parking lot for the truck.

"He's being straight with us. We just need that court order to get that list."

Jim took another bite off the end of his piece of pizza while he scanned the list in front of him on the table. Blair joined him, bringing two fresh beers with him. The red tape had held them up all day, but finally, they had Chancellor Edwards' list of recommended donor prospects from the Rainier Development Office.

"Quite a list of names." Jim flexed his eyebrows. "Wonder what she had that all these folks wanted."

"Matthews said that when he got together with people she referred, it was always easy -- as if she'd laid all the groundwork for him. I guess all we need now is to go down the list and ask." Blair took a swig of his beer as Jim regarded him a bit skeptically. "Discreetely, of course."

"Of course."

"You know who we ought to show this list to, don't you?"

"Simon, first thing in the morning."

"Your dad."

"Why?"

"Oh, come on, Jim. He probably plays golf with half these guys. He might be able to give us some insight. He might even know what she could have on some of them."

"This is pretty sensitive information."

"All it amounts to is a list of rich people she thought would be good donor prospects. It doesn't prove anything negative about them just because they're on the list. I mean, maybe not all of them have anything to hide. Fundraisers do this all the time -- get lists of prospects, of rich people they can approach."

"Okay. We'll stop in there tomorrow and ask him to look it over." Jim looked back at the pizza, which was fast losing his interest, and then back at Blair. A long evening, just the two of them... "You still hungry?" Jim asked.

"No, man, I'm fine." Blair seemed oblivious to the intense gaze he was under until he looked up at Jim.

"You didn't move any of your stuff upstairs yet," Jim said, taking a hold of Blair's hand.

"We haven't been home all day," Blair responded, smiling. "Besides, I don't really need much in the way of clothes up there."

"I just wondered... you know, in the light of reality..." He shrugged. "Last night was kind of a heat of the moment thing, and I thought maybe --"

"You thought maybe I changed my mind?"

"You said yourself you've never been with a man before, and I wondered if, uh, maybe today... you had second thoughts."

"Actually, I did." Blair stood up, then surprised Jim by straddling his lap and draping his arms around Jim's neck. "My first thoughts were that your bed was a really beautiful place to wake up," he punctuated the statement with a kiss, "my second thoughts were that I loved you," another kiss, "and my third thoughts were that I finally had that brass ring for real." Blair kissed Jim a third time and then hugged him tightly, hanging on until the pressure of the embrace was returned. "I love you, you moron. Just 'cause I haven't put my socks in your dresser drawers yet doesn't change that."

"I think I need more proof," Jim said, pulling back, looking into Blair's eyes with a mischievous grin.

"Ever do it in the kitchen before?" Blair asked, running his hand down to find the bulge in Jim's pants, grasping it gently but firmly.

"First time for everything," Jim responded, pulling Blair down for another long kiss. "Relax, sweetheart," Jim said softly, moving his hand down to open Blair's belt. "If anything doesn't feel good, you tell me," he whispered against Blair's ear as he unzipped the fly of Blair's jeans and slipped his hand inside the boxers to find the firm heat there. Blair gasped and gripped his shoulder with one hand, the other moving back down to fumble with Jim's pants, their mouths coming together again as Blair's hand moved inside the open garment. Taking Jim's hardening length in his hand, Blair pumped it a bit tentatively.

"I don't know... I mean, it's gotta be really sensitive," Blair said, his voice a little uneven from the gentle, steady stroking he was receiving. "Just do what you like to feel done to yours. I'll holler if you squeeze too hard," Jim reassured.

"I was kind of hoping you'd end up hollering anyway, if I'm doing it right."

"That's it, baby, firm and steady, just like that," Jim encouraged, using his free hand to pull Blair's head down for another searing kiss as they continued pumping each other in unison, the motions getting more aggressive, more passionate with each move. With a strained shout, Jim came, spattering Blair's shirt and open pants. Then, Blair's body jerked back with a cry, and then another spasm, and he was coming too, leaving traces of his completion over Jim and his disarrayed pants.

"Let's go upstairs," Blair whispered hotly against Jim's ear. "Get naked." A flick of the tongue around the shell.

"I hate to put a damper on the party, sweetheart, but my leg's throbbing like a bass drum right now."

"Oh no," Blair was up and off Jim in an instant, seemingly unconcerned that his pants were open, and spattered with come, and his lax, sated cock was hanging out the fly. "Did I hurt you when I sat on your lap?"

"No, but I think I've done all the rocking and wiggling I can do for a while and still walk tomorrow. Do I get a rain check?"

"Yeah, you sure do." Blair leaned in for another kiss. "How about the shower?"

"Now that I can do." Jim pushed up out of the chair and limped toward the bathroom with his lover, arm around his shoulders. "I don't think I've gotten it on my shirttails since I was about seventeen and doing it in the backseat," Jim joked.

"Then you haven't been hanging out with spontaneous, exciting lovers like me," Blair retorted. Jim stopped then, and took Blair by both shoulders.

"There's never been anybody else like you, Chief." Jim enjoyed the smile that earned him for a brief moment before covering it in a prolonged kiss.

Jim knocked on the front door of his father's house, and before long, Sally appeared on the other side.

"Jimmy! This is a surprise," she said, smiling widely. "Come in!" She ushered both Jim and Blair in quickly, closing the door on the rainy weather.

"Sally, this is Blair Sandburg. Blair, Sally."

"Great to meet you, Sally. Jim's said a lot of really nice things about you."

"I could say the same thing, Blair," she said, smiling and shaking hands. "Your father's on the phone in his study. If you want to wait in the living room, I'll tell him you're here. Or you could wait in the kitchen. I just took fresh cinnamon rolls out of the oven."

"You probably don't have to tell him anything, Sally. As soon as the smell reaches the study, he'll come out looking for them anyway," Jim said, chuckling a little.

"How is your leg?" Sally asked.

"Getting better. Still slow going, but it's getting there."

"Those cinnamon rolls smell really good -- maybe we should wait in the kitchen," Blair agreed, and the two of them headed back that way while Sally went to the study.

"Sally's a phenomenal cook, Chief. Men would go to war for one of these rolls," he said, pulling up a chair at the table while Blair did the same. There was a fresh pot of coffee next to the platter of sticky, freshly iced, warm cinnamon rolls.

"Maybe we should wait for your dad," Blair said, pouring coffee for Jim, and then for himself.

"Just don't take the corner piece or you'll be limping with the other leg," William said as he entered the kitchen. Grabbing another mug, he set it on the table and Blair filled it. "What brings you two over here -- or could you smell these from your apartment?" William ventured to joke, and Jim laughed.

"I knew there was something in the air this morning," he responded. "This is sort of a touchy issue, Dad, but Blair's convinced we should consult with you on this."

"Consult with me?" William frowned, then glanced at Blair, then back at Jim. "About what?"

"I figure you probably know most of the people we've got on this list -- or at least know of them -- and maybe you could give us some guidance on whom to approach first," Blair said. "But it's pretty touchy because they're all folks with potential links to Edwards -- maybe innocent links, but maybe not."

"I see. You know I wouldn't betray a confidence like that, Jim. I'm not about to go down to the Club and say, 'hey, guess who the cops are investigating next'."

"It's just very vital, given the potential for lawsuits here, that we keep this confidential."

"Jimmy, I ran a major corporation for over fifteen years, and spent over forty years in the corporate world. I understand the concept of confidentiality."

"I remember that. I was there," Jim responded, not missing a beat as he opened the manilla folder with the list inside and slid it over toward his father. "Recognize these names?"

"Most of them, yes. You probably remember a couple of these folks yourself. People who came to the house for social functions."

"Steven and I were usually upstairs for those after we'd been displayed for the right length of time."

William took his glasses out of his pocket and let the comment hang without response. He scanned the list closely.

"Carstairs, Grogan and Mahoney are all crooked as corkscrews. If they're up to something and Edwards knows it, they're not going to help the cops. Gallagher... I doubt he's got anything interesting to hide, unless he's got a loser kid he wants nudged through college -- which I suspect he probably does. I think that's how he got his degree -- his father bought a building. He's not too bright and his kid's an idiot. He'll probably have to buy two buildings."

"Do you remember his son's name?"

"Tyler, Tyrone, something like that."

"Tyler Gallagher... I know I've seen that name. I think he dropped one of my classes -- right after the Ventriss mess. I wonder if that was advice from Edwards?"

"Probably, since you'd already stood your ground against Brad," Jim agreed.

"Go talk to Bill Bartholomew. He's a good guy... I think if he realizes she's into criminal activity -- other than whatever it is she's got on him -- he'll come clean. The rest of these people I know casually, but not well enough to make any recommendations about how to approach them on something like this."

"Thanks, Dad. That helps a lot." Jim took the list back and tucked it inside the folder.

SVS-02: Comes Around by Candy Apple, Part 1