Part 7

(Please visit https://www.squidge.org/~candy_a/13-main.htm for warnings, disclaimers and author's notes)

 * * *

 Jim had taken the ambulance ride with Blair, and had insisted on remaining with him in the examining room, citing his official status as the officer there to collect evidence. Given Blair's state of undress, his position on the altar when Jim first arrived, and the smell of blood that was not visible until stains of it were seen on Jim's and Simon's coats, Jim couldn't deny the horrible reality that Blair had been raped as part of the ceremony. What he couldn't identify was the odd, unpleasant, pungent odor that lingered over his lover. It wasn't another man's semen, which is what he'd expected to detect. It was a rancid, horrible odor that Jim had never encountered before.

Now as he stood near the head of the table, stroking Blair's hair gently, he cringed inwardly for Blair's pain as the uncomfortable and necessary examination was performed. What alarmed him most was that even something that had to be painful was not even eliciting a small response. Blair's eyes remained glassy, staring straight ahead.

"How bad is it?" Jim asked, trying not to let the tremor in his voice be audible to the doctor.

"He's going to need quite a few stitches, but I can't detect any major internal damage. We'll have to watch him carefully for a few days. The swelling is bad, and I can't get a conclusive assessment of his condition until it goes down a little. What puzzles me is this... substance I found in and around his anal passage."

"What is that?" Jim frowned, horrified, at the small tube containing some black, slimy-looking fluid.

"I have no idea. There's no semen visible." The older man shrugged. "Must've worn a condom. This other substance...I've never seen anything like it. It could be a lubricant of some sort, I suppose, but given the bruising and tearing, it doesn't appear a lubricant was used." The doctor removed his rubber gloves and covered the lower half of Blair's body with a light blanket. "You'll have to step outside while we work on him, Detective. We're going to get him cleaned up and stitched up, and then transferred upstairs for observation."

"He'll have to be in a private room for security reasons," Jim stated, his hand never leaving Blair's hair.

"I also want to have a rape counselor see him as soon as possible."

"I'll be guarding him personally," Jim added. "He's my partner."

The doctor checked his forms. "I see you have his durable power of attorney?"

"We're partners personally as well as professionally. We have decision-making power for each other in medical matters."

"I see. We'll take good care of him. You can see him as soon as he's settled into his room."

"I won't be far away, Chief." Jim leaned down and kissed Blair's cheek. "I love you," he whispered into Blair's ear, then kissed it. Still, no response from the motionless man on the table.

"I've seen a lot of sexual assault patients in a catatonic state, Detective. It's most likely temporary shock and trauma. Sometimes it's the mind's way of protecting us."

"Thanks, Doctor," Jim said, reluctantly leaving Blair's side, feeling an almost physical tear of separation from his wounded lover.

He walked into the waiting room, carrying the grim padded envelope that held the vial of black fluid, as well as a couple other evidentiary items from the examination. Megan and Taggert waited there, the rest of the gang still processing the arrests of the Satanists.

"How is he?" Megan asked.

"Hasn't spoken a word...no response at all," Jim said, shaking his head. "Doctor said he'll be all right. At least, physically."

"Sandy's strong. He'll get better, Jim."

"He...uh...he was raped," Jim said, knowing the facts of the case would soon be common knowledge at the PD, even if the press could be kept at bay from the most personal details. "The doctor said he doesn't think there's major internal damage."

"Thank God," Joel said. "I'm glad you shot that son of a bitch."

"I'd feel a lot better if he'd just say something." Jim started pacing. "God knows what happened that we don't even know about." Jim turned to Taggert. "Did they find Yates?"

"Not that I know of. I just checked in with Simon, and he wasn't on the list of people that had been booked. So far, we've got some surprising names."

"Warren Yates?" Megan asked, shocked. "Wasn't that the man who committed those murders in Seattle fifty years ago?"

"One and the same. I know it sounds impossible, but he was involved with this."

"The man has to be in his eighties by now!" Megan insisted.

"Go talk to Cassie. She'll fill you in," Jim snapped, still pacing. His attention was split now, as he focused on the sounds of the medical care being given to Blair. Through all of it, he didn't even hear a murmur from the patient. If there had been a single cry, a single word, a single breath of his name, Jim would have answered it in a heartbeat. "He's catatonic," Jim said quietly. "Even during the exam..." He swallowed. "Nothing. Not even a change in his expression."

"He's been through a terrible trauma," Megan said. "Maybe it's the only way he can survive it. In time, I'm sure he'll get better."

"Yeah, and I know of a few trauma cases who ended up staring out windows and dribbling their oatmeal down their chins for the rest of their lives."

"You're not going to let Blair do that, though, right, Jim?" Joel prodded, rising from his chair and picking up his coat. "I'm heading back downtown." Joel reached toward Jim to take the envelope of evidence, and Jim relinquished it. "I'll keep you posted. You do the same for us. Everybody's on needles and pins waiting to hear how Sandburg's doing."

"Thanks, Joel. And thanks for your help tonight," Jim said sincerely.

"Any time, pal. Hang in there. Blair's a strong person. He'll be okay."

"I hope so," Jim responded, nodding as Joel took his leave.

"How long before you can see him?" Megan asked.

"Until they finish treating him and move him into his room. I think they're about wrapped up in there," he nodded back toward the examining room. It occurred to him that Megan didn't press the issue of how he knew that. He was tired, overwrought, and he'd carelessly made the statement as if it were normal for him to be able to track Blair's progress from out in the hall.

"Probably won't be long, then. Would you like me to stay, or would you rather be on your own?"

"There's not much anyone can do here tonight. I want to be with him...so I'll be here. You'd probably be able to do more good at headquarters. It's got to be a mess down there right now."

"I understand the press is climbing the walls," Megan said, rising and gathering up her coat, taking Jim's cue that he preferred to be alone. "Tell Sandy we're all pulling for him."

"I will." Jim smiled slightly and Megan returned it, though sadly, then turned and headed for the exit.

Being alone was almost a relief. Keeping one ear on Blair and one on his conversation with Joel and Megan had been a strain that had contributed to an unpleasant headache. His full attention on Blair now, the scream that came from the examining room sliced through his brain like a knife. Ignoring the momentary flare of agony, Jim raced down the hall and crashed through the doors of the room just as Blair began writhing around on the examining table, screaming out Jim's name. Pushing past the startled nurse and waving off the doctor who hovered with a syringe in his hand, Jim quickly captured the two flailing hands with his own.

"I'm here, Chief. I'm right here, Blair. Look at me. Look at me!" he shouted at the hysterical man on the table. The wild blue eyes locked with his, and Blair stilled, his fingers twining with Jim's where their hands met. Blair's heart was pounding and his respiration was erratic. "Blair, sweetheart, try to breathe with me, okay?" Jim watched as the terrified face registered its first signs of recognition, and Blair made a valiant, though somewhat ineffective, attempt at controlling his breathing. "That's it. I know it hurts, baby," he said gently, using his thumb to brush away a tear that rolled down Blair's cheek. "Try to calm down for me, okay?" he prodded quietly, letting his thumb continue stroking Blair's cheek. The ragged breathing calmed slightly, and then finally the rapid heartbeat slowed a bit, and Blair seemed less hysterical, though he still said nothing, and still clutched at Jim's hand as if it were a lifeline holding him above a pit of sharks.

"Give us a minute?" Jim asked the doctor, who hesitated, then nodded. When both the doctor and nurse had left the room, Jim looked back at his lover. Carefully, he gathered Blair into his arms. The younger man's arms fastened around him fiercely, his whole body trembling violently now.

"Make it stop!" Blair pleaded. "Help me...oh, God, Jim...help me!" he screamed against Jim's shoulder.

"I'm here, baby. I'm right here. It's over. You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."

"It's not...over," Blair sobbed against Jim's shoulder. "It's not over... I kept...my vow," Blair whispered, and then his whole body went limp. If not for his heightened senses, tracking the precious heartbeat, Jim would have thought his lover had died in his arms. Instead, Blair appeared to be sleeping. Just like that.

"I know you kept your vow, sweetheart," Jim whispered back to the sleeping man in his arms. "I love you, baby. You sleep now, and when you wake up, I'll be here." With that, he carefully laid Blair back on the table, and stepped out to summon the nurse. "I think the sedative just took effect," he said.

"We haven't given him a sedative, sir. We gave him something for the pain, so that may have made him drowsy."

"Drowsy? He's out cold in there--sleeping like a baby. I figured you must have given him something powerful to make him sleep." Jim looked from the nurse to the doctor who joined them.

"I'll take another look at him. I was planning to give him a powerful sedative, but if the painkillers were that effective, I definitely will reduce the dose. I don't want to over-medicate him."

"He's never passed out this way from a painkiller before," Jim said, following the doctor back into the room. Blair was still sleeping peacefully on the table.

"Mr. Sandburg?" the doctor probed, stepping up to Blair's side and taking his pulse. "He's asleep, all right. I guess the exhaustion just caught up with him. Andrea, please see to it that Mr. Sandburg is moved up to his room ASAP, and make sure his nurse upstairs notes my instructions regarding further sedation if he wakes during the night. I won't sedate him now, because, frankly, he doesn't appear to need it."

"Yes, Doctor." The young woman took her leave, chart in hand, presumably to carry out the orders.

"Isn't this a little unusual?" Jim asked, looking at Blair with great concern.

"He may have just fainted. There's no rule book when it comes to physical and emotional trauma. We're all different; the possible reactions are pretty countless. I'll be on call all night, so if he has any serious episodes, I'll make sure the staff know to alert me. I'm Doctor O'Brien," he said, finally reaching out to shake hands with Jim. "I take it you're 'Jim'," he said with a smile, referring back to Blair's voluminous shouts of Jim's name.

"Right, Jim Ellison," Jim replied, smiling a little.

 * * *

 Jim slept slouched in a chair near Blair's bed. The patient was still and silent most of the night, sleeping as peacefully as he did most other nights. When Jim came to around four a.m., the lack of disturbance from Blair unsettled him. It was true he was on pain meds, but he'd been given no other sedatives. Looking down at their joined hands, Jim offered a silent prayer of thanks for Blair's outburst, wild as it was. His mind was obviously making connections again, and even if it was a long hard road, Blair had taken the first steps in breaking his silence.

"Thank God," Jim murmured, leaning down to kiss Blair's hand. When he straightened up, Blair was staring back at him, with an expression that held absolutely no fondness.

"God had nothing to do with it," he said, his voice a bit too deep. And then his eyes drifted shut, and he was sleeping again.

Jim stared at his sleeping partner, slowly withdrawing his hand. It seemed colder in the room suddenly, and he couldn't shake the internal chill of feeling that he had not heard Blair's voice, nor had he looked into Blair's eyes.

Damn it, Ellison, you are losing it. Who the hell were you talking to, then, his evil twin? You're the only two in the room. He's been through hell. Being angry and resentful at God for letting something so horrible happen to him seemed a natural reaction to a horrific experience. Maybe Blair had prayed for help, prayed to be rescued, and it was all too little, too late.

Jim leaned back in the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn't let the full horror of what Blair had experienced wash over him just yet. When he could allow himself that grim luxury, he wasn't sure. Blair needed him here, strong, steady and in one piece. Jim swallowed tears unsuccessfully when his mind carried him back to their first time, to the careful slowness of that first penetration, and the fact that even with all the gentleness in the world, Blair had still been tender and a little sore. The second time had been a little more passionate, and even then, Jim had struggled with some guilt that he'd made love to Blair that way a second time, too soon. Still, both of them had enjoyed it, and Jim had drawn no blood in their wildest moments.

This bastard had spread Blair's legs, forced his way brutally inside a still-inexperienced passage, and savaged Blair until he was torn and bleeding. Made him scream out in anguish as his body was violated and his delicate internal tissue ripped asunder.

"Damn it," Jim muttered, covering his face with one hand as the tears flowed. Redding had paid the ultimate price, but now finding Yates was the challenge that lay before him. That ...and standing by Blair as he made what would be a painful journey back to himself, back to their love and their life together.

 * * *

 When Jim jerked awake the next time, the faint signs of dawn were seeping in through the thin curtains, and a nurse was checking Blair's IV.

"How is he?" Jim asked, running a hand over his face and straightening in his chair.

"His vital signs are all normal, he's resting comfortably," the older woman responded, smiling. "The doctor suggested a mild sedative to keep him resting a few more hours. Why don't you go downstairs and get some coffee and breakfast? I'm sure he'll sleep like a baby while you're gone."

"I don't want to leave him. I'm guarding him as well as sitting with him," Jim clarified.

"I see. Would you like some coffee? We just made a fresh pot in the break room."

"That would be great, thank you." Jim smiled genuinely, picturing the warmth of the coffee spreading through him. He could use something warm to stifle the internal chill that haunted him.

The door to the room opened, and Simon poked his head inside, motioning to Jim to come into the hall. With a backward glance at Blair, Jim followed the directive.

"The results are in from that sample of fluid from Blair's exam last night--the black stuff?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to believe this, Jim." Simon seemed visibly shaken by the results.

"Probably not, but try me," Jim responded tiredly.

"It was semen."

"Wait a minute. It was black, sir."

"I'm aware of that. I had Dan run the tests on it himself. There's no question as to what that was. Dan's been on the 'net all morning searching every database he can find, calling labs all over the country, trying to find out if anyone's ever had a black semen sample."

"Don't ask me how, but could it be dyed?"

"There's no trace of anything artificial in it. The blood typing tests keep coming back with errors. There's no accurate blood type associated with it."

"Oh, man." Jim started pacing. "It has to be something else. Some sort of weird... lubricant that mixed with the semen--"

"Jim, it's not anything artificial." Simon let out a long breath. "I told Dan not to contact the FBI lab. I really don't want the feds swarming all over us."

"The feds," Jim restated, disbelieving. "For a semen sample?"

"A black semen sample. God, Jim, how many guys do you know shoot black loads?" Simon shook his head. "Besides, you're the one that has half of Major Crimes searching for some guy who's been dead fifty years."

"He's not in his grave."

"They could have stolen the corpse."

"They could have. But they didn't. And I think you know that. Besides, how do you explain the rotted flesh and the odor at the loft? Blair's ID of Yates as the killer? And now this...aberrant semen sample?"

"You think Blair was raped by a dead man?" Simon whispered.

"Shit, I hope not." He rubbed at his chin. "Not that being raped by Redding would have been easy on him."

"How's the kid doing, anyway?"

"He had this hysterical episode in the ER last night, and after he calmed down, he just ...passed out. Just like that. He's been asleep ever since except for...well, he said something in his sleep, but it wasn't anything case related," Jim said, glossing over the odd encounter he'd had with Blair in the small hours of the morning. "He, uh, needed stitches, and they want to keep him for observation for a day or two."

"Has he said anything else coherent?"

"No. They just added a little more happy juice to his IV to keep him resting a few more hours, so I doubt he'll be making statements anytime soon."

"I.A. is raising questions about Redding's shooting. Apparently, you didn't shout a warning?"

"He raised a knife over Blair's naked body and it was starting downward fast. I couldn't have gotten the words out before it was too late--and if I'd shouted a warning sooner, the others there could have easily overpowered three of us before the backup could even get into position."

"I'll be sure to pass that along upstairs."

"Let me get this straight. This guy savagely rapes Blair, and is about to stab him to death as a human sacrifice, and I.A. is asking why I shot him?"

"They've got a pretty good idea why you shot him. But unfortunately, that reason wouldn't make it justifiable legally."

"Which is?"

"That you and Sandburg are lovers and that you overreacted and shot his rapist."

"Well, they've got it all right except the overreacted part," Jim responded, not caring now who did find out what was going on between Blair and himself, if, in fact, after what Blair had been through, anything could ever go on again between them. "I had no time and no choice. There were forty other nutcases who would have jumped me before I got off the first shot if I'd shouted a warning. Blair's life was at stake, and the only shot I had, literally, was the element of surprise."

"Understandable." Simon nodded. Then his whole expression changed. "Whoa. Back up. You said they had everything right--are you telling me that you and Sandburg...?"

"That we're life partners? Yes, that's what I'm telling you. How this is going to affect that, I don't know... I know Blair's strong, physically and emotionally, but whether or not he can come back from this to wanting..." Jim shrugged.

"I wouldn't pick this time to come out, if I were you."

"Either the shooting was justified or it wasn't, whether I was saving my lover or a total stranger."

"It makes a difference to I.A.--even if it shouldn't. Look, Jim, between you and me, off the record, I don't have a problem with whatever you and Sandburg do together in the privacy of your home, as long as it doesn't impact the job. But if this turns from a cop shooting a perp to save a victim to a cop shooting his lover's rapist, you can bet it's going to get a hell of a lot uglier. Right now, I think the inquiry will be a speedbump in your career at best."

"Right now, Simon, I don't give a fat rat's ass about my career."

"Maybe not. But when Sandburg gets better and you go back and try to rebuild your lives, you're going to care. So just don't shoot off your mouth right now."

"All right." Jim looked back and Blair's door. "I should get back in there."

"You want anything from the apartment?"

"Shaving gear would be great. Change of clothes, some clothes for Blair for when I take him home." Jim dug out his keys and handed them to Simon. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Simon paused. "You've got Taggert convinced Yates is out running around somewhere. The scary thing is, our Chief of Forensics agrees with him."

"She was there, she smelled the odor, she took the flesh sample."

"Yeah." Simon nodded. "Well, I'll come by later with this stuff." Simon gestured with the keys and then headed down the hall.

 * * *

 When Blair woke the next time, Jim was reading a magazine, slumped in a chair a few feet away.

"Hey, Jim," he said casually.

"Chief...you're awake," Jim announced unnecessarily, grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah...uh, when do I get out of here?" he asked, his tone not unlike the odd one that had been present when he'd spoken to Jim so briefly before dawn.

"Maybe today. I'm not sure. The doctor will be in later to examine you. If everything looks okay, I'll take you home." Jim laid the magazine aside and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel, sweetheart?" he asked gently, taking a hold of Blair's hand in both of his.

"I've been better," Blair responded, his voice still a bit strained and stilted. His hand lay like a dead fish in Jim's grip.

"Would you rather I didn't touch you?" Jim asked, conscious that maybe his proximity and his touch was not something Blair wanted in the first hours of coping with the reality of his rape.

"Uh, no, that's fine." Blair smiled, but it was the kind of polite smile he might give a stranger. It didn't spread to his eyes. He did make an effort to put some pressure on Jim's hand.

"Was it Redding?"

"No." Blair stared at him now with the same coldness he had earlier. Jim looked into the same deep blue eyes, but found no trace of Blair's warmth in them.

"Who was it then, sweetheart?"

"Lucifer," he responded, his voice deep, almost sultry on the single word.

"Wait a second, Chief. Are we talking about one of Redding's goons?" Jim let go of Blair's hand when the other man chuckled a little.

"Redding aspires to be one of his goons," he replied, reaching up now to tuck his hair behind his ear.

"Blair, are you trying to say that...that you were...raped by the devil?"

"It was part of the ceremony," Blair responded cryptically.

"Sexual assault?" Jim asked.

"Lucifer claiming his prize in whatever manner he chose. His prize is to have a favored place at the Master's side," Blair explained. For a moment, it was as if Blair were merely explaining another ritual or cultural belief, and not the horror of his own rape as part of a human sacrifice ceremony.

"I'm so sorry we didn't get there in time, Chief. We tried everything..." Jim shook his head. "Baby, I'm so sorry," he repeated, picking up Blair's hand again and kissing it, then holding it against his face. "I promised you I'd protect you."

"You did your best," Blair said, his tone still detached.

So this is going to be how the trauma plays out--Sandburg sitting here talking to me like I'm some stranger off the street instead of his best friend, lover and life partner. Maybe this is the result of his feeling of betrayal--that I really didn't keep him safe.

"I don't know an easy way to ask this question, but...during the ceremony, did they use any type of...black substance?"

"Black substance? What kind of substance, Jim?" Blair drew his brows together and pinned Jim with an inquisitive look

"Uh...this fluid was found last night...during your exam..." Jim trailed off, feeling awful for bringing up the subject at all.

"I see," Blair replied, nodding. "No, not that I recall seeing."

"Was Yates there?" Jim asked.

"Yes, with Redding. They were closest to the altar."

"Was it Yates who...attacked you?"

"I already explained that." Blair pulled his hand away. "What would you like me to say, Jim?"

"I don't understand, Chief. This is hard for me to ask these questions, but I need to know what happened there last night."

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious. I was claimed by Lucifer, and you interrupted the ceremony before the final rite of sacrifice."

"He was going to kill you, Blair."

"That's necessary," Blair responded matter-of-factly.

"Did these freaks drug you? Brainwash you? What? You're talking like I messed something up by saving your life," Jim snapped, immediately regretting scolding Blair. Even if his behavior was erratic, at least he was talking and mostly coherent. "The doctor found traces of a drug in your system that would have made you lethargic, unable to resist... God, sweetheart, I know this is hell. I just hate having to make you talk about it."

"Then don't," Blair said simply. "I'm starved. Is there anything wrong with my stomach?"

"Uh, no," Jim responded, caught off guard by the change of subject.

"Good." Blair picked up the buzzer and pressed the button for the nurse. "If they're going to keep me locked up in here, the least they can do is feed me."

"Look, I won't bring this up again for a while. But we're eventually going to have to talk about what happened."

"We just did. You know what happened. You're the one with the black fluid samples and rape kit. You were there. What, you want me to draw you a picture? I was on my back with my knees up to my chest and my legs spread apart as far as they'd go while I got my ass fucked good and hard. And you know what else?" Blair added, smiling wickedly, rising up on both elbows. "I loved every minute of it." At Jim's stunned expression, Blair chuckled and fell back on the bed, pressing the buzzer again. "Where the hell is that bitch, anyway?" he complained.

"I'll go find a nurse," Jim mumbled, moving away from the bed, not sure if the chill in the room was real or emanating from his own chilled soul. He bumped into Edith, the nurse who had gone to get him coffee, as he was leaving the room. "He's hungry," he stated, taking the coffee from her with a muttered 'thanks'.

"He's awake? Wonderful. Dr. O'Brien just arrived--he's with another patient, but I know he's planning on looking in on Blair next. I'll get him a tray when the doctor's finished."

"Thanks. I'll tell him." Jim dreaded walking back into the room and encountering Blair again.

"...And you know what else? I loved every minute of it." Blair's words lingered in his brain, torturing him. Even a secret fetish for rough sex wouldn't have made the damage Blair suffered enjoyable, and the cries of anguish Jim had detected when he first entered the house were not cries of pleasure. Maybe he just has to tell himself he enjoyed it. Maybe this is his protection--something he can hide behind while he heals, something to keep me from treating him like a lover. Swallowing hard, Jim walked back into the room. Blair was curled on his side now, facing the door.

"I'm sorry, Jim," he said softly, closing his eyes. "I didn't mean to talk to you like that," he added, his voice breaking as he began to cry into his pillow.

"It's okay, baby. Don't cry. It's okay." Jim sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Blair's back while he cried. "I know it was awful, Chief. We're going to get through this together, I promise."

"Take me home, Jim," Blair muttered through his tears.

"The doctor's here. If he gives us a green light, I'll take you home as soon as Simon gets here with a change of clothes, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Blair managed, fastening a hand around the one Jim offered him. The other hand still kept up the gentle back rub that seemed to be calming Blair down a bit.

"Here, let's get you dried off." Jim used a tissue to blot the moisture off Blair's face and carefully wiped his nose.

"Would you...kiss me?" Blair asked, looking at Jim through pleading, wet eyes.

"You don't have to ask twice, sweetheart." Jim leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against the soft lips. They weren't as responsive as usual, but that wasn't surprising under the circumstances. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Blair said, closing his eyes and resting as Jim continued to rub his back, sliding his hand beneath the hospital gown to massage the tense muscles. And trying desperately to shake the uncanny sensation that Blair was lying through his teeth and putting on a show...giving Jim want he wanted to see.

"Good morning," the doctor greeted as he walked in. "The nurse said you were awake," he said to Blair as two bleary blue eyes fixed on him.

"We just had a rough moment or two," Jim explained. Then he leaned down closer to Blair. "Will you be okay if I step outside so the doctor can take a look at you?" He watched as Blair nodded. "Okay." With a little kiss to Blair's temple, Jim moved away from the bed. "I'll wait outside," he said to the doctor, who smiled and nodded his thanks.

Jim leaned against the wall near the door to Blair's room. Bone tired, he let out a weary sigh and watched the nursing staff going about their work, picked up on the symphony of voices and machinery and TVs and utensils scraping plates--the sounds of all the patients on the floor either being treated, eating breakfast or catching up on the morning news. The tears were a good sign. At least that initial attempt at pretending nothing was wrong and putting on a tough front was crumbling a little.

You're fooling yourself, Ellison. You didn't like what you saw in Blair before he tugged at your heartstrings with some well-timed tears. Have you ever heard Blair call some innocent woman a 'bitch' just because he was getting impatient? Has he ever been really crude when he talked about sex before? Of course, this is the first time he's been raped. Maybe the rules change when you've gone through that kind of misery...

His thoughts were interrupted when the doctor emerged from the room, shaking his head.

"You can take him home if you like. I was thinking he'd need another day because of the deep tearing, but I guess I overestimated the damage with all the swelling last night."

"I don't understand. You're saying he didn't need stitches?"

"He needed stitches, all right enough. But I was thinking the wounds were much deeper. This morning...well, let's just say he'd have had to heal for a week to look the way he does. Apparently, I must have misjudged how serious the damage was. The swelling is almost gone, the tears are well on their way to healing, and he didn't show much discomfort at all during the exam." The doctor smiled. "I'm very happy to say that he should be fine in a week or so. At least physically. And quite honestly, his demeanor seems pretty normal, considering. I'll sign the release forms right now."

"Thank you, Doctor. That's great news."

"Indeed. My apologies for sounding so dire last night. I haven't had many male rape patients, so I guess my diagnostic skills aren't as sharp there." The doctor walked away, still shaking his head. Jim turned and went back into Blair's room.

"Good news, Chief. You're getting sprung out of here. As soon as Simon shows up with the clothes, we'll head home."

"Great. I've about had it with this place. I hate hospitals, man," Blair said, smiling. "Yeah, so do I."

"About before...I'm really sorry about what I said. I was just...angry, I guess."

"You've got a right, Chief." Jim smiled, and Blair returned it, though he averted his eyes quickly and looked toward the window. "I want you to know that what happened...well, there's not going to be any pressure on you, Blair. I love you, and nothing'll change that. But you don't have to worry that I'm going to push you anywhere you aren't ready to go."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said, still looking out the window.

"Room service," Edith joked as she carried the breakfast tray into the room.

"Food," Blair said appreciatively as she set it on the table and moved it into his reach.

"I'll be in with the release forms after you're finished eating," she said, smiling.

"Thanks, Edith," Blair said, briefly glancing at her nametag, though not really wasting his gaze on either Jim or the nurse. He was completely enraptured with the food, and began devouring it as if he hadn't eaten in weeks

* * *

 Though Blair still sat a bit gingerly, he moved very well considering his ordeal. He'd dismissed Jim, albeit pleasantly, to get dressed on his own while the other man went to find the nurse for the obligatory wheelchair ride. When Jim returned, Blair was dressed in his jeans and the bulky brown sweater Simon had brought, the collar of a henley shirt peeking out the slight V of the sweater's neck. He was busily tying his Nikes when he looked up at Jim.

"Time to go?"

"In about five minutes, Chief. The nurse had to go round up a wheelchair." Jim watched Blair, concerned now with this swing to easy congeniality and the illusion nothing was wrong. Blair seemed to be progressing through an erratic series of escape attempts, first with hostility and crudeness, and now with acting as if this day were no different than any other. "You want me to finish that for you?" Jim motioned at the shoe-tying project.

"I think I got it covered, man," Blair replied, chuckling.

"I thought maybe it would be a strain...you know..."

"Sitting down hurts--tying my shoes is easy." Blair replied as he stood in front of the chair, putting one foot back on the floor and raising the other one to rest it against the edge of the seat while he tied the second shoe. A little thrown by the frankness of the statement, Jim just nodded, and found himself almost relieved when the nurse arrived. Uncertain that taking Blair too far from a handy psych ward was a great idea, he helped his partner gather up the meager items from his brief hospital stay, and they were on their way.

 * * *

 "The doctor said you're a fast healer," Jim commented as they drove toward the loft. Talking about Blair's ordeal so casually seemed surreal, but since it was the tactic Blair was using, Jim opted to play along. Every reference to the violent violation tore at his soul, but if talking about it would help Blair in any way, then it was worth it. Maybe that's what the casual approach was all about--a need to discuss what he'd been through without so much emotional baggage.

"I'll be fine," Blair responded, staring out the passenger window. Then he fell silent, and made no attempt to interact with Jim any further. He simply stared at the passing cars, and occasionally shifted in the seat a little.

When they arrived home at the loft, Blair headed for the bathroom.

"I need a shower."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything," Jim responded, feeling completely useless to help this self-contained, composed Blair. He had no desire to see Blair lose it and become hysterical, but the brief hysterical episode in the ER was the last time Jim had felt really at ease with his partner.

"I'll be fine here if you have to go into headquarters or something...for the case."

"Not right now. If I do, I'll make sure you've got reliable protection this time out."

"Whatever," Blair said indifferently and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The water started, and Jim could hear the clothing being removed and set aside, and Blair stepping under the spray, washing himself. There was nothing erotic in Jim's brief voyeurism on his partner. When he was satisfied the younger man was steady on his feet and progressing through his shower safely, he went about tidying up a few things in the kitchen and started the answering machine on playback. Cassie's voice, somewhat shakier than usual, came over the little speaker.

"I have the lab analysis done on those samples of gray material from the window sill. It's decayed human flesh, just like we thought. Uh…give me a call, huh? I'm not sure what to do with this one."

Jim picked up the phone and dialed Cassie's direct line.

"Cassie Welles," she answered.

"Cassie, it's Jim. About that sample…do what you normally do. Fill out the paperwork, report it to Simon."

"I've triple-checked everything. This doesn't make any sense."

"How old is it?"

"Exact dating is a little difficult with this particular sample. It's too severely decayed to be from any recent victims."

"Okay. Make sure Simon gets the report. Thanks, Cassie."

"That's it? Jim, if this is true, this means--"

"I know what it means," Jim snapped, then sighed. "Look, it's been a rough couple days. Just get the information to Simon."

"All right. How's Blair?"

"He's as well as can be expected. I'll let him know you asked."

"Please, do."

"Thanks, Cassie." With that, Jim hung up the phone and then called Simon to touch base. The captain made it clear Jim's presence was rapidly becoming imperative at headquarters, so Jim agreed to head into work by later that afternoon. He figured that would be time enough for them to discuss the test results Cassie would be sending Simon's way.

The door opened and Blair came out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, another being employed to blot the worst of the water out of his hair.

"I talked to Simon. I'm going in a little later, if things are going okay. Rafe'll come over and keep an eye on things, and we have a unit downstairs."

"Good." Blair smiled. "I like Rafe." And with no further discussion, he walked into the downstairs bedroom and closed the French doors behind him.

"You hungry?" Jim called after him.

"No, I'm still full from breakfast. I'll get something later."

"Okay. If you change your mind, I'll make you something before I go."

"Thanks, man." Blair emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a favorite brown plaid flannel shirt and jeans, thermal socks on his feet. His hair hung loose on his shoulders, and he was carrying a couple of books and his glasses. "I thought I could catch up on some reading this afternoon after you go in." He eased himself down into the cushions of the couch and looked back at the kitchen when Jim didn't answer. "You okay, Jim?"

"No, Blair, I'm not," he said solemnly. Laying aside the knife he'd been using to cut the sandwich he had no real plans to eat, he walked into the living room and knelt at Blair's feet, taking both of the smaller man's hands in his. "Blair, I'm so fucking sorry I let you down. I promised you'd be safe, and then I left you with a murderer. I thought Miller was who he said he was..." Jim swallowed hard, looking down. "Damn it, Blair, I don't blame you if you hate my guts."

"I don't hate your guts, Jim. It was an honest mistake," Blair responded.

Shit, Chief, you're saying the right words, but they're so fucking cold. Like you honestly don't care...

"I appreciate you letting me off the hook, but I guess I can't let myself off the hook."

"The past is the past. You can't change it. Agonizing over it is useless. Guess you'll just be more careful from now on." Blair withdrew his hands and picked up one of the books, putting on his glasses. When he noticed that Jim was still kneeling there, staring at him in shock at the words that had just flowed out effortlessly, he smiled slightly. "What?"

"Damn it, Blair, I can't do this!" Jim shot up on his feet and started pacing.

"Can't do what? I haven't asked you to anything besides stop lamenting about things you can't change."

"What's the matter with you?! Doesn't it matter to you what happened?! Son of a bitch, Sandburg, are you made of stone? Is this some kind of denial thing you've got going on here? They raped you..." Jim choked off the words miserably, feeling the tears spring to his eyes uninvited.

"Thanks for clearing that up for me, Ellison." Blair hurled the book angrily into the opposite corner of the couch and yanked off his glasses, tossing them after it. "I might not have realized I had my ass ripped open if you hadn't filled me in on it!" he shouted back, rising and standing opposite Jim. "Let me get this straight. I get abducted, I get raped, and I somehow manage to handle it, and because I'm not a sniveling basket case curled up in the corner of a padded cell, you can't do this? Who in the fucking hell do you think you are?! When did this all end up being about you?!"

"Since...since...damn it, Blair, since you changed."

"Changed? Okay, let's back up here. A minute ago you couldn't handle it because I wasn't freaking out, because I was acting like everything was normal, and now you're pissed off because I've changed? Being chosen as a human sacrifice is right up there with money and fame--it changes people."

"That's not what I mean. Blair, I love you. You're everything to me. All I want to do is hold you and make this...better somehow. I just want to look in your eyes and see you there."

"Oh? Who do you think you're seeing?" Blair challenged, staring Jim down with those stranger's eyes that made his blood run cold.

"I don't know."

"I should have known." Blair turned away and walked toward the balcony windows. "After the rape, you wouldn't want me. I should have known that. Why would you? I'm not exclusively yours anymore."

"Oh, my God, Blair...that's not it at all. You know that." Jim closed his eyes and felt the tears escape now. "I'll love you until the day I die. Nothing is going to change that."

"Nothing except this. Except all the things I'm doing wrong while I'm coping with what you let happen to me when you were supposed to be guarding me!" Blair turned back toward Jim with an angry expression, fire in his eyes that seemed to turn them nearly black. "How do you want me to cope with this, huh? You want me to cry, get hysterical, maybe try to off myself? Give me a script, because guess what--this was my first ritual rape! I'll try to do better next time!"

"You're twisting this around--"

"Let's just drop it. I'm not reacting the way you think I should. Fine. Do not start lining me up with shrinks, because let's get one thing straight right now--I'm not crazy."

"I never said you were."

"Just that I'm not myself and I'm in denial. That's walking a real fine line on the edge of saying I'm crazy."

"I'm looking for a way to reach down in there somewhere and pull Blair back out again. I feel like I'm talking to a stranger." Jim watched as the other man's expression faltered a moment, and it was as if, for a split second, he saw his Blair, saw the momentary warmth in those beautiful eyes, and in an instant, Blair was close in front of him, hands on his chest.

"Take me upstairs, Jim. Now." This was Blair, and it was Blair's sweet voice and his beautiful, loving eyes and if not for what had just happened to him, Jim would have swept him up the stairs and made love to him all day, case be damned.

"Baby, it's too soon. I'd hurt you."

"No. You'd never do that. I need you, Jim. You have to touch me...please." Blair looked into his eyes now, real tears starting to flow. "I need something to hold onto." With that, Blair rested his forehead against Jim's chest and began to cry in earnest. "Help me, Jim...God, please help me."

"I will, sweetheart. I will. God, Blair, I love you so much." Jim wrapped his crying lover in a firm embrace, then swooped him up in his arms, carrying him toward the stairs. He had no real idea what he'd do with Blair that would be gentle enough, that wouldn't be the worst possible thing he could do to him emotionally or physically while he was still healing...but he'd have to find something, because Blair needed him.

He gently laid Blair on the bed, and then stretched out beside him. In a moment, Blair was on his side, facing Jim, pulling him into a passionate kiss, hands almost clawing at Jim's shoulders in a sort of desperation. Jim enveloped him in an embrace, returning the fevered kisses, spreading them over Blair's face, trailing them down his neck.

"I love you, baby. Love you so much," Jim whispered against Blair's neck, and Blair let out a little sob then, but smothered it in more kisses, his mouth clinging to Jim's almost as intensely as his hands did.

"Touch me. I need you to touch me," Blair pleaded brokenly. "Jim, I need you to still want me," he sobbed, finally accepting the hug Jim was trying to give, letting himself be held and stroked and soothed while he cried.

"You're the only lover I want, Blair. You're my life partner."

"I didn't break my vow, Jim. I swear I didn't," he whimpered against Jim's shoulder.

"Oh, honey, I know you didn't. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't stop it."

"Touch me, Jim... I know we can't... But you could touch me, and I could touch you, and we could make love."

"Shhh." Jim kissed both wet eyelids and then Blair's lips again, then slowly moved his hand down to unzip the jeans, parting the soft, worn denim and working his hand inside Blair's boxers to release his only slightly hardened cock. Blair mirrored the gesture, his warm hand wrapping around Jim's length. Slowly, they began pumping each other, free hands and mouths still making love while they worked at bringing their bodies to a shared climax. Jim came first, and put his full concentration on bringing Blair to his peak. Blair's usually responsive member was slow to harden, and despite Blair's need for the intimacy, his body wasn't cooperating easily.

Jim slid his hand up under the shirt and rubbed gently over a nipple, tweaking and pinching at it as it became an erect little nub. He pinched and rolled the other nipple, encouraged as he felt Blair's cock harden more and surge a little in his hand. Finally, with a strangled sob, Blair came, spurting over Jim's hand. When it subsided, Blair wrapped his arms tightly around Jim's body and held on for dear life.

"Don't let go of me," he pleaded with Jim. "Don't let go," he repeated.

"I won't, baby. I promise. It's safe to rest, Chief. I'll stay right here and hold you." "When he tries to take me, don't let go. I don't wanna go," Blair whispered through new tears, burrowing against Jim.

"We have a unit outside, and I'll stay right here with you, baby."

"Don't leave me."

"I won't. I won't, Chief. Never." Jim cuddled Blair close and rested his head against the soft, clean-smelling curls. "I love you," he said softly.

"I love you, too. I love you with all my heart and soul...everything I am. No matter what happens, don't doubt that, okay?"

"I won't, baby. Now, rest a while, huh? We'll talk more when you feel a little more rested."

"Okay," Blair responded. "Jim?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for still loving me...even...like I am now."

"I'll always love you, Chief. Don't doubt it. You're hurting now, but that doesn't change how much I love you. Understand?"

"Yeah... I need sleep now," Blair admitted through a yawn just before he dozed off, and Jim felt his breathing become deep and even. Holding his lover close, Jim prayed the storm had passed, and that the healing could finally start. Feeling a little release of tension, he drifted off to sleep.

 * * *

 Jim smiled in his sleep, feeling the heavy, warm weight of Blair straddling his body. Delicious thoughts danced through his mind of lovemaking to come, and for a wonderful instant, he forgot all the horror that had befallen Blair, that had invaded their lives. Troubled now at why Blair was straddling him when that position had to be painful, Jim opened his eyes.

And grabbed Blair's wrists as the knife clenched tightly in both Blair's hands headed straight for Jim's heart in a rapid downward plunge.

"Son of a--" Jim wrestled with the unnaturally powerful force of Blair's arms as they tried to complete their mission of driving a large butcher knife into Jim's chest. "Blair! What the hell are you doing?!" Jim managed, stunned that his own strength was barely enough to restrain Blair. He knew his lover was strong--sometimes stronger than he looked at first glance--but there was no way Blair's biceps were any match for Jim's own.

He knew a few moves that would have freed him, but he didn't want to injure Blair severely, and if this was some hysterical episode, he didn't want him to tear out all his stitches in a wrestling match.

And then he looked into the eyes that met his. Wild, fiendish, bloodshot eyes with deep black pupils and a cold, horrible evil about them that chilled Jim's soul. Whatever he was wrestling with was not Blair, but it had chosen to use Blair's body, and whatever injury he inflicted in saving himself, Blair would suffer.

Oh, my God...it's real...it really can happen... He's possessed, Jim thought wildly as he continued to fight the battle of wills with this thing that was inhabiting Blair's body. He realized his only hope was Blair's help. That's what he meant by "don't let me go"...why he was so afraid, why he begged me to hold onto him...

"Blair, baby, come on. I need you. I'm going to die here if you don't help me. I love you, Chief. Come on, help me, dammit!" Jim bellowed. "Fight it. Come on, Chief, fight it and help me!" He thought he detected a slight faltering in the pressure on his arms, but he couldn't let that little tremor catch him off guard. "Blair, sweetheart, I love you. Come back to me. I won't let you go. I know you're in there. You can do it. Come on, I'm reaching out to you here. Reach back, Chief. Come on." Jim could barely keep up the litany with the effort he had to expend to keep the knife out of his chest.

Finally, there was a slight hesitation in the fiend that had been so intent on killing him moments earlier. The downward force of Blair's arms gradually lessened, but Jim kept a tight hold on his wrists.

"Blair, baby, come on, that's it. You're doing it. You got him on the run now, Chief. Come on, come back to me. I need you. I need your help, Blair. Come back." Jim watched as Blair shook his head, scrunching his eyes shut a moment, as if he were shaking something off. "Come on, Chief. Look at me. Let me see those beautiful blue eyes."

"I'll let you see the fiery depths of Hell!" a voice boomed out of Blair's mouth as his eyes opened again and he laughed wickedly, his eyes rolled back in his head.

"In the name of God, you let him go!" Jim yelled at the thing that straddled him, leering at him through a twisted visage of Blair's face. "I don't care what you are, by God, he's mine, and you're not taking him!"

"You stand before the power of Hell and defy me!" the voice accused, resounding through the quiet loft, reverberating in Jim's brain.

"I stand before the power of Hell and will go straight into it if I have to, to get Blair back. He's mine--now let him go! God damn you back to hell where you belong!" Jim bellowed right back in the thing's face.

Every window in the loft flew open, and objects crashed off tables and shelves as a hot, foul-smelling wind blew through the loft, and the bed itself began to rattle and vibrate.

"Blair, you come out! Come back to me. Push him back and you come out! Do you still love me, Chief? If you do, you have to fight!" Jim shouted over the cacophony of wind and crashing objects.

Suddenly everything became still, and in an instant, the resistance left Blair's body and he tumbled off Jim onto the bed, the knife clattering to the floor out of a limp hand.

"Blair?" Jim rose up on his elbow and leaned over his lover, patting the damp, clammy face lightly. "Blair, sweetheart, come on, open your eyes for me." Jim prayed that when that finally happened, it would be Blair's eyes he would see. His prayers were soon answered.

"Jim?"

"That's me, Chief," Jim responded, smiling and stroking Blair's face. "Do you remember what happened?" Blair looked up at him, terrified, and nodded.

"You brought me back."

"I promised you I wouldn't let go of you. I won't . Do you think there's any power in this world--or any other--that's going to break our bond?"

"None," Blair responded honestly, and for the first time, he smiled. A genuine, beautiful, soft, tired, Blair smile. He touched Jim's face lightly with his fingertips. Jim captured the hand and kissed the fingers. "You love me that much."

"More than life, more than my soul, more than eternity. If I have to follow you to Hell to bring you back to me, then that's where I'll go."

"He's not gone," Blair said, his voice shaking.

"You mean we won the battle but not the war, huh?"

"Right," Blair responded, nodding.

"What happened in that ceremony, sweetheart?"

"I was supposed to be the Thirteenth Sacrifice--a...a gift...to...t-to Satan. Redding...he got up on the altar..." Blair's breathing hitched badly, and tears started rolling down his cheeks.

"Shhh. Take it slow, baby. But I have to know. I have to understand."

"It hurt so bad," Blair sobbed, turning his face into the pillow, crying hard now, great, wracking sobs that rattled Jim's soul as much as they wracked Blair's body.

"I know it hurt, Chief. I know, baby." Jim leaned down and kissed Blair's cheek. "Shhh. Take your time. It's okay."

"I could have killed you."

"But you didn't. And I don't think you would have let it kill me."

"Redding...he drugged me with something...and I couldn't move. So I couldn't resist." Blair took a deep, wet breath and looked up at Jim. "He pushed my legs up, way apart, and he just shoved into me..." Blair looked away again, dissolving into tears momentarily. "And it was like he wanted to hurt me as much as he could...he was moving so fast...and it hurt so bad I couldn't stand it...and then he was trying to make me promise myself, and then there was this...thing in him, and his eyes rolled back in his head and he was yelling at me in this horrible voice..."

"Like the one we heard tonight?"

"No...that one was worse."

"Worse than this one?"

"Yes...Jim, the voice I heard last night...it was...I don't even want to say it."

"This morning, you told me Lucifer raped you."

"Oh, God... Jim, I don't even remember saying that."

"I don't think you were yourself."

"This voice tonight, it was different. It wasn't as...large as that one."

"Okay. That's something to go on."

"When he...it burned, Jim. It was like having someone...shooting...hot lava inside me...I screamed and prayed he'd just let me die because the pain was so bad," Blair concluded, swiping at his eyes with one hand. "I guess I passed out. Next thing I remember, I was calling to you and I was in the ER."

"What do you remember about today?" Jim slid back down in the bed and took Blair in his arms, stroking his hair soothingly.

"Almost nothing," Blair admitted tiredly. "I remember last night, you coming into the ER and holding me, and then we were arguing in the loft, and you called to me--you said you needed me back here. And...I came back. It was almost like...like at the fountain. I was somewhere else, and you called me, and I came back." Blair snuggled against Jim. "And I remember us making love. You taking it so slow and patient and gentle with me, even though I couldn't come right away...and you promising me you wouldn't let me go."

"And I won't. Not ever."

"We need help, Jim."

"I know. Any ideas?" Jim kissed Blair's hair and moved his hand down to rub slow circles on his lover's back.

"Redding told me that the reason I was chosen was because I was a shaman...I was powerful. I don't feel all that powerful now."

"God, I wish Incacha were here. He'd know what to do."

"Maybe that's it." Blair raised up on the mattress, looking down at Jim with an expression anyone could readily identify as "the old Blair".

"What?"

"You said Incacha helped you save me."

"Yes."

"Maybe I need to channel Incacha. If I can host this...thing inside of me, maybe I can channel a good spirit as well. And maybe he can guide me in the Way of the Shaman."

"How would you do it?"

"Through meditation. It's the only thing I really know how to do to contact a spirit. It's all I can think of."

"We could call a priest."

"Jim, the local parish priest isn't going to be a qualified exorcist. Shit, that only happens in Hollywood--that the guy at the church on Main Street keeps an exorcism kit in his office just in case one of his parishioners goes berserk." Blair lay back down against Jim. "What if I try to hurt you again?"

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because now you know what's happening, and you're going to fight it, and so am I. But first, you need sleep. A good sleep this time. I'll keep watch. You can't fight something like this when you're exhausted."

"I'm sorry all this happened. That it ruined things for us."

"It didn't ruin things for us, baby. Nothing could do that. Look at me." Jim took the troubled face in both hands. "This love is forever, a lifetime commitment. You're my partner in everything. Making love to you is a beautiful experience, but so is sharing my life with you. Nothing could ruin that. We won't let it. Understood?"

"Understood," Blair repeated, swallowing hard as new tears arrived.

"Rest here and let the tears come, baby. It needs to come out."

"I wanted to die," Blair moaned, giving in to the crying now.

"You held on for me, and you're going to keep doing that, and we're going to get through this. You know I can't make it without you, so there are no choices here, right?"

"Right," Blair managed, still sniffling, but quieting, and finally slipping off into sleep.

 * * *