Rating: PG-13

My own collection began as a way of fitting in quickly. They are mirrors of what people wanted me to be, the free living bohemian Naomi sees, the anthro nerd others see, the Romeo with a different girl every week, the caring boyfriend in touch with his feminine side, the militant environmentalist... they are all me, and yet none of them reveals the full me.

I found it easy to hide who I really am under all the others, but, let me tell you, it's exhausting carrying them all around with me all the time.

When I struck out on my own and started at uni, I thought I could drop them but all I saw was these teachers who had never been anywhere or done anything except live in the dusty halls of academia. Whereas I'd seen so much, experienced so much.... It took someone I admired to pull me round, and who taught me to wear a new mask, the enthusiastic puppy dog one.

And then I met Jim Ellison. Sure, I was in awe of him - he was, is, the living embodiment of my life-long study, a tribal watchman living in a modern city; a man with strong protective instincts and a strong moral compass, a real hero, one with a wounded soul. But I couldn't allow all my masks to fall, couldn't allow him to see the real me, that would have been even more painful when it all fell apart, as everything always has before, so I focused on him, drew him out, till I knew him inside out, or so I thought.

But he had more masks than I did. He had so many secrets, not just the whole enhanced senses thing. He buried so much, I had to keep digging and I forgot to put my own masks on, especially when I died and he called me back. I felt out of my depth and struggled to find any mask that fit. I felt exposed for the first time in years and it was scary.

Finally, after our worlds collapsed around us, I had had enough.

They say in wine is truth, so after we dropped Naomi off at the airport, I told Jim I wanted to get drunk, and I wanted him to join me. No pretending, no dialing back, I wanted a break from it all for one night. We left Jim's truck at home and took a cab. I did tell him to dial down in the club, the music was too loud and we didn't stay long.

Once back at the loft, I got a bottle out, poured us a glass each and then started talking. I told him things about me I'd never told anyone else, how 'grandpop Joe', wasn't that nice when Naomi left me with him, how I lost my best friend when she died because her parents didn't trust modern medicine... so much I didn't even want to remember, and he opened up to me.

He told me about how he found out where his mom is and who she's with, he told me about the pain he went through when he buried his men... but we also shared the good times, the times that made us smile and laugh out loud as well as the painful experiences.

And then we went up to his bed, because that was another thing we'd hidden from each other, our mutual attraction, desire, pure need... well, maybe pure is not the right word - not that we did anything then except hold one another - that came later when we were sure we knew what we were saying and who we were saying it to.

Now we wear masks in common. We need to protect each other and there are still some homophobic cops around, so these masks are titled 'we are straight best friends'. I'm sure our friends see through those masks, but that's okay, they support us, and the masks come off when we're alone. Then it's just us, Jim and Blair, two guys who love each other. As Jim Morrison said, "That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is."