No! The chilling image before him wasn't real. It couldn't be. Jim swallowed convulsively as his eyes traveled around the room. Naomi stood stark naked, extending beseeching hands toward her son, her trembling voice whispering soft, consoling words. Blair sat huddled in the corner, his head bent down, hands over his face. Jim's ears could pick up the anguished plea repeated over and over in a quivering childlike voice: "Not again, Mommy. Not here. Please."

The shocking scene fueled his anger, and Jim glared at Naomi. She cringed, quickly grabbing her dress off the floor and slipping it over her nakedness. Tears slowly escaped down her cheeks as she took a step toward her son, her hand outstretched.

She was stopped by an angry growl that turned into words of barely restrained anger. "Get out!"

"Jim...." she whimpered, crying freely now. "Let me....."

"No!" Jim cut her off. "You'll get your chance to try to explain this, but not now. Just get out!"

He forcibly stepped over in between her and Blair, protecting his guide from her attempted approach. Explanations could wait. The only thing that mattered at this moment was the shaking figure huddled in the corner.

Naomi took one more look at the ferocious sentinel, then nodded meekly and walked out.

Jim waited until he heard the door close and her footsteps going down the steps. Then he slowly sat down next to his guide.

"Chief?" He waited for some reaction, but Blair just kept up his continuous plea.

"No, Mommy. Not again, please."

"Chief, she's gone. It's me. Jim." He reached out as if to put his arm around the shaking shoulders but stopped himself, afraid of scaring the younger man.

"Chief. Blair, let me help. Please let me help you here," Jim pleaded quietly, unsure of what to do.

"J-jim?" Blair slowly looked up. Moving his hands away from his face, he peered around the room as if reassuring himself that she was truly gone. "Oh, God, Jim."

Seeing the wide, frightened eyes, the detective extended his arms in offering.

Blair leaned into the hug and let loose his barely-restrained tears, while Jim wrapped his arms around him and gently patted his back. He welcomed the shivering bundle, enjoying the feel of the solid body within his hold. So often he had kept his feelings hidden, while his arms ached to enfold the younger man into an all-encompassing embrace. It hurt him to see Blair hurt. And Blair was hurting now. He had an urgent need to shelter, protect. Whispering words of soft reassurance, some only nonsense words, he soothed and comforted. Gradually the tears lessened and the shaking calmed.

"That's it. Slow, easy breaths," Jim encouraged, his arms still tightly gripping the distraught man, hands stroking soothingly. What had he just witnessed? The obscene image flashed before his eyes again and he quickly pushed it aside. He had to get his own raging emotions under control if he was going to be any help to Blair.

As Blair's breathing evened out, only punctuated by an occasional trembling sigh, Jim began to wonder 'now what?' and realized that the first thing to do was to get off the cold, hard floor. "How about some tea, Chief?" he offered, and watched as the curly head nodded in a timorous acquiescence.

"Come on."

Blair was aware of Jim helping him up, but he was numb, disconnected from his body, his feet heavy with each step. They moved through the room and walked together into the living room, a strong arm guiding him to a seat on the couch. Jim pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and Blair felt the softness draped over him, tucked around him, and then the older man disappeared into the kitchen to fix the tea.

As he listened to Jim working in the kitchen Blair thought about his mom. How could she do it? How. Could. She. Fucking. Do. It? How could she have thought he would go along with her? To allow it to happen again, after all this time?

Aw, shit! The big question was how to explain this to Jim? He glanced nervously over toward the kitchen, not looking forward to the conversation he knew was coming. How was he going to tell the most important person in his life about his sordid past with his mother?

This was going to mess up everything. His plans were destroyed. How could he ever hope to get Jim to see him as more than just a friend now? Jim would never be able to look at him again without thinking of him as damaged. He certainly would never be able to have a loving relationship with his sentinel after Jim heard about his previous life with his mother.

He shivered and tugged at the afghan, wrapping it closer around him.

Jim took his time making the tea, knowing that Blair needed a few minutes to himself and, in fact, knowing that he himself needed a few minutes to absorb this occurrence and figure out what it meant.

He tried to put his anger at Naomi out of his mind, at least for the moment. He couldn't believe he had been able to control himself when he'd caught her. His first instinct had been to grab her and violently throw her out, not necessarily through the door. But he had managed to restrain himself and she had been wise enough to leave on her own without argument. He didn't know what he would have ended up doing had she refused.

From Blair's response he realized that this was not a first time thing. It was obvious that there was some kind of history and if Blair's reversion to calling her "mommy" was any indication, it had been quite a long time ago. Had it been a continuing thing? Had she been forcing her own son to have sex with her even as an adult, making him believe that it was the only way he could show her that he loved her?

He couldn't see Blair allowing that to go on as an adult. He seemed like such a strong, independent person. And his reaction made him think it had been a while since she had tried anything, definitely not while he'd been living here.

His hopes of gradually moving into a loving relationship with his guide diminished. Maybe this was why Blair never seemed to be able to commit to any of his fleeting romances. If he had been sexually abused as a child, it had to have affected his outlook on romance and sex.

Jim determined that he would stick by Blair and let him know that he had unconditional love right here with him. He may never be able to accept it as anything more than the love of a close friend or a brother, but if that's what Blair needed from him then that's what he would get. Jim cared too much for him to force him into anything that he couldn't handle, especially now after seeing evidence that he was probably sexually abused as a child.

When the tea was ready, he carried it in and handed Blair his mug before taking a seat at the other end of the couch. He took a sip and waited, hoping Blair would start talking without being prompted.

It only took a few minutes for Blair to realize that the conversation was inevitable so he might as well just start talking. He sipped his tea and turned to sit facing Jim. He needed to watch the other man's expression while he told this story.

"My mom..." he began hesitantly. "Well, she has a problem."

Jim looked at him, nodded and waited for him to continue.

"It started when I was pretty young, about four years old, I think. She used to touch me a lot while she was giving me baths. Even then I think I knew she was doing something wrong. I mean either that or I was awfully dirty. She used liquid soap and spent a lot of time going over certain areas."

Blair looked at Jim's eyes, praying to see anything but pity reflected there. He couldn't handle pity. It was a relief when all he saw was compassion and understanding.

"It wasn't her fault. Not really. I know that now. Like I said, she's got a problem. I thought she had it under control. It's been so long since she tried anything like that. I thought she was completely cured."

He shivered; even the hot tea and the afghan couldn't keep the chill away, the coldness he felt inside. Remembering the warmth of Jim's strong arms, Blair wondered how Jim would react if he moved closer for a hug. He could really use another one right about now. But he stayed where he was. He needed to remain apart, emotions in check, if he was going to get through this story.

Blair thought back to those years that seemed so long ago and went on with his story.

Five-year-old Blair had just put his book down on the night table and turned out the light when he heard the creak of his bedroom door opening. He smiled brightly when he saw that it was his mom coming in to tuck him in. Today had been his first day of school and he was really tired, having been excited all day long, running about and wearing himself out.

His mom walked over and, pulling the covers back to join him underneath, stretched out beside him on the bed. She smiled at him and brushed the hair back from his face.

"Just relax, sweetie," she said.

Then he felt her hand reaching down under his pajama pants to touch him. He tensed. Why was she doing that now? That was something she only did at bath time.

"It's okay," she cooed quietly. "I'm just going to help you relax so you can get to sleep. It's okay."

"But I don't want you to do that, Mommy. It doesn't feel right," he protested.

"Blair, baby. Mommy loves you. Don't you love Mommy?"

Blair looked at her face. She was beginning to look sad, like she might cry. He didn't like to make her cry.

"It's okay. I do love you, Mommy. It's okay," he reassured her, his tiny voice wavering with concern.

She continued touching him and he turned his thoughts to his day at school and how much fun he'd had.

Eight-year-old Blair waited anxiously for his mom to come into his bedroom. He cursed himself again, but he knew there was no way to change things. He had made her cry, had made her upset, had made her feel unloved. Now he was going to have to fix things. He was going to have to do things for her and let her touch him. That was the only way to make her feel loved again. He knew this. Why did it feel so bad? Why did it make him feel so scared?

She was already naked when she walked in and seemed surprised to find him standing there fully dressed.

"Blair, honey, why aren't you ready?" she asked, giving him a sad look. "Don't you want to make me feel better? Don't you care about me at all?"

"Yes, Naomi. I love you, you know that," he said, saying the words he knew she wanted to hear. "I was just cold." His arms wrapped tightly around the heavy flannel shirt he wore over top of his long-sleeve knit shirt and tee shirt. She hadn't noticed the many layers of clothing he wore these days.

She walked over to him and started helping him undress, hurriedly peeling away his layers of clothing. "Well, that just won't do. We need to get rid of all these clothes."

Finally his clothes were piled on the floor and he stood naked in front of her. She sat down on the bed and taking his arm, pulled him down beside her. Then she took his hand and placed it on her breast.

"Touch me, baby," she said. "Touch me and make me feel your love."

And he did.

Eleven-year-old Blair sat stiffly on the ground by the campfire trying to concentrate on listening to the scout leader tell his stories. He was having trouble paying attention. The stories seemed so childish and silly. He looked around and saw that the other boys were all smiling, obviously enjoying the stories.

He thought he'd better pretend to like these camping trips. At least they got him away from Naomi for the weekend. Any time away from her was okay with him. He wished she would stop making him prove he loved her so much. He knew other kids didn't do things like that with their moms. But he did love her and she just seemed to need him so much.

He thought about the new things she was doing to him. He didn't like them at all. And he didn't like what she had done last night, giving him an enema and making him hold it in, then spanking him when he didn't hold it in long enough. He wasn't going to let her do that again. It hurt and his butt was still sore from it.

He looked up when movement around him told him it was time to go to his tent and go to sleep. He hadn't heard any of the last story at all.

Fifteen-year-old Blair stepped out of the shower to find his mother waiting inside the bathroom door. She was wearing a red negligee that barely covered anything and she was rubbing her hands over her own nipples through the thin material as she leered at his nude body.

"Naomi, not now, okay?" he complained. "I'm going to be late for school."

"Come on, honey. It won't take long. I need you," she whispered, reaching over to pull the towel off the rack and throwing it on the floor behind her.

"Mom," he pleaded, stepping back away from her.

"You're just wasting time here, baby. Just give me a few minutes. Don't you love me anymore?"

Blair sighed and gave in, knowing he wasn't going to get on with his day until he took care of his mother.

"Okay" he acquiesced reluctantly.

Naomi stepped over and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close for a kiss. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, he tried to think of something else, anything else: anything to keep his dick from getting hard.

But it was no use. She knew just what to do. He cursed himself for being so perverted and hoped no one would ever find out.

She trailed kisses down his neck and chest, licking each nipple as she passed by, until she found his half-hard penis. Bending on her knees in front of him, she took it into her mouth.

He put his head back and stared at the ceiling, counting the imperfections in the tile and reminded himself that in less than a year he'd be going away to college and living in a dorm away from Naomi. She'd never be able to touch him there.

Seventeen-year-old Blair watched his roommate walk out of the apartment, wishing he hadn't had to go to work, wishing he hadn't had to go out and leave him alone with his mother.

Blair turned to look at Naomi, who was sitting at the kitchen table finishing her tea. She smiled up at him when she saw him looking at her.

It had been almost two years since they had been alone together without the possibility of interruptions. He knew she wasn't going to let this opportunity pass by. He could tell by the way she had looked at him when she had heard that his roommate had to leave for work and wouldn't be back for six hours. He had been hoping that things had changed, that somehow she had put it behind her.

She stood up and walked over to him. He wanted to run away, but he didn't have it in him to make his mother cry. And he knew she would if he rejected her. She had threatened suicide a few times in the past when he had tried to refuse her. She knew he couldn't live with that guilt. She knew how to play him just right and it didn't help him at all that he knew he was being played. It didn't help him the tiniest little bit.

"Do you still love me?" she asked, her tone coated the words with a sugary sweetness.

He nodded, unable to speak without bursting into tears.

He let her guide him into the bedroom and hoped that she wouldn't expect him to go too far. There was one final thing that she had never made him do, that one thing that would have pushed him over the edge. He thought she knew enough not to make him do that. Because as long as they didn't do that, he could keep pretending that what they did together didn't really count. It wasn't really sex. It wasn't really incest. But if he actually fucked her, he might as well take a gun and shoot himself in the head because he could never live with that. He hoped she knew that. He really hoped she knew that.

Nineteen-year-old Blair pulled away from his mother's embrace.

"No! Naomi, get your hands off of me! Leave me alone!" he said angrily. "Can't you get it through your head? I love you like a son loves his mother. I'm not going to do this anymore!"

She had tried to kiss him, tried to stick her tongue in his mouth and rub her hands along his crotch. Her touch sickened him, made his skin crawl and his stomach roiled from her pouting look.

"Honey, don't be like that," she cried. "I love you."

"Do you?" he demanded. "Do you really love me?"

"Of course I do," she insisted. "Why would you ask that? Haven't I always told you I loved you? Haven't I always taken care of you? Don't you care about me anymore?"

He paced in front of her, then turned and stared at her.

"If you love me at all, if you care about me at all, you'll get some help. You need to see someone. This isn't right. What you've been doing all these years is just plain wrong."

She pulled back as if she had been slapped. "How can it be wrong to show your love? How can it be wrong? I love you, Blair. How can you reject me like this?"

"Naomi, Mom, it's wrong. I don't know how you ended up feeling this way. I don't know what ever happened to you to make you think this was okay. But you have to face up to some reality now. I'm too old to keep letting you get away with this. Did you think you could just keep doing this all your life? I can just see that, telling my wife some day that she has to step aside 'cause I have to make love to my mother. That's crazy!"

Naomi wiped the tears from her face and hardened her expression.

"We'll see how you feel about this after I'm gone, after you realize that I couldn't live without your love."

She grabbed her suitcase and stormed out. Blair watched her go and stood staring at the closed door for hours.

Twenty-year-old Blair hung the phone up and sat down to think. His mother's psychiatrist wanted him to see someone as well. She said he might not realize it at the moment, but there was no way he hadn't been damaged by a childhood of sexual abuse inflicted by his mother. She had explained that his mother had asked her to call. Naomi had been too afraid to call him herself, but she wanted him to get help. She was feeling very guilty at the thought that she had caused him damage.

During her therapy sessions, it had been uncovered that she had finally run away from home at the age of sixteen after having lived through years of sexual abuse involving her own father. The doctor explained that abuse often seemed to be an inherited cycle. Those who were abused often grew up to abuse their own children and as long as each generation failed to get help, the cycle continued.

The doctor asked him if he wanted to take the chance that he might some day abuse a child of his own. He told her there was no way that would ever happen because he had already decided that he would never have children. He could never trust a woman enough to want to have a child with one. They were all impressed with him sexually. After all, he had learned very early in life how to physically please a woman, but every one of them ended up wanting his unconditional love and he'd never been able to give it.

No matter how different a woman seemed to be from Naomi, he would always flash on images of her when he was having sex. He had already decided years before that he would spend his life single. What did he need marriage for? You certainly didn't need to be married to get sex whenever you wanted it. You didn't even need to love someone. Love was all about manipulation anyway. Who needed it?

He told the psychiatrist he would find someone to see himself. He knew he really wouldn't, but it would make his mother feel better and he wanted her to feel better.

Jim picked up the empty mugs and took them to the kitchen. He needed a moment to collect himself after hearing the story of Blair's abuse. What he couldn't understand was how Blair had managed to forgive his mother so easily. He walked back into the living room and sat down.

Blair was watching him nervously, waiting for some kind of response.

"So, nothing has happened in all this time?" Jim asked.

"No, I thought she was over all of that a long time ago. I just can't believe it. Something must have set her off."

"Do you think she's okay? Should I go find her?" Jim asked, now worried about Naomi's state of mind.

Blair smiled gratefully. "I think she'll be okay for now. She's going to have to go back for some more therapy."

"What about you, Blair? Did you ever talk to anyone about this?" Jim asked.

"I don't need to. It's been so long since it happened. I've had plenty of time to come to terms with it. You live with me. Don't you think you'd notice if I was having any problems because of this? Wouldn't you be able to tell if I was psychologically damaged or something?"

Jim considered this. They had been living together for over four years and Blair had never seemed to have a problem. He had always seemed to be happy and well adjusted. Of course, there was the endless stream of girls that seemed to pass over the threshold on a regular basis. What did that say about Blair's ability to maintain a long-term relationship? No, Blair was only fooling himself if he thought he'd escaped the whole obscene situation untouched. However, now was not the time to broach the subject of therapy.

"I'm no expert, but I guess you're right. I'd probably see some evidence if you had problems because of this. But you seem fine," he said reassuringly, giving Blair a pat on the knee while at the same time wishing he could pull the hurting man into a hug and softly kiss his lips.

Running a hand through his hair, Blair continued, "Naomi's problem has always been insecurity. I know that. She needed somebody to make her feel loved, somebody who couldn't abandon her, who couldn't run away. But I think she never considered that I would grow up."

"Blair, I can't say that I know what you've been through, but you have my support. You've helped me deal with my own demons. I hope you'll let me help you deal with yours."

"You don't think I'm a wimp for letting her get away with that for so long?" Blair asked; his brow creased in surprise by Jim's reaction.

"I respect you for being able to deal with the abuse and forgive your abuser," Jim answered sincerely.

Blair blushed and looked down, fiddling with the fringe of the afghan. "I think Naomi was reacting to the whole dissertation disaster. I think she thought I didn't love her anymore and she wanted proof that I did," he said after giving it a few moments of thought.

Jim nodded. "You're probably right. Considering what you've told me, that makes sense. She came to you when she was feeling unloved. She expected you to make her feel loved again."

"And, in the past, I did, because I was too afraid to lose her. She was all I had for such a long time. And I did love her, but I loved her most when she was just being my mom," Blair said softly.

Jim looked at his guide's face and slowly reached over to tenderly push a few strands of hair back for him. Blair looked so sad and alone. It made him want him all the more--to pull him over and cuddle with him and protect him from all the bad things in this world. He wondered how Blair would feel about kissing his sentinel. But now wasn't the right time. Maybe some day. He could wait. Right now Blair just needed his unconditional support. And he would have it. He let his hand fall away.

"Thanks for listening, for understanding." Blair looked at him and scooted down closer on the couch, leaning against the older man's shoulder.

They sat together on the couch as close as two people could get and relaxed. After a while, Blair sighed and looked toward the door.

"You know, I really should go find her and make sure she's all right," he said.

Jim nodded. "I'll go with you. She's probably back at the hotel she stayed at last time."

Blair stood up, throwing the afghan off onto the back of the couch, forgetting about his state of dress, or almost undress. Jim caught sight of the scantily clad man, noting that the blue plaid boxers were twisted and had fallen low on his hips. Cursing himself for his insensitivity, especially considering all that had happened the last few hours, he averted his eyes from the sight of his half-naked roommate as Blair hastily adjusted his boxers so that everything was again tucked in and covered and walked into his room in search of clothes.

Walking over to the door, Jim slipped into his jacket, took a few deep breaths and tried to think of something else, anything else besides the overwhelming desire to admit his undying love to his best friend and his inappropriate need to take him to his bed.

By the time Blair came out of his bedroom and grabbed his jacket, Jim's mind was on the immediate concern of finding Naomi. As much as what she had done angered him, he realized that she needed help, not condemnation. And more importantly, Blair needed his mother to be okay.

He noticed as they walked down to the truck that Blair was sticking to him much closer than usual and seemed to be purposely brushing up against him at every opportunity. He allowed himself to hope that his guide was giving him a sign that he was feeling more than friendship for him and that his own long-hidden feelings were reciprocated.

They found Naomi at the Windsor Motor Inn. She was on the phone when she opened the door and motioned them in. They stood waiting while she finished what had obviously been a long conversation with her therapist. She hung up the phone and turned nervously to face them.

"I'm sorry, Blair," she said, peering at the floor as she spoke. "Please don't hate me."

"Mom." Blair pulled her into a gentle hug. "I'll never hate you. Don't you know that?"

She pulled away and paced across the room. "After what I've put you through all these years, you should hate me."

"Mom."

She looked at him and smiled. "It's going to be okay, honey. I've been talking to Randy. She's been my therapist for years now. She helped me to see why I slipped into old patterns today. Now that I understand it, I feel better. I promise it will never happen again. Please believe me, Blair."

Blair nodded. "I do, Mom, I do."

"Jim?" Naomi looked nervously at the big man whose hand rested in support on her son's shoulder.

"It's okay, Naomi. If your son can forgive you, what right would I have not to?"

She nodded in relief and turned to the half-packed suitcase on the bed, taking a stack of neatly-folded clothes and putting it inside.

"My flight leaves in two hours," she said. "I'm going to Texas to visit an old friend. I'll send you an e-mail when I get there with the address and phone number. Dave has a big ranch and it's nice and peaceful there."

"We'll drive you to the airport, Naomi," Jim offered.

She stuffed the suitcase shut and latched it. "That's okay. I have a cab arranged to pick me up in a little while. Let's just say goodbye here and hope that my next visit will be nicer."

"It'll be okay, Mom. I love you. You know that, don't you?"

She gently touched the side of his face with her hand and brushed his hair back behind his ear. "Of course, sweetie. Whenever I really think about it, I know you do."

Blair smiled at her and walked to the door.

"Take care, Naomi," Jim said.

"How about we pick up some breakfast on the way home, Chief?" Jim offered as they got in the truck.

"Sounds good," Blair answered, thinking how hungry he was beginning to feel since the knots in his stomach had diminished. Jim seemed to understand that Naomi was just as much a victim in this as he was. They picked up donuts and bagels from the corner bakery on the way home and Jim suspended house rules so they could eat at the coffee table and watch old reruns on Sci-fi while they ate.

Wonder Woman was just ending when they turned the TV on and Blair started thinking about how fake of a super hero she was. That started him thinking about his sentinel sitting next to him.

Jim was much closer to his idea of a super hero than Wonder Woman or Superman could ever be. He was a real person with human emotions and feelings, one who just happened to have some special abilities that he was able to use to help people. What more could you ask out of a super hero?

And besides, he'd look much better in one of those stupid-looking costumes than any of the so-called super heroes. He pictured Jim in form-fitting tights with a cape draped over his shoulders, muscular arms crossed over a well-defined chest.

He felt himself blushing and glanced at Jim.

Jim looked at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Blair answered taking another bite of his bagel.

"Come on, what?" Jim asked. "What were you thinking?"

"You don't really want to know," Blair said as he looked at the TV and watched Quentin Collins pour himself yet another brandy.

"Try me," Jim egged on, reaching a hand over to touch Blair's knee. "Take a chance."

Blair looked directly into Jim's eyes, seeing a touch of humor and a depth of love, but what kind of love? That was the question. Was it 'the all consuming I want to spend my life with you and share a bed kind of love' or 'the we'll always be best friends, I love you like a brother kind of love'? And if he guessed wrong, would it destroy them?

He decided to take a chance.

"I was thinking about how much better you'd look in tights and a cape than the super heroes on television," he blurted out. "I was thinking how I'm more attracted to you than to any woman I've ever met."

Blair took a breath and looked away, waiting to hear Jim's reaction, afraid to look at him and see disgust in his face.

Jim's hand traveled up his arm to his neck and then to his chin and turned his face gently toward him.

"Chief, would it surprise you if I said I feel the same way about you?" Jim asked, as Blair looked first surprised and then relieved.

He sat staring into Jim's eyes for long minutes before reaching over to guide Jim's face closer to his. A feeling of euphoria swept over him. He hadn't lost out on any chance with his sentinel. He could feel Jim's warm breath caress his cheek and then their lips met.

Their first kiss was full of promise, full of love and glimpses of what was to come.

"That was sooo nice," Blair said shyly as the kiss ended.

Jim smiled, pulling Blair's hand up to kiss his palm. "Blair, I want you to know before this goes any further that I love you."

Blair looked away, almost afraid to admit to having any insecurities of his own. "Please don't say that, Jim. I know it's true but please don't say it. I'm sorry."

Jim turned Blair's head to face him and asked, "It's because of Naomi, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I feel that about you, too. I'll say it once, okay? I do love you, Jim. I just don't think I can deal with us saying that to each other--at least not yet. It's her word. It's her word that she used against me every chance she got and I don't want it to come between us. Okay?" Blair explained.

Jim pulled him into a gentle hug. "Of course, I understand. Don't worry about it."

Jim resolved to take it slowly, not to push Blair into doing anything that he might not be ready for. After hearing about his mother's past abuses, he was sure that Blair had some damaged ideas of the relationship between love and sex. He understood how the use of the word 'love' had gotten twisted around for Blair. He didn't want it to ever become a method of manipulation between them. He wanted to be very sure before they ever went any further than kissing that Blair's mind was in the right place.

They spent the day together and then the evening cuddling on the couch, each knowing deep within that this was the beginning of the most important relationship either of them would ever have.

When it was time to go to bed, Jim walked Blair to his bedroom door and they kissed and said goodnight, both knowing that the time would come for them to share a bed, but that tonight was not the night to start.

Blair needed time to clear his mind of Naomi's actions and Jim would give him all the time he needed and all the support he needed so that when they moved on to a more physical relationship they would both be coming into it unencumbered by the past.

As Jim crawled into bed, he decided to try to get Blair to get some therapy. Even though he seemed fine, Jim couldn't believe that he had really gotten over his childhood abuse so easily. He listened as Blair pulled the covers over himself and turned out the light. The last thing he heard before he closed his eyes was his guide's calm reassurance coming from the bedroom below him.

"I do love you, Jim, and one day very soon I will prove it."