Jim Ellison looked down on the sleeping man he was holding in tender bemusement. Blair Sandburg's head rest on one shoulder, his cheek resting on Jim's chest. One hand gently grasped the opposite shoulder, holding onto Jim even in that deep, exhausted sleep. Jim smiled at that. He was still protecting him. There was no need at that particular moment. It was time for the Sentinel to hold and comfort his Guide. The aches had subsided. The abrasions were disappearing. Most importantly, Jim felt like himself again. Even Blair's shiner would fade as well.

Jim delicately traced the edges of the angry bruise. Then, he smoothed the thick, soft curls away from his face. It had become a habit, looking at Blair as he slept. His Guide was too self-conscious to allow such long stares while he was awake. He'd wonder what was wrong with his hair or if he had something in his teeth. Blair didn't seem to understand how beautiful he was to Jim or just about anyone else that met him. So he would use the moments before the day pulled them in different directions to gaze as much as he could.

He had wondered many times over the last eleven months how he had become so favored by whatever deities exist to have this man literally drop into his life. Those months had not been perfect. They could exasperate each other beyond words sometimes. Neither man had lived with someone in quite a long time, and old habits were hard to break. Blair had often called it an exquisite struggle. In quieter moments, Jim had to agree. It was never actually a real contest. An orderly bathroom was nothing compared to the amazing man cradled against his body.

They had forged an incredible relationship in those months. Before the cold, wet professor fell out of that tree in front of him, Jim could not have imagined leaving the Cascade Mountains let alone returning to Major Crimes in such a spectacular fashion. Blair had brought him answers about his senses and taught him how to use them. He had brought him self acceptance. And he had brought him love. That would have been enough for Jim. He could have worked as a janitor and been very happy. But being Blair's partner also resurrected his police career. They had several high profile cases go their way through the use of Jim's senses and Blair's encyclopedic knowledge of forensic anthropology and profiling. Playful jabs about them wearing capes started going around the PD. The nickname of Batman and Robin was also bandied about.

At least Jim had thought it was playful. He was thankful for those Sentinel ears in hindsight. The resentful grumblings and the vicious comments reached him long before any action could be contemplated. Jim understood why they were angry at him. He had been a monster in the months before they left. Initially, he had tried to rebuild bridges with the legions of people he had offended. For the most part, he had been successful. But there were a few that wouldn't even give him an opening. Since he thought many of them were jerks to begin with, he shrugged his shoulders and figured it wouldn't matter. Jim hadn't exactly been overwhelmingly popular prior to his downward spiral anyway. That conclusion would have been fine before Blair became his partner. Jim was vulnerable because of the partnership. The jerks had an easy target. And unfortunately, the jerks had friends.

His gaze returned to Blair's curls which were spread all over his pillow. He smoothed them out enjoying how the hair played along his fingers. He had been foolish to not have payed closer attention to the hostile eddies swirling about them for so long. A tremor threatened to run through Jim's body at the thought of what could have happened to Blair. He stilled it ruthlessly, not wanting his lover to wake worrying over him. Blair was in tune with Jim in a way that was completely new to him. He could read him better than anyone ever had. It should have unnerved Jim how close this man had gotten to him in such a short time. It would have just a few months before they met. Intimacy was something that Jim had never been very comfortable with. This connection he had with his Guide was intimacy squared or more.

"How long had you known?" He wondered still playing with those irresistible curls. "How long had you seen the trouble coming before I would listen?"

Jim thought back, realizing that Blair began to change towards many of the officers at Headquarters shortly after Jim became aware of the hostile whispers. The Professor had been very open when he first began at Major Crimes. He had a ready smile and a friendly greeting for everyone. His demeanor stiffened somewhat at about that time. He was still approachable but his exuberant personality retreated behind a facade of polite professionalism. Blair remained quite cordial to the detectives in Major Crimes but anyone else got one very frosty Anthropologist. There were other more overt changes as well. Blair changed his routine as the turbulence swirled just beyond Jim's radar. Without any real explanation, Blair shifted most of his schedule to the PD. He never left Jim's side, save for court appearances. Those days seemed to make him anxious though he never spoke about it.

Jim realized that he had been very puzzled by the behavior, but Blair's presence comforted him as well. He didn't question it at the time. Jim smiled to himself.

"I didn't want you to leave," he admitted to the serene face. "I needed you with me."

Blair's behavior had been very curious. They had read about some of the more mystical aspects of the Sentinel-Guide bond, but Jim hadn't really given them much credence. Blair hadn't been selected and trained as a Guide the way the Chopec would have. It didn't seem possible that a man with Blair's education and thoroughly modern ways could be responding to some ancient call. Yet there he was, circling the wagons around them. Even Simon remarked that he was afraid to come at Jim the wrong way around Sandburg. Jim laughed at the time, but in retrospect he realized that Blair would have taken on the bigger man.

Jim also realized as he held Blair close, that he had needed that protection. He could work when Blair was with him. He had been distracted before Blair changed his schedule.

"How did you know?" Jim asked softly. "You knew about everything."

Blair's focused care of Jim continued at home. He stayed close even there. And no matter how vigorous their lovemaking, Blair would watch Jim until he drifted off to sleep stroking his hair. Sleep had been deep and undisturbed. He awoke rested and amazingly, so had Blair. There were moments when it occurred to Jim that he should ask where this behavior came from, but he feared upsetting some sort of delicate bond behind them. So on they went, still solving tough cases and still enjoying their closeness to one another. But somewhere, Jim had known that something troubling was on the horizon.

Then came the Hansen case. It shouldn't have been theirs in the first place. The case was a sex crime. And then there was Simon Banks' expression at the briefing. He had not been pleased. That had sent off an alarm in Jim's head. Because of their success with really tough cases, Banks had been only too pleased to lend them out to other departments. He had bragging rights afterward. That case had been different. So was the attitude of Captain Bill Wilcox.

"We really don't need a bone man on this case," he had said before even introducing himself to Blair.

Blair took a seat next to Jim as if he hadn't heard the man. Simon cleared his throat.

"From what I've read, you'll need a profiler," Banks said. "Captain Wilcox, Dr. Blair Sandburg, boneman and profiler."

"Okay, what do you go by?"

"Dr. Sandburg," Blair replied flipping open his notebook. "What do you have?"

It was a tone that brooked no nonsense and openly wondered if his time was not being wasted. The imperious professor, Jim had called it when he witnessed Blair mollify some unruly students. Wilcox passed out the folders then addressed himself to Jim and Simon.

"The victim is one Greg Hansen," Wilcox began. "Filed a rape report from the ER of Cascade General. You'll see from the report that he was really worked over with fists and some sort of blunt instrument."

Jim and Blair read the report and looked at the very disturbing photos it contained. Jim was perplexed.

"This seems to be a straight forward sex crime," Jim said.

Blair was frowning. "Maybe not. He says the assailant taunted him about seven other rapes. Did you have other reports that were similar?"

"Not a one," Wilcox said. "Men aren't exactly enthusiastic about reporting rapes."

"So why call us in?" Jim asked. He wondered if Wilcox wasn't being a wise-ass trying to shuffle off his routine cases on Batman and Robin.

"This complaint closely matches a homicide we've been investigating," Wilcox said.

"So this is a possible serial rapist," Jim said.

"Who's had his first kill," Banks added. "But are there serial rapists of men?"

"The FBI believes that there are. There's no reason to think that this kind of predator is restricted to heterosexuals," Blair said. "The problem is that men rarely report rape."

"But why brag about it to the guy?" Jim asked.

Blair was riveted on the photos. "He probably didn't expect him to survive to tell anyone."

Wilcox was surprised. "If his roommate hadn't come home when he did, Mr. Hansen wouldn't have."

Jim hadn't been entirely sure of Wilcox's motives. He counted him amongst the jerks who had not been interested in bridge mending. But Blair was interested in the case. Something about it tugged at the Sentinel as well.

"So where do we fit in?" Jim had asked.

"Well, I figured something like this would be right up your alley," he said looking at the pair levelly.

"If you mean that you have an experienced investigator with great instincts and a well educated observer of human nature, then you are correct," Blair said with quiet authority.

"I'm sure that's exactly what he meant," Bank said with more than a little menace.

Wilcox did not have a pretty smile. "Of course, what else could I mean? I think we'll need a little of the Ellison -- Sandburg magic."

Jim hadn't believed him. He sensed that Blair hadn't either, but the case was intriguing and important. He would be a tough killer to catch without anyone willing to report the rapes. And Jim didn't need to be a profiler to know that the man was far from finished. Jim found himself looking at his partner. Blair met his gaze and gave a barely discernable nod.

"We'll need to study this," Jim said. "Let's meet again tomorrow."

That night, Blair really surprised Jim. As usual with a new case, Blair settled in on the sofa to study. Jim would workout then, preferring to study during the day. But as Jim headed for the door, a voice stopped him.

"Where are you going?" Blair has asked peering at him over his glasses. He suddenly felt like an errant student.

"To the gym. I don't want to disturb your reading," Jim replied. "Like always."

"You won't disturb me," Blair replied. "You can watch TV."

"Maybe when I get back," Jim said. "I feel like a workout."

"No," Blair replied.

"No?"

"Not without me," Blair said as if that would make sense.

Jim remembered the confusion in his mind as he moved across the room to sit beside Blair.

"What's up, Chief?" He asked softly.

Blair put down his book, leveraged up onto his knees, then took Jim's face in his hands.

"Humor me," he whispered. "Don't go anywhere without me."

The kiss that followed could have persuaded Jim to parade naked in front of the Mayor. Instead, he settled back onto the length of the couch remote in hand with Blair between his legs, his back resting on Jim's chest his head resting on one shoulder. Though Jim remained confused, he could not think of one good reason to move.

"I started to believe in mystical shamans then, Chief," Jim said quietly to the sleeping man.

Jim found out the next morning that a couple of those voices that whispered hostile things mixed it up with Rafe and Brown at the gym. They were some of Wilcox's men. Everyone there was facing suspension for the melee. If Jim had been there, he would have been as well or worse. And he would have been separated from Blair, leaving them both vulnerable. Jim had been amazed. Blair had felt bad for Rafe and Brown but was otherwise inscrutable. He made them focus on the case.

Wilcox was as big an idiot as his cronies. Greg Hansen was not a promiscuous homosexual as his notes implied. He was very straight and very traumatized over his attack and absolutely terrified over the thought of further investigations. It was fortunate that Jim found the roommate before the victim, or the investigation would have ended with the first interview.

"Greg wants to see this guy caught. At least he does when he isn't having a panic attack," Mark Baker said as he looked into his coffee cup. "Then he wants to move to another city and forget everything that happened."

"I can understand that," Jim said. "He has been brutalized by a sadist who knows where he lives."

"Yeah, I think about that, too," Mark admitted. "We are looking into leaving that apartment."

"It may help to at least get into another place temporarily," Blair said. "Maybe some corporate housing that's fully furnished."

"We couldn't afford to keep up two places," Mark said wistfully. "I wish we could."

"There may be some victim's assistance funds," Blair said.

"And some from the city. Your roommate is a material witness who may be in danger," Jim said.

"If we could get out," Mark said. "Maybe Greg would sleep and eat. I'm the only one who knows."

"So you have to take care of him alone," Blair said quietly. "That can be quite a burden even for a good friend."

Mark nodded sadly. "I don't mean it to sound that way."

"I understand," Blair said. "It's hard for the caregiver to go through this. Harder still when you both feel so vulnerable. Detective Wilcox should have offered..."

"That asshole," Mark spat. "He looked at our home and at us, made his assumptions and decided that Greg got what he deserved. I should make a complaint."

"You should," Jim said. "As it is, his actions will cost us days we could have used in the investigation."

Mark nodded. His eyes were appreciative. Jim had Blair get the details of what Greg told him while he set in motion getting the pair to safe housing that afternoon. The partners then left Mark to get his roommate moved. Jim even sent a cruiser to watch over them as they relocated. Blair suggested they go over his notes at lunch before heading back to the office.

"This is a very scary case," Blair said. "The perp met our vic at a very straight downtown sports bar during happy hour. They watched the basketball game talking sports trash for a while. They also talked about their jobs and women. Usual stuff guys talk about while eating chicken wings at a bar. The next thing the vic remembers is being really hammered and his new found buddy offering to take him home. The next time he was aware of anything, he was being assaulted."

"How did the perp know the vic would be alone?" Jim asked.

"He asked if there was anyone that could come get the vic at the bar," Blair replied. "The vic told him that his roommate wouldn't be home until the next day."

"Geesh," Jim muttered. How many times had he shot the shit with some guy at a bar? How many times had he left his beer to take a wiz?

Blair was looking at him levelly. "We've all been in Greg's shoes. I can't think of any man that would consider himself vulnerable in that kind of situation. That's what makes this predator all the more dangerous. He has victims galore at almost any bar in Cascade."

"It's ironic," Jim muttered. "The only bars where his routine would fail is a gay bar. Wilcox would shit a brick."

"We've got bigger problems than that moron," Blair said. "I'm certain that there is a very long trail of traumatized men out there probably spanning a long time and a lot of locations."

"Why do you say that, Chief?"

"He's gotten bored with the rapes and the beatings," Blair said. "Murder is the next thrill for him. It would take a while to get to this point. I'm going to call the Behavioral Sciences guys and see if they can find any record of rapes of men or assaults of men with this MO. The beatings may have been reported if not the rapes. Maybe there is a name out there."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "There's somewhere else we can ask. At least there was. He might be still around. What do we do about Wilcox?"

"He's going to hang himself on this one," Blair replied quietly. "Let's just keep doing what we do."

"Let's talk to the bartenders at the vic's watering hole," Jim said.

Captain Wilcox as not a happy camper by that afternoon's briefing. Greg Hansen was still not ready to talk, but Mark Baker had been empowered by the move to safer quarters. He had made his displeasure known to the Chief's office. And Wilcox tried to set the blame squarely on Jim and Blair for his problems.

"Bill, how long have you been in Sex Crimes?" Banks asked.

"A year."

"That is long enough to know that a victim is not responsible for the attack," Banks replied.

"I never said that!"

"You practically asked him what he was wearing and if he ever went cruising," Banks said. "I read the complaint. The vic had a few beers there once a week for two years. That was the first time he'd ever left with anyone. But you would have known that if you hadn't assumed he was on the make and actually interviewed someone."

"Now, wait a minute..."

"No, you wait a minute," Banks said. "You worry about your own butt. We'll handle this case."

There wasn't much he could say to that other than to demand that he be kept informed. Jim heaved a huge sigh of relief when Wilcox stormed out of the room.

"I hear you, Detective," Banks said. "I still can't figure out how he got that promotion. I'm just glad he's out of here."

"That's not it, sir," Jim said. "Not all of it, anyway. I didn't want to have to tell him our next move."

"Oh?" Banks asked. Blair looked intrigued as well.

"An informant from my Vice days," Jim explained. "If he's still around, he can tell me about any kind of sex freak in town. He's almost a savant about hearing these things."

"Why's that a problem?" Blair asked.

"He puts the singe in flaming, Blair," Jim said. "And we can only find him in a certain part of town."

"Oh, that would have been perfect," Blair replied with a smirk.

"Tell me about it," Jim replied. "You up for an adventure?"

Blair chuckled. "Sure, lead on."

Fabulous Freddie held court from a corner barstool in one of Cascade's older Gay bars. The clientele was about Jim's age on average and very well heeled. The bar was of the brass and fern variety with a beautiful pool table in one corner. Very tasteful. Freddie was rail thin with dark, slicked back hair wearing a Truman Capote suite and holding a cigarette in a long black holder. He smiled brightly over the martini he was drinking.

"As I live and breathe, James!" He gushed. "Still buff and beautiful."

"Thank you, Freddie,' Jim smiled.

"And who is this beauty?"

Blair smiled and extended his hand. "Blair Sandburg, Jim's partner."

"Professionally or personally?" Freddie asked with a sly smile.

"Yes," Jim said.

"I knew it! I always knew it," Freddie said after a nice log sip of his drink. "You could protest all you wanted about being undercover, but no one bottomed like you and didn't like it."

"Oh?" Blair murmured taking a seat.

Jim glared at Freddie but there was no heat behind it. Freddie chuckled.

"Chief, I had to bottom," Jim explained. "The marks would know I was a cop if I wasn't willing to do it and follow through."

"Chief, that's adorable," Freddie smiled. "And what beautiful James is asserting is only half true. He may have had to do something, but bending over yonder pool table and taking on all comers is above and beyond the call."

"Jim!" Blair exclaimed.

"There were three guys here and they all used protection," Jim said blushing.

"Still!" Blair quipped.

"Hey doll, get me a bourbon neat and..." he asked looking at Blair.

"Same," Blair replied.

"You had to be there," Jim said defensively. "I was getting no where with these guys and I needed them to crack a really bad case. I had to get extreme."

"You did that," Freddie said.

"How did it play at the PD?" Blair asked.

Jim shrugged. "It never got back to work."

"Why not?"

"No one dared tell," Freddie said with a giggle. "Everyone was hoping it would happen again. I mean, James is a walking wet dream."

Blair sipped his drink while gazing at Jim with hooded eyes. "Yes, he is. And very surprising as well."

"So what brings you here today?"

"Other than risking my relationship," Jim quipped. "I have a favor to ask."

"You want to know if these old ears have picked up anything interesting," Freddie said.

"Yes, something very strange that would have happened downtown in a surprising place," Jim said leaving out details so he would not lead his informant.

"I have some disturbing things about a sick puppy so repressed and self-hating that he is drugging and raping straight men he finds at sports bars," Freddie said. "Up until this moment, I thought it was a gay urban legend told to make our open lifestyle look better than the closeted."

"Why did you think it was a legend?" Blair asked.

"I have heard the story told about two other cities," he replied.

Blair was quiet during the ride home. Jim had expected that. He had hoped to slowly reveal the less savory parts of his past to his Guide. He had done a lot of potentially self-destructive things during that long downward spiral. Part of him was relieved that that particular story was out in the open. He didn't think he could ever look into those amazing blue eyes and tell his Guide that he had pulled a chain in a public place.

After the door closed, Blair turned to him.

"Take your clothes off," Blair said quietly, firmly.

"What?

"Take your clothes off, now. Slut," Blair repeated in his soft Guide voice.

Jim found Blair was serious. There was heat in his eyes -- incredible heat. Jim reached for the top button of his shirt. He found his hands were trembling. Blair's eyes stayed on him as each piece was removed. Soon, he was naked and feeling like he was blushing all over.

"Are you going to get undressed for this party?" Jim managed to ask.

"Were they undressed when they fucked you on the pool table?" Blair asked.

Jim wanted to lower his eyes, but Blair's gaze wouldn't allow that. "No."

"You have your answer then," he replied. "Show me what you did."

"I--I need lube," he whispered.

"Get it."

There was no anger in that voice. His body was serene if aroused. Jim fumbled for the lube he knew was somewhere in the sofa cushions. His face was on fire as he propped one leg up on the back of the sofa. Then, Jim carefully coated his fingers then lubed and stretched himself.

"When you're ready, slut, assume the same position as you did against that pool table," Blair said.

Jim nearly moaned out loud as he complied bending over and resting his shoulders on the back of the sofa. He felt completely vulnerable. This was very different from the admitted rush he got out of being used by those strangers. This was Blair he was waiting for. He heard his lover unbuckling then unzipping.

"The next time you think of that night, you will think of me," he growled as he pushed inside Jim's tightness to the hilt. "You will feel only me. Only me!"

Blair began to brutally thrust into Jim and he loved every moment of it. Blair held him still with a hard grip on his hips and pounded him. He canted those clever hits occasionally to touch his prostate and send electricity arcing though his body. Jim was moaning helplessly then begging for release. Eventually, the Guide listened reaching around to pump Jim's painful erection. It only took three strokes to make Jim howl at the rafters while his lover shot inside him.

"I could apologize, but I won't," Blair said later as they lay naked and wrapped up in each other on the sofa.

"Don't," Jim murmured. He was surprised he had any voice at all. "I'm glad to know that I'm not the only possessive one. And it was damned hot."

"Yeah?"

Jim nodded. "Everyone wants to be lusted after now and then."

Blair fell silent for a while. He was very thoughtful. "What made you so self-destructive then?"

"I don't know," Jim replied with a sigh.

"Do you think it was your senses?"

"Maybe. I always seemed to be seeking something since my return from Peru," Jim said. "Vice brought out the worst in me, but after a while, Major Crimes was no help."

Blair hugged him close. "It's alright. You don't feel that way now."

"God, no," Jim agreed. "I've never felt so content."

"Let's go to bed. We have a lot of work ahead of us," Blair said with a yawn.

Jim noted that his naked partner took the time to double check the locks before following him up the stairs. He still wondered what was in the Professor's head about their safety but was unwilling to break the mood. Blair followed Jim under the covers into his embrace where they fell into a deep sleep.

The FBI verified Fabulous Freddie's assertion and added to it. Four cities reported a series of batteries on young men who had frequented popular watering holes in downtown office districts. In several of the cases, the investigating officers suspected rape had occurred as well, but none of the victims would admit to that. Several people had been questioned in each case, but there were no arrests.

Blair studied the copies of the original reports as though he was looking at the Rosetta Stone.

"He's in here, Jim. His name is in here," Blair murmured answering Jim's unvoiced question.

"How do you know?"

Blair peered at Jim over his glasses thoughtfully. "Early on, this man was interviewed then passed over by the police."

"That made him think that he was smarter than the law," Jim said.

"Exactly."

They divided the reports. Jim was glad for the distraction. There was a lot of buzzing around the station about Wilcox getting called on the carpet. He was largely thought of as a dinosaur, but he had some supporters. It wasn't helping that Rafe and Brown were baiting the troublemakers since their return. Blair reached out and grasped Jim's hand then squeezed it. Jim calmed then focused. An hour later, he found a name.

"I have a very helpful witness in San Diego where the first cases were reported," Jim said. "A Charles Kelly came in to offer information on the night of one of the attacks. The investigating officer came back to him a few more times. He was never charged."

"Does his name come up anywhere else in that city?"

Jim looked at the cases following the statement and found nothing. He went back to the first case and found himself whistling. "It seems Mr. Kelly was with a group of guys partying with the first victim. He wasn't questioned because the vic had left his friends before he was attacked."

"That's our man," Blair said. "He tried it out on someone he knew. It had to be someone he could get close to easily. He got away with it, probably because of the rufies."

"Or shame," Jim interjected. "I don't know too many guys that could admit a buddy raped them."

"Yeah."

"So he gets away with the first one, and he probably can't believe he wasn't questioned," Jim said. "So he does it again. This time, he goes to the police..."

"Who give him a good long look, but nothing sticks," Blair said. "Then, all bets are off. I need to find out where Mr. Kelly is now."

"I'm going to call San Diego and find out why that investigator had a jones for him," Jim said starting to rise.

"Jim, let's stay together. I can use my cell," Blair said.

Jim sat and looked at Blair levelly. "Okay, Chief. You have to tell me what's up with the Siamese twins bit. I need to know what I'm fighting."

"I think you know," Blair said. "I'm reacting to you."

"How?"

"I don't know. I can just tell that something is unsettled in you," Blair replied. "And I get panicked at the thought of you leaving my sight."

Jim sighed. "Some of our brethren aren't happy about our arrest record. It's made them hostile about every aspect of our presence. That includes our relationship."

"I thought as much," Blair said. "But you think there's a risk of more than comments."

Jim nodded. "I know some of these chuckleheads pretty well. It's been sheer luck they've kept their badges. They could be trouble."

"What should we do?"

"I don't know, Chief," Jim said. Then he chuckled. "I was kinda hoping that you'd tell me."

Blair grew thoughtful for a moment looking at him. "I think we should follow our instincts, Babe."

Jim had no idea what that meant. He just nodded then turned to make his call.

Detective Roy Gable took Jim's call right away. His memory of the case and of Kelly was still very clear even after a few years. Gable liked Kelly for the series of assaults. He said there was something smug and disturbing about the man in the interviews, like he was daring them to find a connection between him and the victims. They never got enough to get a search warrant. The victims were less than cooperative which added fuel to Gable's suspicion that the men had been raped. The case got cold quickly. The assaults stopped shortly before Kelly left San Diego for Phoenix. Gable later learned of a series of assaults in Phoenix that fit the San Diego profile. He tried to offer the investigating officer there leads including Kelly, but they weren't receptive. They claimed that they were too busy to follow-up on crimes where the victims were uncooperative, but Gables suspected that there was some homophobia involved.

Blair was finishing his call just as Jim hung up. He was very excited.

"The Behavior Science investigators were able to get a Federal Warrant based on what I had sent them the other day," Blair said. "We were on the same track and they pointed to Kelly as well. Today, they tracked him to Cascade through his Social Security number. There will be a Federal search warrant issued this afternoon for his apartment."

"Let's tell Simon," Jim said.

The bust went down in very short order after that. Jim and Blair accompanied the Feds to Kelly's home. There they found a cache of Rohypnol, a scrapbook of news articles about the assaults going back to San Diego and a lock box of men's jewelry and business cards including Greg Hansen's college ring and a work ID from the one murder victim. Jim had the distinct pleasure of cuffing Kelly at his office which was in the same building as the sports bar he used to hunt his victims.

Simon could not have been happier.

"Forty-eight hours and you have an arrest," Banks smiled.

"I'd love us to take credit, Simon," Blair said. "But if this guy's trail hadn't been so long and so dangerous, we would be in the same position as those other cities. It was the length of his trail and the escalation of violence that allowed us to track him and get that search warrant."

"I know that the pieces were there, but you two had the instincts to put them together," Banks said. "This will not look good for Wilcox. And this could have been a feather in his cap."

"I don't want to speak out of turn, but the man is an idiot," Jim said. "He's the biggest argument against promoting a guy just because he's been around long enough. And to Sex Crimes yet."

"I hear you," Banks said. "So does the Chief. Hansen's roommate has been very vocal. He's even talked to some victim's right's groups about the way Wilcox handled this case. It could get ugly here over him old guard vs new..."

"New as in neo, hippie, witch doctor punk," Blair commented with a shrug. "I've heard things."

"Well, it should blow over after this all shakes out with Wilcox," Banks said. "But you should watch yourselves."

Jim found that he was depressed after that chat. He didn't like the idea of worrying about his fellow cops causing harm to him or to Blair for the rest of their time there. For a while, he wondered if they were wise to have left the mountains. Blair was quiet as well. The Guide seemed to be watching everyone around him, yet also seemed to be in a very far away place.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Blair said suddenly.

"Sure, I can use something," Jim said rising.

"Don't get up. What do you need?" Blair replied.

"You're going alone?"

Blair nodded. He looked into Jim's eyes levelly. "It'll be okay."

Jim tracked Blair to the break room, but he got a phone call that distracted him for several minutes. As soon as he hung up, Jim knew something was wrong. Blair's heart rate and breathing were elevated. He struggled to filter through the voices and noise in the room to hear what was happening while moving swiftly to get there.

"What did you say to me, you little faggot?" Wilcox was saying incredulously.

"I know you heard me, Captain Wilcox," Blair replied with a calm Jim knew he didn't feel. "Men who hate gays so much must want a little cock themselves."

Jim was shocked at Blair's words. He was even more shocked when he charged into the break room with half of Major Crimes behind him just in time to see Wilcox slug Blair in the eye. Blair reeled with the blow, but recovered quickly enough to land one on the Captain's jaw before Jim vaulted over the table onto him.

In the soft morning light, the whole three days seemed surreal. But the shiner was real and so were Jim's bruised knuckles. Blair nuzzled his chest then his eyes fluttered open. He smiled at Jim.

"What were you thinking?" Jim asked softly.

"Good morning to you, too," Blair replied. He tightened the hold on Jim's shoulder to pull him down into a long, sweet kiss.

"Good morning, Blair," Jim said with a smile. "Now, what were you thinking?"

"I told you last night," Blair replied while pulling Jim on top of him.

"You said something about alpha male rams, then the next thing I knew your cock was up my ass," Jim murmured. "I don't remember what you said after that."

Blair chuckled. "I was looking at the guys in the bullpen yesterday, and I realized that they reminded me of posturing rams."

"Well, that'll endear you to them, for sure."

"Hey, I meant no insult. They have to do what they have to do," Blair said. "I just realized that avoiding confrontation wouldn't work. We'd have to be joined at the hip forever. And I also knew that I had to take on one of them or make one take me on. I had to stand up to that person and fight back before you intervened."

Jim rested his head on Blair's forehead trying to figure out where his lover was going before he got distracted once again.

"You had to make someone take you on, so that person would get into trouble. You would have self-defense on your side," Jim said. "You had to stand up for yourself so others would know you weren't an easy target."

"Right," Blair said then rewarded Jim with another kiss. "No one was more surprised than me it was Wilcox. He's completely off his rocker."

"And out of a job soon," Jim said. "And I think anyone who supported him will think twice about taking on one punch Sandburg."

"Who knew he had a glass jaw?" Blair said. "The most important thing is none of those rams will ever want to risk being beat up by a fairy poindexter."

"What big ears you have, Blair Sandburg," Jim laughed. "Who's the Sentinel here?"

"You are, love, but I don't need heightened senses to know what's going on. I can feel that your heart is beating faster," Blair whispered. "Your heat is rising, and I can feel your interest growing by the second. Bottom boy must want some more."

Jim smiled a sweet smile at his smug lover then kissed him senseless. In the next move, Blair was on his stomach with his lovely ass canted perfectly for penetration.

"Bottom boy is off today," Jim growled as he snagged the lube off the night stand. "Let me introduce you to this alpha male ram."

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Inevitable 4: Unleashed