SVS-12: Vengeance 101 by XFreak

SVS-12: Vengeance 101 by XFreak, Part 2

This time when the blond visitor arrived, the young prisoner already sat at a table waiting for him. Only handcuffs bound his wrists together, the chain around his waist now absent. Leaning forward as the other man seated himself, the prisoner's laid back demeanor almost hid his eagerness.

"Did you get them?" His low tone brought a suspicious glance from the guard along the wall.

The visitor slid an envelope across the table. "Mom sent pictures of cousin Blair for you."

Hands trembling as he pulled the flap back and extracted the pictures, the prisoner's cheeks grew flushed as he perused them, lips tightening with rage at the relaxed, happy man enjoying a free life. Hazel eyes bored into the visitor's own and the blond smiled in response, his pale lips curving into a mocking grin.

Withdrawing another envelope from his jacket pocket, the guest pushed it across the table as well. "These are the ones from when he found his package."

No longer interested in hiding his eagerness behind a cool facade, the prisoner tore into the pictures. Flipping through them quickly, a devilish grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling with a delight unseen in him since he crossed the threshold of Starkville. "Initiate phase two."

"Your wish." Deliberately spilling the coffee sitting on the edge of the table, the blond yelled and jumped up, creating just enough diversion to allow the prisoner to slip one of the photos into his pocket unnoticed.

"Hey." The young man placed a small square of paper on the table as the visitor scooped up both envelopes. "Go see this woman. I always follow through."

Nodding, the blond picked the paper up and slid it into his pocket before exiting the visiting area, soon to be ten thousand dollars richer.

Simon stuffed a cigar into the corner of his mouth and chomped down on it. "I don't like it."

"How did I just know you'd say that?"

The captain narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, zeroing in on his target. "Because, Sandburg, you're not a..."

"...a cop," Blair finished for him on a sigh, waving a hand. "I know, I know."

"I think you know, sir, that I'm not too thrilled about putting Sandburg at risk, either." Jim's shoulders looked tense enough to splinter off into a thousand pieces. "But I don't see any other way."

"What about waiting the guy out?" Simon's voice sounded more nasal than usual in the confines of his office.

"I'm afraid he's going to escalate and I'd rather us be in control of the situation than him."

"What makes you think that?"

"The first drop was in Sandburg's car. The second, his home. Not even counting the fact that both were securely locked, I'm thinking there's not much more personal this guy can get before he decides to up the ante."

"And you definitely think he will?" Holding his cigar in one hand, Simon studied it, the set of his body less rigid.

"Yes, I do, sir."

"So, run down the plan for me."

Nodding, Jim anchored his feet and held up a hand as he explained. "I figure we can set up in the park. That way, Sandburg can be on his own, but there'll be enough of us around to close in before anything happens. Everyone, including Sandburg, will be wearing earpieces and I'll be running the operation. I'll hear him if he says anything and I can respond through the radio."

Simon shot a look at Blair. "And you're okay with this?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Do it," Simon ordered. "Now go away. Some of us have work to do."

"Very good, sir." Jim placed his hand between Blair's shoulder blades and ushered him out of the office.

Blair turned the corner in the department garage just before his partner. "Damn it!"

Senses alert, Jim drew his weapon and pushed the younger man behind him.

Exploding, Blair kicked a tire on the Volvo. "I just got the body work paid off from when I got car jacked!"

Scratched into the deep green paint were two words. Closing in. The windshield wiper held prisoner a black silk rose.

Holstering his weapon, Jim dug out his cell phone and hit one of the speed dial numbers. "Simon? Jim. We're going to need forensics down here in the garage." He paused for only a beat. "Sandburg's car's been vandalized."

Blair vaguely heard an outburst from Simon and grinned as Jim winced and pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Yes, sir. It looks like I was right." Jim sighed, still holding the ear piece away. "I really wish I wasn't."

Back at the loft, Jim lowered the Kevlar vest onto Blair's shoulders over the white t-shirt, fingers trembling as they fumbled with the fasteners. "You don't have to do this, you know," he said. The younger man's thumb caressed the side of Jim's face and he closed his eyes, drinking in the contact.

"It was my idea, remember?" Blair stroked his thumb gently over his lover's beard stubble, used to his partner's nerves before sending him into the line of fire.

Jim diverted the conversation as he returned to his task, but not before Blair saw the emotion swimming in his eyes. "It's not that I think you can't handle it."

"I know."

"I-I just don't want you to get hurt." Finally mastering the Velcro straps that he could normally adhere in his sleep, Jim refused to meet his lover's eyes and missed a tender, fond smile.

"I know."

"I'll be right there. I won't let anything happen to you." He sounded for all the world like he was trying harder to convince himself than his partner.

"I know."

"You're sure you want to go through with it?" Holding the blue flannel shirt open for Blair to slide his arms into, he waited for an answer.

"Yeah, Jim, I am." The younger man maneuvered his arms into the shirt, swallowing down a grin at Jim's absent minded actions. "At first, I was pretty freaked out, but now I'm just damn mad. That car is a classic!"

Huffing a laugh, Jim nodded as he proceeded to button the shirt for his lover. "Okay."

"I can dress myself, you know," Blair quietly said.

"Sorry." His cheeks flushing, Jim tried to find something to do with his hands.

"Jim." The older man reluctantly met his gaze, face still faintly pink. "Everything's going to be fine."

"I know." He stepped closer, fiddling with the button just below the hollow of Blair's throat. "I just wish there was another way."

"Come here, tough guy." Blair tilted his head back and brought Jim's mouth down to meet his own, opening wide at the desperate exploration. After a few moments passed, he broke the kiss and followed it up with several smaller ones. "Rain check?"

Leaning his forehead against the other man's, Jim nodded again. "We'd better get out of here, huh?"

"Yeah. Let's get this over with."

"And then I've got a rain check to cash." Jim's lips twisted into a devilish grin, transforming him back into the self-confident detective as he grabbed his coat off the rack and held the loft door open for Blair to precede him.

"I'm counting on it."

Scanning the park, Jim nervously rubbed the back of his neck. The fact that he didn't know exactly what to look for added to the already enormous pressure weighing him down.

A few people apparently appreciated his lover's beauty, judging from the stragglers who slowed their pace to ogle the lone man sitting on a green patch of grass, flipping pages as the wind blew curls back from his face. Damn it, Ellison. Focus. With the head on your shoulders.

To Blair's side, at a respectable distance, Rafe and Connor threw a Frisbee back and forth. With half a thought, Jim mused that he'd never seen Rafe in snug jeans before. Not bad. A grin edged onto his lips for a moment as Blair sneaked a glance at the very same sight, not for the first time that day.

Off to the other side and behind Blair, hobo H. lay on a wood bench, grumbling with a faux drunken slur as the breeze disturbed the newspapers covering him. Even after he drew the long straw, Jim had to bribe Brown with Jags tickets to get him into those grimy clothes.

Right on cue, Joel passed in front of Blair with his energetic little white poodle, its identification tags clinking metallically in time to its trot. Distracted by the panting breaths of the little animal, Jim caught himself on the edge of a zone out and shook his head angrily, berating himself for almost leaving Blair hanging. Developing a new appreciation for his partner's ability to keep him alert with chatter, he made a mental note to let him in on his gratitude later.

At precisely that moment, he heard the plastic clicking of a camera shutter. Sweeping toward the sound with his sight, he found a man with dark hair wearing a bright yellow parka. He pressed the button on the radio mounted on his shoulder, breaking into a jog. "All right, listen up. Dark hair, yellow jacket, south end of the park."

Glancing at his partner just to reassure himself that he was okay, he stealthily approached the man from behind. Raising his weapon, he confirmed the proximity of his colleagues and then loudly announced, "Cascade Police! Hands in the air!"

Startled, the man dropped the camera and shot his hands straight up over his head. "I didn't do anything, man!"

Ignoring him, Jim pulled one hand down and closed a handcuff around it, then performed the same action on the other. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"Yes, but I didn't do anything wrong!"

"We'll see about that. Connor, grab that camera and bag it." Turning, Jim found his partner still sitting on the grass, waiting for a signal. Breathing a sigh of relief, he depressed the button on the radio again. "We've got him, Chief."

"This can't be our guy." Jim's tone dripped with incredulous disbelief as he stood in front of the two-way mirror to the interrogation room.

"Doesn't seem very likely, does it?" a deep, nasal voice replied.

Both cops regarded the dark-haired man from the park. He sat alone at the table in the center of the room, clutching his parka with a white-knuckled grip. Every noise startled him, his brow and upper lip glistening in the harsh light.

Jim almost felt sorry for the poor schmuck. "Guy's about to wet himself."

Straightening to his full height, Simon adjusted his vest. "Well, he's the only link you've got to our stalker, so you'd better go find out what he knows."

Grabbing the folder off the counter, Jim headed out into the hall, leaving his captain to watch the show. After entering the room, he seated himself across from the other man. "I'm Detective James Ellison. I'll be recording our conversation."

"Okay."

Pressing play and record on the cassette player, Jim repeated his name along with his badge number and the date and time. "Please state your name for the record."

"Scott S-simon."

"I need you to speak as clearly as you can."

"Okay."

"Is it true that you have waived your right to an attorney?"

"Yes." Scott hesitated for only a moment. "Am I going to jail?"

Jim folded his hands across the open file. "That depends on how willing you are to help us."

"Help you how?"

"Why were you taking pictures of this man, Blair Sandburg, today at the park?" He retrieved a 5"x7" photo and slid it over in front of the other man.

"Some guy paid me fifty bucks to stand close and take pictures."

"Does this guy have a name?"

"He didn't tell me."

"Did it not strike you as odd that the man paid you fifty dollars to take pictures with a disposable camera?"

"Not at the time. I needed the money, so I didn't really question it."

"For what?"

"I... lost a bet and I owe someone."

Nodding, Jim picked up Blair's picture and placed it back in the front of the file. "Have you ever met the man who hired you before today?"

"No. I swear!"

"Could you identify him if you saw him again?"

"Yeah, I got a pretty good look at him."

"Would you be willing to go through some photos and see if you recognize him?"

Scott nodded vigorously. "Yes, absolutely."

"Could you describe him to me?"

"Blond hair, green eyes, medium height, thin."

"What sort of blond? Yellow, sandy, platinum, bleached?"

"Platinum. Straight hair, shoulder length. Bushy eyebrows."

"Okay." Jim quickly jotted down the details. "Did he have any distinguishing marks or tattoos?"

"Now that you mention it, his nose is a little crooked like it's been broken and he had a small skull tattoo right here." He pointed to the juncture of his neck and left shoulder.

"Good. What color was it?"

"That ugly blue-green color."

"One solid color?"

"Yes."

"Anything else you can think of?"

The young man furrowed his brow and stared at the far wall. "Oh!" He snapped his fingers. "He was wearing aftershave -- Old Spice."

Jim quirked a brow. "You're positive it was Old Spice?"

"Yeah. My dad used to wear it. I think they've changed it a little since then, but it was the same basic scent."

"Okay. You've been very helpful. Thank you."

"What happens now?"

Gaining his feet, Jim picked up the file. "I'll send an officer in with the photos we discussed. If that doesn't work out, I'll send our sketch artist in. Does that sound okay?"

"Fine."

After retrieving the session tape, Jim paused. "Are you hungry, thirsty?"

"I'd kill for some coffee."

A surprised snicker escaped Jim's lips. "I don't know if I'd admit that in the middle of a police station, but I'll see what I can do."

Scott returned his smile, his posture visibly relaxing.

Jim stopped in the hallway by the door, tilting his head as he listened to the slow, steady breathing on the other side. Quietly pushing the door open, he peered inside and found his lover sitting in the otherwise empty interrogation room. His hands rested on his knees, open palms facing the ceiling. Shallow breathing passed through slightly parted lips, closed eyes blocking unwanted stimulation.

"Chief?" Jim kept his voice subdued so as not to startle him.

Blair turned his head sharply, drawing a deep breath through his nose as if just waking.

"Simon said you took off." Stepping fully into the room, he closed the door behind him and moved to the table in front of the other man, perching on the edge.

Rubbing his face before replying, Blair attempted to orient himself. "I just told him I needed some time alone and he said this room was available."

Nodding, Jim opted for silence.

"I'm fine." After a beat, Blair glanced up at him, then away. "It wasn't him, was it?" He studied his hands as he waited for a response, picking at imaginary flakes of dry skin.

"No, but he saw our guy. H. is in with him right now, showing him mug shots."

Blair regarded Jim through slit eyelids. "Did he get a pretty good look?"

"Yeah. He gave me a pretty good description. Kid was scared half to death."

"Yeah, I can relate to that feeling."

"You're not fine, Chief. Talk to me."

Waving a hand, Blair shook his head. "Not now. That whole Parkman drug case. I just knew I was going to do time and my life was over."

"I think you know I wouldn't have let that happen."

"Man, we've been snowed by women a time or two, huh?" A sad grin darkened the usually bright face as Blair's eyes followed the cracks in the cement along the wall.

Still sitting on the table, Jim leaned his weight forward on his hands. "Yeah, but we don't have to worry about that anymore, do we?"

Finally looking up at him, Blair held his gaze. "No. I guess we don't." A completely content expression settled on his face, his lips releasing the shadow of a grin yet barely moving at all. "So, what are you doing in here babysitting me? You have a case to solve."

"Rafe and Brown are on it. They'll let me know if something develops."

"And if Simon finds you in here sitting on your duff?"

Jim shrugged, tilting his head a little as he stared straight ahead. "Some things are more important than work." He glanced down quickly when a hand slid up his thigh, squeezing.

"I'm fine, Jim."

"And you'll come find me if a time comes when you're not?"

Blair withdrew his hand and glanced away. "I can deal with it." Scooting off the table, but still leaning against it, Jim sighed. "I think you've missed the whole point of this life partner thing."

"How so?" Blair squinted as he focused on the other man in curiosity.

"What did you tell me once? 'Friends help each other. That's what we do.' Don't you think that's magnified with life partners?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

Smiling, Jim affectionately quipped, "As one of my professors in college said, don't 'yeah, but' me unless you have a legitimate argument to back it up."

Blair opened his mouth to reply, but a knock on the door stopped him just before Brown poked his head in. "Jim, we've got something when you get a minute."

"Be right there." After the door closed, Jim spoke quietly. "Think about what I said."

Blair nodded.

"You with me on this one or you need some more time?"

"Give me ten."

"I can do that." Jim pushed off the table and strode across the room. Stepping out into the hall, he almost collided with Brown. "What have you got for me?"

"Okay. The kid didn't find our guy in the mug books, but he found a guy that looks a lot like him. David Hunter. So, I ran the guy through the system. Can't be our guy. He's dead. Shanked last week at Starkville. You'll never guess who his cell mate was." H. tapped Jim in the chest with the back of his hand, grinning.

"Intrigue me."

"Brad Ventriss."

Mouth dropping open, Jim shook his head. "Go on."

"I did a check and our boy David has an older brother with no record."

Jim snapped his fingers. "Feldman was right."

"What?"

"Sandburg's friend, Rick Feldman, told me that he had a feeling that Ventriss was behind this, but I dismissed it."

"Bad move, my man."

"Do we have a name and address on the brother?"

"Tres Hunter. 847 McKinley Avenue, Apartment 9."

"Let's go talk to him."

As they pulled into the PD lot after the arrest and subsequent search of Hunter's apartment, Blair cleared his throat. "Jim?"

"Mmm?"

"Tres Hunter, are you sure he's the guy?"

Curious, Jim looked over at the other man. "About 99%, yeah. Why?"

"Good. I'm going to take a walk. Can you manage without me?"

"Sure, Chief. Just let me get Officer Denson down here." Jim reached for the radio only to have a hand cover his and pull it away.

"I need to go alone."

Brow wrinkling into a frown, Jim didn't argue.

"I just need some fresh air, man. All this shadow business has gotten kind of claustrophobic. Just sort of feels like the whole world is closing in." He illustrated with his hands.

"Got your cell?"

Digging it out of his pocket, Blair held it up, waving it teasingly. "Fully charged and turned on."

"All right." Jim extracted his keys from the ignition. "Try not to stay gone too long."

"Yes, Dad." At his lover's stern expression, he playfully punched him in the arm. "Just kidding."

"I worry, Chief. I can't just turn it off."

"I know." Blair squeezed the other man's thigh. "I just need a little bit of space."

"You need me to back off? Am I smothering you?"

Blair smiled reassuringly. "Not from you, ya big dope. From this whole looking over my shoulder every second, wondering if some head case is gonna make a play for me."

"Okay. Well, you know where to find me if you need me. I'll leave my phone on, too."

"Jim. You'll be interrogating this guy, right?"

"Yeah."

"Turn the phone off. I know your desk number. If you're not there, it'll roll over to one of the other detectives."

Jaws tensing visibly, Jim held Blair's gaze for several long seconds before answering. "I'll give the phone to Simon while I'm conducting the interrogation, but it stays on."

Chuckling, Blair opened the door and slid out of his seat, shaking his head. "Fair enough."

"Lock your door," Jim groused and slammed his own.

Doing just that, Blair circled the truck. "I won't be long."

Jim nodded and headed into the building without looking back. Blair smiled at the attempt to truly give him some space, then turned and zipped his jacket, pulling his collar up against the damp Cascade air. Even if he wanted to stay gone a long time, the cold front moving in wouldn't allow it.

Finding a bench not more than a block from the station, Blair sat down. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he allowed what heat the sun radiated this time of year to warm his cheeks, not much help to a perpetually cold man.

He loved Jim. He really did. But those eyes constantly watched him, and it grew a bit unnerving sometimes, especially with how much love underlay those glances. Ever since Naomi's visit, the expression in the almost translucent eyes had changed somewhat. Before, worry creased the lines at their edges, but now they surveyed him with a knowing that just got to him. The last thing he wanted was for Jim to find out just how freaked out he was, but trust Naomi to just waltz in and blurt it out for all the world to hear. All his world, that being Jim, anyway.

He loved Naomi, but sometimes he just wanted to shake her. Things were always so simple to her and that just was not the way the real world worked. The coolness seeping through his pants from the wooden slats under his legs reminded him of the real world again and he stood, heading back in the direction of his life.

His game face firmly in place, Jim turned his chair around backwards, a cool expression schooling his features. "All right, Hunter. We've got you cold on stalking."

"You've got nothing on me." The outwardly calm man's accented voice quavered only slightly.

Jim smiled, the suspect's vitals telling a different story entirely. "I'll tell you what I've got. I have nine black silk roses, three missing from the dozen. I think you know where those three were used. I have numerous sets of pictures of Mr. Sandburg strewn all over your desk. I have Old Spice aftershave, which you left traces of on all three roses."

Squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, Hunter oozed false bravado. "You can't put me away on that."

"Oh, that's not all I have." Jim smiled again as he stood up and began to prowl around the room, his voice taking on a deadly quiet tone. "I have a blond hair that you left on the package in Mr. Sandburg's apartment. It's only a matter of time before a judge signs an order compelling you to give a hair sample." He stopped, placing one hand on the table in front of Hunter and one on the back of the chair he sat in. As he leaned close, warm exhalations teased the suspect's ear as Jim spoke. "And I have your notebook detailing Mr. Sandburg's movements over the last two weeks. Even someone living with the man doesn't know his life in that kind of detail."

The suspect's breathing faltered and he jerked his head away from Jim's lips.

"I mean, what were you thinking, writing down evidence of your guilt? That was one stupid move. That would hang you even if we didn't have a witness willing to testify against you. And that's just one charge. We've also got you on breaking and entering as well as vandalism. The department garage has video surveillance, Einstein. You're done." His back turned, Jim smiled broadly at the loud gulp from the other man occupying the room.

"What do you want from me?"

Slowly turning, Jim faced his prey. "Who hired you?"

"What difference does that make?"

Re-settling into his chair, Jim crossed his arms over the back. "Look, man. You're just the low man on the food chain. Talk to me now and we'll see if we can make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Mr. Sandburg is a pretty forgiving guy. Believes in the good in people. I might be able to talk him into letting you plea down to a lesser charge and avoid a jury trial."

"In return for what?" the man spat, sweat streaming down both sides of his face.

"Condition number one: you pay for all body repairs on his car."

"What's condition number two?"

"First, you tell me who hired you."

The man attempted to stare Jim down, but relented, glancing away. "Brad Ventriss."

"How did you come to know Mr. Ventriss?"

"He was my brother's cell mate before he died." Hunter spoke of his brother's death like one would speak of the ingredients to a recipe, no emotion whatsoever in his tone.

"Condition number two: you wear a wire and get it on tape that Mr. Ventriss hired you to stalk Mr. Sandburg."

"Why does it matter? He's already in prison."

"As it stands, he's serving a life sentence with the possibility of parole. If we get him on this, the parole board will never let him out. The man is a danger to society and I don't want him on my streets. Do we have a deal?"

Hunter projected a facade of disinterest, running a hand back through his hair. "Yeah, whatever." He jumped at the click when Jim turned off the cassette recorder and stood, taking the tape with him.

Jim sat in the surveillance van with his partner, the other man presently playing drums on his thighs to get rid of nervous energy.

"Hey, Jim?"

He turned to look at Blair, chin resting against the headphones around his neck. "Yeah?"

"Do you think Ventriss will fall for it?"

Smiling, Jim reached over and slid his fingers into his lover's hair, thumb stroking a high cheek bone. "I know he will, Chief. He's too cocky not to."

"Right." Blair chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking again. "Jim?"

"Yes, Chief?" He made sure to keep his tone patient, used to his partner's nervous chatter in situations such as this.

"Why the headphones? You can hear without them."

"Ever heard of the path of least resistance? I have to run the equipment and I need to make sure that I get it on tape."

"Oh, sorry. I'll shut up now."

"No need. They haven't gotten to the juicy stuff yet."

Brad Ventriss looked at the pictures spread out over the table in disgust. "What is this? I told you to initiate phase two."

"Maybe we should go over it again, just to make sure I'm clear on what you want." Hunter's pulse almost propelled his heart out of his chest.

"What kind of dim wit are you? Make it slow, and make it hurt. I want Blair Sandburg to suffer. Some stitches, a couple broken bones at least."

"How much?"

"You know I'm good for it." Ventriss' smug tone matched his posture as he leaned back in his chair.

"That's not going to work for me this time. I followed Sandburg, took pictures, and delivered the packages without negotiating a price. I won't do it anymore."

"God, give you little people some money and you think you can develop a brain."

"My ass is on the line here, not yours. You want the job done, or don't you?"

"Okay. Fifteen thousand dollars. Good enough?"

Hunter frowned, knowing that he had to make this charade appear real. "That'll do. For now."

"For now, you little piss ant?"

"You got somebody else available to terrorize Sandburg for you?" Pointing what he hoped was a menacing finger, he scooted closer to the table between them. "Just count your blessings that I don't hold you responsible for David's death. You were his cell mate. You should have been watching his back."

Ventriss paled somewhat. "Whatever. Just get back here and let me know when it's done."

At that moment, Detective James Ellison strode into the room. Moving over to their table, he laid his palms flat and bent down into Brad's face. "I'll tell you what's done, Ventriss. You are. When I present evidence to your parole board that you solicited outside help to stalk and bring harm to Mr. Sandburg, a man instrumental in your arrest and conviction for murder, there's no way you'll see the outside of these walls until your full sentence is served."

Brad Ventriss raised his chin in challenge, swallowing hard, sweat breaking out over his face. His eyes shifted to his visitor. "You'd better watch your back, Hunter."

Jim blinked innocently. "I'm sorry. Did you just threaten a man in the presence of a police officer?"

Tres Hunter stood. "Consider it payback for not watching David's back."

"You'd just better watch yours, Hunter."

"Guard!" Jim yelled. "Take this piece of trash back to his cell."

"You've got it." The man roughly pulled Ventriss out of his chair and shoved him toward the door.

Blair spotted his friend's back and slid onto the stool next to him. "Hey, man."

"Hey." Rick winced as he swallowed a sip of hot coffee. "Needs to cool a little."

"Sorry it took me so long to get back with you. Things have been a little crazy lately."

"No kidding. So you caught the guy?" Adding a tad more sugar, Rick stirred his beverage.

"Yeah, turned out to be Ventriss, just like you said."

Rick blinked, eyes wide. "No way, man!"

"Yep." Blair shook his head. "All this over buying a lousy paper. Maybe Sidney was right. I could've given him a C and avoided a whole lot of grief."

"You couldn't have known."

"Ah, well. That's over now. Did you pop the question yet?" Sliding off his stool, Blair gestured toward a booth with his steaming cup.

Following suit, Rick's face split into a wide grin. "She said yes."

"Great!" Blair soundly thumped the other man on the back. "So, when's the big day?"

"I don't know yet. I was so relieved when she said yes that I forgot to ask." Feldman shrugged sheepishly as they sat down.

Chuckling, Blair blew the steam from the top of his coffee.

"What about you, man?"

"Me?" Blair arched a brow as he continued blowing across his cup.

"When are you going to settle down?"

"Me?"

"That's right." Rick rubbed his chin and scrunched his brow in thought before pinning Blair with his gaze. "You're already married."

"Huh?"

Pitching his voice too low for anyone else to hear, he leaned closer. "To your cop."

"I'm fine, man, really. Don't worry about me."

Rick laughed. "Question evaded like a pro. I didn't believe a word of that press conference, you know."

"I gathered as much. I mean, you are still speaking to me." Testing his beverage, Blair took a tentative sip, enjoying the bitter taste as it washed over his tongue.

"He really is one, isn't he?"

"Rick. My dissertation was a fraud. End of story." His expression conveyed what the steady words could not.

"Whatever."

"Yeah."

Blair closed his eyes, gathering his mother close. "I'm going to miss you."

Pulling back, she smiled, pecking him on the cheek. "Me, too, honey. But I'm just glad you're okay."

"I bet Charlie's already at the airport, wearing a hole in the carpet."

"He's a worry wart." She waved her hand in dismissal, laughing.

His heart warming at the sound, Blair returned her smile, kissing her cheek. "You'd better go before you miss your flight."

"Yeah." She turned to Jim and hugged him. "Keep him safe."

"I have every intention to."

"Keep him happy."

"I'll do my best."

"That's all I can ask." Reaching out to Blair one last time, she slid her fingers through his, squeezing once before letting go. "I love you, Blair."

"I love you, too."

"Bye."

"Bye, Mom." He sighed as he watched her disappear into the corridor leading to the plane, leaning into the support as Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. "I hate good-byes."

Jim stood next to his partner, valiantly trying to keep the grin from swallowing his whole face. His lips trembled from the effort and an ache permeated his jaw muscles.

"What do you mean it's already paid?"

The sweaty man behind the body shop counter flipped the papers on his clipboard. "Paid in full by a T. Hunter. You know that name?"

"You have got to be kidding." Blair turned dark blue eyes unerringly on his partner, jabbing a finger in the air toward the other man. "You did this."

"Me?" Jim's mouth dropped open as he shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't even try it, Ellison."

"You're complaining that you don't have to pay the bill? I'm sure I could think of some repairs around the loft if you're just itching to drop two grand."

Blair narrowed his eyes at the smug grin, but turned back to the counter when the man behind it spoke.

"If you'll just sign here and here, we'll be all set."

Shooting a sidelong glance at Jim as he picked up the pen, Blair quickly signed his name and collected his keys. As they walked out of the lobby into the parking lot, their shoulders bumped occasionally. "What did you threaten him with?"

"What makes you think I threatened him, Chief?"

"Jim, you've gotta work on that poker face. This is me you're talking to."

Sighing dramatically, the older man swiped a hand over his face, defeated for this round. "I told him that you probably wouldn't object to him pleading the charges down. I also offered to put in a word for him with the judge and get him minimum security."

"Why would he care what kind of security there is? He'll still be doing time."

"Yes, Chief, but not with Ventriss or his cronies."

"Ah."

"The light bulb illuminates."

"Oh, shut up." Blair affectionately swatted his partner, drawing a laugh, then faced the other man. "So, what do you want to do now?"

Fingering a button on the front of Blair's shirt, Jim allowed the sensitive pad to travel the length of his lover's neck before chucking his chin. "Well, I was thinking now that you don't have a shadow anymore..."

"Mmm-hmm?" Blair crooned playfully.

"...I might collect on that rain check."

"Race you to the loft!" Blair lunged toward his door, intent on getting a head start.

"That 'classic' is no match for 'Old Faithful', my man."

"Bite me, Ellison!"

"Oh, I plan to."