Rain pattered gently against the skylight of the loft apartment at 852 Prospect, and the morning light permeated the place with a gentle, dim glow. The two men in bed on the upper level lay entangled in the sheets and blankets -- the smaller with his face buried in his pillow, the larger on his side with one arm wrapped possessively around his lover. Aside from the rain, some snuffling and gentle snores, the apartment was silent.

The phone rang. Even though the ringer was set very low, Jim Ellison heard it and jerked partially awake, lifting his head from his pillow but not opening his eyes. By the third ring, he had grabbed the cordless phone from the nightstand, turned it on, and let his head fall back to the bed as he answered.

"Ellison." Next to him, Blair Sandburg moaned softly into his pillow, pulling the sheet and blankets up as far as they would go over his head. "Oh, yeah, g'morning, Dr. Stoddard. How are you?" At the name, Blair lifted his head enough so that one bleary eye peered out of his cocoon. "No, that's okay, we had a stake-out last night and we're off today. No problem... Yeah, he's here. Just a minute."

Sighing, Blair managed to extricate one arm and took the proffered phone. Rolling over, he snuggled himself into Jim as he spoke. "Eli? Hi, what's up?"

Jim smiled and tucked Blair to him, letting his head fall onto the soft hair of his companion. Pressed so closely together, even had he not been a Sentinel, he would have been able to hear both ends of the conversation.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Blair, but I really need to see you," Stoddard said.

"Um, sure, when? You mean today?" Still sleep-fuddled, Blair pressed his back firmly against Jim's warm chest, and, still smiling, Jim closed his eyes.

"As soon as you can get here, actually. Could you make it to my office within an hour or so? I have to run over to Lin's office, but I'll be back by then."

"Uh, yeah, I guess, what's going on, Eli?"

Stoddard sighed. "A family crisis, Blair. I need to leave town, and I need... I'm hoping you can cover for me."

Blair stiffened under Jim's arm, and Jim opened his eyes, suddenly taken with an amorphous dread. "You mean... teach? Take over your classes?"

"Yes, and I don't know for how long, and... oh, there's too much to talk about over the phone. Can you come down to campus?" In the background, Blair heard another line ring.

Blair's heart rate was accelerating, and Jim could tell he was almost vibrating. "You got it, Eli. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Blair. I really appreciate it."

Turning the phone off, Blair lay still within Jim's arms, his heart thumping. "Chief?" Jim asked softly, nuzzling into his hair. "You okay?"

"I've got to get down to campus, Jim," Blair responded, still not moving.

"So I heard." Glancing at the clock, Jim grimaced. "Well, at least we got close to seven hours of sleep..."

"Would have been longer had you not insisted on nailing me to the mattress last night, Detective," Blair teased. "You can stay in bed if you want, though," he added.

"Tell you what," Jim said, gently running his hand up and down Blair's side. "Let's catch a quick shower and I'll drive you down to campus. Then we can get breakfast at Campus Cookery, maybe?"

Jim's slightly wistful tone made Blair calm slightly and laugh. He rolled over, finally looking his lover in the eye. Jim drew in his breath at the sparkle revealed in the deep blue eyes, a sparkle which had been missing since Blair had stopped teaching. "Been a while, eh, Jim? Sure. Sounds good to me."

Leaning forward, Jim caught Blair's lips in a heart-stoppingly tender kiss before the younger man could move. There was really nothing sexual in the kiss; caressing Blair's lips with his own, Jim tried to convey all his love and happiness by that means, as well as his own contentment in their relationship. When the kiss gently ended, Blair opened dazed eyes and blinked.

"Wow," he whispered. "What was that for?"

Jim felt a smile spread over his features, and watched Blair's face copy it. "Just... good morning."

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As was usual mid-semester, there was no place to park near Hargrove Hall. Jim drove up the circle and pulled in front of the steps, mindful of the students perpetually milling about and the drizzle still falling. "I'll meet you at the Cookery," Blair said. "Get us a good booth, okay?"

"You got it, Chief," Jim responded, still smiling. "Say hi to Dr. Stoddard for me."

"Will do!" Hopping out of the truck and slinging his ragged backpack over his head to avoid the rain, Blair dashed into the hall, hearing the truck drive slowly away behind him.

Hargrove always felt like home to Blair, almost as much as the loft did. The hallways were crammed with undergrads, and the echoes from lecture halls rang throughout the building. He moved quickly down the hallway toward his old office -- now a storeroom next to Stoddard's new one -- smiling when he saw the standard-issue frosted glass pane in the door. Once, there had been a spectacular etching of a wolf there. He knew where that beautifully-etched glass resided now.

The door to his advisor's office stood open, and from the hallway Blair could hear muted curses and paper rustling. Entering quickly, Blair almost collided with Bob Gemmell, Stoddard's protege. Stoddard stood at his desk surrounded by mounds of precariously stacked paper, muttering and searching, while Bob tried to re-file and re-stack whatever Stoddard had gone through. They both looked up as Blair knocked on the door frame, both with relieved expressions -- although probably for different reasons.

"Blair, my boy! Thank you for being so quick," Stoddard said, waving him in. "I'm sorry about the mess, but this whole crisis has rather knocked me for a loop."

"Crisis, Eli?" Blair asked, dropping his backpack. Automatically he moved to help Bob -- who flashed Blair an amused, knowing smile and made room for him at the disaster of a desk.

Rubbing his forehead and nodding his thanks to both his helpers, Stoddard collapsed in his chair. Then he immediately stood and pulled something out from under himself... his passport, which he looked at curiously. "Now, how did that get there?" he muttered, tucking it into his breast pocket. "Yes, it's Lesley's family. We have to go to Scotland right away, and I have no idea how long I'll be gone."

"Lesley's family?" Blair said, briskly examining and re-stacking the blizzard of paper, bluebooks and lesson plans as he spoke. "I thought she didn't have any family left?" Deftly, Bob moved a pile of paper from the desktop to a credenza, sorting it into already established piles.

"Well, no, her parents are dead, and there's no one left on her mother's side. But there're grandparents and a few cousins or somesuch on her father's side that her mother kept in touch with over the years before her death. So Lesley's met her grandparents -- visited them a few years ago -- but mostly the contact has been one or two letters a year since they're all in Britain. And now, her grandfather has taken ill. Thank you, Bob, you're such a help to me. Blair, could you hand me that folder over there?"

Doing so, Blair then continued his re-ordering of the papers on the desk, passing some to Bob. "I hope it's not serious...?"

"Actually, it probably is." Stoddard frowned at the papers within the folder. "We got a call this morning, and from what I could hear, I think it may be terminal. Lez isn't all that close to them, but they are her last living relatives, and of course she wants to be there."

"Naturally," Blair murmured, having recently been in that situation himself.

"I spoke with the Chancellor this morning, and I've been given emergency leave, but as you know, I've got three courses and a seminar I'm teaching this semester, and I need someone to cover for me. Before I could even make a suggestion of a sub, Lin told me to ask you." He grinned tiredly at the young man's start of surprise. "She likes you, Blair. You have a staunch ally there. I'd cultivate it if I were you."

Taken aback, Blair merely blinked. "Anyway," Stoddard continued brusquely, "I know you can teach Anthro 101 and 102 in your sleep, and I follow your old lesson plans anyway. 101 is Monday and Wednesday at ten, and 102 is Tuesday and Thursday at ten. I've kept 202 to a Monday-Wednesday-Friday at 2:00 p.m. schedule. My graduate seminar meets Monday evening at seven... all I've done is assign them papers so far. It's all in the course plans, which are... ah. There you are," he smiled, as Bob handed Blair a folder. "Everything should be up-to-date -- I hope anyway. But they're mostly pretty good kids, they'll be easy to catch up to. And the seminar notes are all in this binder." He put a two-inch-thick binder into Blair's arms, on top of the folder. "All right?"

"Uh... yeah. Sure, Eli," Blair stammered, adjusting his hold on the papers in his hands and ignoring Bob's wide grin at his discomfiture. He hadn't quite realized how much of his excitement at the thought of teaching again was pure, unadulterated fear. Hoo-boy. Back on the merry-go-round.

"Good. I canceled class this afternoon -- you'll have a class tomorrow and Friday, then the weekend to catch up. Lesley just e-mailed me that she's got our travel plans, and I'll e-mail all of that to you this afternoon, along with numbers and all that. We're leaving tonight. Her grandparents live about an hour north of Glasgow, a place called Arrowchun or Arrocher, something like that, it's right on Loch Long. I'll make sure to give you the phone numbers. Lin will have them too, and Bob, of course, he's going to stay and housesit for us while we're gone, and I'll have my laptop, so I should have e-mail, if you need anything at all."

Still slightly stunned, Blair nodded quickly, processing for all he was worth. "Good, great. Okay, Eli, I think I've got it. I won't let you down."

Smiling tiredly, Stoddard said, "Oh, I know you won't, Blair. I'm just glad I could count on you." His smile suddenly became a grin, which he shared with Bob. "I just hope your Jim won't be too angry with me for taking you away from him."

Laughing, Blair blushed slightly. "Oh, don't worry about it, Eli. I juggled classes and police work before, I can do it again."

Reaching across the desk, Stoddard clasped Blair's shoulder firmly. "I don't doubt it, Blair, I never have. Thank you, son. Lesley and I really appreciate it." Giving Blair a little shake, Stoddard released Blair's shoulder, picked up his laptop and his briefcase and slung his raincoat over one arm. "Feel free to use my office too, if you need to. But I've got to get going..." He looked around in despair. "Oh, dear... what did I do with my passport?"

Bob and Blair exchanged looks and laughed.

Jim had discovered the little mom-and-pop restaurant called Campus Cookery while Blair was still teaching at the University. Situated just across the street from the bursar's office, it was frequented by students and staff from the U, as well as residents of the campus neighborhood and anyone else who discovered it. It was a very small place; there was usually a wait for a table to eat at, or even for a space at the coffee bar. The food was excellent, inexpensive, and personalized, which made it a wonderful place for a Sentinel to eat.

Because it was too late for the normal breakfast crowd and too early for the lunch-eaters, the wait wasn't as bad as normal. By the time a booth became free, Jim could see Blair on his way from the campus. The drizzle had let up some, but it was still a wet, cool day -- when Blair slid into his seat, his hair was beaded with water. He shook his head like a dog, spraying water on a laughingly protesting Jim, who noticed the famous, trademarked Sandburg Smile was firmly in place.

"Hey, Blair! Long time no see!" a female voice, their waitress, hailed him.

Blair looked up, then bounced back out of his seat to give the woman a hug. "Meredith! My God, it has been a while! It's so good to see you! Jim, you remember Meredith, don't you?"

As Blair sat back down, Jim racked his brains to place the pretty young woman. "Sure," he said, shaking her hand and lying through his teeth, "nice to see you again."

She gave him a look that said she not only knew he didn't remember her, but it didn't bother her in the least. "So what can I get you two? Coffee? Juice?" She handed them Xeroxed menus and waited.

"Um... coffee, Meredith, and OJ for me. Jim? Papaya for you?"

"Yeah, sounds great, and coffee for me too. Thanks." The waitress walked away and Jim turned back to Blair, an incredulous expression on his face. "Chief," he said, "tell me the truth. Do you actually know every female in Cascade?"

Blair laughed. "Hmmm... let me think about that," he replied, making a show of intense concentration, one forefinger to his lips. "Um... yep."

It was Jim's turn to laugh. "So what did Stoddard want?" he asked, looking at the menu.

"He's got to go out of the country, a family emergency," Blair said, bouncing in his seat as he skimmed the menu. "He wants me to cover his classes, Anthro 101, 102 and 202, and a senior seminar. Doesn't know how long he'll be gone."

"And of course, you said no, right?" Jim teased, the odd anxiety he felt earlier growing.

Blair glared at him over the top of the menu. "Laugh it up, monkey boy. He's my advisor, the man who will make or break my dissertation. What do you think I said?"

"Oh, and the fact that you love teaching had nothing to do with it," Jim said sourly. He felt immediately guilty for his surliness as he watched his lover's face fall and those sparkling blue eyes dim.

"Ah, don't, Jim, don't... it's not like that..." Blair muttered, swallowing.

Jim sighed. "Oh, shit, Chief, stop. I know..."

"You boys ready to order?" The waitress -- Meredith -- was back with their coffee and juice, looking expectant. Jim hastily turned his attention back to his menu, promising himself they would talk later.

"Oh, they still have that ploughman's omelet," he said softly. "I know what I want..."

"With Eggbeaters," Blair interjected, shooting Jim a mock-glare over his menu.

"Oh, come on, Chief. What's the harm..."

"Cholesterol, old man," Blair interrupted, "cholesterol. As in yours. As in it's too high."

"I don't like Eggbeaters."

"Tough. You eat too many eggs as it is. And they taste just the same."

"Not to me! And besides, who appointed you my mother?"

"Since I'm the only one who will nag you about this -- !"

The waitress had been following the conversation back and forth, a widening smile on her face. Finally, she held up her hands in a 'time out' gesture. "Whoa, boys, hold up there! You two are worse than some of the old marrieds I get in here!"

Jim and Blair grinned at each other, and Jim sighed in relief that the bounce was back in the younger man. Whatever was causing his nervousness, it was unfair to let it affect Blair. "Tell you what," the waitress continued. "A compromise. Blueberry pancakes, with real fresh blueberries --" she looked at Jim, then turned to Blair -- "made with Eggbeaters. Short stack for each of you, and I can get my hands on some real maple syrup. Deal?"

Handing his menu decisively to the waitress, Blair said, "I am down with that."

"I guess I am too then. Thanks," Jim added, handing his menu back as well. She walked away, still chuckling, and Jim turned back to Blair. "You take such good care of me, sweetie," he said, the sugary sweet tone not hiding the laughter in his voice. Blair shook a finger at him... the middle one.

"Get bent, Ellison," he laughed. "And somebody's gotta do it. God knows you don't take care of yourself!" They grinned into each others' eyes for a few moments, until Blair looked down, swallowing back his smile. "You know, it's, uh, going to be hard for me to do that, I mean, take care of you, while I'm doing these classes. Maybe I should have just told Eli..."

"Blair, stop it. Right now," Jim said insistently. He would not allow his feelings to get in the way of his lover's happiness. He would not. "I know how much teaching means to you." Desperately Jim wished he could reach across the table and take his lover's hand, but knew he had to settle for leaning his leg against the other man's under the table. "I -- I can't say I won't miss my partner being there to watch my back --" he forced a smile as Blair looked up -- "but I also know you need to do this. And it's not like you'll be gone all the time, after all. And you're a good teacher, Blair. It's what you love most."

"No, man," Blair said softly. "You got that backwards. You're what I love most. But thank you."

They grinned stupidly at each other until Meredith brought them their pancakes.

The lecture hall was mostly filled with students when Blair got to the Thursday morning class, and the noise spilled out into the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and strode into the room, plopping his backpack on the chair next to the lectern. He let the room quiet naturally as he dug for his notes and glasses; by the time he faced the class, most everyone was in a seat.

"Good morning," he said brightly. "And no, I'm not Dr. Stoddard, as you may have noticed." He heard titters and he smiled. "I'm Blair Sandburg; Dr. Stoddard was called out of town on a family emergency and he's asked me to fill in. I've got his notes and in fact he's using my old lesson plans, so we should have no problem.

"A couple of administrative things," he added, turning and quickly writing on the blackboard. "Here's my cell phone number and e-mail address. I'll be keeping Dr. Stoddard's office hours, in his office, so if you need anything, please come by." Dropping the chalk into the tray, he turned, briskly wiping his hands. "All righty, then. Any questions?"

A boy near the back, dressed in ripped jeans and a black muscle T-shirt, raised his hand from where he sprawled across three seats. Blair frowned slightly and nodded to him. "Yes, Mr. ...?" he said.

"You're that guy that was on TV last year, aren't you?" the young man drawled, not giving his name. Several heads turned towards him as he spoke, then back to Blair.

Blair fought down a jolt of panic; he had prepared for this, he was ready for this, he could handle this. Taking a deep breath, and meeting the young man's eyes from across the hall, he answered, "I've been on TV before, yes. If you have a specific question about that or anything else that doesn't involve this class directly, you may come see me during office hours. Now. You should all have done the reading that Dr. Stoddard assigned..."

Class moved along briskly after that, even if Blair looked up from writing on the blackboard to find that Mr. Muscle-Shirt had left the room. Shrugging mentally to himself, he kept teaching.

By the end of the hour period, Blair had sparked several arguments amongst the students, which at one point became almost heated. Realizing they were out of time, he laughingly called for a time out. "Hang on, hang on," he overrode one student who was intent on making her point. "You can't simply declaim without data to back you up," he explained, grinning at the girl, who finally relaxed and grinned back. "Not that I disagree with you," he added, "but you've got to tell me why you're thinking that way.

"To that end," he said, louder, addressing the entire class again, "the reading assigned for this week should help you all with this question. So let's table it, and we'll pick it up again on Tuesday. Have a great weekend, everybody, oh! There's a special on TLC, Saturday night at nine, on the Aboriginal tribes of Australia and their court battles over their stolen children. Extra points to whoever watches it instead of partying!"

To laughter and calls of "How many points?" Blair straightened his notes and re-packed his backpack. As he was quickly erasing the blackboard, one of his students approached. "Mr. Sandburg?" he heard a soft voice call him.

The girl he faced, as he turned, was very pretty and quite young, clearly in her first or second year at school, and was pierced everywhere. Blair had never had a problem with body piercings -- after all, holes closed up while tattoos were forever -- but even he blanched at the thought of a pierced tongue. He spared a brief moment to wonder where else she might be pierced under her mini-skirt, then smiled.

"You're going to have to tell me your name," he said. "I haven't had a lot of time to study the roster."

"Oh, that's okay, I'm Reese. Reese Cooper? My sister's name is Jan."

Blair blinked at her for a moment, then the penny dropped. "Reese! You're Jan's little sister Teresa! Last time I saw you, you were in high school!"

Flushing, pleased to be remembered, the girl bobbed her head. "Yep. I'm in my second year here now. I'm like majoring in sociology."

"Good for you, Reese, that's great." Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, Blair indicated she should precede him out of the room. "How's Jan doing? I haven't seen her in ages."

"She's teaching," the girl answered, walking out the door with him and heading down the hall towards Dr. Stoddard's office. "She got this job? At UC/SD. She's on the tenure track. She, uh, asks about you, like, how you're doing and stuff."

"She does?" Blair blinked, a bit surprised; they had moved on from dating a long time ago. "Well. Uh... go ahead and give her my e-mail address then, I'd love to talk to her. See how she's doing."

A familiar form was bulking large in the doorway to Stoddard's office, and Blair smiled. "Hey, Jim, I'm coming," he called, and Jim raised his hand.

"Who's that?" Reese asked, frowning.

"Oh, that's my partner, Jim Ellison. I'm doing some consulting work for the police department as part of my dissertation. I mean... my new diss." Blair's voice faltered but Reese looked at him sympathetically.

"Nobody really believed all that stuff at the press conference," she confided, leaning in towards him. "We all figured, you know, like you had just been screwed over somehow. I mean, like the U is doing that to us all the time anyway, you know?"

Blair quirked a smile at her. "Oh. Well, thanks, Reese." Meeting up with his partner, he said, "Reese, this is Jim Ellison, my partner. Jim, this is Reese Cooper, she's the little sister of -- an old friend."

Jim, his face holding that smile he reserved for babies, young children and very old folks, shook the girl's hand. She blushed, but her apparent shyness didn't keep her from giving the big man the once-over. "Nice to meet you, Reese," he said, then turned back to Blair. "C'mon, Chief, if we're going to eat anything at all it has to be now. The ADA expects us by one."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, hang on, let me drop this roster off on Eli's desk." Doing so, he closed the door behind him. "It was great seeing you again, Reese, and I'm glad I'll be teaching you... if only for a little while."

"Thanks, Mr. Sandburg," she answered. "I'll make sure I get Jan your e-mail address. Bye!" Turning, she sashayed down the hall, to the appreciation of every man in sight. Jim and Blair turned towards each other, each noticing the other's appreciative ogling, and laughed.

"Wonder where else she might have a hole, Chief?" Jim asked, teasingly.

His partner colored and snickered. "Oh, man, do not go there!" he replied. "Can you say, 'University Code of Conduct?' Let's go. I'm starving."

Blair found it incredibly easy to slip back into the teaching groove, finding it made for a refreshing change -- especially since it would be temporary. Simon, of course, didn't appear to be quite so content at the thought of losing one half of his best team for several hours a day, but Blair told Jim he could tell Simon was just yanking his chain. Jim agreed sourly; Simon was happy Blair was happy, and Jim couldn't figure out why he wasn't just as happy for his partner. The partner who, he discovered, would be gone teaching every day -- and on Mondays and Wednesdays, all day.

The Friday class, which was Anthropology 202 (Cultural Benchmarks), consisted mainly of higher level students who had already declared majors; most of them were anthropology, but some were sociology and some in the psych program. The meeting was raucous and stimulating, Blair told Jim that evening on their way home. Jim smiled briefly at Blair's enthusiasm, but concentrated on the scent and feel of his partner, which had been denied him most of the day. As soon as they were through the door to the loft, Jim pulled Blair into a long, intense hug; when Blair finally, gently pushed him away, Jim went reluctantly. Blair's curious look merely earned him a kiss and a request for dinner.

Jim worked Saturday, since he had been off Wednesday, and normally Blair would have been right with him -- interviewing witnesses unavailable during the week, helping with paperwork, getting caught up. But Blair begged off this time, wanting to concentrate on prep work for the classes. Jim reassured him that it was fine, but he knew he was lying to himself as well as Blair. He missed having Blair with him. He finally cut the day short and went home, not having accomplished much.

The rest of the weekend, Blair hummed and puttered, putting together class notes and outlining lectures in between their usual chores. Jim watched him carefully, on one hand delighted at his partner's mood, on the other still feeling that vague unease and discontent. When he tried to capture why on earth he should feel nervous or upset about Blair teaching again, it would slip through his fingers like water.

By late Sunday night, both the lack of understanding and the discontent itself were beginning to irritate him. There was no reason why he should feel anything but pleasure at Blair's happiness, and teaching made Blair happy. Even if it took him away from Jim. Which it did. Jim lay on his back on their bed, waiting for his lover in the dim light, his arms behind his head and a frown on his face as he puzzled it over. He was concentrating so strongly he didn't hear Blair come up the stairs, and jerked in surprise at a tickle on his ribs.

"You were thinking mighty hard there, bwana," Blair said, grinning impishly from his place on the bed next to him. "I could actually see the smoke coming from your ears. Wanna share?"

Jim studied Blair for a moment, examining the beloved features in the low light of the bedside lamps. Inhaling deeply, he smelled and tasted the scent of Blair, the scent of home, of love, to him; instantly, he was hard enough to pound nails. Moving quickly, he pushed himself up and over, pinning the smaller man to the bed, making him laugh. "Fuck that," he growled, then added softly, "because I'd rather fuck you." He dove in for a deep kiss that left both of them breathless.

"Damn, Ellison," Blair murmured, his eyes glazed. "Have I told you lately you're a terrific kisser?"

"No," Jim replied, a bit glazed himself, "and I don't want you saying anything coherent anyway."

"I can do that," Blair managed to get out before Jim proceeded to shut him up in a most satisfying way, kissing down his body and abruptly swallowing his erection. Of course, that produced sounds, but none of them were, in fact, coherent. Efficiently bringing Blair to a sudden, gasping climax, Jim swallowed his come, and made a long arm to the bedside table where they kept their supplies. Not waiting a moment, he rolled on a condom, lubed himself up, gently but quickly prepared the sated lump of skin and bones Blair had become, and entered him in one smooth thrust. Blair's eyes rolled back into his head as he breathlessly keened his pleasure, locking his legs loosely around Jim's neck.

Looking down on the man he was vigorously loving with his whole self, Jim felt a burst of intense emotions tear through him; he felt awash with fear, love, panic, yearning ,terror, hope, anguish -- and other feelings, for which he had no name. The extreme combination took control of him and abruptly threw him over the edge into a screaming, unbelievably fierce orgasm. He blacked out.

When he came to, he was lying half-on and half-off Blair, who was stroking his head and neck. "Welcome back," the younger man said softly, looking with concern into Jim's eyes.

"Uh.... " Jim said, articulately. "I... blacked out?" Blair nodded. "Oh God, I didn't hurt you, did I, babe?"

"No, no, you didn't," Blair hastened to assure him. "Though I'm glad I do yoga. But you scared me a bit. What's wrong, Jim? You've been acting odd all weekend."

Surprised that you noticed, Jim thought sadly as he closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the solid, hairy strength of Blair's chest. Beneath his ear, he could hear the steady thrum of the heart that anchored him into his world, the heart he felt he could probably hear halfway across town. Across the state.

"I -- I don't know," he finally murmured, not looking up. "It's probably nothing. Just me being weird again."

"Well at least you admit it," Blair said softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. "Will... will you tell me if, or when, you figure it out?"

Wincing at the quiet plea in that voice, Jim sighed. "I know we've never talked about what happened with that crazy bitch," he said, "or about what happened up in Canada. And I'm sorry about that; we should, I guess."

"We don't have to," Blair insisted gently, quickly. "I know how hard it is for you to discuss your feelings. And I screwed up badly."

Thinking back to that moment when he had realized that Blair was no longer in the hospital, Jim had to agree. Aloud, he said, "No, no, we should talk. And you didn't screw up. I did. Well, okay," Jim conceded, taking in Blair's skeptical look, "we both did. I let my insecurity and fears get in the way of us." As usual, he added silently. Could that be what's happening now, Jim wondered? "So, we'll talk about it. Just..." Pushing himself gently off his body pillow, Jim raised himself on his elbows and smiled down at Blair. "Just not tonight, I guess. I do trust you, Blair," he finished earnestly, pushing a curly lock of hair off the other man's forehead.

Capturing the hand that lingered over his face, Blair brought it to his mouth and kissed it. "That's nice to know," he said, his voice a bit choked.

"I should tell you more often, shouldn't I?"

"It... couldn't hurt."

"I'm sorry."

"Go to sleep, Jim. Things'll look better in the morning."

Jim nodded. "Will you be in tomorrow?"

"I'd come in with you, but I have a ten o'clock class, and I'll need a ride to the university anyway, so I guess not. I'm sorry. Is that okay?"

"Of course it is." Of course it's not something inside Jim echoed. He firmly pushed it away and locked it behind a door -- along with the other voice that was demanding he live up to his promise and talk to Blair.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The two men slept.

Monday turned into the kind of day that Mondays always seemed to be; laden with paperwork, busy work, backed-up work, and just plain work. Jim, after reluctantly dropping off Blair at the University, waded through the paper that had piled up -- it must breed overnight, he thought sullenly -- in both his and Blair's in-boxes, stoically and efficiently clearing it out one sheet at a time. Cases were transferred in and out of Major Crime, some Jim's and some not, and Simon spent a frustrating time hurrying up and waiting, as he put it.

Midmorning, while Simon and Jim were meticulously going over an investigation into a series of murders that might have been connected to a drug lord, Rhonda stuck her head into the office. "Jim, I hate to interrupt, but there's a call for you on line three... it's Rainier. The Chancellor?"

Jim and Simon blinked at each other, and Jim's automatic response was to think of Blair. Simon thanked Rhonda and held his phone out to Jim.

"Ellison."

"Detective Ellison. I'm sorry to have bothered you; this is Chancellor Konoe."

"Uh, yes ma'am. And no, it's no bother. Is this about Blair? Is he all right?"

Konoe drew in a breath, and across the phone line Jim could hear her heart rate speeding up. "Oh, no, no... everything's fine. I'm sorry if I worried you. Actually, I was wondering if I could perhaps take up some of your time in a personal meeting -- today, if you could find the time. I have... a... hmm. Well, a situation, I suppose you could call it, and I was hoping for the input of a professional."

Now thoroughly confused -- and not a little concerned -- Jim frowned into the phone. "Well, certainly, if you need it, but I don't understand. The campus has its own security..."

"Yes, I know, of course," she said quickly, "but, well, this is a rather unorthodox situation I'm faced with. One that a man of your, uh, rather extreme natural talents would be, well, I guess I could say ideally suited for?"

Jim froze, shooting a glance at Simon, who frowned at him. "I'm... not sure I understand you, Chancellor," Jim said carefully.

"Oh, Detective," she sighed, "I'm just looking for some -- off the record, unofficial help. I think once you hear what I have to say you'll understand why I'm being so... mysterious. It's difficult to talk about it over the phone. Suzanne is well aware of the fact that I'm consulting with you."

After a moment, Jim said, "Well, all right. Blair's in class now, and has a 2:00 class. Do you want us..."

"I'd rather," Konoe interrupted quickly, "I'd rather meet with you alone. Of course, if you need your... your partner... with you..."

"No." It was difficult to swallow around a lump of worry, Jim thought. "I think I could come by now..."

"I'll rearrange my schedule for you, Detective. Thank you, thank you so very much."

With a non-committal grunt, Jim carefully replaced the phone in its cradle, then sank to a seat in a chair next to Simon's desk. His Captain stared hard at him.

"What was all that about?"

"Chancellor Konoe... she wants me to come by to consult with her on something. Something she says... my unique talents could help on."

It took Simon not quite ten seconds to put it together. "Oh shit. Oh shit. She knows about you, doesn't she? How long?" he demanded.

"Um... for a while now, I think. You remember that cocaine in the beer case? She kinda put two and two together."

"And now she's calling you for help on... 'something.'" Simon sounded incredulous.

"Uh, yeah. Sounded kinda serious."

"I'm gonna call Sandburg," he muttered, but Jim held up his hand.

"Wait, Simon. Don't." Simon paused and looked back at him. "He's -- busy. And I'm not sure he needs to know yet."

"Know what, Jim?" Simon said, exasperated. "You don't even know what she wants here."

Jim just shrugged, looking worried. Finally, Simon asked, "So what are you going to do?"

Biting his lower lip, Jim rose and paced to the windows. "I guess... I guess I'm going to go see her."

After a moment's silence, Simon asked, "What's Sandburg doing?"

"He's in his ten o'clock class. I needed to drive him; the 'classic' is in the shop again." They shared a grin.

Drawing a deep breath, Simon nodded. "Okay; fine. You've got the rest of the morning, nothing's going on here anyway... take your cell in case I need you. And I want you to keep me posted." At Jim's frown, his Captain added, "Hey! I've got almost as much invested in this Sentinel thing as you do. Don't forget that."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir, wouldn't dream of it." Simon couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Jim had met Chancellor Konoe before, the last time under less-than-ideal circumstances. He remembered her as a small woman, very elegant, but with an aura of power and determination about her that was amazing. Meeting her across a desk this time did nothing to alter his initial perception of her -- however, he could tell she was a woman on the edge. Her neatly-coiffed hair was beginning to fray a bit, and she looked exhausted.

He took her hand and shook it warmly as she greeted him. "Detective Ellison, I can't tell you enough what it means to me that you could come see me."

"I think I would appreciate it if you would try, ma'am," he said, taking the indicated seat, and declining the drink offer from the Chancellor's secretary.

She smiled ruefully. "I apologize for our earlier conversation. Going over it in my head, I realize it must have sounded, well, pretty disturbing." The door behind Jim closed with a soft click, and Konoe suddenly deflated. "I'm well aware that I'm already in your debt, but I'm afraid I rather desperately need your help -- again."

Leaning forward, Jim indicated his willingness to listen, but didn't reply. "We have... we have a new group on campus, Detective Ellison, and over the last week they've apparently been determined to make their mark. They're calling themselves the Spiritual Morality League, of all things, and they are... well, to be frank, they're beginning to scare me." She leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her temples. "They hide behind the aegis of religion, claiming to be nothing more than an extremely conservative spiritual group, but that's not so. They are as far from religion -- well, Christianity -- as you can get. All they really want is an excuse to terrorize anyone that doesn't agree with them. And while they're at it, all the blacks, and Hispanics, and Asians, and homosexuals..."

Jim frowned but didn't say anything. After a moment she continued. "There have been a few incidents. Students have ended up in the hospital. Suzanne has tried, but they won't come out and tell us who hurt them... I think they're too afraid. I had the university president in here last week, demanding that I get rid of these... these hooligans, by any means necessary, he said." Snorting lightly she muttered, "Don Franklin likes to think this campus is his personal fiefdom sometimes." Looking up, her frightened brown eyes met Jim's. "Now... now Don's basically told me, 'never mind.' Said that he was overreacting. His daughter is a freshman here, you see -- I'm afraid she might have been -- approached."

Beginning to see all too well -- and not liking it one bit -- Jim felt his frown become thunderous. Konoe continued. "If it hadn't been for Don reversing himself like that... well, I would have just proceeded the way I usually do. Have Campus Police keep an eye on them. Drag the leaders in to have a talk with them, along with the Dean of Students. Behave like the 'mommy' I have to be sometimes." She smiled at him, but it was weak. "But now... Detective Ellison, I... I find myself in an unusual situation. I don't know what to do."

"It's Jim, ma'am," Jim said quietly, studying her on multiple levels. It was obvious she was telling the truth, and was equally obvious that she was highly stressed.

"Thank you, Jim," she replied softly. "I'm Lin. Do you think you could help?"

"I'm not sure what you want me to do here, Lin," Jim replied, shaking his head in confusion.

She took a deep breath, staring at her hands. "I pride myself on my open-mindedness, Jim," she finally said. "I didn't know Blair until late last year, after Chancellor Edwards was, um, requested to leave -- at your instigation too, I believe." Jim quirked a smile at her and indicated she should continue. "When I saw the press conference, I didn't know what to think. But when Eli came to me and told me about Blair, and when I read his file, well, it all became very clear."

Deliberately, Konoe looked at Jim, then let her eyes drop slowly to a fairly large binder sitting on a corner of her desk. With a start, Jim realized the title on the stack of printout he could see through the clear cover was 'The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg.' "Is that..."

"Yes," she said softly. "It's the only copy I know of, although I hope Blair has one. It's a very well-written piece of work, you know, and I found it quite illuminating. Your -- talents -- are prodigious. I had quite a difficult time prying this hard copy out of that idiot publisher's hands, as well as making sure he destroyed any electronic copies. The legal department here at Rainier is very good, Jim, and as I said before, I'm in your debt. I'd hoped that this would help mitigate that a bit."

Swallowing, Jim dragged his eyes up to Konoe's, and to his surprise, met nothing but sympathy and understanding there. "I normally keep it in my vault, inside an envelope, where strict instructions to my lawyer demand it be destroyed in the event of my death. But I've read it... cover to cover." She leaned forward, and clasped her hands. "A university campus is not like the world at large, you know. We do have to follow state and federal law, but unlike outside campus, there's nothing to prevent me from using any method I can to get information, if I deem it necessary."

It took Jim a few moments to calm himself and mull this revelation over. She let him have those moments, and more, sitting quietly in her chair, looking down at her hands. Finally, clearing his throat first, Jim said, "Blair thinks the world of you, you know."

Konoe looked up in surprise. "He does? That's nice to hear. I -- I think very highly of him as well. He doesn't know, Jim, that I have his dissertation. And, from what I've seen... from what Eli's told me... you two are more than close. Am I right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jim murmured, looking her in the eye.

"Then you'll understand why I say I'm nervous for Blair. I don't want to lose any student, but especially not a brilliant, wonderful young man like him. And..." here she lifted her lips in a sad smile, "I'd hate to have you out for my blood because I didn't do enough to protect him. Does that make sense, Jim?"

"Yeah," Jim replied, blowing out a breath, "yeah. It does. But I need to tell you a few things now," he continued. "You know I'm a cop. I understand your need for discretion in this matter, and it doesn't take a Blair Sandburg to figure out why you came to me instead of -- or maybe as well as -- Tomaki. I'll do what I can. But anything significant I uncover is going to have to go to my superiors -- as is this information. I can't, in good conscience, let something illegal slide. Not for anyone."

Pursing her lips, Konoe nodded. "I understand. All I ask is that you let me know anything you find out."

"I can do that," Jim nodded. "I truly do understand your position here, Lin, and I'll do all I can to help out. I don't like seeing students -- anyone -- assaulted either."

Konoe smiled, and it lifted about five years off her face. She stood and held out her hand; Jim also stood, and took it. "Thank you, Jim. I've got a stack of copied files for you... They're yours to do with as you see fit. I can't tell you how much I consider you a godsend."

"Well, wait to say that until you get my bill," Jim joked, smiling to show the words were teasing.

But the Chancellor took them fairly seriously. "Whatever that bill is, I'll pay it. Please remember that, Jim. I will pay it. Like I said earlier, I already owe you for saving my friend's child. Anything you ever need that is within my power..." She trailed off, and Jim nodded to her, understanding.

It was that wonderful rarity in the Pacific northwest -- a sunny spring day. Still cold, the air had a nip in it that the sun only partially dispelled. But that didn't stop the students at Rainier University from basking in the all-too-rare sunshine. Jim wandered among the pre-lunch crowds on the quad, listening and looking, cataloguing and dismissing, filing away that which might have been significant for later perusal.

He hadn't gone far when he realized that the overall mood was tense, far too tense for a post-mid-term campus. People huddled in tight little groups, looking nervously around and speaking quietly. Girls walked in packs; he saw hardly any singles. Picking a bench in an out-of-the-way corner, he opened the first of the files Chancellor Konoe had given him, glancing through it while scanning the crowd for talk which might be important. One of the most useful skills Blair had taught him was to scan conversations -- much like a police scanner checks frequencies -- in order to identify key words. He used that now, on one level skimming over campus police reports and student profiles, while on another listening.

"Mr. Ellison?" A familiar voice brought him up out of his semi-fugue state, and he looked up in surprise to find Bob Gemmell standing in front of him.

Shaking his head and blinking, he smiled at the student. "Oh, hey. Bob. Sorry. I was reading and concentrating a bit."

"No problem, I'm just surprised to see you here. Mr. Sandburg's got office hours, and I thought you'd be at work."

"Well," Jim pursed his lips and considered the sturdy young man before him. Coming to a quick decision, he continued. "Actually, I am. The Chancellor has asked me to look into the situation here with that Spiritual Morality League. What?"

As soon as Jim mentioned the group, Bob sat down next to him, looking about nervously. "I'll say she's got a situation," he said softly. "I think those assholes are trying to take over the campus!"

"You know about them?" Jim asked intently.

"Who doesn't?" Bob responded. "They're bad news, Mr. Ellison. Real bad news." Suddenly he paled. "They're not after Mr. Sandburg, are they?"

"Not if I can help it," Jim replied grimly. "What can you tell me about them, Bob?"

"Well, they were sudden," Bob replied slowly, glancing at his watch. "They had this rally last week, really got people upset. We've even started a counter-group, you know, against them, but -- well, it's hard to get members. These guys are really intimidating. And no one can pin anything on them. It's weird."

"Who is 'we've', Bob?" Jim asked, getting his pen out.

Bob rattled off a dozen names, which Jim copied down. "And there's a lot more that would join, but are afraid to. Most of us in the group are, you know, jock types, we can take care of ourselves. We've been doing stuff like escorting people back and forth to campus, that kind of stuff." Glancing at his watch again, Bob made to stand. "I guess Mr. Sandburg is going to help you clean this crap out, isn't he?"

Jim opened his mouth, then suddenly choked. "Actually," he heard himself say from a great ways away, "Mr. Sandburg doesn't know I'm on this. I don't know if I'll tell him either... well, not right now."

Nodding, Bob said, "Yeah, it's not like he doesn't have enough on his plate, what with Dr. Stoddard leaving and him taking over all the classes. Don't you worry, Mr. Ellison, I'll look after him while he's on campus."

Sincerely touched by the young man's offer, even while he was wondering just why he had suddenly decided to keep Blair in the dark, Jim said, "I appreciate that, Bob. It's not like Blair is completely helpless, though." Oh yeah? a small voice inside Jim sneered.

"Well, no," Bob said, then added shrewdly, "except when he's concentrating on some thing -- or someone -- else. Right? I mean, he kind of goes off into the ether and doesn't really notice anything around him."

"You've got Sandburg pegged, all right," Jim said ruefully.

"Well, don't you worry. I'll keep an eye on him here. I got class. Good luck in dealing with those bozos." Getting to his feet, he re-shouldered his backpack and moved off. "See ya later, Mr. Ellison!" he called as he jogged off.

Jim waved and smiled, then glanced at his watch, noticing it was near lunch time. Making a detour to his truck, he left the files on the seat then walked to Hargrove, still listening and observing, fairly deep in thought.

It made no sense to exclude Blair from this investigation -- not that it was an actual investigation, not yet, anyway. But Jim had an overwhelming urge to do just that, to keep Blair in the dark, to work this one alone. Like Bob had said, it wasn't as if Blair didn't already have enough on his plate. Always teaching, always gone. Away from Jim. Part of his brain yelled at him, reminded him that they had promised to talk to each other. But how could Jim talk to Blair when Blair was so busy with these damned classes?

He heard Blair long before he saw him. In full 'teacher mode', Blair was deep in discussion with a student, handing out judicious amounts of praise and encouragement from Eli Stoddard's office. Since it was clear the meeting was ending, Jim leaned against the wall near the door and waited; shortly, a young man with a thoughtful expression left the room, and Jim slipped inside to lean against the door frame and force a smile for his partner.

Blair sat at the desk, his hair flying every which way as he searched for something in his backpack. "Hey, Teach," Jim said softly.

Jerking his head up, Blair smiled incandescently. "Jim! Man, what are you doing here? Simon let you off the leash?"

"Isn't much of a leash without my partner around," Jim said, trying to keep his tone light. He entered the room and pushed the door to behind him. "Thought maybe you'd like to maybe accompany me to lunch. Gotta get my calories so I can chase bad guys around our fair city."

"I would love to go to lunch," Blair said fervently. "I'm starved. I forgot what a hassle teaching is, you know? Really draining. How did I do it for so long? And why? It sure as hell wasn't for the money."

"Because you love it," Jim replied, perching on the edge of the desk next to Blair. Maybe more than me, he added silently, then forced that thought away. "And anyway, you're good at it. Sometimes..." He trailed off, swallowing back his sudden insecurity.

"Sometimes what, Jim?" Blair asked, looking up at Jim, slightly puzzled.

"Nothing." Jim leaned forward and tucked a stray lock behind one ear. "I -- I missed you today."

"Yeah. I missed you too," Blair said. "You know, I love teaching, but... I just really missed you today. You and the job. C'mon. Let's go grab a bite at the pub, all right?" Pushing back the chair, Blair stood but was caught by Jim's hand on the back of his neck.

"Pay toll," Jim whispered, and pulled the smaller man in for an embrace.

"Cheap at any price, man," Blair murmured against Jim's lips.

So caught up in his partner's taste and feel was Jim that he didn't hear the heartbeat of their observer. Reese Cooper stared at the two men through the slightly open door, frowning and chewing her lower lip before turning and hurrying away.

By one-thirty, Jim was back in Major Crime, laying out the contents of the files he had been given to Simon. Just as Jim had done, Simon got a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach the more he read.

"This doesn't look good," he muttered, looking from the Campus Police reports to the student profiles. "I take it you're getting the same feeling I'm getting here?"

Nodding grimly, Jim said, "Kincaid's Sunrise Patriots."

"Same MO. Why didn't Konoe come to the police with this herself?"

Spreading his hands and shaking his head, Jim said, "She's got to be a politician too, Simon. She's caught between a rock and a hard place here. You know Suzanne Tomaki, she's good, but this kind of thing goes far beyond what the campus police can do, especially if those assaulted won't talk, and these kids won't. And... the U president has suddenly backed off from demanding blood, and she suspects coercion by these idiots. From what I overheard on campus, she's got good reason to believe that."

Simon shot Jim a hard look. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing specifically incriminating." Rubbing the back of his neck, Jim paced to the windows, turned and propped himself on the windowsill. "The kids are frightened. It's a university, Simon -- you know how it should sound. Loud, raucous... conversations of every kind everywhere. Instead, everyone huddled in little groups. People whispered, looking around themselves nervously. This group may not be that large -- yet -- but it's got clout, and I'm afraid its ranks are growing."

"Yeah, the peer pressure on a campus has got to be enormous." Simon went back behind his desk and sat, staring hard at nothing, a frown marring his features. "Okay, call H and Rafe in. I want them to start poking around on it."

"But Simon..."

"No buts, Jim. You're too close to it. And don't try to argue with me," he added, one finger raised as Jim opened his mouth to do just that.

Exasperated, Jim stalked to the door, threw it open and motioned for his two colleagues. After a moment, Henri came in, followed by Rafe, who closed the door as Simon indicated. The files were still spread out on the conference table, and the Captain came around his desk to sit with his detectives. "Have a seat, gentlemen -- Jim has brought us something new to be concerned about."

While Simon briefed H and Rafe on the situation, with Jim's help, the partners skimmed over the files. While Henri asked pointed questions of both Jim and Simon, Jim noticed that Rafe not only avoided talking to him -- he avoided even looking at him, just as he had done since he found out about Jim and Blair. Saddened by the withdrawal of a man he had always considered a friend, Jim tried to push it away and concentrate on business.

Eventually, they decided on a plan of attack, which had the two partners going on to Campus separately to nose around for more information. H had a cousin on campus, living at a frat house, and Rafe knew a few of the instructors socially. Both detectives agreed that the situation ought to be nipped in the bud, hopefully by putting some of the ringleaders in jail for assault -- at the least. Jim gave them Suzanne Tomaki's name and number and advised them to work with her.

Gathering up the files, the other detectives left the room, already arguing over who would take which tack in the investigation. Jim stayed where he sat, an unhappy expression on his face that Simon noticed instantly.

"What's going on with Rafe, Jim?" He asked softly.

Sighing, Jim turned to the sympathetic face of his captain. "Oh, I don't know, Simon. He's been acting... funny... since he, well, since he found out about me and Sandburg. I..." Jim trailed off, studying the table before him intently.

Shaking his head, Simon turned to look through the glass of his office at the handsome detective arguing genially with his partner. "I never thought... not Rafe. I mean, some of the guys, yeah, redneck types are everywhere. But Rafe?"

"Yeah, well, I guess you never know, do you." Jim's voice was flat with disappointment and Simon winced in sympathy.

"Do you want me to talk with him?"

Smiling slightly, Jim looked up. "Thanks, but no. That would probably make it worse. If I get a chance... I'll try to talk to him. Maybe today."

"Don't..." Simon trailed off, obviously looking for the right words. "Don't blame him, don't hate him, Jim. He can't help what he is."

"Well, that's not exactly true, is it, Simon?" Jim asked softly. "Hell, look at me. The way I was raised, you'd think I wouldn't be able to tolerate having a male lover, or even a black man as a friend and superior officer. But you're the best friend I've ever had. If I got past my upbringing, why can't he?"

"I don't have any answers, Jim," Simon answered sadly. "I wish I did."

Jim stood, clapping Simon on one shoulder. "Sandburg would tell us to just detach with love. Still gotta figure out how to do that, though."

Snorting with laughter, Simon waved Jim out of the office. Both went back to work, to try to forget about the unexpected prejudice in what they had come to consider family.

But, of course, neither could forget.

Later that day, Jim found Rafe alone in the breakroom, trying to get the vending machine to give up its largess. Swearing under his breath, he was rocking the heavy machine and punching it lightly.

"What's the matter, something get stuck?" Jim asked easily, sliding his coins into the soda machine to get himself an iced tea.

"Goddamn thing. My M&Ms got jammed," Rafe muttered, giving the offending machine one last shake. Jim looked, and sure enough, a corner of the bag was caught under one of the wires that held the candy in place.

"Here," Jim said, putting his can down on the table. "You hold that side, I'll take this one. On three..." With a grunt and a heave, the two men tipped the heavy thing, setting it back with a thump that loosened the offending wire and allowed the bag to fall to the bottom.

Crowing in delight, Rafe bent and retrieved his candy. "Thanks," he muttered, not looking directly at Jim before turning and heading for the door.

"You're welcome," Jim said, which caused the other man to pause before he reached the door. "Rafe," Jim said before he could start moving again. "I -- I haven't changed, you know. Neither has Sandburg. I wish you'd understand that."

Frozen in place, Rafe didn't turn, but Jim could hear his heartbeat pick up. After a moment, he sighed and left the room, still not looking back. Shortly afterwards, Jim also went back to his desk to finish his day.