Wednesday dawned bright and sunny, a hopeful portent for the day. After a leisurely breakfast, they made their way to the police station.
They checked in with the Desk Sergeant, who issued visitor badges and handed them off to Inspector Flynn. Flynn escorted them up to Narcotics and to the captain's office. Captain Robbins greeted them and offered them coffee from his personal supply. Blair caught Jim's eye and grinned. He wondered if the coffee fixation was a captain thing. The three of them headed to the conference room.
An energetic crowd of police officers filled the room. Robbins spent a few minutes introducing the men of Cascade to his people. Jim and Blair recognized a few from Monday night, Hansen and Flynn included, but the operation was critical enough to require significantly more manpower than the people they had seen before. In addition to the regular Narcotics personnel, the task force had pulled in a couple of people from Vice who were familiar with the Dragons, and a pair of sharpshooters from the SWAT team. Carolyn was also there, personally supervising the technical aspects of the operation.
They moved on to reviewing the plan. Though simple, the plan required precise timing and placement of personnel. The meet would take place in a public location near an active construction site, so the safety of civilians was paramount. Captain Robbins encouraged ideas from his people as they discussed a number of possible actions and counteractive measures.
Jim observed the proceedings carefully, occasionally adding a comment. With Blair at his side and Carolyn sitting across the table, Jim was struck with an odd sense of familiarity. Blair was thinking the same thing. He leaned toward Jim and quietly said, "I keep waiting for H to chime in with one of his wiseass comments."
At last, with everyone thoroughly familiar with their assignments, Robbins brought the meeting to a close. "Okay, people. We know what we've got to do. Let's do it."
Jim and Blair staked out a corner away from the main exodus. A few other people lingered behind to coordinate individual tasks. A small group paused to talk to Carolyn and the captain. Three other cops came over to Jim and Blair, asking casual questions about their past cases and experiences before continuing out into the bullpen.
Blair knew an interrogation when he saw one. The three cops had clearly been delegated to investigate the men from Cascade. Jim had his head tilted in his familiar listening pose.
"...since Lieutenant Plummer said they were top dogs up in Cascade."
"What d'ya think?"
"I think they'll do just fine. The big guy isn't trying to take over the case, and the little one seems to know the score, even if he isn't a cop..."
"What are they saying?" Blair asked.
"You bowled them over with your charm, Chief." Blair punched him lightly in the arm. "Seriously, Carolyn's been saying good things about us, and they were just verifying the information. They think we're okay."
"Good. We've got enough to worry about without antagonizing the natives."
A few minutes later, Carolyn offered to take them to lunch. "After all," she said, "I still owe you a lunch. Of course, there's no Wonderburger, but there is a very nice deli not too far away."
She was right. The deli was very nice, and the sandwiches quite tasty. The conversation was pleasant as well. They spoke of their jobs and mutual friends, and by unspoken agreement, carefully avoided the touchier subjects.
"So, Captain Robbins seems like a good man. You must like working with him." Blair shamelessly pumped Carolyn for information. Her response was not quite what he expected.
She laughed. Her voice softened and her usually serious expression took on a dreamy look. "We mixed like oil and water the first few cases. Dan is very protective of his people, and the last head of Tech Support was more concerned with the equipment than the people. Once he realized I wasn't like that, we got along just fine."
Blair found this softer side of Carolyn quite intriguing. "Do you spend a lot of time working with him?"
"Hmm. Not as much as I'd like." She smiled again, still with that dreamy look. "We're getting married next month when his kids are home from school."
"Married? Honey, that's wonderful!" Jim's congratulations were instant and genuine. He had carried of lot of guilt the last few years, guilt from causing Carolyn pain. Knowing that she was happy and loved lifted a huge burden.
It was a moment before Blair could add his congratulations, since Carolyn's announcement had caused him to choke on his tea. "Sorry," he gasped. Finally, he could speak again. "That is wonderful news. Congratulations. Captain Robbins is a lucky man," he added gallantly.
When they returned to the PD, it was time to prepare for the meet. Carolyn personally supervised the process. Blair's body armor needed to be as unobtrusive as possible, so he tried on several different Kevlar vests until Carolyn was satisfied with the fit. Since Carolyn had outfitted Jim many times in Cascade, she had his favorite style of vest on hand, and he was outfitted much more quickly. Captain Robbins arrived as they were being wired with small, very sophisticated recording equipment.
She studied them carefully. Blair swapped his flannel shirt for a tweed jacket borrowed out of Evidence, and Carolyn pronounced him ready. She tsked over Jim.
"You look entirely too respectable. Take your sweater off." With Blair and the captain providing critical commentary, Jim was outfitted in a plain dark blue T-shirt and a loose linen-y jacket. A borrowed shoulder holster completed the look.
"I look like a refugee from Miami Vice," Jim grumbled as he adjusted the holster more comfortably.
"Not with those white socks," Carolyn shot back. "But you do look like a gangster wanna-be, so I guess that'll have to do."
Both Carolyn and Captain Robbins looked quite perplexed when Jim and Blair started laughing.
Robbins escorted them to the garage for the final accessories. First was a car, a late model gray Mercedes, equipped with a tracking device. Most important of all was the briefcase full of cash. The cash was marked, and the case tagged with a tracking device as well.
"Surveillance is already in place, and we've covered everything I could think of. We want this bastard, Ellison, but not if it puts you and Sandburg at too great a risk. You've got experience in this, trust your instincts. If it feels wrong, get out." The captain shook their hands. "Good luck, gentlemen."
Robbins, Carolyn and the remainder of the team climbed in to their cars and drove off, leaving Jim and Blair to make the drive together. "Ready, Chief?"
"Ready as I'm gonna be."
It was a short drive to the ballpark. Finding parking proved fairly challenging, but Jim squeezed the Mercedes into a spot on Third St. not too far away. Jim took the briefcase in a firm grip, and they set off. As they walked, Blair admired the new construction. "Wow. What a great place for baseball. Right on the water... Did you know the address is in honor of Willie Mays? And they just put in a statue of him in the plaza. I wonder if that's where we meet?"
"The note wasn't real specific, Chief," Jim replied. He couldn't suppress a faint smile at Blair's ability to keep up an enthusiastic patter under the circumstances.
"Yeah. I guess we'll have to play it by ear."
As they approached the Plaza, Jim unobtrusively checked out the area, spotting the SFPD personnel. The surveillance team was parked in an inconspicuous beige van on the street. Inspector Flynn, looking extremely disreputable, was panhandling on the corner, and Hansen was playing businessman eating his lunch at a strategically placed bench. Both the landscapers were actually cops, as was the artist diligently sketching the statue, and Officer Kelly was happily rollerblading on the far side of the plaza.
Blair eyed her Lycra shorts-and-top combo appreciatively. "Wow, Jim, where does she keep her weapon?"
"You can ask her later, Romeo," he replied dryly. "Good call on the statue. There's our man."
"Oh, man." Blair blew out a nervous sigh.
"I'll be right beside you, Blair. Let's get this over with."
Jim and Blair casually approached the two men standing just beneath the outstretched bat on the Mays statue. They looked more like successful young businessmen than gangsters. Huang was dressed in a rather cutting edge suit in an unusual shade of plum. The other man, Zhou, was more conservatively dressed in Armani. A black briefcase sat between them on the ground.
Jim sneezed, his nose irritated by the strength of the scent emanating from the briefcase.
Blair paused for a moment for Jim to recover. "Whoa, Jim. Keep smell dialed way down," he said under his breath. When Jim indicated he was ready, they continued toward the two men.
Blair found his attention riveted on Zhou. The surveillance photos had not done him justice. They had pictured an attractive man, average height, slim and elegant. In person, Zhou was beautiful. He smiled at them in greeting, deceptively innocent. Only his eyes, flat, black and reptilian, betrayed his true nature; they were the eyes of a killer.
Huang spoke first. "Once again, Mr. Burton, you are very prompt. It is an admirable quality in a business associate."
Blair said nothing, merely inclined his head in agreement. It was simplest to let Huang direct the conversation at this point.
Zhou said something softly to Huang, in Chinese. They conversed briefly, then Huang nodded.
"The sample met with your satisfaction?" Huang asked Blair.
Carolyn had briefed them on the lab analysis -- the sample from the envelope was very high-grade heroin. "You produce quality merchandise," Blair responded.
"You are prepared to meet our terms, for both price and quantity, Mr. Burton?"
Blair managed to look offended. "I'm here, aren't I?" he said huffily. He didn't want to appear too eager. "If you don't want to do business..."
"Please." Zhou spoke softly, in English, this time. "It is in both our interests to be certain." He smiled charmingly at Blair. "Shall we continue?"
Blair inclined his head in agreement.
Huang reached down and picked up the black briefcase. He placed it at Blair's feet. Blair gestured, and Jim handed the brown briefcase to Huang.
While they watched, Blair warily picked up the briefcase and opened it. It was filled with bricks of the drug. He nodded, shut the case, and carefully handed it to Jim. Huang then opened the brown briefcase, and showed the contents to Zhou. At his nod, Huang shut the case. "I think this will prove to be a profitable relationship for us both, Mr. Burton."
During the exchange, Officer Kelly had been skating closer. She chose that moment to shriek and fall, serving the dual purpose of distracting the gangsters and providing the signal to start the bust.
Jim promptly pulled Blair back out of the line of fire, as cops seemed to appear from everywhere. Hansen shouted "Police! Freeze!" as they quickly surrounded Huang and Zhou.
Jim happily rid himself of the briefcase of heroin as one of the officers came over and collected it. "You okay, Chief?" Blair was looking a bit wild-eyed.
Blair nodded. "Hell of an adrenaline rush, man. I'll be okay in a while." Jim noticed Carolyn and Captain Robbins heading across the plaza. Both wore big smiles. They had only come halfway when a flurry of motion and a muffled shout came from the group of cops surrounding Zhou. A shot rang out, and people dove for cover.
"Blair, down!" Jim all but threw his partner to the ground. He drew his gun and crouched protectively over Blair. Jim spotted Zhou quickly, running into the construction area of the ballpark. He realized two things simultaneously -- there were too many bystanders to get a clear shot at Zhou, and he had the closest position to give chase. Jim verified that Huang was still under control and took off in pursuit.
As soon as Jim rose off of him, Blair rolled to his feet. He immediately took off after Jim. No way was he letting him go off without backup!
Halfway across the Plaza, Carolyn watched as Jim took off after Zhou and Blair took off after Jim. "Damn it, Jim. Why do you always have to be the hero?"
"Dan! He's this way!" She called to Robbins, as she ran after Zhou and the men from Cascade. Robbins was right on her heels.
The shell of the ballpark was in place, but at this stage of construction, the interior was a cavernous space bustling with activity. Blair nearly ran Jim down before his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior. What with all the workers, equipment noises, dim lighting and huge stacks of materials, finding one man would be impossible for anyone but a sentinel.
Blair put his hand on Jim's back and gently stroked. "Filter out the construction sounds, Jim. What do you hear?"
The sentinel closed his eyes for a moment, filtered out the shouts of the workers, the banging, the clanking and the buzzing of drills, and listened for a racing heartbeat and labored breathing. He opened his eyes, following the sound. "There! Come on, he's trying to circle around to the bay side!"
Now that he was tracking Zhou, Jim gained ground quickly, Blair keeping pace grimly. Zhou slowed, then stopped. They had followed him to what seemed to be a large storage area. There were boxes and crates and pallets of conduit stacked all around. "I think we have him cornered." He heard Robbins and Carolyn in the distance. "Backup is on its way."
They were in an aisle of sorts, leading to a more open area. Jim could hear Zhou trying to catch his breath down the next aisle. "Stay back, Chief." Jim carefully eased around the corner. He paused, tracing Zhou by his labored breathing. He eased forward a few feet more. A loud, metal on metal shriek resonated through the work area from the stadium above them. Jim dialed his hearing down quickly, but it caused a moment's distraction, and that moment was all Zhou needed.
Zhou sprang at Jim, armed with a length of pipe. He targeted Jim's gun hand. Jim dodged the blow, and by some miracle held on to his gun, but Zhou was too quick for Jim to get a good shot at him. Dodging the pipe again, Jim closed on Zhou, moving to take away the pipe and the advantage it gave the other man. Hand to hand, he had height and reach on Zhou. Jim figured he should be able to take him out.
It didn't take Jim long to realize the error of this plan. With his military background and carefully tended physical condition, he excelled in hand to hand combat, but Zhou left him in the dust. Jim had never seen anyone as fast as this man. What the criminal lacked in size and power, he more than made up for in sheer skill. Zhou was a master martial artist. It took Jim everything he possessed just to defend himself.
They fought their way down a side aisle, knocking over stacks of boxes. He got in one good blow, slamming the other man into a crate, but Zhou just shook it off. Jim was momentarily grateful for the Kevlar vest, as he caught a kick that should have broken ribs. The vest deflected just enough that the blow was merely excruciating, not incapacitating. As he ducked and rolled, just missing getting his head taken off, he reminded himself that all he had to do was delay Zhou until backup arrived -- and try not to get seriously hurt.
Backup must have occurred to Zhou, too, because he came around with a flying kick that plowed through Jim's defenses, knocking him backwards into a pallet of conduit with enough force to tumble the whole stack onto Jim.
It took Jim a few moments to convince his lungs that, yes, they could in fact draw in oxygen and expel it again, and another few to untangle himself from the conduit. Zhou was not in sight, so he carefully dialed up his hearing to locate him. What he found made his blood run cold. Zhou's heartbeat was right next to Blair's, and Blair's heart was beating like a jackhammer.
He scrambled around through the debris, back to the main aisle. Zhou had captured Blair and was using him as a shield. He had one of Blair's arms pinned behind his back and the barrel of his gun was pressed up under his jaw. Only Zhou's arm and head were visible.
Jim pulled his gun and took aim at Zhou. For him, this was an easy shot, but he could not fire yet, not with the gun jammed into Blair's neck. He would have to stall until that gun wavered.
"Zhou," he called, "there's no way you're gonna make it out of here. The place is surrounded by cops. Put the gun down."
"Perhaps so," Zhou agreed. He smiled coldly. "But I do not think I shall go alone. The ever-prompt Mr. Burton will accompany me, one way or another." This threat was all the more chilling, delivered in Zhou's gentle voice.
Captain Robbins and Carolyn had finally caught up with them. They were approaching stealthily from behind Blair and his captor. They took their positions while Zhou made his threats.
Jim would only get one chance. He made eye contact with Blair. The air was full of the scent of fear, and Blair's heart still pounded from it, but the look he gave Jim was filled with love and faith. Jim hoped that Blair could see in his eyes what he could not say.
Zhou forced Blair backwards a couple of steps, and Carolyn seized the moment. She picked up a piece of conduit and tossed it toward an empty area to Zhou's right. It landed with a tremendous clatter. This distracted Zhou for a split second, but that was all they needed. His gun shifted slightly away from Blair's neck, and despite the pain in his arm, Blair dropped to the ground, dragging Zhou down with him, causing his gun to move further away from Blair's neck.
It was the shot Jim was waiting for. He fired, taking Zhou precisely through the left eye. Milliseconds later, Robbins fired as well, hitting Zhou in the right shoulder. It didn't matter though, because he was dead by the time the second bullet struck. Jim was moving to Blair before Zhou hit the ground.
Because of the opposite trajectories of the bullets, Zhou's body fell where he stood, and landed on Blair, along with a great deal of blood, tissue, and worse. Jim was right there, pulling his partner out from under the body, then away from it. He sat Blair down a short distance away.
Blair was pale, glassy-eyed from shock and covered in blood. Jim pulled off the tweed jacket and tossed it away. He took off his own jacket and used it to wipe as much of the blood off of Blair's face and hands and hair as he could. He noted dispassionately that his own hands were shaking. He did a quick sensory survey -- Blair didn't seem to be physically injured.
He pulled Blair into a gentle embrace, gently stroking his back, rocking him back and forth. "It's okay, Blair," he murmured. "You're safe now, I've got you, everything's going to be all right." He didn't know if it was the words or the contact, but Blair blinked and seemed to collect himself. Although still much too pale, his eyes lost the blank, glassy look.
"Jim. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, baby, I'm fine. You had me worried, though. How is your arm?"
Blair flexed his left arm. "Sore. I'll be fine." He attempted a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.
Jim's rigid control started to crack a little, and he shuddered. "I'm so sorry. I thought I had him, and he got away from me." He tightened his embrace, pulled Blair closer to him. "Oh god, Blair, I thought I was going to lose you."
Now it was Blair's turn to offer comfort. "I'm right here, Jim. It's okay."
Jim let out his breath in a shuddering gasp, and just held Blair a while longer.
Blair felt oddly detached. He supposed he was still in shock, but it was a comfortable place right now. He noticed the sticky stiffness that meant blood drying on his face and hands, and intellectually, he realized that he had been spattered with blood from the shooting. Jim had managed to get a good amount of blood on himself, too.
"Oh, man. This is going to start itching soon. Can you find someplace where we can wash up?"
"Yeah, that would be good." He listened intently for a moment. "There's a water hose near where we came in."
Jim knew the shock would wear off soon, and he wanted Blair away from the scene when it did. First, he had to locate Captain Robbins in the hive of police activity that surrounded them, and check in. Some parts of police work were universal, and this operation would generate a mountain of paperwork.
Unfortunately, getting to Captain Robbins meant walking past Zhou's body, where an officer was in the process of cordoning off the area. The flash of yellow caught Blair's attention, and he found himself staring in horrified fascination at the shattered remains of Xian Zhou. The amount of gore was literally staggering. Jim caught him as he lurched and pulled him away.
It hit Blair then, what had happened, how close he had come to being the one in the pool of gore. His chest felt oddly tight; he could not draw in enough oxygen. Gray encroached on his vision.
"Blair, don't do this, stay with me," Jim said in his ear as he manhandled his partner over to a crate and urged him to put his head down. "Just breathe for me, nice and slow."
As Blair complied, the grayness receded from the edges of his vision and the woozy feeling went away, but all he could smell was blood and death.
Blair's pallor took on a greenish tinge. "Jim, man, I'm gonna --" before the sentence was complete, Jim whisked him to a spot out of the way of the investigation, and Blair heaved up his lunch. Jim was there, holding his hair out of his face, half supporting him, until the nausea passed and the heaving stopped.
Blair was standing, still partially supported by Jim, thoroughly embarrassed, when Carolyn came over to them, followed by one of the ersatz landscapers. She gave Blair a bottle of water she had scared up from somewhere. "This will help," she said sympathetically, then gestured to the man behind her. "This is Officer Rodriguez. He'll take you back to the department. You can get cleaned up a little. Dan is almost finished here -- he can take your statements when he gets back."
One hour, a quick shower in the locker room, and one cup of hot, sweet tea later, Blair was sitting in the captain's office, along with Robbins, Jim, and Inspector Binh. Flynn and Hansen were still dealing with Huang. Blair's blood soaked clothes had been discarded for an SFPD sweatsuit. It was a couple of sizes too big, but it was warm, and right now, warmth was what he needed.
Jim had washed up as well. He was dressed in his sweater again, somewhat rumpled, since he had not folded it with his usual care. He was hovering over Blair protectively, providing near constant soothing strokes and reassuring touches. Just who he was reassuring was open to interpretation. Blair wished the office were bigger. In his current hyper-protective mood, Jim would be much less tense if he had room to pace.
Robbins watched their interaction curiously. He tended to be a bit overprotective, himself, but Jim's reaction was a bit extreme for two men who were just friends. He mentally shrugged. Their relationship wasn't his business, and it certainly hadn't interfered with the case.
They were waiting for one more arrival before they could formally take Jim and Blair's statements -- since lethal force had been used, Internal Affairs needed to be present as well. Finally, a sour-faced older man arrived, whom Robbins introduced as Lieutenant Fowler from IA. Jim disliked him on sight, and Captain Robbins noticed how Jim kept himself between Fowler and Blair.
"Jim, please sit down," the captain said. "We'll try get this over with as quickly as possible."
Jim sat, moving his chair as close to Blair's as possible. If the others noticed Jim's need to keep in constant physical contact with Blair, it only took one look from icy blue eyes for them to wisely choose not to comment on it.
Captain Robbins turned on the tape recorder, and they began. Jim gave his account of events coolly and concisely; with his years of professional experience it was an easy matter for him to recount all the pertinent information. Robbins asked for clarification on a few minor points, and it was done.
When he started to question Blair, Robbins wasn't quite sure what to expect. It had been a traumatic experience for the younger man. He was still quite pale, and he looked almost fragile in the baggy sweats. But Blair recounted his part in the same cool, concise tone Jim had used, faltering only slightly when describing the actual shooting. Jim was close beside him, offering comfort and support, and when he was done, Blair leaned gratefully against him for a few minutes.
Fowler had listened to their statements with, at best, thinly veiled impatience. When Robbins was finished, he attacked. He started with Jim, managing to imply that Jim was some kind of small-town yahoo looking for glory in the big city. Jim answered him impassively, ignoring the insults and innuendo and providing only a dry recitation of facts, again and again.
Growing frustrated with his inability to fluster Jim, Fowler turned his attack on Blair, the key witness. Robbins took one look at Jim's face and realized that if he didn't want bloodshed in his office, it was time to end the questioning session.
"That is quite enough, Lieutenant Fowler. Mr. Sandburg has already answered all of your questions in his statement. I'll make sure you get a copy. I will be down later to give you my statement."
Fowler stopped, stunned, in mid-attack. Inspector Binh hustled him out of the office, red-faced and sputtering.
"Thanks," Jim said.
Robbins smiled. "Self interest, I'm afraid. I didn't want to deal with the extra paperwork when you decked him."
Blair grinned at Jim. "He's got you pegged."
Inspector Binh returned with the transcribed statements to be signed, as well as a large stack of additional paperwork. By the time all the paperwork was finished, it was dark outside. Blair was completely drained, and Jim was feeling every one of the bruises from the fight with Zhou. To top it off, he had a pounding headache. Captain Robbins dispatched yet another officer to drive them back to the hotel.
Neither man noticed the attention their bedraggled appearance generated as they crossed the lobby. Blair was intent on getting to the sanctuary of their rooms. Jim hovered protectively, distressed by Blair's uncharacteristic silence.
He'd been monitoring Blair all afternoon, listening to his heartbeat. He knew that physically, Blair was fine. But the younger man had slipped into his processing mode, quiet and inwardly focused.
The role-reversal pained Jim. He was usually the one being silent and withdrawn, and Blair always found a way of reaching him, of finding the words to draw him out of his isolation. But words were Blair's forte, not his, and he felt tongue tied and inadequate. So he stayed close to Blair, and waited.
When they reached the suite, Blair stood in the center of the sitting room. He blinked and looked around as if just now realizing where he was.
"I need to get clean," he announced. With that plan in mind, Blair headed for the bathroom. He stripped as he went, leaving his clothes where they fell.
Unwilling to be separated form Blair even for a few minutes, Jim followed him. As he collected Blair's discarded clothing, he formed a plan of his own. There were ways of communicating without words.
In the bathroom under the heat lamp Blair stood naked at the sink, methodically brushing his teeth. As he finished, Jim stripped out of his clothes. He turned the water on, hot, and adjusted the spray. He reached out to Blair, carefully handed him into the shower, and stepped in behind him.
They spent a few moments adjusting to the steamy spray, then Jim directed Blair to wet his hair. He squeezed some of Blair's shampoo into his palm. He gently rubbed the shampoo into his hair, working it into a nice lather, and washed Blair's hair with sentinel thoroughness. He massaged his scalp, gently cleansing each curling strand.
Blair relaxed as Jim washed his hair, cleansing away more than the slight residue left from the shooting. Those sensitive fingers carried away the memory of his own hands, earlier, trying to work through hair stiff and sticky with blood.
"Close your eyes," Jim said softly in his ear, and turned him and tilted his head back under the spray. When he was rinsed to Jim's satisfaction, he pulled him forward and put the conditioner on. Blair opened his eyes and watched Jim. His face bore an expression of intense concentration as he worked the conditioner in, as though this was the single most important task in the universe. Blair felt cherished. He suddenly realized that no matter how awry the day had gone, this -- being here, with Jim -- was all that really mattered.
Blair leaned into Jim, wrapping his arms around him. He almost missed the slight flinch. He pulled back, looking up at Jim in concern. He realized where his arms were, and looked at Jim's torso. He gasped at the sight of the vivid bruises there. "You're hurt!"
"Not really. Just a few bruises." He easily interpreted the doubtful look on Blair's face. "I promise, Chief. Just some bruises." He smiled reassuringly at him. "Here. Tilt your head back, and rinse your hair."
When he emerged from the spray again, Jim was on his knees in front of him. "Jim?"
"Shh. Relax, Blair. I'm just going to make sure you're really clean." He took the soap and worked up a good lather. "Hang on to my shoulders." He lifted up Blair's foot and started washing. He didn't use a cloth, just the soap and his hands, relishing the feel of Blair's skin under his hands. He worked his way up to the knee, then switched feet. Jim gave in to the urge he'd been fighting all afternoon and immersed his senses in Blair.
He gave himself over to the silky glide of soap on skin, punctuated by the crisp springiness of the hairs. As he worked his way up Blair's body, he lavished attention on the pulsepoints, feeling not only the pounding of his heart, but the subtle changes in temperature as bloodflow increased in response to his touch. The steamy air was redolent with scents -- soothing herbs from shampoo and soap, the spicy tang that was essential Blair, and increasingly, the rich musky scent of arousal.
And sound -- breathy sighs and soft moans, against the steady rhythm of falling water, all underscored with the sound of his heartbeat. It was a sensory feast. He looked at Blair, slick and wet, flushed with desire, and a fierce hunger rose in him. He needed to bury himself in Blair, surround himself with his life force. He fought for control. No matter how strong the need, he could not simply take Blair unprepared.
Blair was pliant in his arms, still dazed with arousal. Jim stood them both under the spray for a final rinse, then turned off the water. Without the influx of hat water, the shower quickly cooled, disrupting Blair's sensual haze. "Jim, what's wrong?"
Jim kissed him hungrily. "Nothing, Chief. I just needed more room than a shower stall."
Blair shivered at the predatory look in Jim's eyes. They dried off, then hurried to the bedroom. Once there, Jim took his time crossing to the bed, lazily perusing Blair like a cat eyeing a particularly tempting morsel. The naked hunger in his eyes set a shiver of anticipation through Blair.
Without warning, Jim pounced. He swept Blair onto the bed, kissing him into incoherence. He was merciless in his assault, kissing, caressing, nipping and teasing him with hands and mouth until Blair was writhing in frustration.
Jim settled between Blair's legs and looked at his lover sprawled on the bed. He looked so wanton, his lips reddened and swollen from kisses, his cock jutting up from its nest of curls, hard and weeping, his eyes almost black from desire. It was almost enough to make him come. Almost.
He reached out and ran a finger down Blair's cock. Blair moaned and tried to thrust against him. Jim ran his finger lower, past his testicles and down his perineum, and lower still, and brushed it across the puckered opening there. Blair gasped and shifted his legs apart to give Jim better access. "Yes," Blair said to the unasked question.
Jim let out the breath he didn't remember holding and fumbled for the lube in the nightstand. Despite the fierce hunger driving him, Jim took his time with Blair, stretching him slowly, kissing and caressing him until he was at the peak of arousal again. When at last he was stretched enough, he eased his way in, fighting for control of the desperate urge to thrust blindly. Finally, he was completely sheathed in Blair. He paused then, and waited for a signal from Blair.
Blair marveled at the sensation of having Jim inside him. Jim had been so tender and gentle, giving him plenty of time to relax, to detach from the horror of the day. Now Jim was inside of him, part of him. The amazing fullness felt good too, but he wanted more. He pushed back into Jim, wanting more.
The little push was all Jim needed. He began to move, in and out, slowly at first then faster as he found the pace Blair wanted. Blair was begging now, an endless litany of "please... please."
Jim took Blair's cock in his hand and began to stroke in rhythm with his thrusts. He altered his angle slightly until he was hitting Blair's prostate with each stroke.
The pleasure was so intense, Blair thought he would explode. He cried out, triumphant, as his orgasm overtook him. It was incredible -- for a moment, Blair felt he could taste sound and hear light -- then he crashed back into himself and everything went dark.
Jim could feel Blair's orgasm coming. The scent of his seed, the sound of his voice, and the incredible pleasure as Blair clenched around him combined to trigger his own release. He collapsed over Blair, just managing to catch himself so he didn't squash his smaller lover. He lay there for a while, just trying to suck air into his lungs, still inside Blair. It was a blissful feeling.
At last, he softened and slid out of Blair. Blair made a soft sound of loss. Jim staggered out of bed and got a washcloth, and cleaned them both up. Blair was hovering on the edge of sleep. "Love you," he murmured.
"I love you, too," Jim replied. He kissed Blair gently, curled up beside him, and fell asleep.
Thursday began with the shrill ring of the wake up call. Once awake, Jim realized two things -- he was ravenously hungry, and he was getting too damned old to get the crap kicked out of him. Blair, on the other hand, felt much more like himself after a night of deep and dreamless sleep snuggled up to Jim, and if he didn't exactly bounce out of bed, it was only because getting vertical left him feeling slightly lightheaded. "Oh, man! I'm starving."
After getting a good look at Jim's stiff and slow movements and the spectacular bruises that blossomed along his ribs and back, Blair figured if he wanted breakfast anytime soon, he needed to give Jim a hand. In a bit of role reversal, Blair hustled Jim into a very hot shower. He washed himself quickly and left Jim to soak in the hot spray while he got ready. He was shaved, dressed, and standing by with aspirin by the time Jim got out of the shower. Between the hot water and aspirin, by the time Jim was dressed, he felt almost normal. They even had time for breakfast.
Given the attention the new ballpark was receiving in the local media, it was no surprise that yesterday's bust made front-page news. By the time their discussion panel rolled around, both men had fended off a number of questions about their exact role in the events. Jim recounted some of the wilder rumors he overheard to Blair, but they ignored the looks and comments, and dodged the questions when pressed.
Jim had been dreading the panel discussion, but was pleasantly surprised with how the session unfolded. The panelists were a diverse group. There were the Bennetts from Georgia, Mike and Katrina. He was the town sheriff, and she was a reformed "psychic". A detective from Scottsdale, Jack Stone, came with his grandfather, Mark Stone, a retired physician. The biggest surprise was the burly Boston detective, Frank Corelli, who brought his Aunt Jessica, a spirited, if elderly lady known to all the panel participants by her pseudonym, mystery writer J. T. Cabot. The discussions were lively and insightful, and a number of rather outrageous case stories were told.
"...So, of course, since I knew their Civil War ghost was fake, we set up a little 'ghost' of our own," Katrina said.
"It worked really well," Mike added. "They couldn't wait to tell us where the stolen drugs were hidden, and we brought in the whole gang without a single shot fired."
"...left a note for Frank, I knew he would figure out where I was. And the dear boy got there just in time to stop the murderer from burning down the house."
Frank snorted. "What Aunt Jess didn't tell you was that she was tied up in the house at the time. I think she took ten years off my life. We did get a conviction though, and he will spend the rest of his life in prison."
"...absolutely. I trust Doc's instincts. And he was certain she was already dead when they filmed the scene that showed the "accidental death". It took some wrangling, but we got a search warrant for the producer's house, and we found all the forensic evidence of her actual death."
Two things were common to all the stories. Each pairing had a member who was not a cop, and had a different, even quirky, approach to analyzing information. The other was the deep trust they had in each other.
Carolyn slipped into the conference room near the end of the session. She caught Jim's eye, and he gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment. She settled into a vacant seat to watch and listen to the panelists. Blair was speaking now, about his early days with CPD. Since she remembered those days very well, she concentrated instead on watching Blair. He was in his element, telling stories. His animated face and expressive hands held his audience in thrall. She shifted her attention to Jim. He was sitting, relaxed in his chair, one hand resting on the back of Blair's chair. He, too, was watching Blair, but with a look of such open affection on his face that it made her gasp.
Carolyn watched with amazement. This was not the stoic Jim Ellison she knew. This part of him, the affectionate, tender, open part, so rarely glimpsed, was the reason she had married Jim. Not seeing enough of that part of him was the reason they divorced. She experienced a brief pang of sadness, for what could have been.
He'd been different, she noted, after he met Sandburg. Easier. Jim smiled at Blair, responding to something he said. His love for him was clear, openly displayed on his face, if you knew what to look for. She wondered if Blair shared those feelings. A moment later, when he returned the loving look with one of his own, she didn't wonder any longer.
Jim came over as soon as the session was over. "Carolyn! Is everything all right?"
"Now, Jimmy. Can't I come to see you without there being a problem?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I was worried about you, and Blair. I just wanted to make sure you had recovered." She smiled. "I didn't have to worry. I saw how you two had your audience practically eating out of your hands."
"Must be the old Ellison charm."
Carolyn snickered.
"Yeah. It's mostly Blair's doing. He has a real knack for these things." He looked for Blair and found him in the center of a group, talking away. As though he could feel Jim's gaze, he looked over at him questioningly. Jim smiled in reassurance. Blair gave him a grin in return, and carried on with his conversation.
"You seem happy. He's very good for you."
Jim said nothing, just watched her warily. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to have this conversation, especially with his ex-wife.
Carolyn caught the defensive look on his face. "Jim! I'm not criticizing! I'm happy for you." Jim relaxed a bit, and she resumed her conversation. "I've always liked Blair, I'm really glad he shares your feelings."
"Caro..." Jim's tone clearly expressed his disbelief.
"I did like him," she insisted. "Well, once I got over being jealous, anyway. It was obvious from the start that he was very special to you, and it made it easier for me. I could rationalize to myself that our problems were caused by my being the wrong gender, and not the wrong person."
"What changed your mind?"
"Dan." She laughed. It was a lovely musical sound, and Jim suddenly realized that Carolyn had not laughed for a long time before she left Cascade. She continued. "It's hokey, and terribly cliche, but I found my soulmate. It's like that line from that movie -- he completes me."
Jim wrapped his arms around her, giving her a quick hug. "I understand that feeling completely." He stepped back just a bit, but reached out with one hand and gently stroked her hair. "I like your Dan. He seems like a good man. I'm very happy for you."
Blair had been working his way across the room and finally made it to Jim and Carolyn. "Carolyn! Is everything okay?"
She laughed. "You've been hanging around Jim too long, Blair. You're getting to be as bad as he is! I just stopped by to see if you two were all right. Of course, if you're finished, I might let you take me to lunch." Her pager went off, interrupting the rest of her lunch plans. She checked the number. "Damn! So much for that idea. I have to go." She gave Jim a big hug, then startled Blair by turning and hugging him, too. "Take good care of him." She quickly collected her things and dashed off, leaving an amused sentinel and confused guide in her wake.
"What the hell was that about?"
"Carolyn approves of us."
"Cool! I have the ex-wife's blessing. Wait a minute, Jim, what did you say to her?" Jim was already sidling toward the door as Blair spoke, and at the question, he beat a hasty retreat. "Jim? You can run, Ellison, but I know where you live. We will talk about this."
Later, over a pasta lunch -- comfort food -- they talked about the rest of the conference. "Anything else on the schedule you want to go to, Chief?"
"Not really, I thought it might be nice to do a little sightseeing, play tourist, but frankly, I've seen enough of San Francisco to last me quite a while."
Jim signaled the waiter for the check. "Great. I'll take care of this, and go pack. You go see the concierge and get us tickets on a flight back to Cascade tonight."
Blair laughed. "Simon is gonna kill us. I'm sure the Chief will chew him a new one because we bailed early."
"No problem, Chief. We just need to remind Simon that it's infinitely safer for us to be in Cascade where all of Major Crime can keep an eye on you. No telling what kind of trouble you can get into in another day and a half."
"Me? The trouble I get into! Hey, you attract just as much trouble as I do. And I never got into trouble before I started hanging out with a bunch of cops. Well, hardly ever. I led a very peaceful, quiet existence, aside from the ape..."
Jim proceeded to shut Blair up the most effective way he knew. He leaned across the table and kissed him. "Blair. Let's go home."
There was only one reply Blair could make.
"Yes."
Note: The discussants on the conference panel are loosely based on two well-known TV shows and a not as well-known novel. No extra points for guessing the TV shows. <g>
