Obsenads, Snippets and Rantings, oh my!   This is a little snippet was inspired by Mary. BTW, Mary, have faith. There are men out there who know there is more to a woman that her breasts. Eye of the Beholder By Griffin I can't believe this. I am a grown woman, and here I am blushing like a schoolgirl over a good-looking cop. Where's my professional detachment when I need it? "So, Detective, why don't you have a seat and we'll see what damage you did to your hand. Why is it the bad guys always have such hard heads?" I tried to put him at ease as I prepared to X-ray his hand. He responded to my teasing with a beautiful smile and a very funny account of chasing down the "perp" and just how he ended up here. He has a lovely voice, and such a sweet smile. I know his hand must hurt, but he is helping me as much as he can. I discreetly notice that he is not wearing a ring. I am such a sucker for cuddly guys with puppy-dog eyes. I step out to develop my X-ray, and I almost stumble over another cop outside. I recognize Detective Ellison; I've x-rayed him before. "Relax, Detective Ellison, I'm almost done with your friend". I check my film, and sure enough, he has broken his hand in a couple of places. I collect all the paperwork so I can send him back to Emergency. I have also come to a decision. I take a deep breath and step into the room. "Okay you did great, we're all done. And since you are officially no longer my patient, Joel, I wondered what you are doing on Friday night? I know this really good jazz club * * * * * Outside the procedure room, Blair Sandburg handed his partner a cup of coffee. "Joel okay?" "No, he's got a broken hand." Ellison grinned. "I think Taggart's been working with you too long, Chief. He just made a date with the X-ray tech."   As I have gotten older (I will probably never grow up), I have learned to appreciate the wonderful and varied forms of the human male. I Feel the Earth Move (with apologies to Carol King) by Griffin "I don't know, man. I'm just not seeing a connection here. If you say he was at both crime scenes, okay, so he was. But I just don't understand what his motive would be. What are you picking up that I'm not?" Blair turned and looked expectantly at his partner. Uh oh. He recognized that oddly blank look in Jim's face. "Dammit, Jim, the bullpen is so not the place to zone. Come on, big guy, follow my voice. Come on back." As he spoke, he gently stroked Jim's forearm, providing a physical anchor to help coax his partner out of his zone. Blair briefly wondered what had caused the zone out. Jim was cautious about using his senses around the office after the dissertation fiasco. He heard a strange rumbling, and then the floor was rocking under his feet. The stack of files on the edge of his desk slid onto the floor, and he could hear thumps and crashes as other precariously placed items fell, too. Visceral panic had him grabbing Jim with both hands, and hanging on as he fought for balance. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Jim blinked at Blair, then pulled him into his arms, alarmed by the rapid pounding of his guide's heartbeat. "Blair! It's okay, I've got you." Blair gazed at him in wonder. "That was what you were zoning on, wasn't it? Did you feel it or hear it? You know, there's tons of anecdotal evidence about pets and other animals being able to predict earthquakes, but nothing quantitative. If we can figure out what you zoned on, maybe we can figure out how to monitor it..." Between the adrenaline and the excitement, Blair was practically vibrating, bouncing in place as he talked. "Easy, Darwin, we'll get to that later. Right now, we have a lot of work ahead of us." Jim smiled, and briefly tightened his embrace. He loved it when Blair got enthusiastic. Blair suddenly realized he was still wrapped in Jim's arms, and self-consciously took a couple of steps back. He looked around the bullpen, but fortunately, everyone else seemed to be distracted. What a mess. Papers were scattered all over, coffee cups were in pieces on the floor, and Rhonda's carefully tended plants had fallen and spilled potting soil around her desk. It was oddly quiet, just stunned murmurs as the detectives and staff assessed their situations. Fortune smiled on Major Crimes, there were no injuries, and only minor damage; a bit messy, but nothing irreplaceable. The shrilling of phones breached the silence, as all the lines in the department seemed to ring at once. The sound seemed to jerk the occupants of the bullpen out of the strange state they were in, reminding them that they were cops, and trained for crisis situations. Jim and Blair each grabbed a phone, and began answering calls, knowing that all to soon, Simon would be handing out assignments. It was going to be a long night.   So, I was surfing the net this afternoon about 3:30, and I heard this strange rumble, and then the floor... Anyway, it was just a little bitty earthquake, only 3.4, with the epicenter just over 16 miles away, but it made me think of a story I read where Jim feels the quake coming, and saves Blair, of course, and I think Blair takes him to the lab for some tests run by another grad student friend of his. Sound familiar to anyone? Turns out the story I was looking for is Tremors by Sorka. It's at: http://www.cybercomm.net/~rhiannon/tremors.html It's pre-slash, and the beginning of a longer crossover series. The Hunger by Griffin. PG 13 for language // indicates thoughts Almost sobbing with relief, Blair sighed as the first sharp thrust of ecstasy eased his desperate need. Gradually, he relaxed as the ecstasy flowed into warm, hazy contentment. He lay back against the sofa, basking in the warm glow for a few minutes, but all to soon, guilt began creeping into the warmth. /You shouldn't have done it,/ his inner voice jeered at him. /What would Jim say if he knew?/ /Jim won't find out,/ he told himself firmly. /He won't be home for hours. Besides, I needed it.../ The phone rang, disrupting his internal monologue. He froze for a moment, looking at the phone like it might bite. It rang again. Blair forced himself to pick up the phone. "Hello." "Hey Chief. " /Oh, God. It's Jim. Don't panic, he'll hear./ "Are you all right?" "Sure man, I'm fine. The phone just startled me." /Deep breath let it out slowly, calmly/ he told himself. "You on a break?" "Nope. I'm done. The punk decided to cop a plea. I'll be home in about ten minutes, do we need anything while I'm out?" /Ten minutes? Not nearly enough time!/ Blair's brain chose that moment to lock up on him. Instead of coming up with a brilliant delaying tactic, he found himself weakly saying "Nothing comes to mind." "Okay. See you soon." "Bye." Blair realized he was listening to a dial tone, and he snapped back into reality. "Shit, shit, shit", he exclaimed as he flew into action. He flung the balcony doors open, to air out the room. He quickly collected the detritus of his activities and tossed it in the trash. He grabbed a freezer bag, and carefully placed the precious items inside, sealed it, gently rolled it up, and then placed it inside plastic freezer container. He hid it in the back of the freezer. No way Jim would be able to scent it out. He quickly washed his face and hands. He gave the loft a quick survey, shut the doors and headed it the kitchen to make tea just as he heard the sound of keys in the lock. He turned to greet his partner. "Hi Jim. Want some tea?" Jim studied Blair intently. He noted the elevated pulse and respiration, the slightly increased temperature. Blair wouldn't meet his eyes. He stepped closer, and tilted his chin up, forcing Blair to look at him. Blair closed his eyes, but not before Jim got a good look at his dilated pupils. And standing this close, he got a good whiff of the scent that was covering Blair's own. "Oh, Chief. I thought you weren't going to do this any more." The disappointment in his voice tore at Blair. "I'm sorry. Oh God Jim, I'm sorry...." "Who's your supplier this time, Blair?" Jim was in full cop mode, and Blair shivered at the cold, hard tone in his voice. "Mrs. Navarro," he whispered. "Downstairs Mrs. Navarro? Jesus, Chief, I'd have thought she was old enough to be beyond this foolishness." Jim sighed. Now came the hard part. "How much did you get?" "Only one." Blair's temper flared at the skeptical look Jim was giving him. "Dammit, Jim, do you think I like this? I'm trying man, really I am. It's only...I ...It's just so hard, sometimes...." "Where is it?" Jim snapped. "In the freezer. Middle shelf, in the back, with the blue lid." Jim retrieved Blair's stash, and tossed it in the trash. He looked at his partner. Blair was leaning against the kitchen island, shoulders slumped head down, hair hiding his face. He walked over and gently enfolded Blair in his arms. "It'll be okay, Chief. I'll help you." "Are you mad at me?" "Not so much mad as disappointed." He tightened his embrace briefly. "I thought you trusted me enough to come to me for help." "I'm sorry." Blair leaned into Jim, seeking comfort. "I hate this," he burst out. His voice took on a plaintive note. "I should be able to handle this, just like everyone else. It really sucks." "I know, buddy, I know." Jim gently rubbed Blair's back, soothing him. "But you never seem to be able to stop at just a couple of Thin Mints, so it's better not to have any at all. And Girl Scout Cookies are only around for about a month anyway...We'll get through this. It will be all right." "Jim...Thanks for being here for me." "Anytime, Chief. Anytime." end Guess what? Girl Scout cookies are here, and the Thin Mints are mine, all mine, Bwa-ha-ha-ha!