Related Episodes: Love and Guns, Flight, Iceman, Spare Parts, Second Chance.

I don't think I'll ever get married. I couldn't bear it if things went bad.

Well, you're always going to have problems come up, but I wouldn't trade the good times.

He's downstairs now, talking to Maya.

I told him to do whatever felt comfortable, and retreated upstairs.

We seem to get more than our share of female guests at the loft. This is what, the third time in as many months.

Having Naomi here wasn't so bad. She was just as cool as Blair promised, even if she had reservations about her son being with a "pig." I think we went a little overboard with the flirting, but Blair looked so cute when he was flustered over us, we couldn't resist. It didn't take me too long to convince her I wasn't one of those barbaric morons who like to throw their weight and authority around to overwhelm the innocent and terrorize the righteous. But there was little I could do to assuage her fears over Blair being involved in dangerous and life-threatening situations.

Blair is a grown man, who makes his own choices. I can't keep him locked up behind a glass case; it's not fair to him, or to me. He might not be trained in lethal combat, but his mind is as deadly as any weapon, and his physical skills are nothing to be scoffed at. He can outrun me over short distances, and has been known to bring down opponents bigger than himself with a well-placed punch. He's as capable as any man of taking care of himself -- correction, he's more capable than most.

Right now, he chooses to follow me into danger; and although I take every precaution possible to get him through in one piece, they, admittedly, are nowhere near fail-proof. Everyday I pray that if one of us should get killed, it will be me, and not him. Yet it will be totally illogical to deny him the right to place himself in danger when I do it just as regularly. Totally illogical to deny myself a capable and trustworthy partner, just because I am afraid of losing him.

Whatever time we might have, working together, living together, loving each other, I will take. And I will not let fear dilute our time together. It's a principle that as a rational human being Naomi understands, even agrees with, but her mother's instincts scream at her to crutch her child to her and never let go. All things considered, I admire her restraint. I don't know if I could be as graceful if I were in her shoes.

Before Naomi, there was Amber. Blair was subdued after she left. Apparently, they'd had a conversation about her choice of profession.

"She thought I was judging her," he said. "I-I'm not. That's her choice. I can't say I understand it, but I don't have a right to condemn her for it. It's me, really. I-I don't think I could do that. Not with somebody I... I didn't... care about."

He said the last words in a barely audible whisper. I'm not sure anybody with normal hearing could have made them out. I pulled him into my arms. Blair was passive that night, almost like that first time in the jungle. I am the first, and so far the only one, to touch him this way. He offers his body like he does everything else -- without reservation. Of course it is unthinkable for him to do this for somebody he does not... care about. For somebody he does not love.

Love. Such an inadequate word for what I feel for him, what he feels for me. He took my life into his hands the moment he shoved me under the garbage truck, and has never let go. I think I must have taken his life into my hands somewhere between sneaking into the police station and handcuffing myself to a flying helicopter. We just didn't realize it then.

If it hadn't happened in Peru, it would have happened sometime. We were moving towards that, probably from the moment he handed me his card at the hospital. Never mind that it had been years since I'd been with men. Never mind that he had never been with men.

When I reached for him, I wasn't thinking of anything other than the need to keep him warm. I'd figured that I could be comfortable in the jungle without a blanket, but Blair was starting to shiver, even with the single blanket wrapped tight around him. It was the way he relaxed so completely and trustingly into my arms. I don't have words to describe how that made me feel, what he made me feel that night. I'd never had such a submissive lover. Lover, another word that is so inadequate to describe what he is to me. Having sex, making love, bodies becoming one, souls being united -- none of these words come close to describing what we did that night, what it means to me to have Blair Sandburg in my arms.

And submissive isn't the right word either. Blair let me do anything and everything I wanted to, and he hardly raised a hand, but -- I can't explain this well -- it's like his body tells me -- no, actively gives me permission, for everything I do, like he actively accepts everything I do to him. Oh, there's no way in hell I can make this make any sense.

What happens between us is sacred, whenever I'm in him or he's in me. Whenever I touch him or he touches me. For me, I've known it otherwise. I've had the kind of sex, with both men and women, where the whole thing is about getting off, taking care of business, dulling the edge. I know the kind of sex that can be bought and sold. Blair doesn't. You would think with the way he goes through women that sex is a pretty casual thing for him, but no. As far as I can tell, he's only slept with a handful of the women he'd dated, and never slept with anybody he didn't feel an emotional connection to.

See, Blair flirts, and he takes an active interest in almost everybody he meets, and that's often mistaken for romantic interest, but actually, Blair doesn't give his heart easily. And when he does, he gives it totally, without reservation.

Which brings us to our current house guest, and the um, delicate situation we find ourselves in. They are talking in the living area, seated on a couch. Their voices are low, but sound carries in the loft, and even with my hearing turned as low as it would go, snatches of the conversation filter through to my consciousness. Apparently, Blair's decided to let her in on our relationship.

With Naomi, she just breezed in, took over Blair's old bedroom, and never commented on where Blair slept. She is cool, that way. With Amber, the need to keep her safe from a professional assassin, one with a long-range rifle, dictated the sleeping arrangements. Blair and I took turns sleeping on the couch, while Amber slept on Blair's old bed with the doors open. I actually don't know whether Amber clued in to us. I think Blair would tell me if he told her, but who knows?

Now Maya is here. The thugs that are after her want her alive, so they are not about to come toting long-range rifles, and she's Blair's old girlfriend, well, almost girlfriend, and suddenly who sleeps where is a serious sticking point.

Thing is, this whole sorry love affair between Blair and Maya is my doing. At that time, it seemed to make sense. I got an in to Hector Carasco's household, and it kept my over-excited, over-enthusiastic partner away from the main action. He's calmed down a lot since then. Learned there are harmful and often unavoidable consequences to police action. Maya, unfortunately, was his first, and most painful lesson in that particular aspect of life. Oh, he'd been kidnapped, been in a few gun fights, weaseled himself out of nasty hostage situations, but nothing prepares you for finding yourself being the one inflicting the pain. Especially on an innocent bystander, which is basically what Maya was.

I can hear Maya asking Blair whether we were lovers when Blair was seeing her. Her voice is full of pain and anger as she accuses Blair of using her for me. I hear Blair's voice, his tone soothing and apologetic, as he tries to tell her that he genuinely liked her. As if that could take away the harsh truth. Blair used her. I made Blair use her, for me. And you know what? I'd do it again. We need all advantages we can get in police work, and Blair's easy way with people is a definite asset. The only thing I regret is that I didn't give Blair enough warning about the possible consequences of that particular stint -- and what could I tell him to prepare him for that, anyway? Somethings you just don't understand until you are smuck in the middle of it.

And despite all of Maya's righteous pain and anger, it was Blair who was hurt more. Who's still hurting more. Because he truly liked her and he truly didn't want to see her hurt. Only to find himself being the inflicter of her pain. And who is to blame for that except for yours truly? Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Drennan hadn't been there when Maya came to see him. Would I have taken him into my arms to comfort him? Would he have let me? Funny how you hurt the ones you love only to comfort them later.

Blair has his shields up now, he would never allow himself to be so open again going into a situation like that. Unfortunately there are always those who slip under the shields -- and you can't afford to have them up so high you block yourself from the pain and suffering around you. That would turn you into one of the arrogant pricks Naomi hates. Not to mention the dangers of feeling no pain when you should. People with paralyzed limbs can burn themselves without realizing it, you know? It's also why Blair tells me not to dial down to the point where I don't feel anything.

I can hear Blair shuffling around in his old room making up the bed. Maya seems to be sitting on the couch, sniffling a bit, sobbing occasionally. Oh, it's the privilege of the innocent to weep. The guilty can only suffer in silence.

It's not a pretty world Blair's followed me into, where a flying bullet isn't the worst thing that can hit you. We navigate our way without a clear-cut guide through shades of grey, through moral minefields waiting to explode in our faces at any moment. Damage to the soul is far more insidious and irreparable than damage to the body.

I can hear Maya settling in to the bed downstairs. Blair's shuffling around in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Soon he will come upstairs, and I will reach out and draw him into my arms. In deference to our guest downstairs, we'll simply hold each other until we fall asleep. Our closeness is enough -- must be enough -- to hold the darkness and desolation of the soul at bay. To compensate for the price my chosen profession exerts on me, the price of Blair's choice to stay by my side.

I have accepted Blair into my life, as I have accepted my senses. Both Blair and my senses can be occasionally annoying, but they've enriched my life, profoundly. I cannot promise not to hurt him -- I will. I cannot promise to keep him safe -- I send him into danger. I don't even promise to listen to him -- he doesn't, and I like to grumble, both about him not listening and me having to listen. I can, however, promise to stay at his side, as he stays at mine. I will not deny him, not to him, not to others, and least of all to myself.

If this ends tomorrow, so be it. I will not give up a moment of what we've had.