Jim sighed. He had been working on the pile of paperwork for two hours, but somehow -- it seemed to be growing, not shrinking. To add to the annoyance factor, a relentlessly chipper IT tech was installing new computers in the bullpen, singing to himself while he worked. Jim glared ferociously at the tech, who was apparently tone deaf. It was driving Jim crazy.

"Just tune him out, Jim," Blair said from his end of the paperwork pile.

"He's singing The Carpenters now, Chief," Jim complained.

"Jim, as your designated back-watcher, I must point out that Simon will never forgive you if you get rid of the guy before all the new computers are installed. And it's raining much too hard today for us to do a good job of hiding the body."

Jim chuckled. "You goofball, Sandburg."

"Yeah, but I'm your goofball. By the way, Jim," he asked slyly, "how did you know he was singing The Carpenters? I thought you never listened to that stuff."

Jim was spared answering by Simon's familiar bellow. "Ellison, Sandburg! My office, gentlemen."

The partners shared a puzzled glance.

"Gentlemen? What did you do, Chief?"

"Don't look at me, I'm completely innocent."

Jim snorted. "Right."

They rose and crossed the bullpen to the captain's office. Jim ushered Blair through the door, then closed it behind himself -- just in case. He sat in the chair by the desk, while Blair took his seat on the edge of the conference table.

Simon gazed sternly at them from across his desk. "I just spent twenty minutes on the phone with the Chief of Police." He leaned back in his chair and continued, "He just got off of the phone with the FBI."

"If it's about the Mitchell case --" began Blair, just as Jim cut in with "Agent Pedersen can't --"

Simon raised a hand to silence both men, the beginnings of a smile cracking his face. "It is about the Mitchell case, and Agent Pedersen is involved, but for the first time since I've known you, Jim, the Feds aren't complaining about how you treated their men." He rose and walked over to the coffeepot, poured a fresh cup of coffee, and continued on, "Pedersen was so impressed with you two and your work on the Mitchell case, he talked to his boss about it. And apparently, his boss took it to the head of VICAP -- the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. Assistant Director Wesley called the Chief personally to recruit you two for a pet project of his."

"Part of VICAP's mission is to facilitate cooperation, communication, and coordination between law enforcement agencies. Their annual conference on Law Enforcement and Interagency Cooperation is in San Francisco, and they want you both to take part in a panel on partnerships." Simon paused and positioned himself to savor the full effect of his men's reactions.

"The Chief accepted on your behalf."

Blair sat up straight, looking very interested. Jim groaned. Simon crossed to the door of his office.

"Don't even start, Jim. It's out of my hands. The conference starts next Monday. Rhonda will make the arrangements and give you the rest of the information you'll need. You have the rest of the week to clear as many of your cases as you can." He opened the door. "Don't let me delay you, gentlemen, I'm sure you have work to do. And Jim," he paused as they halted in the doorway, "I take back everything I ever said about you being nice to the Feds."

Jim hated conferences. They were invariably mind and butt-numbingly dull, and he doubted this one would be any different. But Blair had that familiar sparkle of excitement in his eyes.

"San Francisco! This is so cool. I love San Francisco! Do you have any idea how many things there are to do? This will be terrific!"

"Slow down just a little, Chief. We'll have to put in some time at the conference, and do that panel."

Blair waved away his comment. "The panel will be a breeze. And we'll have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves. And hey, you might even run into Carolyn there," he teased.

"Huh," Jim grunted in response. He had to admit to himself though, Blair's enthusiasm was contagious. At least, if he were stuck going to the stupid conference, having Blair along would keep it interesting. Carolyn would have to run into them, though. No way would he go looking for his ex-wife with his new male lover along.

"Oh, man. I'm so tired I can't even see straight." Blair said as they straggled into the lobby. "How did a two hour flight become eight hours at the mercy of the airline?"

"Two mechanical failures and one overbooking," Jim replied grimly, hefting the larger of their suitcases. He felt lucky to have it at all after the amount of rerouting they'd experienced. "I'm pretty sure making us wait on the plane in Yakima for two hours is against the Geneva Convention."

"Still have everything dialed down?" Blair asked, struggling with his own load.

Jim remembered the crowded flights and the headache-inducing assault on his senses, but Blair's constant steadying presence had gotten him through it. As they crossed the cavernous lobby to the registration desk, Jim said, "I'm beat. But we can still get a few hours sleep before the conference starts."

The young woman at the registration desk greeted the weary travelers with a sympathetic smile. "Welcome to Hyatt Regency. May I help you?"

Registration did not go any better than the flight. They had a confirmed reservation, but no room available. The flustered clerk called the night manager.

He explained that the hotel was renovating, and some rooms were running behind schedule. After profuse apologies, he offered the only room left, a King Suite, with, he assured them, a sofa big enough to sleep on.

"That'll be fine," said Jim. As soon as they finished filling out their registrations, the two men staggered back across the lobby and rode the elegant glass elevator up to their suite. Jim checked out the rooms with an appreciative eye. "Definitely better than Yakima."

At long last, Jim and Blair climbed into the spacious bed, cuddled comfortably together, and fell asleep.

The shrill ringing of the wake-up call heralded the morning. Despite only four hours sleep, Jim felt reasonably human. Now, to wake Blair.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Rise and shine." Jim's greeting was rewarded with the unintelligible grunt that was Blair's standard mode of communication before coffee and a shower.

Jim slipped out of bed. He took a quick shower, then returned to the bedroom to coax his recalcitrant partner out of bed. "Come on, Chief. We're supposed to be at the conference at 8:30. They'll have coffee."

"Mumff-hnee?"

"Yeah, coffee. Why don't you take a nice hot shower, then we'll go get some coffee."

He wasn't sure which was the stronger motivating factor, a hot shower or coffee, but the Blair-shaped lump under the covers began to move. Blair climbed out of bed, and Jim gave him an encouraging push toward the bathroom.

While Blair showered, Jim completed his morning ablutions. Just as he finished dressing, Blair stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. He seemed a bit more coherent as he crossed to Jim and greeted him properly, with a kiss.

"Morning."

"Yep," Jim agreed, adding a quick hug. He reluctantly eased back from Blair. "We need to get going, Chief."

Blair sighed, but quickly finished his morning routine. He was still feeling a bit sluggish, but stepping into the elevator snapped him into alertness. Looking out across the huge atrium and down fifteen floors, he involuntarily crowded back, closer to Jim. "Oh, man! Glass elevators."

Jim gave him a sympathetic squeeze as he pushed the button for the lobby. "Sorry, Blair. We can take a different one next time."

"No, I'm cool, really. It was just -- unexpected. I guess I wasn't paying attention last night." He shook off his reaction and changed the subject. "So, let's go get registered for the conference and find that coffee you mentioned."

They descended to the floor of the atrium and crossed the now bustling lobby, following the signs directing them to the conference on the concourse level.

They signed in and picked up their ID and information packets. Blair promptly immersed himself in the intricacies of the schedule and speakers as Jim steered them into the main hall and into their seats.

A few minutes later Blair looked up and around. Jim was heading toward him carrying a laden plate and two cups of coffee. "Coffee!" he exclaimed delightedly.

"And here I thought you were happy to see me, Chief."

"Oh, I am -- since you brought a bagel, too!" Blair teased. His expression turned serious. "Jim, William Bass is speaking tomorrow afternoon. We have got to listen to him."

Jim smiled. Blair said William Bass with the same reverence he reserved for Sir Richard Burton and Margaret Mead. "Okay, I'll bite. Who's William Bass?"

"Only the world's foremost forensic anthropologist. He practically invented the field, he founded the scientific study of decomposition."

"The "Body Farm" guy?"

"Yeah. He's, like, a living legend in anthropology!"

"Sure. What else looks interesting?"

"Tuesday morning, there's a panel on profiling. Wednesday morning, Kay Scarpetta is speaking, she's forensics for VICAP, and in the afternoon, there's one you'll like -- new developments in non-lethal weapons."

Jim took a leisurely sip of his coffee. "When is our panel?"

"Thursday morning."

Jim made a disgusted face. He was hoping to be able to get out of the conference early. Oh well. He'd just have to find some way to amuse himself until then. At least Blair was looking forward to the next few days.

The morning passed slowly as a series of FBI speakers droned on about the importance of teamwork and cooperation. Blair amused himself by observing the crowd of attendees. Jim, in turn, spent the morning indulging in his favorite hobby, watching Blair.

At last, the conference broke for lunch. They promptly escaped outdoors. It was a glorious day. The sun was shining, and it was comfortably warm. A slight breeze blew in from the bay, carrying the faint tang of salt. Blair finished his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, his face turned to the sun. "It's San Francisco's best kept secret."

"Hmm?" Jim said, since his mouth was full.

"October. In the summer it's cold and foggy, but October has the best weather, like this. You know how to spot the tourists? In the summer, they're the ones in shorts and t-shirts. In October, they're the ones not in shorts and T-shirts."

"Did you live here?" Jim popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth.

"Not exactly. We visited a lot. Naomi has lots of friends in the area. I haven't been here in years."

Jim checked his watch, then rose and began collecting the trash from their meal. "Time to head back, Chief. What's on the agenda for this afternoon?"

Blair scrunched his face up in distaste. "'Federal Law and Precedence,' followed by 'Accessing the Criminal Informational Database.' We can round out the afternoon at the Director's Tea."

Jim snorted. "We should have stayed in Yakima."

They settled in for the afternoon session. As expected, the lectures were incredibly dull. Jim promptly gave up any pretense of listening and napped. Blair gave up any pretense of observing and indulged himself in one of his favorite hobbies, watching Jim. Eventually, even federal techno-geeks run out of things to say and the lectures were over. They made a token appearance at the tea, speaking to a few of the other attendees, before making their escape at last.

Although the shadows were lengthening, the day's warmth lingered. As they stood in the sunny plaza outside the hotel, Jim asked, "What do you want to do, Chief? It's still pretty early."

Blair thought for a minute. "The last time Naomi was here, she ate at this terrific restaurant. I checked, and it's still there, next to Chinatown. It's a bit of a walk, but I'd kinda like to work some of the kinks out from sitting all day."

Jim regarded him suspiciously. "It's not one of those new-age vegetarian places, is it?"

"Man, you are such a throwback sometimes!" Blair dodged the swat aimed at the back of his head with the ease of long practice. "No, it's Nepalese food -- like Indian food, but not quite as spicy. The place is called Katmandu West, on, um, Stockton street."

"Sounds good, Chief. Let's go."

The evening breeze picked up as they walked, and Blair shivered. "Hang on a sec, Jim." He rummaged in his ever-present backpack for a moment, pulled out a sweatshirt, and put it on.

Jim looked at his partner's shirt and burst out laughing. "A banana slug? That's just too weird, Sandburg."

"Hey! This used to be my favorite sweatshirt. I found it again when I cleaned out my office." He launched into an explanation. "The UC Santa Cruz Slug is, like, the most subversive mascot of any university I know of! Its evolution is a fascinating look at the development of a culture, from an underground subculture to dominance. I did a paper when I was an undergrad..." Blair continued his animated discourse as they walked toward the restaurant.

"I can't possibly have missed it! We walked up Clay to Stockton, turned right, and it's supposed to be right there, three blocks down on the left side!" Blair stared in disgust at the three buildings across the street, all clearly in the middle of renovation. "I looked the place up last week, damn it. It's supposed to be here!"

"Well, call them for directions."

Blair mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that, Chief?"

"I said, I left my phone at the hotel, okay?" Accurately reading Jim's expression, he continued, "Don't look at me like that! It's not my fault you lost your phone in Cascade Harbor. I wanted to wait for backup!"

Jim raised his hand in surrender "Whoa, easy there, Chief." He checked out the surrounding blocks. They appeared to be in a business area, and most were closed for the night. "Hey, there's a cafe. They've probably got a phone." Jim pulled his still fuming partner along. "You probably got bad directions, that's all. And if not, we'll find someplace else to eat."

"My mouth was all set for Nepalese," Blair grumbled.

"Think of it as an adventure. After all, you're an anthropologist. You can study the natives while we hunt for food."

He laughed at Jim's nonsense. "Ooh, yeah. That's me, the intrepid explorer!"

Jim thwapped the back of his head. "Don't you forget it!" He held open the door to the cafe, "After you, Burton."

Blair decided some coffee would be nice, so while Jim phoned for directions, he ordered a latte to go, and took it to one of the small tables by the wall. He had just found a seat when a young Asian man came to the table. He was tall and gangly, with acne-scarred skin and a receding chin. As if to compensate for his looks, he was very nicely dressed in a trendy, monochrome, dark green shirt, suit and tie.

"Richard Burton?" he asked.

"The explorer, not the actor," Blair replied automatically. His eyes widened when the man sat down.

"You are very prompt, Mr. Burton. That is good. I am Haung."

Blair just looked at the man, momentarily speechless. He took in a breath to explain this was a mistake, then froze as the man reached into his jacket. He remembered to breathe again when the man pulled out an envelope.

Huang set the envelope on the table. "We will meet again on Wednesday, at two-thirty. I look forward to doing business with you." He stood abruptly and left the cafe. Two burly men got up from their table on the other side of the cafe and hurried after him. Blair slumped into his seat as Jim sat down in the recently vacated chair opposite. "You heard?"

Jim nodded.

"What the hell was that, Jim?"

"I'm not sure, but he was nervous as hell. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer." He twitched as he recognized the familiar scent coming from the envelope. "Come on, Chief. We need to get out of here."

"What? Why?"

"There's heroin in that envelope. I think it's time to visit the local cops." Jim snagged a napkin and reached out to pick up the envelope, but Blair blocked him.

"No way, man. You know how that stuff affects you, and I need you alert." He deftly wrapped the envelope in the napkin and stuffed it in his pack.

They left the cafe and headed back the way they came, hurrying down the twilight streets. They had only walked a few blocks when Jim warned, "Heads up, Chief. Stay behind me."

Several cars quickly surrounded them, spotlights glaring. A man's voice shouted "Police! Freeze!" as people piled out of the cars, guns drawn. "Okay, people, let's bring them in. Marco, call the Captain."

Dan Robbins, captain of the Narcotics Division, leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. He smiled slightly. Dinner had been wonderful, and he felt pleasantly relaxed.

"What are you thinking?" asked Carolyn Plummer, his dinner companion.

"I'm thinking how fortunate I am, to have dinner with such a beautiful woman."

"Flattery will get you anywhere," she laughed.

"No, strictly the truth. Seriously, Carolyn, thank you. I needed to get out of the office for a while."

"It's my pleasure to fuss over you, Dan. I find I like it."

"Don't tell anyone, but I do, too. Still, it's about time to get back." He signaled for the waiter. "Are you going home after you drop me off?"

"Mmhm. I need to pick up some files first, but I won't stay long."

His phone, which had been set to vibrate mode, buzzed. Discreetly, he answered, "Robbins." He listened for a moment, then responded, "Good. I'm on my way," and disconnected. "We've got them, Caro."

Jim and Blair sat in the conference room next to the captain's office. The local cops had removed the cuffs, but Jim's badge and gun had not yet been returned to him, nor had Blair's backpack or police ID. The two lead investigators on the case regarded them from the other side of the room.

Inspector Tim Hansen was tall and thin, with sandy blond hair and a pale complexion. He was fashionably dressed in a suit and tie. He was also obviously pissed off. His younger partner, Inspector D'Marco Flynn, was shorter and stocky, and dressed hip-hop style in a baggy warm-up suit and several gold chains.

They conversed quietly, and Jim listened in.

"Three weeks!" Hansen exclaimed. "Three fucking weeks gone to hell!"

"D'you buy their story?" Flynn asked.

"They're probably who they claim to be, Marco, but I don't believe the story. Nobody just innocently wanders into the middle of a buy with the code phrase."

Jim snorted. They had never encountered the Sandburg zone before. Both men glared at him, but Jim just looked innocently back at them.

"Just chill, man," Flynn said. "Cap'n will be here soon, and we'll get this all straightened out."

Hansen muttered to himself about a "royal ass-chewing," and Flynn worked very hard at maintaining his stone-faced expression. When the door opened, all four men turned to look at the man who walked into the room.

Dan Robbins was not what Jim was expecting. Boyishly handsome, only the silvered hair at his temples and his air of authority betrayed his age. He was about six feet tall, with a runner's rangy build. Jim estimated his age at late forties to early fifties. He was casually dressed in slacks, shirt and a sweater, and Jim had the distinct impression that here was a working captain, not a desk jockey.

"Hansen." It was a command, not a question.

"Captain. We pulled these two in after Huang contacted them. The man on your left claims to be a detective from Washington and the one on the right is supposed to be a consultant working with him. We're waiting on confirmation of their ID. They say this is all a mistake."

Flynn jumped in, "Sir, contact was clearly made with Huang, and he even left them a sample."

Robbins raised an eyebrow at that. He gave the two men from Cascade a rather chilly smile as he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Gentlemen. I'm looking forward to your -- explanation."

With a perfunctory knock at the door, Carolyn Plummer entered the room. "Excuse me for just one moment. I need the... Jimmy?"

"Hello, Carolyn."

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you let me know you were in town?" She crossed the room and took his hand. "It's good to see you again, Jim," she said with a warm smile.

Blair shifted in his seat. Releasing Jim's hand, Carolyn turned to face him. "Still have your shadow, I see." Her tone was slightly mocking, not malicious. "Hello, Blair."

"Carolyn."

Robbins cleared his throat. "I take it you know these men, Caro?"

She laughed. "We used to work together, among other things. I take it introductions haven't been made?" Robbins shook his head. "Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, this is Dan Robbins."

"Ah." Robbins said. "That Jim."

It occurred to Carolyn then just what she was interrupting. "Finding trouble again, Jimmy? How do you manage to do that?"

Jim looked at Blair with a wry smile. "What can I say, Carolyn? It's a gift."

A very young uniform chose that moment to stick her head into the conference room. "Sir, Inspector Binh just reported that two men meeting the description of the buyers just left the cafe."

Robbins sighed. "All right, Kelly, tell Binh to bring them in." It was going to be a long night. "Hansen, return our guests' belongings. We need to talk, gentlemen. It seems we have a bit of a problem."

The task force members gave Jim and Blair a full briefing. Narcotics had been working for some time to bring down the Three Dragons Gang. The gang now controlled the better part of the peninsula's heroin trade and was trying to expand their operations.

"The man you spoke with, Sandburg, is Li Huang. He's the number two man in the gang. This man," Robbins passed over a photograph, "is Xian Zhou. He is the head of Three Dragons. He's smart, ruthless and ambitious. Under his leadership, the Dragons have progressed from protection and gambling to narcotics, prostitution and murder. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to tie Huang or Zhou to any of these crimes directly."

Robbins went on to explain that tonight's bust had been intended to bring in the potential new distributor. An informant had given the police the time and location for the preliminary meet, as well as the code phrase to recognize the buyer, but evidently, even the Dragons had only a minimal physical description -- which, unfortunately, was broad enough to fit Blair.

The real buyer was identified as a former UC Santa Cruz Literature professor with a fondness for Victorian writers. His current occupation was a top-level dealer, looking to expand his business beyond Santa Cruz. His bodyguard was a none-too-bright bruiser with a short temper and a long rap sheet.

"Jeez, Jim, I'm insulted. I look nothing like this guy."

"Well, he's short, he has a ponytail, and he's wearing a UCSC sweatshirt."

"Yeah, but he's old and wrinkly!"

"It could be worse. I could look like that bald, brainless, no-neck thug."

"Who says you don't?" Blair retorted, recovering himself enough to razz Jim.

Blair and Jim more than willingly agreed to help bring down the Dragons. With the addition of the information from Blair's contact with Huang, Narcotics felt they could set up a sting.

Blair had the date and time of the meet, and the envelope had yielded an address -- 24 Mays Plaza, the location of the new ballpark, currently under construction.

The plan was to send Blair in to the meet, with Jim as his bodyguard. Blair would be wired and armored, and there would be cops undercover all around the plaza. They would move in as soon as the heroin was offered for sale, and Jim was to get Blair out of the line of fire as quickly as possible.

Jim asked to speak with Blair privately for a few minutes.

"I don't like it."

"It's a good plan, Jim, it'll work. But if you don't trust it, just say the word, man, and we'll walk away."

"Damn it, Chief, you know I can't do that. If there's a chance we can get that garbage off the streets, we have to take it. It's just... I hate putting you in danger."

"You'll have my back, Jim. There's nobody I trust more."

"All right, then. Let's do it."

They agreed to meet back in the Narcotics conference room Wednesday morning to go over all the details before the meet.

"Thank you, both. I know it's a lot to ask, but we really need to get these bastards off the street." Robbins gestured to his officers. "We really appreciate this."

Finally, several hours after leaving the conference, Jim and Blair were given a ride back to the hotel in a squad car. Once again, they straggled across the lobby to the elevators, and Blair didn't even flinch from the view. When they got to the room, they stripped out of their clothes and crawled into bed. Jim snuggled up to Blair, and they fell asleep.

Across town, in a lovely old Victorian house, Dan spooned up behind Carolyn. "He seems like a nice guy."

"Mmhmm. He is. And a hell of a cop. But he was terrible at being a husband. We get along much better since we divorced. We never should have gotten married."

"Why did you?"

"He was lonely, I was lonely, and I wanted to be in love. We had a whirlwind courtship, and it didn't take long to realize we'd both made a mistake."

Dan kissed her on her shoulder. "Which is why you took so long to say yes."

"Oh, Dan." She turned so they were face to face. "I guess I was a bit gun-shy at first. I wanted to be certain, and I am. I love you, I love your kids, and I'm very much looking forward to being your wife."

"I love you, too." He kissed her on her forehead. "But enough talk about the ex," he growled.

"What did you want to talk about."

"Who said I want to talk?'

A soft moan was her reply.

Jim woke to the odd sensation of having his ear licked. He wasn't quite sure if he had dreamed it, or if it was real, so he held very still and pretended he was still asleep. There it was again, a stealthy but definite lick to his ear. Lightning-fast, he seized the ear-licking perpetrator and rolled them over so he was pinned beneath his body. "Sandburg, what in the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Me?" Blair gazed up at him in mock innocence. "I was just wondering if you were awake. Since you are, let's go get breakfast. We never got around to dinner last night, and I'm starving."

It figured. Blair's stomach was one of the few things that could get him willingly out of bed before 9 a.m.

"Breakfast?" Jim growled. "Oh yeah." Pinning Blair a bit more securely, he leaned down and began to nibble Blair.

"Jim, man. Jim -- don't, that tickles! Ji-i-i-m!"

Since Blair's 'protests' and wriggling 'escape attempts' served only to place as much bare Blair skin against as much bare Jim skin as possible, Jim continued to lick and nibble his way down Blair's chest to his belly. As he worked his way almost to his navel, Blair's protests turned to moans of pleasure. Jim was totally focused on Blair -- his scent, the wonderfully wanton sounds he was making, the salty taste of his skin, the feel of him, under his hands and his lips -- when Blair's stomach growled. Loudly and insistently.

The decidedly unromantic sound, coupled with the very odd sensation of sound vibrations against his lips where sound ought not to be, startled Jim, and he sat up abruptly. Unfortunately, the movement placed him just a bit too close to the side of the bed. With his feet still tangled in the covers, he couldn't recover his balance, so despite a few desperate contortions, Jim slid completely off the bed and onto the floor with a solid thump.

The sudden loss of warmth and nibbles jerked Blair out of his sensual haze. He looked around for Jim, only to find him in a heap on the floor, still wrestling with the bedclothes.

It was too much for Blair. Despite heroic efforts on his part, a giggle escaped. It was followed by first one chortle, then another. Finally, he gave in and laughed. He laughed until tears ran from his eyes and his stomach muscles cramped.

Jim was affronted at first, but he soon saw the absurdity of the situation and joined in. At last, the laughter subsided, and they just lay where they were, trying to catch their breath. Blair's stomach growled once again, echoed by Jim's. Blair succumbed to the giggles again, but Jim managed to stagger to his feet.

"Now don't start that again," he warned. "Come on, Laughing Boy. Let's go get some breakfast. You're dangerous when you're hungry."

Tuesday proved to be far more interesting for Jim and Blair. After breakfast, they attended the morning sessions on Profiling. Active profilers with VICAP conducted both meetings, and though the subject matter was often grim, they were able to offer good information and insight into the cases they spoke of.

Lunch turned out to be a fairly boisterous affair, spent with a dozen cops from different areas of the country, each trying to top the other's most outrageous case. Blair held his own by sharing tips for the practical uses of a hotdog cart in subduing right-wing militiamen.

Jim and Blair spent the afternoon listening to Dr. Bass discuss Forensic Anthropology. The audience seemed to consist mostly of forensics specialists. Jim expected to be bored and out of place, but Dr. Bass was a clear and concise speaker with a dry wit Jim found quite appealing.

Blair took copious notes. When Dr. Bass opened the floor to questions, Blair asked several insightful ones, triggering a wide-open, sometimes passionate discussion involving the whole room. This took the session far over its allotted time. Finally, over much protest from the group, a staff member had to come in and chase them out so Dr. Bass could make his evening flight.

Free of the day's obligations, Jim and Blair reviewed their options and decided to play tourist. They took the cable car to the stop near Fisherman's Wharf, and walked along the waterfront arguing amicably over which overpriced tourist trap to eat at, before deciding on a seafood place on Pier 39.

After dinner, they found a coffee stand. Jim indulged himself with a mocha, while Blair had his usual latte. As they sat and drank their coffee, Blair entertained Jim with outrageous tribal studies of passersby, interspersed with real commentary on modern urban culture.

"See those kids?" Blair asked, indicating a group of five young men dressed in extremely baggy clothes, pants hanging precariously off their hips. "They just completed their coming of age ritual. It's obvious their tribal rituals involve a lot of fasting."

Jim coughed as the sip of mocha he was taking went down the wrong way. "Sandburg!"

Unrepentant, Blair chose another subject. "She is clearly a great warrior." His subject was an amazon in a Harley T-shirt. "Her tribe marks great achievements on the warriors' skin. Judging by the number of skulls and knives tattooed on her arms, she has had many kills."

Jim eyed the woman warily. "You know, Chief, you may be right."

Blair laughed.

Jim pointed out a group of teenage girls, dressed similarly in the latest style. "What are they, Priestesses in training?"

"Nah. That is a courtship display."

"Pink and blue streaked hair is a courtship display?"

"It is if you're are a fifteen year old boy. Watch." They watched as the girls walked past the boys in baggy clothes. The boys were posing and preening as the girls passed by. The girls pretended not to notice the boys, but whispered and giggled to each other as soon as they were safely past.

"It's kind of scary, Chief, but the weird rituals you made up make more sense than the real ones."

When they finished, they headed back to the trolley stop. As they walked, Jim nonchalantly reached out and clasped Blair's hand. Blair glanced at Jim, then down at their linked hands. "Making a statement there, Jim?"

Jim smiled slightly. "We're in San Francisco, Chief. Where else can two men holding hands not attract attention? It would be a shame not to take advantage of it."

Blair laughed. He tucked himself under Jim's arm and wrapped his own around Jim's waist. He pointed out the group of shockingly dressed "punks" on the corner with the sign that read "Photo with a Freak -- $3" who were attracting a lot of attention. "We could make out in the middle of the sidewalk, and I don't think anyone would notice," he joked.

"Good idea." Jim pulled him around into an embrace, and gave him a brief but thorough kiss, then tucked him back under his arm.

"Jim," Blair said as he attempted to un-muss himself, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Um, anything you want?"

Blair stopped, and looked at Jim consideringly. "Anything?"

"Anything."

Blair smiled slowly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Then we should bag this tourist stuff and get back to the hotel."

Jim shivered in anticipation, and they hurried off to catch their trolley.

"Anything" turned out to be a thorough back massage, first therapeutic and then sensual. Their earlier playful mood turned serious somewhere between Blair's clothes hitting the floor and the first soft glide of Jim's palms across his shoulder blades. They both knew tomorrow's sting operation would be dangerous. All policework carried a risk, no matter how carefully planned.

Blair felt the mood change, and he knew Jim was thinking about what the next day would bring. Since he wanted Jim to sleep tonight, he decided a distraction was in order. Jim's hands had slowed to a kneading movement near his butt when Blair chose an opportune moment to roll over onto his back and gaze at his lover.

Jim knelt between his legs, still half dressed. Blair smiled, stretching languidly. "Mmmm. Wonderful."

"You know I give good massages, Chief."

"I wasn't taking about massage." Blair shifted around so he was leaning back on the pillows, propped against the head of the bed, subtly displaying himself. He casually ran one hand up and down his leg, drawing Jim's attention from his face to his hand. Jim's eyes followed along his leg until he fastened his gaze on Blair's erect cock. Blair's smile took on a wicked edge as Jim licked his lips.

"You're wearing too many clothes."

Jim blinked and looked down at himself, surprised to find he was still kneeling on the bed.

"Take them off." It was a command, not a request. Jim found it very exciting when Blair was aggressive, and his cock twitched as he moved to comply.

Jim climbed off the bed and stood next to it without a word. Slowly he stripped, putting on a display of his own. He ran his hand down his chest to the hem of his T-shirt before pulling it off over his head. He paused slightly with his arms over his head, knowing the pose emphasized his exquisitely cut torso. He discarded the shirt and once again ran his hands down his body, this time to the waistband of his boxers.

"Turn around." Blair's voice deepened and took on the husky tones of desire.

Jim turned so his back was to Blair. Listening carefully, he slid his hands under the waistband. He paused for a moment when he heard Blair's breath hitch.

He eased the boxers down his legs and stepped out of them, smiling when he heard Blair murmur "Ooh, yeah," under his breath. He turned to face Blair again.

Jim looked exotic and mysterious. The single lamp near the bed cast a gentle light through the room, defining his physique in golden highlights and soft shadows. His erect cock jutted proudly out from its nest of soft curls. He lifted his foot up and placed it on the edge of the bed as he reached down to take his sock off.

"Stop," Blair commanded. There was something incongruous about the combination of the magnificent body and the white cotton socks that was so endearingly Jim, that his heart gave an odd little flutter.

"Leave them on, I like it." He had enjoyed the floorshow very much, but he wanted, needed something different now. "Come here, please?"

Sensing the shift, Jim climbed up onto the bed and into Blair's arms.

"I love you," Blair whispered. "Let me show you." He maneuvered them around so their positions were reversed, Jim lying against the pillows and Blair on his knees between Jim's legs.

Blair wiggled back a bit. Starting just above one sock-clad foot, he worshipped his way up Jim's body, tenderly kissing and stroking his skin, as though Jim were precious and fragile, until Jim couldn't stand it anymore and pulled Blair up onto his chest.

He wrapped his arms around Blair and rolled them onto their sides, holding Blair close for a few moments while he regained some semblance of control.

"I love you, so much." He kissed Blair gently. Blair returned the kiss, deepened it. They stroked and caressed each other, tenderly kissing, gently rocking together.

It was sweet and gentle, this lovemaking, as if each was trying to communicate to the other, by touch and look, what words sometimes could not. Eventually, the pace of their rocking increased, and they thrust in earnest. They climaxed together, soft cries of pleasure lost in kisses.

They lay together in the afterglow, Blair half draped across Jim, arms and legs intertwined.

"Thank you. That was beautiful."

"It was my pleasure, and you are beautiful."

"We're gonna fuse together like this."

"Mmmhmm."

"Easy for you to say, it's not your hair that gets pulled out."

Blair untangled himself from Jim and headed to the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later with a washcloth. He quickly cleaned his sleepy lover, crawled into bed and snuggled up with him. Sated and content, they fell asleep, each wrapped in the safety of his lover's arms.

Wednesday dawned bright and sunny, a hopeful portent for the day. After a leisurely breakfast, they made their way to the police station.

They checked in with the Desk Sergeant, who issued visitor badges and handed them off to Inspector Flynn. Flynn escorted them up to Narcotics and to the captain's office. Captain Robbins greeted them and offered them coffee from his personal supply. Blair caught Jim's eye and grinned. He wondered if the coffee fixation was a captain thing. The three of them headed to the conference room.

An energetic crowd of police officers filled the room. Robbins spent a few minutes introducing the men of Cascade to his people. Jim and Blair recognized a few from Monday night, Hansen and Flynn included, but the operation was critical enough to require significantly more manpower than the people they had seen before. In addition to the regular Narcotics personnel, the task force had pulled in a couple of people from Vice who were familiar with the Dragons, and a pair of sharpshooters from the SWAT team. Carolyn was also there, personally supervising the technical aspects of the operation.

They moved on to reviewing the plan. Though simple, the plan required precise timing and placement of personnel. The meet would take place in a public location near an active construction site, so the safety of civilians was paramount. Captain Robbins encouraged ideas from his people as they discussed a number of possible actions and counteractive measures.

Jim observed the proceedings carefully, occasionally adding a comment. With Blair at his side and Carolyn sitting across the table, Jim was struck with an odd sense of familiarity. Blair was thinking the same thing. He leaned toward Jim and quietly said, "I keep waiting for H to chime in with one of his wiseass comments."

At last, with everyone thoroughly familiar with their assignments, Robbins brought the meeting to a close. "Okay, people. We know what we've got to do. Let's do it."

Jim and Blair staked out a corner away from the main exodus. A few other people lingered behind to coordinate individual tasks. A small group paused to talk to Carolyn and the captain. Three other cops came over to Jim and Blair, asking casual questions about their past cases and experiences before continuing out into the bullpen.

Blair knew an interrogation when he saw one. The three cops had clearly been delegated to investigate the men from Cascade. Jim had his head tilted in his familiar listening pose.

"...since Lieutenant Plummer said they were top dogs up in Cascade."

"What d'ya think?"

"I think they'll do just fine. The big guy isn't trying to take over the case, and the little one seems to know the score, even if he isn't a cop..."

"What are they saying?" Blair asked.

"You bowled them over with your charm, Chief." Blair punched him lightly in the arm. "Seriously, Carolyn's been saying good things about us, and they were just verifying the information. They think we're okay."

"Good. We've got enough to worry about without antagonizing the natives."

A few minutes later, Carolyn offered to take them to lunch. "After all," she said, "I still owe you a lunch. Of course, there's no Wonderburger, but there is a very nice deli not too far away."

She was right. The deli was very nice, and the sandwiches quite tasty. The conversation was pleasant as well. They spoke of their jobs and mutual friends, and by unspoken agreement, carefully avoided the touchier subjects.

"So, Captain Robbins seems like a good man. You must like working with him." Blair shamelessly pumped Carolyn for information. Her response was not quite what he expected.

She laughed. Her voice softened and her usually serious expression took on a dreamy look. "We mixed like oil and water the first few cases. Dan is very protective of his people, and the last head of Tech Support was more concerned with the equipment than the people. Once he realized I wasn't like that, we got along just fine."

Blair found this softer side of Carolyn quite intriguing. "Do you spend a lot of time working with him?"

"Hmm. Not as much as I'd like." She smiled again, still with that dreamy look. "We're getting married next month when his kids are home from school."

"Married? Honey, that's wonderful!" Jim's congratulations were instant and genuine. He had carried of lot of guilt the last few years, guilt from causing Carolyn pain. Knowing that she was happy and loved lifted a huge burden.

It was a moment before Blair could add his congratulations, since Carolyn's announcement had caused him to choke on his tea. "Sorry," he gasped. Finally, he could speak again. "That is wonderful news. Congratulations. Captain Robbins is a lucky man," he added gallantly.

When they returned to the PD, it was time to prepare for the meet. Carolyn personally supervised the process. Blair's body armor needed to be as unobtrusive as possible, so he tried on several different Kevlar vests until Carolyn was satisfied with the fit. Since Carolyn had outfitted Jim many times in Cascade, she had his favorite style of vest on hand, and he was outfitted much more quickly. Captain Robbins arrived as they were being wired with small, very sophisticated recording equipment.

She studied them carefully. Blair swapped his flannel shirt for a tweed jacket borrowed out of Evidence, and Carolyn pronounced him ready. She tsked over Jim.

"You look entirely too respectable. Take your sweater off." With Blair and the captain providing critical commentary, Jim was outfitted in a plain dark blue T-shirt and a loose linen-y jacket. A borrowed shoulder holster completed the look.

"I look like a refugee from Miami Vice," Jim grumbled as he adjusted the holster more comfortably.

"Not with those white socks," Carolyn shot back. "But you do look like a gangster wanna-be, so I guess that'll have to do."

Both Carolyn and Captain Robbins looked quite perplexed when Jim and Blair started laughing.

Robbins escorted them to the garage for the final accessories. First was a car, a late model gray Mercedes, equipped with a tracking device. Most important of all was the briefcase full of cash. The cash was marked, and the case tagged with a tracking device as well.

"Surveillance is already in place, and we've covered everything I could think of. We want this bastard, Ellison, but not if it puts you and Sandburg at too great a risk. You've got experience in this, trust your instincts. If it feels wrong, get out." The captain shook their hands. "Good luck, gentlemen."

Robbins, Carolyn and the remainder of the team climbed in to their cars and drove off, leaving Jim and Blair to make the drive together. "Ready, Chief?"

"Ready as I'm gonna be."

It was a short drive to the ballpark. Finding parking proved fairly challenging, but Jim squeezed the Mercedes into a spot on Third St. not too far away. Jim took the briefcase in a firm grip, and they set off. As they walked, Blair admired the new construction. "Wow. What a great place for baseball. Right on the water... Did you know the address is in honor of Willie Mays? And they just put in a statue of him in the plaza. I wonder if that's where we meet?"

"The note wasn't real specific, Chief," Jim replied. He couldn't suppress a faint smile at Blair's ability to keep up an enthusiastic patter under the circumstances.

"Yeah. I guess we'll have to play it by ear."

As they approached the Plaza, Jim unobtrusively checked out the area, spotting the SFPD personnel. The surveillance team was parked in an inconspicuous beige van on the street. Inspector Flynn, looking extremely disreputable, was panhandling on the corner, and Hansen was playing businessman eating his lunch at a strategically placed bench. Both the landscapers were actually cops, as was the artist diligently sketching the statue, and Officer Kelly was happily rollerblading on the far side of the plaza.

Blair eyed her Lycra shorts-and-top combo appreciatively. "Wow, Jim, where does she keep her weapon?"

"You can ask her later, Romeo," he replied dryly. "Good call on the statue. There's our man."

"Oh, man." Blair blew out a nervous sigh.

"I'll be right beside you, Blair. Let's get this over with."

Jim and Blair casually approached the two men standing just beneath the outstretched bat on the Mays statue. They looked more like successful young businessmen than gangsters. Huang was dressed in a rather cutting edge suit in an unusual shade of plum. The other man, Zhou, was more conservatively dressed in Armani. A black briefcase sat between them on the ground.

Jim sneezed, his nose irritated by the strength of the scent emanating from the briefcase.

Blair paused for a moment for Jim to recover. "Whoa, Jim. Keep smell dialed way down," he said under his breath. When Jim indicated he was ready, they continued toward the two men.

Blair found his attention riveted on Zhou. The surveillance photos had not done him justice. They had pictured an attractive man, average height, slim and elegant. In person, Zhou was beautiful. He smiled at them in greeting, deceptively innocent. Only his eyes, flat, black and reptilian, betrayed his true nature; they were the eyes of a killer.

Huang spoke first. "Once again, Mr. Burton, you are very prompt. It is an admirable quality in a business associate."

Blair said nothing, merely inclined his head in agreement. It was simplest to let Huang direct the conversation at this point.

Zhou said something softly to Huang, in Chinese. They conversed briefly, then Huang nodded.

"The sample met with your satisfaction?" Huang asked Blair.

Carolyn had briefed them on the lab analysis -- the sample from the envelope was very high-grade heroin. "You produce quality merchandise," Blair responded.

"You are prepared to meet our terms, for both price and quantity, Mr. Burton?"

Blair managed to look offended. "I'm here, aren't I?" he said huffily. He didn't want to appear too eager. "If you don't want to do business..."

"Please." Zhou spoke softly, in English, this time. "It is in both our interests to be certain." He smiled charmingly at Blair. "Shall we continue?"

Blair inclined his head in agreement.

Huang reached down and picked up the black briefcase. He placed it at Blair's feet. Blair gestured, and Jim handed the brown briefcase to Huang.

While they watched, Blair warily picked up the briefcase and opened it. It was filled with bricks of the drug. He nodded, shut the case, and carefully handed it to Jim. Huang then opened the brown briefcase, and showed the contents to Zhou. At his nod, Huang shut the case. "I think this will prove to be a profitable relationship for us both, Mr. Burton."

During the exchange, Officer Kelly had been skating closer. She chose that moment to shriek and fall, serving the dual purpose of distracting the gangsters and providing the signal to start the bust.

Jim promptly pulled Blair back out of the line of fire, as cops seemed to appear from everywhere. Hansen shouted "Police! Freeze!" as they quickly surrounded Huang and Zhou.

Jim happily rid himself of the briefcase of heroin as one of the officers came over and collected it. "You okay, Chief?" Blair was looking a bit wild-eyed.

Blair nodded. "Hell of an adrenaline rush, man. I'll be okay in a while." Jim noticed Carolyn and Captain Robbins heading across the plaza. Both wore big smiles. They had only come halfway when a flurry of motion and a muffled shout came from the group of cops surrounding Zhou. A shot rang out, and people dove for cover.

"Blair, down!" Jim all but threw his partner to the ground. He drew his gun and crouched protectively over Blair. Jim spotted Zhou quickly, running into the construction area of the ballpark. He realized two things simultaneously -- there were too many bystanders to get a clear shot at Zhou, and he had the closest position to give chase. Jim verified that Huang was still under control and took off in pursuit.

As soon as Jim rose off of him, Blair rolled to his feet. He immediately took off after Jim. No way was he letting him go off without backup!

Halfway across the Plaza, Carolyn watched as Jim took off after Zhou and Blair took off after Jim. "Damn it, Jim. Why do you always have to be the hero?"

"Dan! He's this way!" She called to Robbins, as she ran after Zhou and the men from Cascade. Robbins was right on her heels.

The shell of the ballpark was in place, but at this stage of construction, the interior was a cavernous space bustling with activity. Blair nearly ran Jim down before his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior. What with all the workers, equipment noises, dim lighting and huge stacks of materials, finding one man would be impossible for anyone but a sentinel.

Blair put his hand on Jim's back and gently stroked. "Filter out the construction sounds, Jim. What do you hear?"

The sentinel closed his eyes for a moment, filtered out the shouts of the workers, the banging, the clanking and the buzzing of drills, and listened for a racing heartbeat and labored breathing. He opened his eyes, following the sound. "There! Come on, he's trying to circle around to the bay side!"

Now that he was tracking Zhou, Jim gained ground quickly, Blair keeping pace grimly. Zhou slowed, then stopped. They had followed him to what seemed to be a large storage area. There were boxes and crates and pallets of conduit stacked all around. "I think we have him cornered." He heard Robbins and Carolyn in the distance. "Backup is on its way."

They were in an aisle of sorts, leading to a more open area. Jim could hear Zhou trying to catch his breath down the next aisle. "Stay back, Chief." Jim carefully eased around the corner. He paused, tracing Zhou by his labored breathing. He eased forward a few feet more. A loud, metal on metal shriek resonated through the work area from the stadium above them. Jim dialed his hearing down quickly, but it caused a moment's distraction, and that moment was all Zhou needed.

Zhou sprang at Jim, armed with a length of pipe. He targeted Jim's gun hand. Jim dodged the blow, and by some miracle held on to his gun, but Zhou was too quick for Jim to get a good shot at him. Dodging the pipe again, Jim closed on Zhou, moving to take away the pipe and the advantage it gave the other man. Hand to hand, he had height and reach on Zhou. Jim figured he should be able to take him out.

It didn't take Jim long to realize the error of this plan. With his military background and carefully tended physical condition, he excelled in hand to hand combat, but Zhou left him in the dust. Jim had never seen anyone as fast as this man. What the criminal lacked in size and power, he more than made up for in sheer skill. Zhou was a master martial artist. It took Jim everything he possessed just to defend himself.

They fought their way down a side aisle, knocking over stacks of boxes. He got in one good blow, slamming the other man into a crate, but Zhou just shook it off. Jim was momentarily grateful for the Kevlar vest, as he caught a kick that should have broken ribs. The vest deflected just enough that the blow was merely excruciating, not incapacitating. As he ducked and rolled, just missing getting his head taken off, he reminded himself that all he had to do was delay Zhou until backup arrived -- and try not to get seriously hurt.

Backup must have occurred to Zhou, too, because he came around with a flying kick that plowed through Jim's defenses, knocking him backwards into a pallet of conduit with enough force to tumble the whole stack onto Jim.

It took Jim a few moments to convince his lungs that, yes, they could in fact draw in oxygen and expel it again, and another few to untangle himself from the conduit. Zhou was not in sight, so he carefully dialed up his hearing to locate him. What he found made his blood run cold. Zhou's heartbeat was right next to Blair's, and Blair's heart was beating like a jackhammer.

He scrambled around through the debris, back to the main aisle. Zhou had captured Blair and was using him as a shield. He had one of Blair's arms pinned behind his back and the barrel of his gun was pressed up under his jaw. Only Zhou's arm and head were visible.

Jim pulled his gun and took aim at Zhou. For him, this was an easy shot, but he could not fire yet, not with the gun jammed into Blair's neck. He would have to stall until that gun wavered.

"Zhou," he called, "there's no way you're gonna make it out of here. The place is surrounded by cops. Put the gun down."

"Perhaps so," Zhou agreed. He smiled coldly. "But I do not think I shall go alone. The ever-prompt Mr. Burton will accompany me, one way or another." This threat was all the more chilling, delivered in Zhou's gentle voice.

Captain Robbins and Carolyn had finally caught up with them. They were approaching stealthily from behind Blair and his captor. They took their positions while Zhou made his threats.

Jim would only get one chance. He made eye contact with Blair. The air was full of the scent of fear, and Blair's heart still pounded from it, but the look he gave Jim was filled with love and faith. Jim hoped that Blair could see in his eyes what he could not say.

Zhou forced Blair backwards a couple of steps, and Carolyn seized the moment. She picked up a piece of conduit and tossed it toward an empty area to Zhou's right. It landed with a tremendous clatter. This distracted Zhou for a split second, but that was all they needed. His gun shifted slightly away from Blair's neck, and despite the pain in his arm, Blair dropped to the ground, dragging Zhou down with him, causing his gun to move further away from Blair's neck.

It was the shot Jim was waiting for. He fired, taking Zhou precisely through the left eye. Milliseconds later, Robbins fired as well, hitting Zhou in the right shoulder. It didn't matter though, because he was dead by the time the second bullet struck. Jim was moving to Blair before Zhou hit the ground.

Because of the opposite trajectories of the bullets, Zhou's body fell where he stood, and landed on Blair, along with a great deal of blood, tissue, and worse. Jim was right there, pulling his partner out from under the body, then away from it. He sat Blair down a short distance away.

Blair was pale, glassy-eyed from shock and covered in blood. Jim pulled off the tweed jacket and tossed it away. He took off his own jacket and used it to wipe as much of the blood off of Blair's face and hands and hair as he could. He noted dispassionately that his own hands were shaking. He did a quick sensory survey -- Blair didn't seem to be physically injured.

He pulled Blair into a gentle embrace, gently stroking his back, rocking him back and forth. "It's okay, Blair," he murmured. "You're safe now, I've got you, everything's going to be all right." He didn't know if it was the words or the contact, but Blair blinked and seemed to collect himself. Although still much too pale, his eyes lost the blank, glassy look.

"Jim. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, baby, I'm fine. You had me worried, though. How is your arm?"

Blair flexed his left arm. "Sore. I'll be fine." He attempted a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

Jim's rigid control started to crack a little, and he shuddered. "I'm so sorry. I thought I had him, and he got away from me." He tightened his embrace, pulled Blair closer to him. "Oh god, Blair, I thought I was going to lose you."

Now it was Blair's turn to offer comfort. "I'm right here, Jim. It's okay."

Jim let out his breath in a shuddering gasp, and just held Blair a while longer.

Blair felt oddly detached. He supposed he was still in shock, but it was a comfortable place right now. He noticed the sticky stiffness that meant blood drying on his face and hands, and intellectually, he realized that he had been spattered with blood from the shooting. Jim had managed to get a good amount of blood on himself, too.

"Oh, man. This is going to start itching soon. Can you find someplace where we can wash up?"

"Yeah, that would be good." He listened intently for a moment. "There's a water hose near where we came in."

Jim knew the shock would wear off soon, and he wanted Blair away from the scene when it did. First, he had to locate Captain Robbins in the hive of police activity that surrounded them, and check in. Some parts of police work were universal, and this operation would generate a mountain of paperwork.

Unfortunately, getting to Captain Robbins meant walking past Zhou's body, where an officer was in the process of cordoning off the area. The flash of yellow caught Blair's attention, and he found himself staring in horrified fascination at the shattered remains of Xian Zhou. The amount of gore was literally staggering. Jim caught him as he lurched and pulled him away.

It hit Blair then, what had happened, how close he had come to being the one in the pool of gore. His chest felt oddly tight; he could not draw in enough oxygen. Gray encroached on his vision.

"Blair, don't do this, stay with me," Jim said in his ear as he manhandled his partner over to a crate and urged him to put his head down. "Just breathe for me, nice and slow."

As Blair complied, the grayness receded from the edges of his vision and the woozy feeling went away, but all he could smell was blood and death.

Blair's pallor took on a greenish tinge. "Jim, man, I'm gonna --" before the sentence was complete, Jim whisked him to a spot out of the way of the investigation, and Blair heaved up his lunch. Jim was there, holding his hair out of his face, half supporting him, until the nausea passed and the heaving stopped.

Blair was standing, still partially supported by Jim, thoroughly embarrassed, when Carolyn came over to them, followed by one of the ersatz landscapers. She gave Blair a bottle of water she had scared up from somewhere. "This will help," she said sympathetically, then gestured to the man behind her. "This is Officer Rodriguez. He'll take you back to the department. You can get cleaned up a little. Dan is almost finished here -- he can take your statements when he gets back."

One hour, a quick shower in the locker room, and one cup of hot, sweet tea later, Blair was sitting in the captain's office, along with Robbins, Jim, and Inspector Binh. Flynn and Hansen were still dealing with Huang. Blair's blood soaked clothes had been discarded for an SFPD sweatsuit. It was a couple of sizes too big, but it was warm, and right now, warmth was what he needed.

Jim had washed up as well. He was dressed in his sweater again, somewhat rumpled, since he had not folded it with his usual care. He was hovering over Blair protectively, providing near constant soothing strokes and reassuring touches. Just who he was reassuring was open to interpretation. Blair wished the office were bigger. In his current hyper-protective mood, Jim would be much less tense if he had room to pace.

Robbins watched their interaction curiously. He tended to be a bit overprotective, himself, but Jim's reaction was a bit extreme for two men who were just friends. He mentally shrugged. Their relationship wasn't his business, and it certainly hadn't interfered with the case.

They were waiting for one more arrival before they could formally take Jim and Blair's statements -- since lethal force had been used, Internal Affairs needed to be present as well. Finally, a sour-faced older man arrived, whom Robbins introduced as Lieutenant Fowler from IA. Jim disliked him on sight, and Captain Robbins noticed how Jim kept himself between Fowler and Blair.

"Jim, please sit down," the captain said. "We'll try get this over with as quickly as possible."

Jim sat, moving his chair as close to Blair's as possible. If the others noticed Jim's need to keep in constant physical contact with Blair, it only took one look from icy blue eyes for them to wisely choose not to comment on it.

Captain Robbins turned on the tape recorder, and they began. Jim gave his account of events coolly and concisely; with his years of professional experience it was an easy matter for him to recount all the pertinent information. Robbins asked for clarification on a few minor points, and it was done.

When he started to question Blair, Robbins wasn't quite sure what to expect. It had been a traumatic experience for the younger man. He was still quite pale, and he looked almost fragile in the baggy sweats. But Blair recounted his part in the same cool, concise tone Jim had used, faltering only slightly when describing the actual shooting. Jim was close beside him, offering comfort and support, and when he was done, Blair leaned gratefully against him for a few minutes.

Fowler had listened to their statements with, at best, thinly veiled impatience. When Robbins was finished, he attacked. He started with Jim, managing to imply that Jim was some kind of small-town yahoo looking for glory in the big city. Jim answered him impassively, ignoring the insults and innuendo and providing only a dry recitation of facts, again and again.

Growing frustrated with his inability to fluster Jim, Fowler turned his attack on Blair, the key witness. Robbins took one look at Jim's face and realized that if he didn't want bloodshed in his office, it was time to end the questioning session.

"That is quite enough, Lieutenant Fowler. Mr. Sandburg has already answered all of your questions in his statement. I'll make sure you get a copy. I will be down later to give you my statement."

Fowler stopped, stunned, in mid-attack. Inspector Binh hustled him out of the office, red-faced and sputtering.

"Thanks," Jim said.

Robbins smiled. "Self interest, I'm afraid. I didn't want to deal with the extra paperwork when you decked him."

Blair grinned at Jim. "He's got you pegged."

Inspector Binh returned with the transcribed statements to be signed, as well as a large stack of additional paperwork. By the time all the paperwork was finished, it was dark outside. Blair was completely drained, and Jim was feeling every one of the bruises from the fight with Zhou. To top it off, he had a pounding headache. Captain Robbins dispatched yet another officer to drive them back to the hotel.

Neither man noticed the attention their bedraggled appearance generated as they crossed the lobby. Blair was intent on getting to the sanctuary of their rooms. Jim hovered protectively, distressed by Blair's uncharacteristic silence.

He'd been monitoring Blair all afternoon, listening to his heartbeat. He knew that physically, Blair was fine. But the younger man had slipped into his processing mode, quiet and inwardly focused.

The role-reversal pained Jim. He was usually the one being silent and withdrawn, and Blair always found a way of reaching him, of finding the words to draw him out of his isolation. But words were Blair's forte, not his, and he felt tongue tied and inadequate. So he stayed close to Blair, and waited.

When they reached the suite, Blair stood in the center of the sitting room. He blinked and looked around as if just now realizing where he was.

"I need to get clean," he announced. With that plan in mind, Blair headed for the bathroom. He stripped as he went, leaving his clothes where they fell.

Unwilling to be separated form Blair even for a few minutes, Jim followed him. As he collected Blair's discarded clothing, he formed a plan of his own. There were ways of communicating without words.

In the bathroom under the heat lamp Blair stood naked at the sink, methodically brushing his teeth. As he finished, Jim stripped out of his clothes. He turned the water on, hot, and adjusted the spray. He reached out to Blair, carefully handed him into the shower, and stepped in behind him.

They spent a few moments adjusting to the steamy spray, then Jim directed Blair to wet his hair. He squeezed some of Blair's shampoo into his palm. He gently rubbed the shampoo into his hair, working it into a nice lather, and washed Blair's hair with sentinel thoroughness. He massaged his scalp, gently cleansing each curling strand.

Blair relaxed as Jim washed his hair, cleansing away more than the slight residue left from the shooting. Those sensitive fingers carried away the memory of his own hands, earlier, trying to work through hair stiff and sticky with blood.

"Close your eyes," Jim said softly in his ear, and turned him and tilted his head back under the spray. When he was rinsed to Jim's satisfaction, he pulled him forward and put the conditioner on. Blair opened his eyes and watched Jim. His face bore an expression of intense concentration as he worked the conditioner in, as though this was the single most important task in the universe. Blair felt cherished. He suddenly realized that no matter how awry the day had gone, this -- being here, with Jim -- was all that really mattered.

Blair leaned into Jim, wrapping his arms around him. He almost missed the slight flinch. He pulled back, looking up at Jim in concern. He realized where his arms were, and looked at Jim's torso. He gasped at the sight of the vivid bruises there. "You're hurt!"

"Not really. Just a few bruises." He easily interpreted the doubtful look on Blair's face. "I promise, Chief. Just some bruises." He smiled reassuringly at him. "Here. Tilt your head back, and rinse your hair."

When he emerged from the spray again, Jim was on his knees in front of him. "Jim?"

"Shh. Relax, Blair. I'm just going to make sure you're really clean." He took the soap and worked up a good lather. "Hang on to my shoulders." He lifted up Blair's foot and started washing. He didn't use a cloth, just the soap and his hands, relishing the feel of Blair's skin under his hands. He worked his way up to the knee, then switched feet. Jim gave in to the urge he'd been fighting all afternoon and immersed his senses in Blair.

He gave himself over to the silky glide of soap on skin, punctuated by the crisp springiness of the hairs. As he worked his way up Blair's body, he lavished attention on the pulsepoints, feeling not only the pounding of his heart, but the subtle changes in temperature as bloodflow increased in response to his touch. The steamy air was redolent with scents -- soothing herbs from shampoo and soap, the spicy tang that was essential Blair, and increasingly, the rich musky scent of arousal.

And sound -- breathy sighs and soft moans, against the steady rhythm of falling water, all underscored with the sound of his heartbeat. It was a sensory feast. He looked at Blair, slick and wet, flushed with desire, and a fierce hunger rose in him. He needed to bury himself in Blair, surround himself with his life force. He fought for control. No matter how strong the need, he could not simply take Blair unprepared.

Blair was pliant in his arms, still dazed with arousal. Jim stood them both under the spray for a final rinse, then turned off the water. Without the influx of hat water, the shower quickly cooled, disrupting Blair's sensual haze. "Jim, what's wrong?"

Jim kissed him hungrily. "Nothing, Chief. I just needed more room than a shower stall."

Blair shivered at the predatory look in Jim's eyes. They dried off, then hurried to the bedroom. Once there, Jim took his time crossing to the bed, lazily perusing Blair like a cat eyeing a particularly tempting morsel. The naked hunger in his eyes set a shiver of anticipation through Blair.

Without warning, Jim pounced. He swept Blair onto the bed, kissing him into incoherence. He was merciless in his assault, kissing, caressing, nipping and teasing him with hands and mouth until Blair was writhing in frustration.

Jim settled between Blair's legs and looked at his lover sprawled on the bed. He looked so wanton, his lips reddened and swollen from kisses, his cock jutting up from its nest of curls, hard and weeping, his eyes almost black from desire. It was almost enough to make him come. Almost.

He reached out and ran a finger down Blair's cock. Blair moaned and tried to thrust against him. Jim ran his finger lower, past his testicles and down his perineum, and lower still, and brushed it across the puckered opening there. Blair gasped and shifted his legs apart to give Jim better access. "Yes," Blair said to the unasked question.

Jim let out the breath he didn't remember holding and fumbled for the lube in the nightstand. Despite the fierce hunger driving him, Jim took his time with Blair, stretching him slowly, kissing and caressing him until he was at the peak of arousal again. When at last he was stretched enough, he eased his way in, fighting for control of the desperate urge to thrust blindly. Finally, he was completely sheathed in Blair. He paused then, and waited for a signal from Blair.

Blair marveled at the sensation of having Jim inside him. Jim had been so tender and gentle, giving him plenty of time to relax, to detach from the horror of the day. Now Jim was inside of him, part of him. The amazing fullness felt good too, but he wanted more. He pushed back into Jim, wanting more.

The little push was all Jim needed. He began to move, in and out, slowly at first then faster as he found the pace Blair wanted. Blair was begging now, an endless litany of "please... please."

Jim took Blair's cock in his hand and began to stroke in rhythm with his thrusts. He altered his angle slightly until he was hitting Blair's prostate with each stroke.

The pleasure was so intense, Blair thought he would explode. He cried out, triumphant, as his orgasm overtook him. It was incredible -- for a moment, Blair felt he could taste sound and hear light -- then he crashed back into himself and everything went dark.

Jim could feel Blair's orgasm coming. The scent of his seed, the sound of his voice, and the incredible pleasure as Blair clenched around him combined to trigger his own release. He collapsed over Blair, just managing to catch himself so he didn't squash his smaller lover. He lay there for a while, just trying to suck air into his lungs, still inside Blair. It was a blissful feeling.

At last, he softened and slid out of Blair. Blair made a soft sound of loss. Jim staggered out of bed and got a washcloth, and cleaned them both up. Blair was hovering on the edge of sleep. "Love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too," Jim replied. He kissed Blair gently, curled up beside him, and fell asleep.

Thursday began with the shrill ring of the wake up call. Once awake, Jim realized two things -- he was ravenously hungry, and he was getting too damned old to get the crap kicked out of him. Blair, on the other hand, felt much more like himself after a night of deep and dreamless sleep snuggled up to Jim, and if he didn't exactly bounce out of bed, it was only because getting vertical left him feeling slightly lightheaded. "Oh, man! I'm starving."

After getting a good look at Jim's stiff and slow movements and the spectacular bruises that blossomed along his ribs and back, Blair figured if he wanted breakfast anytime soon, he needed to give Jim a hand. In a bit of role reversal, Blair hustled Jim into a very hot shower. He washed himself quickly and left Jim to soak in the hot spray while he got ready. He was shaved, dressed, and standing by with aspirin by the time Jim got out of the shower. Between the hot water and aspirin, by the time Jim was dressed, he felt almost normal. They even had time for breakfast.

Given the attention the new ballpark was receiving in the local media, it was no surprise that yesterday's bust made front-page news. By the time their discussion panel rolled around, both men had fended off a number of questions about their exact role in the events. Jim recounted some of the wilder rumors he overheard to Blair, but they ignored the looks and comments, and dodged the questions when pressed.

Jim had been dreading the panel discussion, but was pleasantly surprised with how the session unfolded. The panelists were a diverse group. There were the Bennetts from Georgia, Mike and Katrina. He was the town sheriff, and she was a reformed "psychic". A detective from Scottsdale, Jack Stone, came with his grandfather, Mark Stone, a retired physician. The biggest surprise was the burly Boston detective, Frank Corelli, who brought his Aunt Jessica, a spirited, if elderly lady known to all the panel participants by her pseudonym, mystery writer J. T. Cabot. The discussions were lively and insightful, and a number of rather outrageous case stories were told.

"...So, of course, since I knew their Civil War ghost was fake, we set up a little 'ghost' of our own," Katrina said.

"It worked really well," Mike added. "They couldn't wait to tell us where the stolen drugs were hidden, and we brought in the whole gang without a single shot fired."

"...left a note for Frank, I knew he would figure out where I was. And the dear boy got there just in time to stop the murderer from burning down the house."

Frank snorted. "What Aunt Jess didn't tell you was that she was tied up in the house at the time. I think she took ten years off my life. We did get a conviction though, and he will spend the rest of his life in prison."

"...absolutely. I trust Doc's instincts. And he was certain she was already dead when they filmed the scene that showed the "accidental death". It took some wrangling, but we got a search warrant for the producer's house, and we found all the forensic evidence of her actual death."

Two things were common to all the stories. Each pairing had a member who was not a cop, and had a different, even quirky, approach to analyzing information. The other was the deep trust they had in each other.

Carolyn slipped into the conference room near the end of the session. She caught Jim's eye, and he gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment. She settled into a vacant seat to watch and listen to the panelists. Blair was speaking now, about his early days with CPD. Since she remembered those days very well, she concentrated instead on watching Blair. He was in his element, telling stories. His animated face and expressive hands held his audience in thrall. She shifted her attention to Jim. He was sitting, relaxed in his chair, one hand resting on the back of Blair's chair. He, too, was watching Blair, but with a look of such open affection on his face that it made her gasp.

Carolyn watched with amazement. This was not the stoic Jim Ellison she knew. This part of him, the affectionate, tender, open part, so rarely glimpsed, was the reason she had married Jim. Not seeing enough of that part of him was the reason they divorced. She experienced a brief pang of sadness, for what could have been.

He'd been different, she noted, after he met Sandburg. Easier. Jim smiled at Blair, responding to something he said. His love for him was clear, openly displayed on his face, if you knew what to look for. She wondered if Blair shared those feelings. A moment later, when he returned the loving look with one of his own, she didn't wonder any longer.

Jim came over as soon as the session was over. "Carolyn! Is everything all right?"

"Now, Jimmy. Can't I come to see you without there being a problem?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I was worried about you, and Blair. I just wanted to make sure you had recovered." She smiled. "I didn't have to worry. I saw how you two had your audience practically eating out of your hands."

"Must be the old Ellison charm."

Carolyn snickered.

"Yeah. It's mostly Blair's doing. He has a real knack for these things." He looked for Blair and found him in the center of a group, talking away. As though he could feel Jim's gaze, he looked over at him questioningly. Jim smiled in reassurance. Blair gave him a grin in return, and carried on with his conversation.

"You seem happy. He's very good for you."

Jim said nothing, just watched her warily. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to have this conversation, especially with his ex-wife.

Carolyn caught the defensive look on his face. "Jim! I'm not criticizing! I'm happy for you." Jim relaxed a bit, and she resumed her conversation. "I've always liked Blair, I'm really glad he shares your feelings."

"Caro..." Jim's tone clearly expressed his disbelief.

"I did like him," she insisted. "Well, once I got over being jealous, anyway. It was obvious from the start that he was very special to you, and it made it easier for me. I could rationalize to myself that our problems were caused by my being the wrong gender, and not the wrong person."

"What changed your mind?"

"Dan." She laughed. It was a lovely musical sound, and Jim suddenly realized that Carolyn had not laughed for a long time before she left Cascade. She continued. "It's hokey, and terribly cliche, but I found my soulmate. It's like that line from that movie -- he completes me."

Jim wrapped his arms around her, giving her a quick hug. "I understand that feeling completely." He stepped back just a bit, but reached out with one hand and gently stroked her hair. "I like your Dan. He seems like a good man. I'm very happy for you."

Blair had been working his way across the room and finally made it to Jim and Carolyn. "Carolyn! Is everything okay?"

She laughed. "You've been hanging around Jim too long, Blair. You're getting to be as bad as he is! I just stopped by to see if you two were all right. Of course, if you're finished, I might let you take me to lunch." Her pager went off, interrupting the rest of her lunch plans. She checked the number. "Damn! So much for that idea. I have to go." She gave Jim a big hug, then startled Blair by turning and hugging him, too. "Take good care of him." She quickly collected her things and dashed off, leaving an amused sentinel and confused guide in her wake.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Carolyn approves of us."

"Cool! I have the ex-wife's blessing. Wait a minute, Jim, what did you say to her?" Jim was already sidling toward the door as Blair spoke, and at the question, he beat a hasty retreat. "Jim? You can run, Ellison, but I know where you live. We will talk about this."

Later, over a pasta lunch -- comfort food -- they talked about the rest of the conference. "Anything else on the schedule you want to go to, Chief?"

"Not really, I thought it might be nice to do a little sightseeing, play tourist, but frankly, I've seen enough of San Francisco to last me quite a while."

Jim signaled the waiter for the check. "Great. I'll take care of this, and go pack. You go see the concierge and get us tickets on a flight back to Cascade tonight."

Blair laughed. "Simon is gonna kill us. I'm sure the Chief will chew him a new one because we bailed early."

"No problem, Chief. We just need to remind Simon that it's infinitely safer for us to be in Cascade where all of Major Crime can keep an eye on you. No telling what kind of trouble you can get into in another day and a half."

"Me? The trouble I get into! Hey, you attract just as much trouble as I do. And I never got into trouble before I started hanging out with a bunch of cops. Well, hardly ever. I led a very peaceful, quiet existence, aside from the ape..."

Jim proceeded to shut Blair up the most effective way he knew. He leaned across the table and kissed him. "Blair. Let's go home."

There was only one reply Blair could make.

"Yes."

Note: The discussants on the conference panel are loosely based on two well-known TV shows and a not as well-known novel. No extra points for guessing the TV shows. <g>