Another Nine Months

Laurene sat on the floor, surrounded by her first birthday bounty of toys. Picking up two of the wooden alphabet blocks, she began banging them together and babbling happily.

Megan had stayed after the rest of the guests left to help Jim clean up and do the dishes. Now, even she had finally left, leaving the little family in peace.

Jim walked over to where Blair was pushing himself up off the floor. The younger man swayed slightly before gaining his balance. His pallor was immediately evident to the sentinel.

"Steady there." Jim gripped one arm to hold Blair up, then wrapped his other arm around his pregnant partner's shoulders, guiding him over to the couch. "You feeling okay?" he asked solicitously.

Blair waved him off, slumping over to lay his head against the throw pillow at the end of the couch. "I'm fine, Jim. Just a little tired."

"You look more than just a little tired," Jim argued, perching on the edge of the cushion and placing a hand against Blair's clammy forehead. "Maybe you should check in with Doc Casey tomorrow morning."

"No, Jim. Really. It's just first trimester queasiness." Blair pulled his legs up on the couch, and curled up as much as Jim's presence would allow. "Could you clean up Laur and get her to bed?"

"Sure. I can do that," Jim assured him, still watching with concerned eyes. "You'll be all right here?"

"I told you . . . I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Uh huh." Jim deadpanned. He was unconvinced, but decided to take Blair at his word. After one last quick check of Blair's vitals, he stood and approached their daughter.

Scooping Laurene up, he tossed her above his head, eliciting a stream of giggles. "Time for bed, my little Munchkin." He brought her down, still tickling her ribs, and headed for the nursery.

When he had finished diapering and dressing the baby for bed, he turned on the small white noise generator and slipped out of the room, heading back to the couch.

Blair's breath was coming in short, shallow pants, and a fine film of perspiration gleamed on his skin. His eyes were closed and his mouth was drawn tight with discomfort.

Jim knelt beside the couch, stroking a hand across Blair's forehead and down the thick mat of curls. "You've got me worried here, Sweetheart. Please tell me what's going on? I didn't know you weren't feeling well today."

Blue eyes opened and turned to look up at Jim. "Felt fine until just a little bit ago," Blair admitted. "I - I think I'm going to. . . ."

Too late, Jim scented the bile rising in Blair's throat. He wasn't able to move quickly enough to escape the foul-smelling combination of dinner, chocolate cake and stomach acids. Unable to do anything else, he held on gently to Blair's shaking shoulders until the spasm had passed.

"I'm sorry," Blair whimpered, hardly able to speak. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. . . ."

The stench nearly overwhelmed the unprepared sentinel. Hastily, he dialed back his sense of smell to almost zero before standing up and rolling Blair onto his back. "Stay put. I'll be right back to clean you up."

Blair nodded weakly, watching as the older man made his way to the bathroom. When he returned a few minutes later, he was sans pants, dressed only in his shirt and boxer shorts, carrying towels, washcloths and a bowl of warm water.

Throwing some towels down on the floor, he mopped up the mess, giving himself a place to kneel. He set the bowl on the floor and wet a washcloth, wringing it out before gently mopping the mess from Blair's face and hair.

The young man moaned under the caressing warmth of the damp cotton cloth, but the sounds he made were not those of discomfort.

"Thanks," Blair whispered. "That feels good."

"Better?"

"Yeah, I think so." Blair sat up carefully and waited for the room to stop spinning. "I don't know what happened. I was feeling fine, then . . . wham!"

Jim wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and pulled him close. Blair allowed his head to rest against Jim's shoulder, needing his partner's strength and support for a moment.

"I think it's probably what you said," Jim comforted. "Just first trimester queasiness. Want an anti-nausea pill?"

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Blair smiled up weakly. "I do need to pee, though." He pushed away from Jim's embrace and stood. Taking a few wobbly steps, he started for the bathroom, Jim close behind.

Leaning heavily against the sink, Blair looked at his reflection in the mirror, noting Jim standing in the doorway. "I look like shit right now, don't I?"

"Frankly, yes," Jim answered with a smile. "Need any help there?"

"I think I'm still capable of taking a leak by myself." Blair leaned down to lift the toilet seat, one hand still clutching the sink for support. Letting go, he unzipped his fly while shuffling to stand in front of the bowl. "I've got it under control," Blair said, turning to smile at Jim over his shoulder. "You don't have to stand guard."

"It's a little late in the game to be getting shy on me, isn't it?" Jim returned with a chuckle.

"Whatever, man." Blair turned back to his task. Before he could do more than get his dick out of his pants, he swayed as dizziness washed over him and leaned heavily against the sink.

Jim was immediately behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist. "I think it's time you accepted that you need help," he scolded. Standing his mate upright, he took hold of the exposed organ. "Pee, Twinkletoes."

"Twinkletoes?" The response was slurred, but still managed to convey Blair's indignation over the new nickname.

"Yeah. You're swaying around here like some drunken ballet star. Pee, already." Jim put a little extra pressure on Blair's bladder, and he soon relieved himself. Tucking him back into his pants, Jim turned Blair to face him.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's really going on here?"

Blair blinked exaggeratedly a couple times, trying to bring Jim into focus. "I don't know what you mean," he managed before his eyes rolled up and he pitched forward in a dead faint.

Jim caught him before he could fall, and carried him up to their room, laying him on the bed. He pulled the covers up and sat on the edge of the mattress, gently stroking Blair's forehead until he woke up a few minutes later.

"What happened?"

"You fainted," Jim informed him.

"Fainted? I've never fainted before." Blair's eyes were wide and he looked confused.

"I think we'd better call Dr. Casey," Jim said, reaching for the bedside phone. For once, Blair just closed his eyes and didn't protest.

"Your blood test shows that you're anemic, which could be the cause of your dizziness and fainting," Dr. Lynne Casey explained to her patient. "Have you been taking the prenatal vitamins I gave you?" Blair nodded. "In that case, I'd like to admit you. We'll run some more tests to make sure there's no internal bleeding. You can get dressed now, and I'll meet you out in my office."

"Thanks for coming in so late," Jim apologized. "Blair really gave me a scare."

"The clinic is open twenty-four hours a day," Dr. Casey said with a smile. "Our male pregnancy patients don't usually keep to regular hours when it comes to having problems."

After the doctor had left, Jim helped Blair off the exam table and handed him his clothes. He stepped into his boxers and jeans, then sat in a chair to finish pulling on his shirts. Jim knelt in front of him, helping him with his socks and shoes.

"Thanks, Jim."

As Jim stood, he came up under Blair's hand, helping to lift him out of the chair with his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and walked him back out into the office. Dr. Casey had a wheelchair waiting.

"I don't want Blair walking or moving around unnecessarily, until after I've had a chance to examine him more thoroughly," she explained. "I'll call ahead to the hospital and have the admittance papers ready for you to sign." Lynne smiled at the nervous detective. "Lights and sirens are not necessary," she emphasized. "Just get him there safely."

Blair fidgeted as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed, dressed only in the flimsy gown a nurse had handed him. "I don't know what all the fuss is about," he complained. "So, I fainted. That shouldn't be serious enough for me to wind up here."

"Normally, I would agree with you," Dr. Casey said. "But with male pregnancies, every symptom out of the ordinary needs to be checked. We'll start with an ultrasound. If that reveals no problems with the pregnancy itself, we'll have to look elsewhere for the cause of your anemia."

"Elsewhere?" Blair looked suspicious.

"Well, we may have to check your bowels for perforations, for one thing," she said. "We'll get into that later, if necessary."

"So you're going to have to keep him overnight?" Jim asked.

"I'm afraid so, yes. We'll keep him under observation tonight and do the ultrasound first thing in the morning." Lynne turned to her patient. "If the ultrasound is clear, I'll want to do an upper GI series and maybe a barium enema."

Blair cringed. "Doesn't sound like something I'm going to enjoy."

"Not likely," the doctor admitted. "I'm not fond of using X-rays on my pregnant patients, but internal bleeding could be a sign of something more serious, and we really need to check it out. As of now, you're fasting. If the ultrasound shows us the problem, I may be able to put you on a restricted diet, depending on the results. If we have to do the GI series, you're out of luck."

"I don't have much of an appetite, anyway," Blair admitted.

The doctor lifted the blanket and gestured for Blair to climb into the bed. "I want you to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

Jim perched himself on the edge of the bed, petting the long hair that spilled onto the crisp, white pillowcase. "I'm going to stay and keep an eye on him."

Dr. Casey smiled warmly at the couple. "Who is taking care of Laurene?"

"We called on our neighbor, Mrs. McGinty. She's a wonderful babysitter, and was more than happy to help out," Jim answered.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

Blair shook his head. "I'm all right, Jim. You go home and take care of Laur. You can always come back in the morning for the tests."

"You sure, Sweetheart? The Munchkin loves Flo. I'm sure she isn't missing us at all." He grinned.

"No. That's all right, really. It's not like I'm dying or anything. I just wanna sleep." Blair yawned for emphasis. "I can't believe how tired I am."

"He spent the morning carving pumpkins and decorating for Laurene's birthday party," Jim explained. "He baked and decorated the cake himself. Then he hosted the largest birthday party for a one-year-old that Cascade has seen in decades . . . and he wonders why he's tired."

"That could have easily contributed to the fainting episode, too," Lynne commented. "What did I tell you about taking it easy, Blair?" she chided.

"Our daughter was only going to get one first birthday party," Blair argued. "I wanted it to be memorable."

"Oh, it's memorable, all right," Lynne said. "Her daddy ended up in the hospital." She walked back over to the side of the bed. "You rest. Close your eyes and get a good night's sleep."

Blair's eyes had already shut, but he acknowledged his doctor with a nod.

"I'll make sure he behaves," Jim said, from his position on the bed. He tucked the blanket up under his husband's chin and patted his shoulder. After Lynne had left, he asked softly, "Anything I can get for you?"

"Maybe an extra blanket?"

Some things never change, Jim thought with a smile. Blair had always been sensitive to cold, and hospitals seemed to like keeping the room temperatures low. He gathered a couple of blankets from the cupboards in the room and brought them over to the bed. He spread the blankets over the recumbent form, tucking them around the edges.

Brushing an errant strand of hair off the high forehead, Jim leaned down for his kiss. "You've certainly had a busy day," he commented. "Sleep well, Chief. I'll be back first thing in the morning."

"'Night, Jim," Blair mumbled.

Reluctantly, Jim exited the room. He was torn between caring for his daughter and caring for his partner. Still, Blair was right. He wasn't dying, and there was nothing Jim could do until morning, anyway. He made his way down to the parking garage and headed back toward the loft.

"Flo, you are an absolute angel," Jim told their elderly neighbor the next morning as he dropped Laurene off once more.

"How is your young man?" Mrs. McGinty asked. "It seems he spends an awful lot of time in the hospital."

"Yeah," Jim chuckled, finding some humor in the statement. "We've considered taking out time shares." He sobered. "Blair is doing all right. He's anemic, and the doctor needs to find out why. They're doing an ultrasound, and possibly upper and lower GIs today. If that's all clear, he'll be coming home."

"What if it's not?" his neighbor asked.

Jim grimaced. "Well, then I suppose he'll need surgery."

"Oh, my - my," Flo clucked. "I'll put in some kind words for him with the Man upstairs," she said. "You'd better get going. You don't want to keep Blair waiting."

"Thanks again, Flo," Jim said with all sincerity. "I'll see you later." He turned to the baby in her arms. "Bye, Munchkin!" He blew a raspberry in the child's face before kissing her on the nose. Sounds of infant giggles followed him down the hallway to the elevator.

"Well, I have good news and bad news," Dr. Casey announced, as she viewed the screen showing Blair's ultrasound. "The good news is, there doesn't seem to be any problem with the pregnancy itself. The fetus appears quite normal for this stage of development and I see no signs of other problems. An MRI would give us a clearer scan, but I don't think that's going to be necessary at this point."

"The bad news?" Jim asked.

Lynne sighed, then addressed her patient. "The bad news is, we'll have to do the GI series." Blair grimaced at the pronouncement. "Under normal circumstances, these tests are out-patient procedures. But, as you've come to know, nothing is normal when considering a male pregnancy. I'll set up the tests and come back for you. With luck, you may be able to go home by this evening."

"How serious is it?" Blair looked up from his position on the exam table.

"It's not life threatening," Lynne assured him. "But if you're bleeding, it could signal something more serious that needs to be taken care of. I just want to be able to rule out the more obvious causes." She patted Blair's hand, then wiped the slick conducting jelly off his abdomen and pulled the gown back down. "I'll let Jim take you back to your room and get you settled." She rolled the wheelchair over near the exam table, then smiled and took her leave of the couple.

Jim got a hand under his partner's elbow, helping Blair to sit. The younger man balanced on the edge of the table for a few moments, waiting to regain his equilibrium.

"Okay?" Jim looked at him questioningly.

"Okay," Blair confirmed.

The ride back to his room was quiet. Jim helped him back up onto the bed and Blair crawled under the covers.

"It's going to be all right," Jim whispered. "I'll be with you the whole time."

"I know," Blair replied, squeezing Jim's hand.

Doctor Casey appeared in the doorway of the room. "I've got you scheduled for ten o'clock for the upper GI series," she told her patient. "Try to get some rest in the meantime, okay?"

"Thanks, Lynne." Blair managed a smile, even though it didn't quite make it all the way to his eyes.

Blair sat in the uncomfortable chair in Radiology while Lynne handed him the barium shake.

"I know this isn't pleasant," she told him, "but you have to try and drink the whole thing. It's going to taste chalky and will be hard to swallow, but it's necessary if we're going to get the readings we need."

Blair sipped cautiously at the thick, white liquid. "Oh, man," he groaned. "This stuff is terrible!"

"It's best if you just chug-a-lug it," Lynne said with sympathy. "Get it over with more quickly." She adjusted the fluoroscope as Blair tipped the glass and drank as quickly as he could. He sputtered, and Lynne handed him a tissue to wipe his face. "Sorry, Sweetheart. You're doing great."

"Yeah," Blair muttered unhappily.

Lynne began the x-rays, taking pictures of his esophagus, stomach and small intestine as the barium passed through his system. From time to time, she adjusted his position, to get as many angles as possible. The test took nearly forty minutes to complete, and Blair was exhausted by the end of it.

Jim stepped out from the protective barrier the doctor had kept him behind during the tests and helped Blair into his wheelchair. "Well?" he asked the doctor expectantly.

"I'll have to have a radiology technician go over these with me," Lynne explained, "but a cursory first look doesn't show any abnormalities."

Blair looked up from where he was seated. "What now?" His words were laced with weariness and dread.

"Well, first of all, I want you to go back to your room," the doctor told him. "I'll have you drink a bottle of magnesium citrate, and once you pass your bowels, we'll clean you out with a warm water enema." Blair grimaced. He was beginning to fear his face would freeze into a permanent scowl. "Then we'll bring you back down here to Radiology for a barium enema."

"Is that really necessary?" Blair groaned. His stomach already felt crampy from the barium shake.

"'Fraid so, Honey," Lynne said sympathetically. "We have to rule out intestinal bleeding."

"And if we do? Then what?" Blair asked.

"I'll send you home with some iron supplements and monitor your levels closely for a while, until we can get you stabilized."

Jim turned to the doctor. "Should we be worried?"

Lynne grinned reassuringly. "No. Not at all. While anemia can indicate internal bleeding, which is what we are checking, it's a very treatable condition. I'm guessing that supplements and plenty of rest is all that will be needed," she added. "It's just that male pregnancies hold all sorts of potential for problems, and we have to rule out anything serious before we can continue on with the treatment. Call me overly cautious, but I want to make sure that Blair stays healthy."

"Will I get to go home today?" Blair asked.

"It's going to depend a little on you," Lynne responded. "The sooner your bowels move, the sooner you'll be out of here. Could be this afternoon, or it could be tomorrow morning." She handed him a bottle. "More noxious-tasting stuff for you to drink. This is a powerful laxative, so I'm guessing that if you take a short nap, you'll wake up with the urge." She patted his shoulder, smiling. "You know, you're my first male pregnancy patient to come back for a second go around. You're made of pretty tough stuff. Don't let this little setback slow you down."

That afternoon found Blair back in the radiology department, stretched out on an x-ray table. His face reflected pure misery.

"Can't I please stay with him this time?" Jim asked. Blair gripped his hand tighter, unwilling to let go. "I can keep him calm, relaxed."

"I really don't like exposing you to the x-rays," Dr. Casey protested. Her gaze drifted to the white-knuckled grip her patient had on his partner's hand. With a sigh, she capitulated. "You'll have to wear one of the lead aprons," she said, carrying the heavy object over to the waiting man. Jim put it on, holding it in place while Lynne fastened the Velcro closures at the neck and waist.

"Okay, Sweetheart," Lynne addressed her patient. "I need you to roll over onto your side and pull up your knees." Blair did as he was instructed, baring his ass to the cool air of the room. "This is going to be uncomfortable, but I'm sure you're already aware of that. I'm going to tell you what I'm doing every step of the way. If it gets unbearable, you tell me. Okay?" Blair nodded, his eyes fixed on Jim for support.

Lynne coated the enema tube liberally with lubricant, then placed it at Blair's anus. "I'm inserting the tube now," she explained. "Just relax." Despite the instruction, Blair tensed at the foreign invader.

Jim had pulled up a chair, so that he could be level with Blair. He stroked his partner's cheek and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "You've got to relax, Chief," he said, his voice low and compelling. He stroked his way down Blair's arm, squeezing his hand. "I'm going to help you through this. You believe me, don't you?" Blair nodded.

Lynne's gentle voice interrupted. "I'm starting the barium flow now. You're going to feel a fullness and a need to defecate. I want you to do your best to fight the feeling. Try to relax. There will probably be some moderate to severe abdominal cramping. I'm very sorry, Blair, but we have to get this done."

A low moan escaped Blair's lips as the barium began to flow into him. Lynne operated the fluoroscope, taking x-rays of his colon and lower intestine. Once the barium solution was fully inserted, Lynne inflated a small balloon on the end of the enema tube to keep the liquid inside.

"I need for you to shift a bit," she said, coming over to the bed. She tilted the head end up slightly. "Try rolling onto your back as much as you can. I know it's uncomfortable."

Blair shifted onto his back with a groan. Jim gently massaged circles on his cramping abdomen, and Blair sighed. "Thanks. That feels better."

"You'll have to remove your hand," Lynne apologized. "This will just take a minute." She took another series of pictures, then allowed Jim to resume the soothing massage. "Just one more set," she told the couple, helping shift Blair into the final position.

After the x-rays were finished, Lynne removed the enema tube and assisted Jim in helping Blair sit up. "Jim, can you help Blair into the restroom?" She indicated the small facility just a few yards away. "Blair, I want you to try and void as much of the barium as you can. Take your time. When you're done, we have a few more pictures to take. Then, if you feel up to it, you can go home."

That final pronouncement caused a smile to cross the tight lips of her patient. Blair hobbled in to the toilet, allowing Jim to help lower him onto the seat. For a few minutes, nothing happened. Jim resumed massaging Blair's stomach, one arm wrapped around the shaking shoulders. Blair leaned sideways, resting his head against Jim's chest, a single tear escaping from his tightly closed eyes.

"It's almost over, Sweetheart," Jim whispered. He felt the slight cramp, followed by a relaxation of the abdominal muscles, as Blair's body finally let go of the foreign substance. "There you go. You're doing great."

"Then why don't I feel so hot?" Blair groused.

"Because you've just been put through an invasive procedure and it's not quite over," Jim explained. "Just try keeping good thoughts. We'll be going home soon. You can sleep in your own bed, cuddle with Laurene . . . cuddle with me." He grinned.

"Cuddling sounds nice," Blair sighed. "I think I'm gonna need to be held all night."

"I can arrange that," Jim said, placing a kiss on Blair's cheek. "Think you're all done here?"

Blair nodded. Jim helped pull him off the toilet and wiped him clean. Then he led him back into the x-ray room.

Blair was about to sink into the chair Jim had been using when Dr. Casey showed up again. "Back up on the table," she instructed. "We're going to do an air-contrast exam next. That will give us a more detailed picture. Once that's done, you're out of here." Blair climbed back onto the table with some reluctance.

"I'm going to insert the enema tube again," Lynne said, matching action to words. "I'm then going to inflate your bowel with a bit of air. You'll feel full, but it's not going to be as uncomfortable as the barium. Ready?" Blair nodded.

When the test was finally complete, Jim helped the shaky younger man back to the bathroom to empty his bowels once more. Dr. Casey stood in the open doorway. "When you're done here, I'd like Jim to take you back up to your room. You can rest while we get an accurate reading of your x-rays. I'll come up to give you the results, and if everything turns out all right, I'll release you to go home."

"Any special instructions?" Jim asked.

"I'll explain everything you'll need to know once Blair is back in his room," the doctor said.

Jim helped his partner back into bed, pulling the covers over his shivering body. Blair closed his eyes and tried to relax. "Is it over?"

"All done," Jim confirmed. "Dr. Casey asked for you to rest until she could get up here with the results of the x-rays."

"Not a problem." Blair sighed heavily, exhausted from the day's ordeal.

"Do you mind if I slip out and get a cup of coffee?" Jim asked.

"No. That's okay," Blair answered softly. "I just want to sleep."

"Be right back, then," Jim said, patting Blair's shoulder.

He was still sipping his coffee and listening to the even breathing of his sleeping partner, when Lynne walked into the room. She smiled. "He's finally sleeping?"

"Yeah. It's a shame to wake him up. Can you give me the test results?"

"I really should speak to both you and Blair, but considering. . . ." She looked at the exhausted young man. "There are no perforations in either his upper or lower GI tracks," Lynne confirmed. "I think we can chalk this up to pregnancy-induced anemia. It's a common enough phenomena with women carrying multiple fetuses, or with male pregnancies. We just had to rule out the worst-case scenario first."

"So what now?"

"I send him home with iron supplements for him to take twice a day, with food. I'd like to see him back in a week. Then I'll monitor him every two weeks for a couple months. After that, if he's doing well, we can go back to the once a month screenings until his third trimester." Lynne looked at the sentinel standing guard and nodded her approval. "If Blair has any lightheadedness or dizziness, give me a call. If he passes out again, take him straight to the emergency room, no matter how much he protests."

Jim chuckled. "You know him pretty well."

"I know him well enough to know you've got your hands full," Lynne agreed. "When does he start back to school?"

"He was hoping to start back by mid-November," Jim informed her. "I think he was mainly planning office hours and working on his class syllabus. I know he's got some articles started for publication, too. He won't begin actual teaching until the start of the winter term in January."

"So long as the next week or two test out all right, and he takes it easy," Lynne emphasized, "I don't see any problem with that schedule." She handed him some papers. "Get Blair to sign the release, dress him and take him home."

Blair stumbled into the loft, held up by the strong arms of his lover. "It's great to be home!"

"And you're going straight to bed," Jim said, emphasizing his words by steering his reluctant charge toward the stairs.

"Aw, c'mon, Jim," Blair weaseled. "I could just settle on the couch for the evening."

"You're going up to bed. I'll bring up the portable TV and a dinner tray. After we eat, I'll go pick up Laurene and you can spend a little time with her, if you have any energy left. Then it's lights out."

"You're a regular Nazi," Blair complained as he was led forcefully up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Don't even joke," Jim replied, sitting next to Blair on the bed and gently undressing him. "I may wish to do unspeakable things to you, but not like that."

"I wish I felt up to those 'unspeakable things'," Blair sighed, "but I'll be lucky to keep my eyes open until you come to bed."

"Just as well." Jim stood up and pulled the blankets back. Blair crawled under their warmth, allowing himself to be tucked in. "You really need your rest. I'll go fix us something to eat. How does chicken soup sound?"

"About right," Blair agreed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the portable TV was showing a PBS special on ancient Egypt, and a tray with two bowls of chicken soup, crackers and milk were balanced on the nightstand.

"No fair nodding off before dinner," Jim chided. He helped Blair sit up, then lifted the tray and set it across his lap. He put his glass of milk on the nightstand and plucked the extra bowl of soup from the tray. "Eat up!"

Blair cautiously sipped at the hot liquid, grinning as the taste of homemade soup exploded across his tongue. "I didn't think anything was ever going to taste good again after all that crap Lynne had me drinking today." He spooned more of the noodles and chicken into his mouth, realizing suddenly just how hungry he'd become.

"You haven't had anything to eat since you threw up Laurene's birthday cake yesterday. It's no wonder a little soup tastes good." Jim swiped a napkin across Blair's chin and kissed his temple. "Finish up, take your pill, and I'll go get Laurene."

"Flo must be having fits," Blair chuckled. "Maybe you'd better go now and give the poor woman a break. I promise, I'll eat." He lifted the spoon in mock salute, then emptied the contents into his mouth.

"You're probably right," Jim agreed. "Okay. I'll be back in a few." He got up and made his way down the stairs and out the door.

Jim smiled at the pair cuddled together in the center of the big bed. Laurene had been ecstatic seeing her daddy again, and had babbled up a storm. She and Blair had played and "talked" until both father and daughter fell asleep from exhaustion.

Carefully, Jim scooped the child into his arms and carried her downstairs to her crib. He set the white noise generator to a low hiss and quietly closed the French doors behind him as he left.

He climbed the stairs slowly, pulling off his shirt as he went. It had been a long and eventful day, and even the sentinel/protector of the Sandburg-Ellison clan was beginning to feel the weariness creep into his bones. He stripped to his shorts, tossing his clothes carelessly across the chair situated in the corner of the room and climbed into bed beside Blair.

Drawn to the warmth of Jim's body, Blair snuggled close, not waking. Jim wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders and pressed his lover even closer. The smaller man still smelled faintly of the hospital and Jim sent up a prayer of thanks that despite what they had gone through that day, nothing was seriously wrong. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him.

Two weeks later:

Blair's eyes sparkled as he donned his suit and tie, and picked up his briefcase. Jim grinned at the new professor. The young man's hair was pulled back into a ponytail and glasses were perched on the tip of his nose. He peeked over the top of the lenses to eye his admirer.

"Looking smart there, Darwin," Jim commented. "Got everything with you?"

Blair reached into an inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a pillbox filled with his prenatal vitamins, iron supplements and anti-nausea medication. "All set." He inched closer to the tall detective. "I'm going to be just fine. Stop worrying."

"Does your administrative assistant know about your pregnancy?"

"By now I suspect the entire school knows," Blair said with a sigh. "Good thing I'm not showing yet. Maybe they'll forget about it for a while."

"You take it easy, okay?" Jim fussed over his partner, brushing imaginary lint from the wool suit. "I want you coming home in one piece."

"You are such a worry-wart," Blair complained with a smile. "I've got to settle into the new office. I'll probably spend most of the day unpacking boxes."

"Don't lift anything heavy. Get someone else to do that for you."

"Yes, Mother." Blair stretched up on his toes to plant a kiss on his lover's forehead.

"Don't think you're getting out of here that easily," Jim responded, pulling the shorter man close. He bent to meet the upturned face, devouring the lips that waited for him.

Blair melted against the strong body, molding himself to fit perfectly within the circle of Jim's arms. The briefcase dropped from eager hands as Blair wrapped his arms around his partner's waist and pressed his groin against Jim's hips.

Jim pulled back from the kiss at the feel of a scalding rod of flesh against his thigh. Blair's temperature had shot up a couple degrees as his desire flared. Even through the three layers of cloth separating them, the sentinel could feel the burn. Reluctantly, he pushed away from his lover, taking a step back.

"Uh-uh, Professor," he scolded. "You know better. None of that for you for at least another five weeks." He waggled a finger in front of Blair's flushed face.

The reprimanded scholar grabbed the waving digit and put it in his mouth, sucking lightly while sporting a totally unrepentant grin.

"I thought you had to get to your new office," Jim argued, pulling his finger from the warm cavern of Blair's mouth. "Not that I don't find the new Doctor Sandburg incredibly appealing, you understand, but we both have work to do."

"I suppose," Blair reluctantly agreed. He stooped to pick up the fallen briefcase. "Wanna meet somewhere for lunch?"

"How about Bailey's Pub? They've got great sandwiches."

"And you can't hear yourself think," Blair reminded him. "How about 'Mona's Soup and Subs'?"

"That new place over on Third and Pioneer?"

"Yeah. The rumor mill has nothing but good things to say about the place. And it's healthy, too," Blair added.

"Like that's a bonus," Jim muttered with a grin. "Mona's it is. Noon?"

"How about 11:30? That way we can beat the lunch crowd."

"Sounds good to me," Jim agreed. He leaned over to give Blair a final peck on the cheek before ushering him out the door. "Love you."

"Love you, too." Blair's voice echoed down the hallway as he jogged toward the elevator that a neighbor was holding for him.

"Take it easy!" Jim reminded him, as the elevator door slid closed.

"Good morning, Vickie," Blair greeted his administrative assistant.

"Good morning, Dr. Sandburg," Vickie Farrell replied, smiling up from the pile of paperwork on her desk.

"Call me Blair."

The AA blushed. "Blair," she repeated.

"Anything I need to know?"

"There were a couple of phone messages for you, from Dr. Stoddard and the Chancellor, welcoming you to the staff." She held out the slips of paper. "Everything's in your office, waiting for you to decide what to do with it."

"Thanks." Blair took the phone messages and turned toward the office door.

The new office was spacious and light. It was not as large as those of the tenured professors, but it was more room than Blair was used to having. Large windows looked out on the Commons and the fountain where Blair had once died. But that was a lifetime ago, and the anthropologist had put all that behind him.

He surveyed the large maple desk. A computer monitor and keyboard sat on one corner, with the tower and printer on an auxiliary table positioned at a ninety-degree angle to the desk, forming an "L". The desk's other corner was decorated with a stacked pair of "InOut" boxes. The center portion was taken up by a large blotter with a calendar.

Two of the walls were converted into floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and boxes were stacked chest-high nearby. Blair wandered over to the boxes, noting the writing on the sides, indicating the contents. He rummaged around until he found the box he was looking for.

He opened the folded flaps and reverently lifted out the hundred-year-old volume by Sir Richard Burton: The Sentinels of Paraguay. Hugging the tome to his chest, he looked around the room, eventually spotting an antique book display stand. The stand had probably been used for a large dictionary in the past, but now it would hold Blair's most treasured possession. He placed the book on the stand and moved it over nearer to his desk.

He pulled some framed photos from his briefcase and arranged them near the "In" box. One was a picture of himself and Jim on a camping trip. They had been horsing around and had fallen out of the boat, into the lake. Their swim to shore had resulted in chattering teeth for the young anthropologist. Jim had wrapped him in one of his own flannel shirts, which was at least a size too large. The sleeves were so long, all that showed were Blair's fingertips. His flannel-covered hands rested on Jim's shoulders, his eyes sparkling with mischief and love. Jim had leaned into that embrace to kiss the willing lips that waited for him. Simon had chosen that moment to snap a picture, and it had remained one of Blair's favorites ever since.

Another photo was one of Megan's contributions. Blair lay propped up in his hospital bed, just hours after giving birth to Laurene. The baby was cradled in his arms, as he looked at the child with wonder. Jim stood over them both, grinning like a fool--the very picture of a proud father. The final picture was a family portrait, taken at a studio, just before Laurene's first birthday.

Satisfied with the arrangement, Blair lifted another frame from his briefcase and glanced at the walls. Finding what appeared to be the perfect place next to a window, he hung his Ph.D. certificate proudly. With that last bit of decorating done, he turned back to the piles of boxes, determined to get some of the books on the shelves so he could rid himself of the cardboard clutter.

A knock on the door startled Blair out of his reverie. He had unpacked several shelves' worth of books and artifacts, and was quite pleased with his progress. He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was 11:20. Where had the time gone? "Come in," he called to his visitor.

Jim stuck his head through a crack in the opened door. "Is it safe?" he quipped.

Blair mimed throwing a heavy textbook at his head, then placed it on the shelf instead. "I must have gotten a bit carried away," he said with a grin. "I didn't realize it was getting so late."

"I thought it might be nice if I picked you up, instead of us taking separate cars," Jim explained. "I come right past Rainier on my way to Mona's."

"Fine by me," Blair agreed. He was suddenly feeling tired and a bit wobbly. He knew all he needed was some nourishment in his system and a short break. Lunch couldn't have come at a better time. He grabbed his suit coat and headed toward the door.

Mona's Soup and Subs was already busy, even at 11:30. Jim carried a tray bearing their lunch over to the booth where Blair sat. He slid in opposite his partner, handing him a sandwich.

"You're looking a little tired," Jim commented. "And how can you eat wearing that thing?" He reached across the booth to tug at the knot in Blair's tie.

Blair loosened the necktie and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, smiling in relief. "It's not easy, but I figure that because I'm the new kid on the block, I'd better play dress-up for a while. Gotta make a good impression."

"You'd make a good impression in a cotton nightgown and bunny slippers," Jim said with a smile.

"In your dreams, Ellison!" Blair's face was screwed up in mock disgust. A moment later, he relaxed and let loose a sigh before taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing carefully. "I am a little tired," he admitted. "I've been unpacking all morning."

"What did I tell you about not overdoing it?" Jim scolded. "I hope you haven't been lifting anything heavy."

"No. No lifting," Blair confirmed. "The boxes weren't stacked all that high, so I just empty the one on top, then move on to the next. The janitorial staff will recycle the boxes for me."

"You should take it easy this afternoon."

"Jim, I'm fine. I know you think it's your duty to watch over and protect me, but I'm all grown up. I even have that Ph.D. on my wall. I think I can decide when I can work and when I need to rest."

"You didn't look like you were aware of the time when I walked in," Jim pointed out. "You could easily work yourself into exhaustion without realizing it. Your stamina drops considerably when you're pregnant, and the anemia isn't helping."

"The anemia is under control. Lynne says I'm doing great," Blair reminded him. "But maybe I'll try writing on one of my journal articles this afternoon. Would that make you happy?"

"I'd feel better, knowing you weren't overdoing the unpacking."

Blair reached across the table to pat Jim's hand. "Okay, then. I'll take it easy and sit at the computer this afternoon."

"The lure of the books won't draw you back?"

"Well. . . ." Blair looked thoughtful. "Maybe I could ask Vickie to come in and help."

"That your new AA?" At Blair's nod, Jim added, "She's cute."

"I didn't notice," Blair said, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"Blair 'I'd-hump-a-table-leg' Sandburg didn't notice his AA was an A-number-one looker? Tsk, tsk." Jim shook his head, grinning.

"Jim!" Blair said with exasperation coloring his voice. "I'm a married man! And I'm pregnant. I'm not supposed to notice!"

"I never thought it would happen," Jim mused.

"What?"

"I've managed to domesticate the wildly flirtatious All-American Anthropologist."

"Oh, go shove it up your ass," Blair whispered for sentinel ears, a big grin lighting up his face.

"We can make arrangements," Jim replied, his voice low and husky. "You're the one who can't risk orgasms right now. I'm not exempt. We'll figure something out."

"You're incorrigible, Mr. Ellison."

"You're way too easy, Dr. Sandburg." Jim chuckled, then dodged as Blair reached out to swat him.

The lunch and light banter had been exactly what Blair had needed. Jim dropped him off in front of Hargrove Hall, and with a bounce in his step, he headed up to his second floor office. He exchanged greetings with Vickie, then stepped through his office door.

On the floor was a parchment envelope. Blair stooped to pick it up, looking at the blank surface. He began to wander over toward his desk as he turned the envelope over to open it. He pulled out the expensive cream-colored parchment stationery and unfolded it.

He stumbled into his desk, knocking down his "In/Out" boxes, as the paper fluttered to the floor from nerveless fingers. Vickie burst through the door at the sound.

"Dr. Sandburg! Blair? Are you all right?" She walked over to where the anthropologist was leaning heavily against the antique desk.

"I'm fine," Blair answered quickly, scooping the piece of paper up from the floor and folding it. He held up the envelope. "Do you have any idea where this came from? It was on the floor when I came back, like someone had slipped it under the door."

"I don't know, sir," Vickie replied. "I was out to lunch for half an hour. Someone could have come by while I was gone. Would you like me to check for you?" She reached for the envelope in Blair's hand.

He quickly snatched it back. "That won't be necessary. Thanks, Vickie." He eyed his secretary, who was still watching him closely. "I'm fine."

"You sure? I mean . . . in your condition. . . ?"

"My condition has nothing to do with it," Blair snapped, beginning to feel a little testy. Vickie's face fell. "Geez, I'm sorry," he apologized. "Jim will attest: I get cranky sometimes during pregnancy. But I'm fine. Really. You don't have to worry about me."

"Okay," Vickie reluctantly agreed. "Call me if you need anything, all right? That's why I'm here."

"I will. Thanks again." He watched as Vickie exited the room, slowly closing the door behind her. He sank into his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk. Carefully, he unfolded the note once more.

Jew Whore. Two small words that made Blair blanch in horror. He knew that coming back to Rainier during his pregnancy was risky. While the staff and most of his students supported him, there would always be those who thought his lifestyle and choices were perverse and ugly. He just hadn't expected it to hit home so soon.

He tucked the note back into its envelope, wrote the date in one corner and initialed it. He then opened his file drawer and pulled out a folder. In careful letters, he wrote "Evidence" on the tab and filed the note under "E". He decided against mentioning it to Jim for now. It wasn't a threat, and he was confident he could handle the situation himself.

"What's the matter?" Jim asked as soon as Blair stepped through the door.

"What do you mean?" Blair squatted down to pick up the toddler who had come running at hearing her daddy come home.

"Da-de," Laurene chirped.

"Yep. Daddy's home." Blair grinned and nuzzled his daughter's face, kissing a chubby cheek.

"You look like shit," Jim answered, ignoring the presence of the baby.

"Jim! Language!" Blair reminded him softly, pointing at the child in his arms. Jim simply frowned and gave his partner the Look. "Okay. Okay. I'm just tired. I'd forgotten what putting a whole day in at work felt like."

"Did you take it easy this afternoon?"

"Yes, oh Blessed Protector. The only things that got any exercise after lunch were my fingers."

"Maybe you should sleep in tomorrow and show up late. It's not like you're teaching classes yet, or anything," Jim suggested.

"I'll try going to bed earlier," Blair answered. "I've got tons of stuff that needs to be done. Besides all the unpacking, I've volunteered to help mentor and advise Anthropology students. Until I start teaching classes again in January, I can take a load off the other professors by offering extended office hours."

"That's very noble. Just don't kill yourself."

"It's brain exercise, Jim, not the physical stuff. You don't have to worry about me."

"Then why did you come home looking like shit?"

Blair ignored the redundant question, walking over to the couch and sinking into the soft cushions with his squirming burden. "Is dinner almost ready? I'm starved."

Jim turned back to the baked chicken he had just removed from the oven. "How does ten minutes sound?"

"Good." Blair lowered Laurene to the floor, handing her a stuffed dog that was her favorite toy. "I'll set the table." He tried to push up, but sank back into the cushions. Before he could try again, Jim's voice stopped him.

"You sit. I'll take care of the table."

Ten minutes later, Jim came over to give Blair an assist off the couch. Each man took hold of a small hand, and Laurene toddled across the floor to the kitchen with them. Jim lifted her into her highchair, while Blair opened the jars of toddler finger foods, pouring them out onto the divided plate.

Laurene was immediately into the food, getting as much on herself, as in. Blair pulled up a chair next to the toddler, while Jim sat opposite his partner.

"Mmmm, good," Blair declared, savoring the saucy chicken.

"Don't forget your pill," Jim reminded him.

"Got it right here," Blair answered, holding up the iron supplement. "And just how often have I forgotten to take it?"

"None, but that's because I remind you twice a day," Jim snorted in response.

"Goes to show what you remember," Blair jabbed. "You forgot yesterday, and I took 'em anyway."

"Did not."

"Did so."

The argument was stopped when both men were splattered with fistfuls of toddler creamy carrots. Blair began to laugh--his first genuine amusement since getting the disturbing note that afternoon.

The next note didn't come until Friday. The week had been wearing on the young professor, and he had decided to brown bag it that day, staying inside. Vickie was on her lunch break, and everything was quiet.

The soft swish of paper against the hardwood floor caught Blair's attention from the journal he was reading as he ate. Looking up, he saw the same rich parchment as before lying in the center of the room. He got up as quickly as he could and opened the door. By the time he got there, however, nobody was to be seen. The hallway echoed with distant footsteps, but Blair was too tired to follow.

He closed the door, heading back for his desk. Pushing the sandwich and apple aside, he opened the envelope and carefully pulled out the folded parchment paper. This note was longer and vaguely more threatening. Still, there was nothing alarming enough to do more than file it away for the future. He took one last glance before dating and initialing it, and dropping it in the evidence file.

Homosexuality is a sin. Your soul will burn in hell.

The following Tuesday, Blair had his first student advisee. The nervous freshman coed sat across the wide desk from the professor, wringing her hands while covertly watching the handsome man from beneath long, black lashes.

"Most students don't choose to declare their majors during the first term of their freshman year," Blair noted. "What made you decide Anthropology was that important to you?"

"Well, um," the girl started, glancing up and blushing. "The intro course is so interesting. I want to learn more. And, well, I heard that you'll be teaching winter term and all the upper classmen who have had your classes say what a great teacher you are."

"That's very flattering." Blair smiled at the child, causing the color in her cheeks to deepen. "But it's hardly reason enough to make the field your major study. That's an important decision and there are still a lot of classes out there for you to sample and choose."

"Oh, I know that," the girl added hastily. "But I've done a little research at the library, looked up some of your journal articles, and. . . ." Her voice caught in her throat. "And I think it's a field I want to make my life's work."

"How old are you?" Blair asked out of curiosity.

"Eighteen."

"I see."

"I'm not too young, Professor Sandburg! I'm perfectly capable of making this decision."

"I'm not questioning that," Blair clarified. "I chose Anthropology when I was seventeen--but I was also a sophomore. I just think you ought to take the time to sample the other possibilities before you commit yourself. That doesn't mean you can't take other Anthro courses in the meantime. I'd love to have you in one of my classes."

The girl's delighted response was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. "Dr. Sandburg," Blair answered. An electronically filtered voice accosted his ear.

"You let another man stick his cock up your ass and fuck you, then you use technology to get yourself pregnant. If you want to be a woman so bad, why don't you just cut it off and get it over with?"

Blair slammed down the receiver, all color drained from his face.

"Are you all right, Professor?"

With shaking hands, Blair passed the folder back to the student. "I'm fine." His voice came out a whispered choke. He cleared his throat, finding more strength to speak. "Look over the course catalog and choose a variety of subjects. You should take at least three required courses and one or two electives, depending on your study habits. The more subjects you can expose yourself to, the more informed your decision will be. If you still decide Anthropology is your dream, I'd be more than happy to continue on as your advisor in the field."

The girl gathered up her books and the folder she had brought along. "Thank you, Professor Sandburg." She stood and walked to the door. "I'll be looking forward to your class next term." With a wave, she was gone.

Blair picked up the phone. "Vickie?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I just received a call. Is there any way to find out if it was made from campus?"

"I don't know, sir, but I'd be happy to check for you."

"Please do, and let me know what you find out." He hung up and pulled a notepad across the desk. He scribbled the gist of the message, dated and initialed the note and put it in the file as well. Three mysterious messages, and they were getting more personal, more threatening, each time.

A few minutes later, Vickie stuck her head through the door, a frown marring her delicate features. "Dr. Sandburg?" When Blair looked up, she continued. "Security couldn't trace the call. They don't think it was made from a campus phone, though. Maybe a cell?"

"Thanks, Vickie. At least we tried."

"Sorry, sir." She bowed her head and ducked out of the door.

Blair was officially beginning to worry.

November 22 --
Thanksgiving:

Jim rolled over in bed, putting an arm around his lover and petting the long hair that fell in ringlets over the smooth skin of his shoulder. Blair murmured softly in his sleep, pressing into the touch.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Love." Jim leaned in to place a quick peck on the slightly parted lips. His mouth roamed lower, pausing to suck briefly at the prominent Adam's apple, before continuing across a shoulder and down to the fullness of one small breast. His lips latched onto the nipple and pulled, eliciting a groan from its owner. Jim settled in to suckle, and was rewarded by a fine spray of milk into his mouth.

"Oh, God, Jim," Blair moaned, coming fully awake and arching into the sensation.

Jim let his hand roam lower, ghosting over the gentle rise of Blair's belly and settling over their unborn child. He released the damp nipple to the cool air of the bedroom, watching as it pinched into a hard, tight nub and resumed his plundering of Blair's sweet lips. He let his hand slide lower, allowing himself the rare treat of wrapping strong fingers around Blair's morning erection. His partner's reaction to his touch startled him.

Blair froze momentarily, then tried to pull away. "Don't, Jim." He reached a hand down to free his penis from his lover's grasp, then climbed out of bed, taking the sheet with him. He wrapped himself in the make-shift toga and backed away.

"Blair? What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

"Don't call me that," Blair snapped.

"'Sweetheart'? Why not?" Jim was genuinely confused and somewhat frightened by this odd turn of events.

"It's too feminine."

"Blair, you know I don't think of you like that!"

"I know." The soft voice carried a world of hurt and fear.

"Tell me about it?" Jim coaxed, hoping to get his lover to tell him what was wrong.

Blair shook his head. "I'm okay. Everything's fine. I just don't feel like starting something we can't finish yet, you know?"

Jim nodded, not fully convinced. Blair was nearly twelve weeks along now. It would soon be safe to resume sexual relations, and he couldn't quite fathom why his mate was so averse to simple touching. "Did something happen at work?" he asked.

Blair's eyes grew wide. "No!" he denied sharply. "Why would you think that?"

"Rainier's a pretty liberal campus, but there are always going to be some who aren't going to approve our lifestyle choices," Jim answered. "I just thought maybe someone had said something that upset you."

"Everything's fine," Blair continued to lie.

"Well, if that's the case," Jim said, dropping the subject, "then we'd better get dressed. Flo will be over soon to start the turkey, and Simon and Megan are coming later."

"Isn't Daryl going to be here this year?" Blair asked, edging toward his clothes, which lay draped over a chair in the corner of the room.

"Joan invited him for the weekend. He's visiting her."

"That's nice." Blair knew how much the divorce of his parents had hurt the young man. He pulled on his clothes and moved aside so that Jim could get to the closet.

A knock on the door unexpectedly surprised both men. Jim finished dressing as Blair jogged down the stairs to answer the summons. He opened the door wide, taking the baking dish with the twenty-five pound turkey from Flo's straining arms. Immediately, the pan was plucked away by Jim, who carried it into the kitchen, fussing all the way. "Didn't I tell you not to be lifting heavy things? Good grief, Blair, are you trying to have a miscarriage?"

The anthropologist and his neighbor exchanged looks. "What's going on here?" Flo asked, looking at the two distressed men.

"It hasn't been a really good morning, Flo," Blair explained.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Flo clucked. "Well, just remember that today is the day you count your blessings, and the last time I looked, you two were richly blessed." She smiled. "Where's that darling baby?"

"In the nursery," Jim answered, sliding the big bird into the oven to begin baking. "She just woke up."

"Well, then, I'll go take a peek," the elderly woman said, heading for the French doors.

Jim wiped his hands and walked over to Blair, resting his palms on the shorter man's shoulders. "I'm sorry if I got us started off on the wrong foot this morning," he apologized. "I realize things aren't easy for you now, what with starting back to work and all. Forgive me?" He pulled Blair into his arms and felt his lover snuggle into the embrace.

"It's my fault," Blair muttered into a flannel-clad shoulder. "Hormones all over the place. Some days I don't know what I want."

Jim stroked the long curls with strong, reassuring hands. "Let's let it drop, okay? Flo's right. Today is a day for counting our blessings."

"You can call me 'Sweetheart'." Blair spoke softly, pulling out of the warm embrace to look up at Jim with tear-dampened eyes.

"Okay." Jim wiped at the moisture with his thumb, then kissed the still slightly quivering lips.

"Okay," Blair whispered back.

Flo came out of the bedroom toting the laughing toddler. Laurene squirmed to be put down, then ran over and wrapped pudgy arms around Blair's legs. "Good morning, Muffin," her daddy greeted.

"Da-de, pffft!" Laurene blew a perfect raspberry.

"You are such a little pill!" Blair leaned down to ruffle the soft reddish curls on the small head.

"Da-de, no!" Laurene said, shaking her head.

"No, is it?" Blair scooped her up, holding her above his head and tickling with his fingertips. Jim looked on with a measure of worry. He knew he couldn't keep Blair from picking up their daughter, but the sight still made him nervous. Gales of laughter erupted from the little girl, and even Jim had to smile.

Soon tiring of carrying the heavy toddler, Blair handed her off to Jim. "What time are you expecting Simon and Megan?"

"Not until later." Jim put Laurene in her highchair and placed a bowl of dry Cheerios and a sipping cup of whole milk on the tray. "The turkey won't be ready for hours, and they want to make sure that you have plenty of time to rest."

"All right," Flo fussed. "All men of the male persuasion out of the kitchen! I've got work to do."

"Where does that leave me, exactly?" Blair asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Out!" Flo waved a wooden spoon at the young man.

Blair backed out with his hands raised. "Just checking."

"Hello, Love!" Megan greeted Blair as she walked through the open door. She carried a tray of traditional, individually-sized, Australian meat pies. "Thought I'd add a little Aussie flavor to the celebration."

Jim took the tray from her and carried it to the kitchen. "They smell good enough to eat!" he commented, sliding them into the warming drawer of the oven.

Megan wrapped her arms around Blair, hugging him tight. "It's been ages since we've seen you down at the station. When are you coming by for a visit?"

When she let go, Blair took her coat and hung it on the hooks by the door. "I miss all the guys, too," he admitted. "But with the pregnancy, then starting back to work at Rainier, there just hasn't been any time. Maybe I can come by some time next week."

"You'd better! Joel doesn't believe Jim's stories anymore. He thinks you were abducted by aliens," Megan said with a snort of laughter.

"Sometimes it feels that way," Blair admitted. He was startled out of his reverie by another knock on the door. Simon entered, balancing two mincemeat pies. "Hey, Simon!" Blair greeted the captain, taking his burden to the kitchen so the captain could hang up his coat.

"How're you doing today, Blair?" he asked, turning back to the part-time police observer.

"I've had better days," the young man admitted, "but all-in-all, I'm doing pretty well."

"Dinner won't be ready for another hour," Flo announced from the kitchen. "Just relax and enjoy yourselves."

Megan wandered over. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You're a guest here, Deary," Flo told her. "Go join your friends and have a nice chit-chat."

"Oh, you know men," Megan teased. "I work around these guys all day. I appreciate being invited over, of course. I haven't seen Blair in ages, but just between you and me, I wouldn't mind helping you out."

"Extra hands make light work," Flo replied. "You can put the potatoes on to boil. Watch them carefully, so that they don't disintegrate."

Megan smiled and got out the cooking pot. "Yes, Mum." She cleaned and peeled the potatoes while waiting for the water to come to a boil. Looking up over her work, she watched the three men seated in the living room. Simon was on the loveseat, while Jim and Blair sat nestled on the large couch. Jim had his arm around the smaller man, and Blair was leaning into him, soaking up contentment. They were busy catching up, she mused.

After dinner, Blair walked Laurene into the nursery to get her ready for bed. The youngster walked between her daddy's legs, arms high above her head, held tight in Blair's secure grip. "Up you go, Muffin," he said, lifting the child onto the changing table.

"Stimky," Laurene announced, wrinkling her nose.

"Stinky is right," her daddy agreed, peeling off the dirty diaper. Laurene only knew a small handful of words beyond "Da-de" and "no," and most of those related in some way to her senses. The little girl detested the smell of her own waste, and was quick to point it out.

Blair was taking care of the mess when there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in." Megan walked in, pulling the door shut behind her.

"Is everything okay, Sandy?"

"Why do you ask?" Blair replied softly. He finished wrapping his daughter in a fresh diaper, then pulled the soft flannel nightgown over her head.

Megan walked up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Flo and I were talking," she said. "She told me things didn't seem quite right when she came over this morning. There was some tension. Is Jim treating you all right?"

"Megan!" Blair exploded with surprise. "Of course Jim's treating me all right. Better than all right!"

"Then what's going on? Is it something at the university?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Blair told her, putting Laurene in her crib. "'Night, Muffin. Sleep well; sweet dreams." He leaned down to kiss the smiling cherub. He walked over to the French doors, but Megan blocked his retreat, speaking softly.

"You can tell me."

"It's nothing, Megan. Just someone with a whacked out sense of morality. It's been a little unsettling, but nothing has come of it."

"Don't you think you ought to talk to Jim?"

Blair shook his head. "Jim was leery of letting me go back to work so soon. He's over-protective during my first trimester. If I make him think anything's amiss, he'll pull my ass out of there so fast, my head will be spinning."

"Would he be justified?"

"No! No, Megan. It's nothing. Please don't say anything." Blair put a hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly. "I promise, it's okay." Megan shrugged and preceded the anthropologist out of the nursery.

"Everything okay?" Simon asked as the pair emerged.

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" Blair muttered softly. "Everything's just dandy," he said a little louder. "Laur should be asleep soon. The way I'm feeling, I probably will be, too." He smiled.

"Maybe we should leave, then," Simon said, standing.

"No, no, please," Blair insisted, gesturing for the captain to sit back down. "Enjoy the evening. If I get too tired, I'll just head up to bed. No big deal."

The four settled onto the two couches, Blair cuddling into Jim's embrace once more and sighing quietly.

"How're things going at Rainier?" Simon asked.

"I finally got everything unpacked and filed away," Blair said with some pride. "The place is looking like a real office, now. I also started counseling this week."

Simon looked confused. "You're seeing a shrink? Why?"

"Not me, Simon. I'm advising students who think they want to major in Anthropology. I'm also helping out the other professors by taking over some of their office hours. I help the kids with their research assignments--you know, clarify things, tell them where to find their research material. . . ."

"When do you start teaching?" Megan asked.

"Beginning of the winter term, in January. I'll start with Intro to Anthropology and Mayan Civilization."

"Sounds fascinating. How long will you be able to teach?"

"My projected due date is June 8," Blair told her. "I should be able to teach both winter and spring terms. School will be out for the summer before I have to go in for the C-section."

"Isn't it going to be a little hard keeping order in your classrooms when your waistline starts expanding exponentially?" Simon asked.

"The staff know about the pregnancy, and support me with it. I'll have time off for doctor's appointments and anything else I need related to the baby. Once I start showing, I'll have to make sure the students know, although I suspect the news is all over the campus grapevine already."

"He's got a lot of support," Jim added. "The Gay and Lesbian Coalition on campus is behind him big time."

"As are the women's rights groups, Black Pride and the Right to Life people," Blair added. "I don't think it's going to be a problem. There's always going to be someone out there who will find the whole concept of male pregnancy perverse and unnatural, but on the whole, I've got the support I need to get through this school year."

"You ever going to show up at the station?" Simon wondered.

"I've talked to Chancellor Devereaux about that, and he said I could take off one afternoon a week on a regular basis, more if you truly need my services."

"That's great news!" Simon grinned. "Maybe Jim will be less cranky if you're there a little more often."

Jim threw a decorative pillow toward his captain, who caught the downy missile with one hand and lobbed it back.

"Hey, hey, guys! No pillow fights!" Blair scolded. "Geez, now you've got me sounding like my mother."

"God help us," Simon said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling. Blair's pillow pitch caught him dead-on in the chest.

The sound of quiet sobbing echoed down the long hallway at Rainier. Just back from his brief Thanksgiving weekend break, Blair hurried his steps toward his office. "Vickie! What's the matter?" He set his briefcase down in front of the AA's desk and gently pried her hands away from her face.

Grabbing a tissue, Vickie wiped at her eyes and nose, then sniffled and pointed toward Blair's office door. Fresh paint still drizzled slowly down from the recent graffiti: a yellow star of David crossed through with a black swastika. "Shit!"

"I'm so sorry, Blair," Vickie said, tears still making her voice hoarse. "I got to work, and there it was. I didn't see anyone. Maybe if I'd gotten here sooner. . . ."

"It's not your fault," Blair assured her. "You're always here at least a half an hour before you need to be. Whoever did this knows that."

"I've already called campus security and the janitorial staff. They should have it investigated and cleaned up before noon."

"Thanks, Vickie. If security wants to talk to me, just send them on in. My schedule is clear this morning. I'm going to be working on my articles for the Anthro rags." Blair approached the door, finding it harder than he thought to cross the threshold of hate. Once inside, he looked around. Finding nothing out of place, he settled down to work. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in."

"Dr. Sandburg?" the man greeted him, holding up identification. "Kurt Mayfield, Campus Security."

"Have a seat, Mr. Mayfield. How may I help you?"

"I just have a few questions about the graffiti on your door."

"Shoot."

"You Jewish?"

"Yes, I am. I'm also gay, married and pregnant. Does that make a difference?"

"Just wondering if you had any idea who might have done this?"

"Not a clue. However," Blair bent down to fetch his evidence file, "I have had some other incidents over the past couple of weeks." He handed the folder to the security officer. "I was wondering if I could get an answering machine with a mini-cassette for my office phone? If I get any more of these calls, I'd like to be able to record them."

"I think that can be arranged," the officer agreed. "May I take these with me?" he asked, indicating the notes.

"I'd rather you didn't. I'll have Vickie make photocopies for you. Would that be sufficient?"

"Great!" Mayfield nodded.

Blair picked up the phone. "Vickie, could you come in here a minute, please?" Moments later, the AA appeared in the doorway.

"What can I do for you?"

Blair stood, crossing the room to hand the folder to his secretary. "Would you please get me copies of the contents of this file? It's evidence for Mr. Mayfield."

"Right away, sir." Vickie disappeared with the folder, and Blair went back to his desk.

"Everyone on campus that I've had contact with is supportive of my pregnancy, and of my choice to come back and teach the winter and spring terms. With the exception of these notes and the phone call . . . and today's graffiti, I've received no negative feedback at all. I'm not naive enough to think there won't be some dissension, but I never expected hate mail."

"There are always some kooks out there," Mayfield said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't worry about it, but do let us know if you receive anything else. I'll see what I can do to look into this for you."

"Will security be taking Polaroid's of the graffiti before it's cleaned up?" At Mayfield's nod, Blair continued. "Would you be so kind as to take two? I'd like one for my file."

"Why are you keeping such a detailed file? I mean, it's a good thing you did, but in your shoes, I would have burned those notes."

"I'm married to a cop." Blair grinned. "And I spent over four years riding along with him on his cases. I know how to keep a paper trail."

"Smart," the officer agreed. "I'll have that recorder up here ASAP. If you get more calls, we'd like to hear 'em, too."

"Thanks."

Vickie knocked once, then entered the office. Her face was drained of color as she handed the copies to the security officer, and the folder back to Blair. "How could anyone have that much hate?" Her voice trembled. "Are you okay, Blair?"

The professor quickly filed the repulsive folder and looked up at the AA. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks." She nodded and quickly left the room.

"Well, I guess that's it for now," Mayfield said, rising and offering his hand to Blair.

Blair stood and shook the officer's hand. "Thanks for taking care of this for me. You'll get me that Polaroid?"

"Somebody should be up in a few minutes."

"Okay, good." Blair watched as the security officer exited the room, then sat down with a heavy sigh. It was going to be difficult getting back to work after enduring yet another shock. He turned to his computer and stared at the monitor, hoping his muse hadn't packed up and left on a permanent vacation.

Mid-December:

"Good morning, Vickie," Blair greeted the young woman.

"'Morning, Blair. I've got something for you." She handed him a manila envelope addressed to "Dr. Sandburg, Rm. 216, Hargrove Hall, Rainier University."

Blair turned the envelope over in his hands, toying with the clasp before tucking it under his arm and turning back to his secretary. "Could you print up my schedule for next term?" he asked. "I need to know what days and hours I may have free to devote to the Cascade PD."

"I'll get right on that," Vickie answered, bringing up the schedule on her computer screen. "I'll bring it in as soon as it's printed."

"Okay. Thanks." Blair turned and entered his office, settling into the comfortable desk chair. He looked at the envelope he had dropped on the desk. Something about it made him hesitant to open it. Slowly, his fingers undid the clasp and peeled back the flap. Reaching inside, he pulled out a picture--a picture of himself. It was a candid shot, taken on campus, and it had been manipulated by an expert. In it, Blair wore lipstick and heavy eye makeup, and a very pregnant, very naked female body had replaced the conservative suit and tie which still effectively hid Blair's expanding waistline. The ringing of the phone startled him. He picked up the receiver and quickly hit the record button on his machine as the distorted voice began to speak.

"Did you get the package?"

"What business is it of yours?" Blair retorted.

"Are you looking at it now?"

Blair nodded, then swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah."

"That's what Ellison sees when he fucks you. That's what your cop husband wants--tits and ass. Does he suckle your breasts when you make love? Are you the one who always takes his cock up your ass? Think about it, Little Woman. You're nothing more than Ellison's whore."

Blair slammed the phone back onto its cradle and stuffed the offending picture back into the envelope. With shaking hands, he wrote the date and initialed the corner, then dropped it into his file, along with the cassette tape of the conversation. He rubbed his hands on his slacks. He felt dirty just handling the vile objects.

Vickie poked her head through the door. "All clear? I saw that you were on the phone, so I didn't want to disturb you." She stepped into the room. "Blair? Dr. Sandburg? Are you all right?" She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning down to get a good look at her boss.

"No. I'm not feeling so hot," Blair admitted. "Cancel the rest of my morning appointments, and call Dr. Lynne Casey for me, would you? Tell her I'm on my way down to see her."

"Yes, sir. Right away." She turned to hurry out to her desk.

Blair stood up slowly, stretching. He reached into a pocket for his car keys and headed out of his office, determined to put some distance between himself and his expanding nightmare.

"Your secretary sounded upset when she called. I cleared my calendar for you," Lynne said by way of greeting her patient. "What's the matter?"

"It's not the pregnancy," Blair admitted, "although it's indirectly related to it."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Blair hesitated. "I've been getting strange notes and disturbing phone calls at work, and someone even sprayed graffiti on my door."

"What kind of notes? What does the caller say?" Lynne looked perturbed. None of her patients had ever been the target of a stalker before.

"Both the notes and the phone calls refer to me as a whore," Blair whispered, choking on the word. "The caller says if I want to be a woman so badly, I should just, just . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say it.

Lynne leaned forward, placing a hand on his knee. "Blair, Sweetheart. Have you told Jim?"

"Are you kidding? Jim'd go ballistic! I haven't been threatened or anything, just harassed. There isn't anything Jim could do. I've already called campus security about it. They said they'd look into it, but nothing has come of the investigation."

"Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. This morning I got a picture." Blair hesitated briefly, then plowed onward. "It was taken candidly since I came back to campus."

"Do you feel threatened by it? Someone is watching you."

"Heck, yeah, I feel threatened! Whoever sent it manipulated my head onto a pregnant female body! Then the caller said that's what Jim sees when he makes love to me."

"Do you believe what he says?"

"Yes . . . no!" Blair shook his head. "God, I don't know. Jim says my masculine qualities are enhanced when I'm pregnant. He says he doesn't see me as feminine, yet the changes my body goes through turns him on. Why, Lynne? I've got breasts, and my stomach gets bigger every day. Won't be long until I won't be able to see my penis anymore. You know how that feels?" Lynne shook her head. "No, of course you don't. Well, it feels like shit. I might as well not have a dick considering how useful the damn thing is when I'm pregnant."

"Jim has told me you have self-esteem issues with the pregnancies. If it was this hard for you before, why did you put yourself through it a second time?"

"Because we want this child," Blair stated flatly. "And Jim just couldn't do the whole pregnancy thing. He couldn't."

"Did he in any way influence you against your wishes?"

"No! No, Lynne. It was my decision. I was the one who brought up the idea in the first place. Jim was totally against it. I had to convince him."

"That's what I thought, originally," Lynne admitted, "but now I wonder."

"I was happy, really happy," Blair said with a sigh. "This pregnancy has been going well, since we got the anemia under control. I finally got my doctorate and started my new job at Rainier. Everything was perfect. Then this shit started." He rubbed at his eyes, which had grown suspiciously wet as he spoke. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"You need to tell Jim," Lynne insisted. "Even if there's nothing he can do about the stalker, and I don't believe that's true, he can still be your strength and your support. That's what partners are for. That's why you're married, and not out on your own. Lean on him. Let him give you his strength."

"I don't know," Blair hesitated. "He's going to be so angry when he finds out."

"Are you afraid he'll hurt you?" Lynne studied the man seated across from her with concern.

"Never! Jim would never hurt me. But he's going to be angry. Really angry. I don't think I'm ready to say anything to him yet."

"Well, you know you can always call on me. I'm a doctor, not a counselor, but I do understand the stresses you're going through." She stood up. "Do you have to be back at work right away?"

Blair shook his head. "I told my secretary to clear my morning calendar."

"I'm going to call her and tell her to clear your afternoon calendar, as well." She rummaged briefly through the cupboards on the back wall and came back with a sample packet of pills. "These have been okayed for use with pregnant patients. I want you to go home, take these and get some rest."

"I can't go home. Jim would find out." Blair's eyes began to take on the glassy look of panic.

"Then you can stay here," Lynne decided. "I've got a cot in the back room you can use." She led the anthropologist into a small room off the back hall and handed him the pills and a cup of water. "Bottom's up." She watched as Blair reluctantly took the medication. "Now, make yourself comfortable. I'll wake you up when it's time to go home."

"Thanks, Lynne." Blair removed his suit coat and tie, slipped off his shoes, and pulled the lightweight blanket over himself. Within minutes, the pills had performed their function, and the young man was soundly asleep.

December 22 --
The First night of Chanukah:

Jim was worried. He had noticed a growing apathy in his lover that seemed to have no apparent cause. Glancing up at the calendar, he decided to make a move. "Chanukah started this evening. You haven't gotten out your menorah. And those latkes last year were to die for. Are you going to be making those again?"

Blair looked up from the floor, where he was stacking blocks into towers which their daughter was cheerfully destroying. "I don't feel much like celebrating this year. It's too much work."

"Are you going to services, at least?"

"Nah. I'd rather stay home with you and Laurene."

Jim hunkered down on the floor next to his partner and placed a palm against his forehead. "Are you feeling all right? You seem more tired lately. Maybe you should go see Lynne."

"Cut that out!" Blair dodged the hand checking his temperature. "This isn't anything Lynne can help. And, yes, I'm taking my supplements. Can't I just want to relax with my family?"

"Yeah," Jim answered slowly. "Nothing wrong with that. You just seem a bit preoccupied."

"There was a lot going on at school before the break," Blair explained. "And now I'm gearing up to teach classes again. It's been a while. Guess I'm a little nervous."

"You don't have anything to be nervous about," Jim assured him. "You love to teach. You come alive when you get in front of a classroom full of kids. I've watched you."

"Yeah," Blair agreed, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I guess I need to find a way to unwind, huh?"

"I can help with that," Jim said with a smile. "Isn't it about time the Munchkin here goes to bed?"

"It's a little early. . . ." Blair started to say. Jim's tongue darted out to trace a path around one ear. A quick breath of air over the dampness caused Blair's entire body to tingle. "Oh, uh . . . sure. Time for bed, Little One." He picked up the protesting toddler and carted her off to the nursery.

Up in the bedroom, Jim made sure all the supplies were handy. Blair had only recently been cleared for intercourse, and Jim wanted to make sure that his first time would be pleasant. He heard the hiss as his partner turned on the white noise generator for their daughter. He hated the way the machine lowered his own level of hearing to just above normal limits, but when his lover was close enough, he could still hear the comfort of his heart.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs caught his attention. Jim turned to see Blair take the final step and enter their bedroom. Wide blue eyes, dark with need, took in the fact that Jim was already undressed. He patted the mattress. "Come here."

Blair walked over and sat down, reaching out a tentative hand to caress Jim's pectorals. The gentle touch caused the sentinel to shiver with anticipation. He began the ritual of undressing his partner, peeling back the layers to reveal the exotic form of Blair's transforming body.

He pressed against Blair's shoulders, urging him to lie down, then stretched out beside him, worshipping the new curves with his sense of touch. Hands roamed over the slightly swelling breasts, down to the gentle rise of the growing belly. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed, leaning down to latch onto a peaking nipple with his teeth. He teased and pulled at the erect nub, until Blair began to thrash beneath him.

Blair's moans increased in intensity when Jim's fingers curled around the erection that bobbed against his swollen abdomen. Jim began stroking the shaft, at first with care, then stronger and tighter, until Blair was screaming at him to finish. "Not yet, Chief," Jim whispered, letting go of the twitching organ just before Blair got his blessed relief.

"Oh, God, Jim! Don't stop now!" his lover panted. He pressed his body against his mate's, but Jim wasn't ready to end it quite yet. Blair felt a cool, lubed finger slip past the tight muscle of his anus and he tensed against the invasion. Soft words of encouragement were whispered into his ear and he made a conscious effort to relax.

"That's good, Sweetheart. That's the way. It's been a while," Jim prattled on, slipping a second finger inside. "I want this to be good for you. You deserve nothing but the very best--believe that."

Blair nodded, swallowing hard and trying his best to control the raging reactions of his body. Jim's lips engulfed the other nipple, suckling the small mound. The younger man pressed back against the invading digits, impaling himself to the knuckles. "Ahhhh-uuunghhh," the moan was drawn out from his constricted throat.

"Almost there," Jim murmured, covering the panting mouth with his own. When he released the kiss-bruised lips, he slid his fingers out as well. "This is going to be so good," he promised. "Roll onto your side for me?"

"I want to see you," Blair begged. "I need to see you."

"Aw, Chief, it's too hard on you when you're pregnant. The baby gets in the way."

"Jim, please, it's important." There was a note verging on hysteria in the pleading voice.

Jim stroked Blair's forehead, brushing away the sweat-soaked locks of hair. "Calm down, Sweetheart. This is your show. Whatever you want." He grabbed an extra pillow from the bed. "Can you lift your hips for me?" Blair did as he was asked, and Jim slid the pillow under his lower back and buttocks for support. "Comfortable?" Blair nodded.

Kneeling between Blair's legs, he rested his hands on the bent knees as he carefully positioned himself at the puckered opening. With great care, he applied enough pressure to allow himself entrance. In one long, smooth stroke, he buried himself to the balls in the velvet heat. He paused, allowing his partner to adjust to the fullness. Again stroking Blair's forehead and cheek, he looked into the glassy blue eyes. "You let me do all the work here, understand? We'll save the gymnastics for after the birth."

"Just get on with it," Blair grunted, grabbing his own rigid cock and stroking it, trying to find release.

"Mine," Jim commanded, uncurling Blair's fingers and taking over massaging the rock-hard organ. Blair began to thrash beneath him, and Jim had to calm him with hands on his hips. "My turn," he said softly, beginning with slow, deep thrusts, gradually building up in intensity and speed.

A keening wail escaped Blair's throat as his orgasm swept through his body, spraying semen over his belly and chest, and onto Jim's pumping hand. He collapsed into a sweaty heap, nearly unaware that Jim came moments later. The larger man rolled off his pregnant partner, pulling the pillow from beneath his hips and gathering the shivering body into his arms. He pulled the covers over them, without bothering to clean up, as the tremors turned to outright shaking.

"Blair? Blair, Sweetheart, are you all right? What's wrong?"

The young man didn't answer, but molded himself against his lover, trying to become one with the other man. He buried his face in the juncture of Jim's neck and shoulder, and cried himself into exhaustion.

Jim lay for a long while after, stroking the damp hair and contemplating what would make Blair cry. His partner had been wound tighter than a top recently, but had remained uncharacteristically silent about the reasons behind it. He finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the steady beating of his lover's heart.

"What was that all about last night?" Jim asked over their breakfast of eggs and toast.

Blair looked up, his large eyes totally clueless. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Last night, in bed. You were so tense, I could have used you as a tuning fork. Then you cried yourself to sleep."

"I did?" Blair shook his head. "I dunno, man. Everything's fine."

"Blair Sandburg, remember the trouble you get into when you lie to me?" Jim's voice was as stern as any parent's. Blair dropped his eyes, staring at his plate. "Well?"

"There were some things going on at school before the break," he admitted.

"What kind of things?"

"Just things. Somebody's not thrilled having a gay professor on staff, I guess. It's nothing I can't handle."

"What happened?"

"Phone calls, disparaging notes. Nothing big. Don't sweat it."

"You seem to be," Jim challenged.

"Well, you know it's not just that," Blair explained. "There were all sorts of pressures. I had a deadline on a paper I was writing for publication, I had kids coming in at all hours asking for help. It was a madhouse at Rainier. I'm just tired."

Jim's face softened. "You need to take it easy. You're on vacation now. Try not to think about school."

"Easier said than done," Blair sighed. "It's a whole new ball game now. I'm not a grad student anymore. I'm a full professor. I'm expected to teach, advise and publish. Eventually, I'll be expected to leave my family and go out on expeditions. Anthropologists aren't allowed to sit on their butts in cozy offices for long. It's the nature of the profession."

"And you have to worry about all that now?" Jim asked, pulling the younger man into a tight hug.

"Guess not, when you put it that way," Blair murmured into the comfort of Jim's shoulder.

Christmas Eve:

The tree was up and decorated, and Laurene found it irresistibly fascinating. She toddled up to the fir, reaching for one of the bright mini-lights. "No!" she said, jerking her hand back as the heat of the tiny bulb pricked her finger.

"'No' is right, Muffin," Blair exclaimed, taking her hand and pulling her out of reach of the evergreen. "Don't touch. The tree is just for looking."

"She's attracted by the colors," Jim said, wandering in. "To sentinel vision, they're almost psychedelic. I have to keep vision dialed down when the lights are turned on."

"Really?" Blair said, the scientist coming to the fore. "Anything else I should know?"

"The tinsel doesn't help matters. It scatters the light, magnifying the effect--especially that holographic stuff you seem to favor. The fragrance is attractive, too," he added. "We might be better off using an artificial tree until Laurene is old enough to learn the dials."

"Why didn't you say something when we were out selecting the tree? Or while we were decorating?" Blair asked.

Jim chuckled. "You should see yourself at Christmas. You're like a little kid in the proverbial candy store. Your eyes light up, you get all obsessed about the 'perfect' tree, you're dragging the lights and ornaments out of storage before the Thanksgiving turkey gets cold. I didn't have the heart to tell you."

"That bad, huh?" Blair sighed. "Am I pathetic, or what?"

"No. You're enthusiastic. Who wouldn't love that? You just want Laurene to enjoy what you didn't have as a child. Nothing wrong with that."

"Thanks, man."

"For what?" Jim asked, smiling.

"For not saying that I'm nuts. I feel like one sometimes, you know."

"A nut?"

"Yeah. These damn hormones have my emotions all over the map. It's amazing that you haven't thrown me out on my arse before this."

"'Arse'?" Jim's amusement bubbled up into a full-blown belly laugh. "Where did you come up with that one?"

"My mom used to use it," Blair replied, blushing slightly. "Hippie or not, she was too much of a lady to say 'ass'."

"I see." Jim's laughter dropped to a chuckle. "Well, I happen to favor that cute little arse of yours. I wouldn't want to see it get bruised."

"Very funny, Ellison," Blair growled.

Jim wrapped his wild child in his arms and kissed him soundly. "You're not a nut, and you do have an attractive arse. One that I hope to get a piece of later tonight. Meanwhile, shouldn't we be cleaning up for the party?"

"And why are we hosting the Christmas Eve party here again?" Blair asked.

"Because, Darwin, it's easier on you if we do."

"How do you figure?" Blair wondered, looking around the cluttered living room.

"Because, if you get worn out, you can cash in early. Laurene is more comfortable in her own home, so we don't have to work as hard keeping her out of trouble. Your meds are here, in case you start feeling queasy. . . ."

"But there's so much to get done to get this place presentable!" Blair managed to free one arm from the embrace, and swept it over the messy room.

"I'll clean. You cook," Jim suggested.

"Oh, like that's any easier. You ever try standing, just standing, with twenty extra pounds hanging around your waist? Gets tiring pretty darn fast!"

Jim placed both hands on Blair's shoulders and steered him toward the couch. Sweeping a pile of newspapers onto the floor, he pushed his partner into the cushions. "You just rest. I'll clean and I'll give Leibowitz' Deli a call. They can do last-minute catering, can't they?" Blair nodded, slightly dumbstruck by his partner's decision.

Jim busied himself with picking up and straightening the accumulated clutter. Laurene toddled behind, "helping." Out of a sense of self-preservation, Jim finally corralled the youngster in her playpen.

The phone rang, and Blair, who was closest, picked it up. "Hello?"

"Who is . . . ?" Jim started to ask, thinking it was one of their friends calling about the party. He stopped in mid-question when he saw his lover blanch. He dialed up his hearing, so he could listen to the voice on the other end of the line.

"Merry Christmas, Jew. Have you given any more thought to what we discussed? Because if you can't do it, I'd be happy to do it for you."

"Leave me alone!" Blair hissed into the receiver. "How did you get this number, anyway?"

"I know all about you: where you live, what kind of car you drive, what you like to eat for lunch. I'll be waiting. Give Ellison what he really wants for Christmas--a wife."

Blair hung up on the caller, his hands shaking.

Jim came over to perch on the edge of the couch, massaging comforting circles in the small of Blair's aching back. "Who was that? And what the hell was he talking about?"

"You heard?" Blair's voice was small and tight.

Jim nodded. "I don't make it a habit to listen in on your private calls, but when I turned to look, you'd gone white. I was concerned. What was he talking about?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," Blair said, trying to wave Jim off.

"You've heard from this jerk before, haven't you?" he paused. "Haven't you?"

"Yes," Blair squeaked. "He's called the office a few times, left some notes under the door. This is the first time he's called here."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought I could handle it," Blair admitted. "At first, it was just harassing. No real threats. When someone scrawled graffiti on my door, Vickie called in campus security. I told them what was going on and they promised to look into it."

"Graffiti on your office door? What did they paint?"

"A star of David with a swastika crossing it out." Blair shivered at the memory. "It had Vickie so upset, she was crying."

"How about you?" Jim's voice was soft.

"I started to take them a little more seriously after that," Blair admitted. "But security was on the job, so I figured everything was okay."

"But you didn't want to tell me about it." Jim's voice sounded hurt.

"I was afraid you'd be angry. Angry at the guy for stalking me and angry with me for withholding the information for so long."

"I should turn you over my knee and spank you," Jim said, only half teasing. "But you'd probably enjoy it too much." That got a smile from the rattled anthropologist.

"I saved everything," Blair offered. "You want to see it?"

"Damn straight, I do!" Jim said, jumping up. "Where is it?"

"In my office at the university. They're all locked down for the winter break. We'll have to wait until January."

"Don't you have a key?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head. "Yeah, I do, but security has been doubled since this started. I don't want to set off any alarms."

"January second, and we're there," Jim stated. "I want everything you've got." He looked at the pale young man. "I'm canceling the party, kid. You're not up to this."

"Don't do that!" Blair protested, trying to sit up. Jim pressed him back into the couch.

"The stress isn't healthy for you," he told Blair. "You've been strung out for weeks now. Is that how long this has been going on?" Blair nodded. "God, kid, why didn't you say something?" The question was largely rhetorical, having already been answered. "There's too much to do getting ready for a big party, plus having all those people here. No. You need your rest. Your health is far more important than any celebration. The gang will understand."

"You're not going to tell them, are you?" Blair's panic was barely contained.

"You bet I am. Between us, we'll find this pervert and get him behind bars."

"Jim. . . . He threatened to castrate me. That's getting a little personal. I don't want that getting around the bullpen."

"They'll only know what they need to know. I promise," Jim assured him. "Now, why don't you close your eyes and rest a bit while I see what I can scrape together for dinner?"

January 2:

Blair carried the toddler braced on one hip, Jim following closely behind. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" he asked.

"Poor Flo wasn't going to be able to keep up with Laur much longer," Blair told him. "She's elderly, and Muffin here is faster than a speeding bullet. Eli tells me the daycare here is top-notch. The advantage is, I can visit her between classes, or when I don't have student appointments. I can even bring her up to the office when my calendar is clear. This is the best of both worlds. Laur gets high quality care and I get to spend more time with her, even though I'm working full time."

"I suppose," Jim reluctantly agreed. "Let's see what Laurene thinks."

They walked through the doors of the daycare center and were confronted with bright colors, a large assortment of toys and a plentiful staff. "Well, this must be little Laurene!" The woman walked up to the couple and tickled Laurene's chin. The child scrunched her face and pulled back.

"She's a little shy of strangers," Blair explained.

"Oh, they all are at this age. May I hold her?" With only a slight hesitation, Blair handed over his precious charge. Laurene began to wail. "My name's Judith. I'm in charge of the infants and toddlers. If you'll follow me?"

Jim was ready to snatch their crying child out of the arms of her abductor, but Blair held him back. "She has to get used to the people here," he whispered. They followed Judith into another room filled with child-safe toys, cribs for napping and other essentials for toddler maintenance, such as playpens, high chairs and a diaper table with abundant resources. "See, Jim? It's great!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jim replied, unconvinced.

"This is my favorite area," Judith said, walking over to a corner with a comfortable overstuffed chair and a bookshelf filled with colorful picture books. "This is Anna. She's a grad student working in early childhood development. Her specialty is learning disorders, but her job here is to read to the children." She turned to the mousy brunette seated in the chair. "Anna, this is our newest--Laurene. These are her daddies: Jim and Blair. Blair works here at the university as a professor in Anthropology."

"Hello." Anna's musical voice was in stark contrast to her rather pedestrian looks. Jim took an immediate liking to the young woman. "I know you," she said, turning to Blair. "I've seen you on campus. Weren't you the one with the controversial thesis on sentinels?"

"I successfully defended that paper last May," Blair told her.

"Congratulations! The grapevine on campus said Chancellor Edwards had it in for you. That's the only reason you didn't get your Ph.D. sooner." Leaning forward in the chair, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "We were all glad to see her go. She was as corrupt as they come--just between you and me." Blair nodded, but didn't comment.

"Aren't you the pregnant one, too?" Anna asked. "I seem to remember you being thin as a reed. You've filled out." She grinned.

"You're certainly perceptive," Blair responded, bemused by the gossip.

"When are you due?"

"June 8th, after school's out for the summer."

Anna took Laurene from the arms of her supervisor. The child settled immediately, bouncing delightedly in the grad student's lap.

"She likes you," Jim commented. He turned to Blair and smiled. "I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jim. You're the one that needed convincing." Blair grinned.

"She's all yours," Jim told the women.

"I'll be down to check on her after my class this morning," Blair added, stooping to kiss Laurene on the forehead. "You be a good girl, Muffin. Daddy will be back to see you in a few hours. Bye-bye."

"Bye-bye," the tot repeated, waving her chubby arms at her departing parents.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Blair asked, once they were out of the daycare center.

"I guess not," Jim agreed. "Time will tell."

"Got a minute to come up to my office? I'd like to show you that evidence I've collected on the guy who's been harassing me."

"Sure. That's why I came with you. Lead the way."

Hargrove Hall, Room 216:

"It was right here! I swear!" Blair dug in his file drawer, looking for the evidence folder.

"Maybe you misfiled it? Or gave it to your AA?" Jim suggested.

"No. I kept it right here, filed under 'E' for evidence. Vickie made photocopies of the contents for the security officer, but I kept the originals." Blair sat up, his face drained of color. "What do you think this means?"

"It could mean nothing," Jim said, trying to calm Blair down. "You've been off two weeks. You might have set it down somewhere and just forgot."

"I didn't, Jim," Blair said, getting a little testy over not being believed. "It was right here, in the file drawer."

"In that case, I'd like to talk to Simon about putting a guard on you. Someone didn't want me seeing this evidence, so it must be pretty condemning."

"Aw, Jim, do we have to? I've got classes to teach and young kids coming in here. I don't want to scare them off with some big goon standing guard every minute."

"That 'big goon' could possibly save your life," Jim retorted. "I'm not going to risk your life, or that of the baby, by ignoring this. I'll do my best to make sure your protection is understated. You'll hardly know he's there."

"So, what do we do next? Where do we start? We don't have anything to go on," Blair pointed out.

Jim looked thoughtful. "Well, actually, we do," he said. "Whoever took the folder has access to your office. Who would have a key, besides yourself?"

"Vickie has a spare, in case I forget or misplace mine," Blair said. "But she would never do this! You should have seen the look on her face when she saw the contents of the folder. She was sobbing, for crying out loud, when my door was painted with graffiti."

"It wouldn't be the first time a young woman used that type of deceit to cover a crime," Jim reminded him. "Who else?"

"The janitorial staff. I think Eli has a key, too," Blair mused.

"What about security?"

"I don't know. Possibly. Although with the plethora of keys around here, it wouldn't be hard for them to find someone to let them in."

"Well, it's a start." Jim pushed his chair back and stood. "I'll interview your AA first, as she's the most likely suspect at this point."

"I've got an Anthro 101 class to teach in fifteen minutes," Blair told him. "I'd kind of like to be here when you talk to her. She's really a sweet kid and a great secretary." He paused, looking into the steely blue eyes of the detective. "You can be a little intimidating at times, you know. I don't want you scaring her."

"I don't intend scaring her, unless she needs it," Jim growled.

Blair shook his head and grinned. "Why don't you come with me to class? We'll talk to her together after."

Blair hurried down the corridor toward the Anthropology classrooms, followed closely by his personal bodyguard in the form of one James Ellison, Detective, Cascade PD. Opening the door to the lecture hall, he found it packed with students. As he stepped inside, a smattering of applause rose to a thunderous din. Jim backed out into the hall, until he could bring his hearing down several notches.

Blair stood at the front of the hall, waiting patiently for the noise to die down. Peripheral vision caught Jim slinking through the door and up several rows to find himself one of the few vacant seats left in the room.

"Well," he began, "that was quite a welcome. Best ovation I've had at the start of a term. I hope you'll all still have that enthusiasm by the end of the class." Laughter skittered around the room. "Now, would someone please like to explain?" Several hands shot up, and he pointed to one of the male students.

"We think it's great you finally got your Ph.D. Congratulations."

Before Blair could comment, a female voice piped up. "Rumor has it that you're pregnant." Nervous chuckles were heard scattered throughout the hall. "Is it true?"

The room grew very quiet. Blair drew a deep breath. "Thank you, everyone. No one is happier than I am to be a permanent part of this staff. It's a relief to finally get paid to do this." More laughter was heard in the room. "As for the pregnancy--yeah. It's true. I've made no effort to hide the fact."

"How far along are you? When are you due?" Several voices overlapped.

"I'm four months now, and have a date with my doctor for June 8th."

"Do you know the sex?"

"It's a boy," Blair answered patiently.

"You're not showing," one girl pouted.

"That's not entirely true," Blair answered. "I've had several suits tailored for my maternity. They cut down on how much I show." He took off his jacket, turned sideways and smoothed down the fullness of his slacks. Exclamations of surprise rippled around the room. "It's not much yet, but you'll get to watch the entire show," he told them. "This class is a full semester. By the time you get out of here, I'll be full-term." Applause erupted again, and Blair had to motion for quiet.

"Enough of that," he said, getting down to business. "This is Introduction to Anthropology 101. If that's not what you signed up for, it's time to gather your books and leave." Only a very few students reluctantly stood up to go. Blair slipped his jacket back on and turned to the remaining class. "Anthropology is a wide field, encompassing many aspects of the human condition. There is Cultural Anthropology, which studies societies, both modern and ancient, and Physical Anthropology, which parallels archaeology and works closely with that field. There is also Forensic Anthropology, a fairly new addition, which studies the reasons behind individual deaths. . . ." Blair talked on, outlining the course and what would be covered. He ended the class with, "I want you to read the first four chapters in your text books by Thursday, plus turn in a three-page synopsis on Anthropology's contribution to the Twentieth Century. That's all, folks. See you in two days."

Most of the students filed out of the lecture hall, but a small crowd gathered around the new professor. Most were female, Jim noted, dialing up his hearing to listen in on the conversations. The young women were fascinated by Blair's pregnancy and wanted to know more. Jim found himself tensing slightly as the girls reached out to touch the growing mound of Blair's belly. His partner seemed to be taking the attention in stride, but Jim noted the slightly elevated heart rate. He stood, making his way down to the podium and elbowing his way through the crowd of admirers.

"Time to go, Professor," he said, taking Blair's elbow. The crowd reluctantly parted as their teacher was led from the room.

"Four chapters and the essay by Thursday," Blair reminded them.

Vickie sat in Blair's office, her hands resting in her lap, her head bowed.

"Did you hear or see anything unusual this morning?" Jim was asking.

"No, sir." She looked up, turning pleading eyes on Blair. "I really don't understand how anybody could say such hurtful things. If there was anything I could tell you that would help, I would."

"I know, Vickie. We're not accusing you," Blair assured her. "We just have to talk to everyone who might have had access to the office."

"Could someone have gotten the key to the office from your desk?" Jim asked.

Vickie shook her head. "When I'm away, I lock the drawers."

"All right." Jim nodded at the AA. "You can go. Thanks for your help."

"If there's anything else I can do. . . ."

"We'll contact you if we need more information," Jim told her. He watched as the AA closed the door softly behind herself as she left. "Well, Chief?"

"She didn't do this, Jim," Blair said. "So where do we look next?"

"I'll check with the security people, see what they might know. Then we can set up interviews with anyone else with access: the janitors, your fellow professors. I'm afraid everyone is suspect until we can narrow down the field a little."

"Anything I can do?"

"Yeah. If you get any more notes or phone calls, bring the evidence home. We'll need something solid when we get a suspect, and I don't want to risk anything else going missing," Jim told him.

"Gotcha." Blair stood up and grabbed his jacket. "I'm hungry. How about we go grab some lunch? My treat."

Mid-January:

Simon walked over and placed a folder on Jim's desk. "I need you to drop everything and concentrate on this case," he said.

Jim looked up from his pile of paperwork. "Can't. I have Blair's case to work on."

His boss looked sympathetic, but stood firm. "Megan can take over. I need you on this."

"I beg to differ, sir. I intend to find out who is stalking my partner."

"Have you made any headway on the case?" Simon asked.

"We've interviewed everybody with possible access to Blair's office. So far, all their alibis check out," Jim admitted, flipping open the folder Simon had given him and glancing at the contents.

"Has Blair gotten any more threats?"

"Not since the file folder disappeared." Jim sighed. "Blair's starting to relax. I'm afraid he's going to let his guard down at an inopportune moment, and wham!"

"Isn't there a chance that whoever was harassing him has moved on? Maybe it was a student who has since transferred out?" Simon suggested.

"I don't know, and I don't like taking chances. Blair's too important to me."

"I can't stop you from investigating on your free time, Detective," Simon said, "but I can dictate what you do while you're on the payroll. For now, Blair's case is a dead-end. I want you to concentrate on this one."

"Yes, sir," Jim grumbled as Simon walked off.

"I'm just pissed, is all," Jim said over dinner that night. He placed some of the Yakisoba noodles from his stir-fry onto Laurene's tray. "I don't mind being given new assignments, but Simon is brushing off your case like it wasn't important."

"Jim, chill," Blair told him, picking up one of the slippery noodles to hand to the toddler. "The threats have stopped. . . ."

"You don't know that for a fact," Jim interrupted.

"Well, I haven't gotten any in over two weeks," Blair amended. "And all of our possible suspects have turned up clean. Admit it, man, you don't have anything to go on. For all we know, I pissed off some undergrad and the kid has moved on."

"That's what Simon suggested."

"Well, maybe he's right. Until or unless I get more notes or phone calls, there isn't much you can do but spin your wheels." Laurene spit the noodle out and began banging on her tray. "Hey, Muffin! Didn't like that so much? Try this." He mashed a pea with his fingers and handed it to the toddler.

"What makes you think she's going to like peas, if she won't eat the noodles?" Jim asked. He was rewarded when their daughter pitched the food back at her daddy.

"Don't say it," Blair warned. "It's those damned sentinel taste buds of hers."

"Oh, sure. Blame everything on her sentinel senses."

"Jim, think about it," Blair said, switching almost automatically into lecture mode. "Her sense of taste is off the map. You remember what that was like." The sentinel had the grace to nod. "She's just learning to eat new foods. All the flavors are strange and unusually strong. Until she's old enough to learn the dials, it's going to be a tough call getting her to try anything that doesn't come prepackaged in neat little jars."

"Or even that," Jim reminded him. Laurene had become particularly fussy the past few weeks.

"I suppose it could have something to do with what's going on at school, too," Blair mused.

"How do you figure?"

"Well, things have been pretty tense around here for both of us. Even if she doesn't understand the reasons, Laurene reacts to our emotions."

"Which brings me back to the point I was trying to make," Jim said. "Simon has put me on this big kidnapmurder case, working with the Feds, no less, and has told me I have to pass your case off to Megan."

"Considering that there isn't much of a case to work on right now," Blair reasoned, "I wouldn't be so upset. If I start getting threats again, I'm sure Simon will let you help."

"He'd better, or I'll be turning in my shield and weapon."

February 14:

"Good morning, Sweetheart." Jim crawled across the bed to where his lover still lay, curled in the warmth of the blankets. Blair mumbled something and pulled the blankets up over his head. "Yes, you are getting up," he insisted, pulling the blankets down and placing a kiss in the sleep-rumpled hair.

"Do I have to?" Blair groaned as Jim pulled him into a sitting position. "I don't have classes today. I've got the day off."

"Well, I don't," Jim reminded him. "Up and at 'em. We'll shower, have breakfast, then you can enjoy the day with Laurene." Blair allowed himself to be pulled out of the comfort of the bed and led downstairs.

The shower was running and steam billowed out as Jim opened the bathroom door. He shed his robe and quickly divested Blair of the shirt and boxers he wore in lieu of pajamas. Guiding the pregnant man under the hot spray, Jim wrapped his arms around the expanded waistline. "Now, isn't this nice?" Blair nodded, leaning his head back onto Jim's shoulder.

Jim soaped his hands and began running them over the rounding contours of his lover's body. He caressed the twin mounds of Blair's breasts, delighted when his touch caused the nipples to harden and a moan of contentment to slip from Blair's lips. His hands slipped lower, lovingly worshipping the growing rise of Blair's belly. "Our son," he murmured, still awed by the fact.

"Mm-hmm," Blair agreed, pressing his body against Jim's.

As one hand continued to stroke Blair's abdomen, the other roamed lower, seeking out the slowly growing erection below.

"Is my penis still there?" Blair asked, his voice still languid with sleep and contentment.

"Missing it already?" Jim chuckled.

Blair nodded, his head still resting back on the pillow of Jim's shoulder. "You know it. The biggest disadvantage for a man being pregnant, is not seeing his dick for months."

Jim's smile grew. "Told you so."

"Better be careful, Hot Shot, or you won't be seeing it for months, either." Blair groaned and ground his buttocks into Jim's groin as his lover wrapped strong fingers around his cock and squeezed, beginning a slow fisting of the engorged organ.

"We'll just see about that," Jim replied smugly, proud of the reactions he knew he could draw from Blair with just a touch. Pregnancy seemed to raise the sensitivity of the young man's erogenous zones to nearly sentinel proportions. He bent his head to suckle and nip at the exposed throat.

Blair cried out, thrusting his hips hard in an attempt to release the pressure which grew relentlessly in his groin. Jim picked up his pace, pounding his fist up and down the length of Blair's cock, feeling when his balls began to retract in preparation for his orgasm. Blair arched his back and stiffened, crying loud enough to wake the neighbors as his climax overtook him, spraying semen onto his belly.

Jim wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling him tight against his own body and thrust hard against Blair's ass until his own release left him limp and complete. Blair turned in the now-loose embrace and tipped his head back, offering himself up for a long, slow devouring of his mouth.

"I love you." Jim smiled down at the satisfied man languishing in his arms.

"You sure know how to get a guy's attention." Blair smiled back, wrapping his arms around Jim's neck. "But don't you think maybe we'd better wash up now?"

Jim noticed a distinct drop in the water's temperature and quickly resumed the gentle hand-soaping of his lover's body. He was able to complete the hair wash as well, before the water turned cold. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped Blair in a large terrycloth towel, before pulling him close for one last kiss.

By the time Blair had come back downstairs from getting dressed, Jim had breakfast well under way. Laurene sat in her highchair, throwing cereal and her drinking cup onto the floor. He bent over, not an easy task considering the expansion of his waistline, and picked up the dropped cup. "Hey, Muffin. That's for drinking, not for throwing." Laurene promptly picked up the cup and tossed it back onto the floor. Blair bent down, breathing heavily, to pick it up once more.

"Leave it, Chief," Jim said, walking over to give Blair a hand up. "If she's going to be stubborn, she can just go without for a little bit. Sit down." He guided Blair to his place at the table.

It was then that Blair noticed the red rose placed across his plate. He picked it up and sniffed the delicate scent, then looked up into the grinning face and sparkling blue eyes of his lover. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Wow. Aren't we being the romantic one today?"

"It's a celebration of sorts. You're doing great at Rainier, I finally wrapped up that kidnap case of Simon's and we haven't heard from your stalker in over five weeks." He bent down to kiss Blair on the temple. "I thought maybe we'd get Megan to babysit tonight, and we could go out to dinner and a show."

"Sounds nice," Blair agreed. "Now, how about some of those eggs?" He moved the rose aside, making sure to place it where it wouldn't get crushed.

"Hey, Muffin, what's up?" Blair lumbered across the room to where Laurene was standing on tiptoes, trying to reach a rack of CDs which sat next to the stereo system. "That's a no-no, Laur." He pulled the toddler gently away, trying to distract her with a stuffed toy.

Laurene twisted out of his grasp and ran giggling across the living room. Blair gave chase, his pregnant body not nearly so nimble as that of the 15-month-old. "Stimky!" Laurene shouted.

"Yeah, you're a stinker, all right," Blair agreed, puffing in the effort to keep up. He stopped in his tracks as he watched his daughter loosen the Velcro closures on her soiled diaper, dropping it to the floor. "Laurene Victoria Sandburg-Ellison!" Blair cried, taking off after the bare-bottomed child once more.

The toddler rounded the loveseat and stopped, allowing herself to be captured. Blair picked her up under her armpits and carried the smelly child to the nursery to change her. "Stimky!" she repeated, as he laid her on the changing table, grabbing at a moist wipe to clean her dirty butt.

"Yeah, I guess you are," Blair agreed. "I can't say I blame you for wanting to get rid of that thing. With your senses, it must have smelled worse than the landfill." He shook his head, wondering if he would survive long enough to teach his daughter the finer skills of her sensory dials.

Once he had her cleaned and changed, he went to pick up the discarded diaper and dispose of it properly. With two sentinels in the house, Blair had to be particularly vigilant about disagreeable odors.

That finished, he crossed the hall to the bathroom. Another downside of being pregnant was the frequent need to urinate. The sounds issuing from the bathroom intrigued the curious toddler, so she wandered in to watch. "Pee-pee!" She pointed a curious finger, nudging at Blair's penis.

"Yup. Daddy had to go pee-pee," Blair confirmed, tucking himself back into his pants.

Laurene pulled at the front of her diaper, looking in. "Pee-pee."

Blair sighed and stuck in a finger down the diaper to check. "Did you just go pee-pee too, Muffin?"

"Pee-pee!" Laurene said again, poking an insistent finger into Blair's groin.

"Ah. . . ." Blair sighed as insight finally dawned. He squatted down so that he was at eye level with his daughter. "That's daddy's penis. I use it to go pee-pee. Boys have penises. Little girls don't." He pulled Laurene's diaper out from her tummy and pointed. "See? No penis. Daddy is a boy, you are a girl." Laurene frowned, obviously disappointed.

"How about we read a story?" Blair suggested, eager to distract the youngster. Laurene's eyes lit up at the idea of one of her picture books. Blair scooped her up, bouncing her on one hip, as he went to peruse the bookshelf in the nursery. "How about this one?" he asked the toddler, pulling Jingle Dancer off the shelf.

They settled onto the couch, Laurene snuggled on Blair's lap. He opened the over-sized book and Laurene excitedly pointed at the colorful watercolor illustrations of the Native American girl in the story. Blair attempted to read, but Laurene kept trying to turn the pages before he was finished. Finally, he gave up, closing the book.

"Maybe we should try something else. How about lunch?" Blair stood, taking the toddler over to her playpen and depositing her there with a number of toys.

He opened the refrigerator and dug around, finally producing half of a squash. Cleaning the seeds, he sprinkled the vegetable with some brown sugar and put it in the oven to bake. He pulled a box of macaroni and cheese off the shelf and began to prepare one of Laurene's favorite meals.

They settled down together--Laurene in her high chair, Blair sitting next to her. "Macanoni!" Laurene declared, delighted with her lunch. The spoon Blair provided for her and helped her with, didn't get much food into her mouth, so she resorted to eating with her fingers.

Blair mashed a small bit of his squash and offered it to her on the tip of his fork. Laurene took one sniff and shook her head. "No, no!"

"Aw, come on, Muffin. Give it a try. It's really good!" Blair took a bite, rolling the food around on his tongue, savoring the sweet flavors.

Laurene laughed and tried to grab at Blair's lips, thinking her daddy was making funny faces. When he tried again to present the squash, she pushed him away. "Macanoni!" She went back to eating her lunch. Blair sighed with resignation, finishing the squash himself and wondering how he had managed to raise such a finicky daughter.

When Jim came home that evening, he found Blair and Laurene curled up on the couch, sound asleep. He approached the pair with caution, not surprised when Laurene woke up, tracking him with her sensitive hearing.

"Shhh, Sweetie," Jim admonished, picking her up. "Daddy needs his rest." He took Laurene into the nursery and checked her diaper, then laid her in her crib and turned on the white noise generator so that she could sleep.

He walked back out into the living room and sat down on the edge of the couch, watching his lover slumber. Blair stirred, and soon blinked sleepy blue eyes at his partner. "What you doin' home so soon?" he slurred.

"It's after five," Jim informed him. "Megan is coming at six to babysit so that we can go out to dinner, remember?"

"Do we have to?" Blair asked, sitting up stiffly.

Jim began to massage Blair's back with the heel of one hand. "What's the matter, aren't you feeling well?"

"I'm fine," Blair assured him. "It's just that I forgot how much energy it took to entertain a toddler all day. Going back to work tomorrow sounds like a vacation!"

"Would you just like to stay in, then? Laurene is napping. I could call out for a pizza, and we could watch the boxing match on ESPN."

"Sounds like a winner to me," Blair agreed. There was a lull in the conversation as he relaxed into the soothing rubdown, sighing in contentment. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Professor?"

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

Mid-March:

Lynne put away her instruments and smiled at her patient. "Everything looks fine, Blair. You're doing great. How are things going at home?"

"Fine. It's getting harder keeping up with Laurene, but Jim helps out a lot."

"How about work?"

"Good. It's actually a relief to go in on Mondays. I feel like I'm getting time off for good behavior." He chuckled.

"Raising a toddler wasn't meant to be easy, especially at the beginning of your third trimester. The exercise will do you good, but don't overdo. Make sure Jim does his share of the work," Lynne warned. "When does spring break start?"

"Not for another week and a half. Jim said he'd take some time off and we'd take some short day trips to the mountains and the coast. Let Laurene see a bit of the world. She's been cooped up most of the winter, and the weather looks promising."

"Sounds like a plan," the doctor agreed. "Just remember to get plenty of rest. Have Jim massage your lower back every night. Tell him it's doctor's orders."

Blair grinned. "Thanks, Lynne. I'll do that." He finished dressing, then stepped out into the reception area where Jim waited.

"Well?"

"Clean bill of health," Blair announced. "We're cleared for our third trimester." He led the way to the door of the clinic, unaware that he was being watched.

Friday, March 30:

"Tell me again why you have to go in today? Aren't you still on spring break?" Jim walked into the bathroom where Blair was finishing up his morning shave.

"Got a few things I have to get in order before spring term starts on Monday," Blair clarified, "and I didn't want to spoil our weekend."

"I was hoping you'd spend time down at the PD with me," Jim pouted.

"I've been spending time with you down at the PD," Blair reminded him. "Every day of my so-called vacation."

"But it's been so nice having you back."

"Get used to it, Ellison. It's back to work for me on Monday." He wiped the excess shaving cream from his face and turned to the moping detective. "I won't be long. No more than an hour or two. I can be down to the station no later than noon, possibly sooner."

"Okay." Jim sighed. "Just try to make it sooner."

Blair edged his seven-month bulk past the sentinel blocking the bathroom door and headed for the stairs to their bedroom to get dressed. "Hey, Jim," he called down moments later. "Can I get some help with my shoelaces?"

Dressed comfortably in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Blair made his way down the deserted hallways of Hargrove Hall toward his office. As he put his key in the lock, the door swung open, having already been slightly ajar. Cautiously, he pushed the door open wider. The sight that met his eyes horrified him.

His office was in shambles. Books and artifacts had been pulled from shelves and lay strewn on the floor. The trash can, which apparently hadn't been emptied, was tipped, spilling its contents onto the floor as well. But the most disturbing thing to Blair's mind was the destruction of his precious pictures--the ones he had so lovingly arranged on his desk his first day at work. The glass was smashed, the frames were bent, and the pictures torn and defaced. He took a step into the office, then everything went black.

He awoke with his head throbbing mercilessly. He was lying on a small cot in what appeared to be a storage room. A single, bare bulb lit the darkness. Metal shelves lining the walls were filled with miscellaneous cast-off items. A small sink in one corner and a folding metal chair were the only other furnishings in the cramped room.

A harsh voice assaulted his ears. "It's about time you woke up. I must have hit you harder than I thought."

Blair blinked at the harshness of the bulb lighting the room, trying to focus his eyes despite the throbbing in his right temple. "Where am I?"

"Oh, that's a good one!" the voice laughed. "A real classic."

Blair's vision finally cleared enough to bring the speaker into focus. "Mayfield? Kurt Mayfield? Why?"

"You figure it out," Mayfield hissed. "What did I tell you I was going to do?" He pulled a gun and pointed it at the young professor. "Stand up." When Blair didn't respond immediately, he waved the weapon to emphasize his words. "I said, stand up!"

Blair swung his legs off the cot and balanced on the edge, trying to regain some equilibrium. Grabbing hold of the metal shelving next to the bed, he pulled himself to his feet, holding tight in order to stay upright.

"Now strip," Mayfield told him. Blair shook his head in disbelief, tightening his grip on the shelves. "I'm getting mighty tired of having to tell you everything twice," his kidnapper growled. "Take off your clothes--all of them!" He poked the barrel of his gun into Blair's abdomen and the young man let go of the shelves.

Slowly, Blair pulled the t-shirt off over his head. He toed off his shoes, then shoved the sweat pants down from his swollen waistline. He stepped out of the sweats and stood before his captor wearing only an undershirt, boxers and his socks.

"I said all of it. Now!"

The gun prodded at his waistline once more and Blair shivered. He pulled the undershirt over his head, letting it drop on the floor. His chest was now bared to the leering eyes of his tormentor. "I need help with the socks," he said softly. "I can't bend over anymore."

"Give me your foot," Mayfield commanded. Blair lifted first one foot, then the other, as Mayfield stripped off his socks. "Now the boxers. Come on!"

Blair hesitated for a moment before slipping off the last of his clothing. He stood naked before his captor in the cold, stark light of the small room. Mayfield nodded his approval, his smile feral. He reached to a nearby shelf, picking up a can of shaving cream and a disposable razor. "Shave." When Blair looked at him blankly, Mayfield shoved the items into his hands and pointed. "There's a sink and a mirror over there. Shave your chest, and make it good."

Blair walked over to the small sink, vividly aware of the gun tracking his progress. He opened the can and squirted his palm full of the foam. He spread it over his chest and carefully began the denuding process. He was especially careful around the small mounds of his breasts. The hormones he took to sustain the pregnancy had lessened the amount of hair on his chest, but it was still a job that would take a while. Twenty minutes later, he drew the blade down his belly, shaving the arrow of hair that went to his navel. Taking a towel, he wiped the excess foam away and turned to face Mayfield.

"Very good." Mayfield approved of the smooth, bare flesh. He tossed a balled up piece of fabric at his captive. "Here, put this on."

Blair caught the pale yellow mass and shook it out. He was faced with a thin cotton dress, cut full enough to accommodate his pregnant belly. He pulled it over his head, grateful for anything to cover his nakedness.

"Good, good. Now come back over here." Mayfield indicated the cot. Blair crossed the room and sat on the edge of the mattress. "Lie down. On your back."

"I shouldn't be on my back," Blair argued. "My pregnancy is too advanced. It's uncomfortable and could be dangerous."

"Like I give a flying shit about your comfort! On your back!" Mayfield hit Blair's stomach hard with the butt of his gun. His captive cried out and fell backwards onto the bed. Liking the reaction he got, he hit him again. Low moans of agony issued from Blair's throat.

Mayfield reached into his back pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs. He locked one bracelet around Blair's right wrist, then wove the connecting chain through the sturdy metal bars of the headboard before snapping the other bracelet onto his left wrist. He then took a length of rope and grabbed Blair's ankle, preparing to tie him down further.

The pain of the initial attacks was beginning to fade and Blair began to struggle. He managed to free his foot, kicking his captor in the groin. Mayfield buckled with a surprised cry. He hadn't expected the young man to fight back. Blair squirmed on the bed, trying his best to slip his hands out of the tight confines of the handcuffs.

Mayfield stumbled to his feet, still doubled over. "Bitch!" he shouted, as he came at Blair with the gun once more. Another quick tap to his temple put Blair out cold. Mayfield took the ropes and tied Blair's feet to the bed with his legs spread wide. Once his prisoner was tightly bound, Mayfield brought over a damp cloth, bathing Blair's bloodied face.

The coolness brought him back to consciousness, but once there, Blair prayed for blessed oblivion again. Mayfield was sitting on the edge of the cot, with an array of makeup spread out on Blair's chest. He picked up the mascara and opened the tube.

"Now hold real still," Mayfield instructed. "I wouldn't want to put out one of those pretty eyes." He stroked the mascara onto Blair's lashes, taking time to build up a heavy coat. Unsatisfied with the final results, he picked up a small box with a pair of false eyelashes. As he started to apply the adhesive to Blair's lids, the young man began to fight as much as his restraints allowed. "Now, now. I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mayfield cautioned, picking up the gun that lay on the cot beside him and pressing it into Blair's side. "You just lie real still and let me work."

Blair ceased his struggles, forcing himself to lie still while the maniac who held him prisoner applied the lashes. Eyeliner and garish blue shadow were next, followed by blush and bright red lipstick. By the time he was finished, Blair looked like a common street whore.

"Very nice," Mayfield approved, patting one cheek. Blair flinched at the intimate touch. "I hate to do this, but I really have to go now. Gotta keep up appearances, you know." He stood and produced a ball gag from the shelf next to the bed. Slipping the elastic cord around Blair's head to secure the gag, he stuffed the ball between the young man's teeth, causing him to choke. "Don't worry about that," Mayfield's voice was oddly calming. "You'll get used to it."

Kurt Mayfield stood and took one last look at his captive. Grabbing a spare set of handcuffs, he stuffed them into his pocket. Blair resumed his struggles, vainly trying to cry out as Mayfield opened the door of his prison. Flipping the switch as he exited, Mayfield left his prisoner in darkness.

Jim looked down at his watch, then up at the clock on the wall: 12:30, and still no Blair.

Megan walked by his desk. "Shouldn't you be out to lunch, Love?"

"I'm waiting on Blair. He said he'd be here by noon at the latest." Jim glanced at the clock again: 12:31.

"You know Sandy," Megan said, grinning. "If he's at work at Rainier, he probably forgot all about the time. Maybe you should go surprise him."

"Yeah, I think I will," Jim said, rising to grab his coat. "Want to join us?"

"Thanks. I think I will." Megan grinned, following the detective from the bullpen. She settled herself in the passenger seat of the truck, fastening her seatbelt as Jim pulled out of the parking garage. "If school doesn't start until Monday and both of you are at work, where's Laurene today?" she asked, turning to look at her companion.

"Mrs. McGinty kindly offered to watch her during spring break. Laur is getting to be quite a handful, though. I think Flo will be glad when Blair can take her back to daycare."

"How's that working out?"

"Great! Laur loves the staff and has the chance to interact with others her own age. Blair eats his lunch down there and frequently takes her out to spend time with her on campus. It's been a real boon for us both."

"Sounds like the perfect solution," Megan agreed.

They rode in silence the next few blocks. Jim pulled into the nearly-deserted parking lot, angling in to a spot next to Blair's Volvo. "Well, at least he's still here," Jim commented, cutting off the engine and stepping out of the truck. Megan followed, and they walked across the Commons to Hargrove Hall.

Megan hesitated at the fountain. "Do you ever think about that day?"

Jim glanced over his shoulder and shuddered, but kept walking. "Not any more often than I have to," he admitted.

"I wonder what Sandy thinks, having to pass that every day?"

"That was a rough time in our relationship," Jim admitted. "It took some time before I could apologize and he could forgive. But we've moved past that. I don't ever want to think about losing him again."

They entered the old building and took the stairs to the second floor. As they entered the hallway that led to Blair's office, Jim paused, then took off at a jog.

"Jim! What's the matter?" Megan asked, running to catch up.

"I can't hear him." Jim picked up his pace.

"What do you mean, you can't hear. . . ." Megan plowed into the back of the tall detective as he stood in the open doorway to Blair's office. "Oh, my God!"

"He's gone," Jim said, unnecessarily.

They walked into the trashed room. Megan turned a full circle, taking in the destruction. "Someone really had it in for poor Sandy," she commented, walking over to where the smashed pictures lay on the floor. She picked up the one Simon had taken of the couple stealing an illicit kiss. Blair's face had been scratched out so maliciously that the photo had a hole through it.

"Look at this." Jim squatted in the middle the floor, near the door. When Megan walked over, he pointed to the splatters of blood on the hardwood.

"Don't touch anything," Megan reminded him. "I'm calling this in."

Ignoring his colleague, Jim touched the tip of his finger in one droplet of blood and brought it to his mouth. The coppery taste exploded across his tongue, bringing with it minute traces of iron and hormones: components no human being should be able to taste. Jim was certain an analysis would show this was Blair's blood. He looked up, scanning the immediate area with his senses wide open, zeroing in on any trace of his beloved.

Mayfield returned hours later, bringing with him a sack of Wonder Burgers. The scent was enough to make Blair queasy. His stomach churned and he choked on the bile that rose in his throat. Mayfield watched with dispassion, eating his lunch while Blair vomited, trying hard not to aspirate the liquid when the ball gag got in the way. Finally, not wanting his prisoner to choke to death, Mayfield stood and pulled the gag out, allowing Blair to empty his stomach.

He replaced the gag, then calmly finished his meal and balled up the sack, tossing it in the trash. He sat for a few minutes, enjoying the sight of Blair's filthy face and clothing. Finally, he rose and went to the sink to moisten a cloth. He wiped up the mess from Blair's face, then looked at the soiled dress. "Too bad," he clucked, grabbing at the neckline and ripping the fabric, exposing Blair's chest.

He sat back once more, lighting up a cigarette and watching Blair, who lay quietly, watching him with equal hatred. He reached out and stroked the curved mound of a breast. "You make a pretty woman, Little Lady," he sneered. Blair flinched under the intimate touch. "Wonder what it would be like to fuck that pretty mouth of yours?" He unzipped his pants, stroking his erection as Blair looked on in horror.

Mayfield stood and looked at the alabaster whiteness of the newly exposed skin on his captive's chest. He took one last puff on his cigarette and ground out the stub on a puckered nipple. Blair's screams were muffled by the gag, as Mayfield dropped his pants, grinning wickedly.

He crawled onto the bed, leaning over to let his bobbing cock wave in Blair's face. He pulled the ball gag out and replaced it quickly with his engorged penis. He rammed the organ deep into Blair's throat, choking him. When he pulled partially out, Blair bit down, hard.

Mayfield howled, falling back onto Blair's bruised abdomen. "You fucking bitch!" he shouted. "You're going to pay for that!" He shoved the ball gag back into place and crawled off his captive to nurse his injury.

When he finally returned, he had a pack of cigarettes with him. He lit them, one by one, methodically burning his way across Blair's exposed breasts. Despite the gag, Blair screamed, until his voice was too hoarse to continue. Mayfield rent the thin fabric of the dress, exposing Blair's belly and genitals. He used the rest of the pack on the pregnant swell of Blair's abdomen, then fetched a fresh pack.

"An eye for an eye, whore," Mayfield growled, lighting up a cigarette from the fresh pack. "Or perhaps that should be 'a dick for a dick'." Blair's eyes widened in fear. Unable to see past the rise of his belly, he felt when his captor lifted his penis, applying the burning end of the cigarette to the glans. He began to thrash, doing his best to free himself from the nightmare. He tried to scream past the gag, but his throat was raw and nothing more than a strangled sob escaped. Mayfield took a tighter hold on his genitals, carefully making sure to cover both penis and scrotum with circular spots of agony. Blessedly, Blair passed out before he was finished.

Saturday, March 31:

"I never should have let him continue at Rainier," Jim said, berating himself. "When he started getting those threats, I should have pulled his ass out of there and put him under twenty-four hour guard."

"Jim, you couldn't have known. Sandy went for nearly three months without any signs of harassment. It was natural to think that the person had moved on and Sandy was safe," Megan reasoned.

"But he wasn't safe, was he? Now he's gone. We don't know if he's dead or alive, and everyone is still on spring break. It's going to be difficult tracking everyone down to re-interview them."

"Simon has all of Major Crime on this one. We'll find Sandy, don't worry."

Simon walked up to his two detectives and looked down on the distraught Ellison. "You're no good to us like this, Jim," he said gently. "Go home, take care of your daughter and let us look for Blair."

"I can't do that, Simon," Jim replied. "Blair's counting on me to find him, wherever he is, and get him out safely. There's no way I can just sit at home and wait for him to be delivered to me."

"I realize that," Simon said, shaking his head. "But we have to track down all the people we've interviewed and interview them again. We'll go on from there. I want you to go home and get some rest. Spend some time with Laurene. Assure her that her daddy will come home again."

"I don't want to lie to her, Simon," Jim said, fear coloring his voice.

Simon softened and patted Jim's shoulder. "You won't have to," he assured. "Just go home and tell her that her daddy's coming home."

"I don't know, Simon. I can't. I have to be a part of this investigation," Jim repeated.

"I promise," his boss vowed. "Just as soon as we've rounded everyone up, someone will call. You can come back down to the station and participate in the interview process." He turned to Megan. "Connor, see to it that he gets home, will you?" Megan nodded at the captain. "And stay with him, if you have to, to see that he rests and stays out of trouble."

"Yes, sir," she answered. Taking Jim by the elbow, she pulled him up off the bench in the hall. "Come on, Jimbo. Let's get you home."

There wasn't a single spot on his body that didn't hurt. As his sinuses filled from his crying, Blair was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe past the ball gag. Misty eyes tracked his tormentor around the room. Mayfield seemed content, for the moment, to observe the results of his handiwork. Blair's choking finally brought him over to the cot.

"Having trouble breathing, Little Lady?" Blair nodded weakly, hope warring with fear in his eyes. Mayfield bent over and pulled the gag from between his teeth.

At first, Blair couldn't even close his mouth, his jaw frozen in place from wearing the gag for nearly twenty-four hours. He drew ragged breaths down his inflamed throat, gasping in oxygen to starved lungs.

When he had finally settled into a more natural breathing pattern, Mayfield pulled up his chair beside the bed and brought out another pack of cigarettes. "Maybe we should try this again," he said. "You passed out on me last time. That spoiled the fun." He reached out to caress the mounds of Blair's breasts with an almost gentle touch. The burns from the day before were still raw, some already beginning to fester with infection. Blair tried to cry out from the touch, but his voice was completely gone. Mayfield grinned. "I see the gag won't be necessary anymore. All the better." He lit a cigarette.

The day dragged by for Jim. He watched Laurene and Megan play on the floor, chattering away with their "girl talk," as Megan called it. He glanced at the phone for the hundredth time, willing it to ring, but it remained obstinately silent.

"Maybe I should check in with Simon," he suggested, reaching for the phone.

"Ah, ah, ah. . . ." Megan scolded, shaking a finger at the detective. "The more you call, the more you slow down the investigation. Simon put his best men on this. They'll call as soon as they have something."

"I'm Simon's best man," Jim argued. "I should be working the case." The phone rang. Megan glanced up sharply as Jim answered. "Yeah, okay, Simon, thanks. I'll be there."

"Did they find Sandy?"

"No, but they rounded up the suspects. I'm going down to the station to help with the interviews. Can you stay here with Laurene?"

"Happy to, Love." Megan picked up the child and walked with Jim to the door. "Try not to worry. Something's going to come up soon. You'll find him, Jim."

"I just hope we're not too late." Jim grabbed his jacket and headed out into the chill of the early spring evening.

Sunday, April 1:

The interview process had proceeded throughout the night. Dawn was dusting the eastern sky with pale pink wisps as Jim sat back in his chair, defeated.

"That's the last of them," he sighed. "All their stories check out. What does that leave us?"

"Have you spoken to the campus security guy lately?" Simon asked.

"He's off along with everyone else," Jim answered. "There was nobody connected with the campus who could have been there Friday morning."

"Are you sure?" Simon prodded. "We just assumed nobody was there. Could it be that there's a security man on staff even during vacation breaks?"

"Possibly," Jim mused. "It would make sense on a campus that size." His curiosity stirred, Jim stood up. "Let's go check it out." He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Mayfield stood by the side of the cot, a small contraption of leather held in one hand. "Bet you wonder what this is, don't you, Little Lady?" he sneered. Blair took one look and squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he didn't want to know.

Mayfield fondled Blair's genitals, stroking gently over the burned flesh. Blair was exhausted to the point that he could no longer fight his tormentor. Mayfield was free to do as he pleased to Blair's ravaged body, and all the young man could do was try to escape into the blessed realm of fantasy. A fantasy where Jim burst through the door and rescued him, took him home and soothed all the pain and terror away.

Blair grimaced as his body betrayed him. The gentle massage of his penis eventually caused the organ to swell, magnifying the pain of the cigarette burns a hundred-fold. "Nice. Very nice," Mayfield murmured. When his organ was fully engorged, he felt the warm softness of a leather cockring being slid into place. Then his scrotum was pulled and another strip of leather, called a "balls stretcher," was fastened around the sac to prevent Blair's testicles from contracting in orgasm. Between the two small pieces of leather, Blair knew that he was in for an uncomfortable time. He and Jim had occasionally used cockrings in sexual play, to enhance and prolong the experience. But in this case, all the device served to prolong was the agony.

Mayfield grinned, enjoying the slow torture of his captive. "Now, what we've all been waiting for." He pulled a pocket knife from his jeans and opened the largest blade. It had been recently sharpened and glinted brightly in the light of the single bulb. He traced the blade lightly along the underside of Blair's penis, drawing blood. Blair began to shake uncontrollably, as he realized what was finally going to happen.

"Excited, are we?" Mayfield hissed. "You've waited a long time for this moment, haven't you, Little Lady? Now's the time for your transformation. Without your dick and balls, you can truly become the woman you've tried so desperately to be." The knife trailed down to Blair's testicles, nicking the sac.

Blair's heart rate soared, until he feared the organ would burst from his chest, or he'd die of a heart attack. Either alternative was preferable to what was about to happen.

The knife traced around the base of his penis, cutting a bit deeper with each pass. Blair opened his mouth to scream, even though his ravaged throat was no longer able to make a sound.

Jim raced back to the campus, pulling up his truck near the security offices. The building was dark as he approached the door. Simon was on his heels and backup was only minutes away.

Circling the building, Jim checked all the entrances. They were locked down tight. At Simon's nod, Jim kicked in the front door, barreling into the main office. He stopped just inside, to scan the room with his senses. Gun held close to his chest, he inched into the dark room, dialing up his sight to better see obstacles in his way. Simon covered his back, following his detective.

They walked through the lobby, following a hallway down past a row of smaller offices. "Simon," Jim hissed quietly.

His boss skidded up behind him. "What is it, Jim?"

"I hear heartbeats."

"How many?"

Jim listened carefully. "Two. No, three!" Jim's eyes grew wide. "Simon, it's Blair! I can pick out the baby's heartbeat. Blair's heart rate is elevated, too. He's in trouble." The last words were spoken as Jim dashed off down the hall, homing in unerringly on the sounds of his lover and child.

The door to the small room burst open, startling Mayfield, whose hand jerked, cutting deep into Blair's inner thigh before releasing the knife. Grabbing his gun, he backed away from the two policemen, nervously alternating the pistol between Blair and his rescuers.

Simon circled around behind, drawing Mayfield's attention momentarily. Jim took the opportunity to tackle the man. A gunshot sounded in the small room, echoing off the metal shelves.

Jim wrestled the man to the ground, disarming him. He found the man's own handcuffs in a pocket and quickly cuffed him to one of the shelves. "You son-of-a-bitch! If you've harmed Blair, I swear, you'll live to regret it."

"Jim, get your ass over here!" Simon called from where Blair lay on the cot.

Jim loomed over his prisoner a second longer, then dashed to the small bed. Blair's eyes were glazed, but he seemed to recognize his partner. A very small smile curled the corners his mouth.

"Oh, God, Simon. He's been shot!" Jim looked in horror at the small hole that had pierced Blair's abdomen low and to the right. He tore at the rags of the dress, making a compress to staunch the wound.

"The ambulance is on its way," Simon announced, getting off his cell phone. He turned his attention to getting Mayfield out of the room. Jim could hear him repeating the Miranda to the man as he was led away.

Jim turned his attention to Blair, horrified by the burns and bruises covering his naked body. "Oh, Blair. Blair. . . . God, I'm so sorry. We've been looking for you since Friday noon." Blair's smile grew slightly. His protector had finally arrived. He lifted a hand to pat Jim reassuringly, but it dropped heavily to the cot without completing its mission.

Jim's hands roamed in feather-light touches over his lover's body. "It's going to be all right, Blair. Everything's going to be fine." He looked at the contraption constraining Blair's genitals. The area was covered in blood, so he didn't dare try to remove the device. Tears sprang to his eyes as he imagined the two days of torture his lover had endured. Taking off his jacket, he covered Blair, then sat with him, crooning gentle comfort sounds, until the ambulance arrived.

Jim was out of his truck before the gurney carrying Blair through the emergency room doors had made it into the hospital. He gripped the battered man's hand, walking quickly alongside as the EMTs wheeled Blair inside. He was shoved aside by the doctors who rushed their patient into one of the treatment rooms.

Simon came in shortly after Jim, laying a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Let them check him out. Someone will come out to give us an update soon."

"I should be in there," Jim snarled, trying to break free of the larger man's grip.

"Getting in the way of the medical professionals isn't going to help Blair," Simon told him. "Just sit and take it easy." He pushed Jim down into one of the plastic chairs and stood guard until a doctor could come out to speak with them.

Fifteen minutes later, Lynne Casey burst through the emergency room doors, flying past the waiting sentinel and his guard, to enter the room where Blair was being tended. Five minutes after that, she stood before Jim.

"Blair is being prepped for an emergency C-section," she told him.

Jim's jaw dropped in surprise. "He's only thirty weeks!"

"He needs the surgery," she explained. "The bullet didn't hit the baby, but it ruptured the amniotic sac. Without the fluid, the baby will die. Do you want to be with Blair during the procedure?" Jim nodded, standing to follow the doctor. She led him into the scrub room, where he washed and put on a cap, mask and gown. "Blair is under heavy sedation," the doctor told him, "so he's not going to be conscious. Just so you know."

Jim followed her into the operating theater and walked to the head end of the bed. Blair had been intubated and was deeply asleep. He picked up a cool hand and squeezed it gently. "It's going to be okay, Sweetheart," he whispered into Blair's ear. "Dr. Casey is the best. Our baby is going to be fine and so are you. Be strong for me, Blair. Hang in there. You're safe. Nobody can hurt you anymore."

He kept up the steady chatter of reassuring words, until a small cry echoed in the room. Their baby was immediately placed in a warmer and wiped clean. The nurse rolled the warmer over to where Jim could see their son. He was so tiny. How could anything that small be alive?

"Blair?" Jim turned to his mate. "Our baby is born. Jeremy is here. I wish you could see him," he sighed. "He's as beautiful as you. Just like Laurene, only smaller."

Lynne laid a bloody glove on the sleeve of Jim's gown. "Jim?" When he looked up, she gestured to another doctor. "This is Dr. Trent. He's a burn specialist and plastic surgeon. He's going to do the rest of the required surgery before Blair can be returned to his room. Would you like to come with me?"

"No, I'd rather stay with Blair," Jim said, turning back to his husband.

Lynne tugged on his sleeve. "You have to come with me, now," she insisted. "I'm sorry, Jim, but you'll just be in the way for the rest of it. Don't worry, Dr. Trent is the best in the Northwest." Reluctantly, Jim followed her out of the room. With one last glance over his shoulder at the man on the table, he allowed himself to be guided out of the surgery suite.

Once out in the halls, Dr. Casey turned to him. "Your son weighs two pounds, thirteen ounces," she said. "He's small and definitely premature, but younger babies have survived. I have high hopes for him. He's being taken to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. You can visit him there. When Blair comes out of surgery, I'd like to put him in the ICU for a night or two, depending on how he does. He was terribly dehydrated, as well as sustaining second degree burns over some pretty sensitive areas."

"Is he going to have to have skin grafts?" Jim shuddered at the thought. He knew the agony those patients went through.

"No, the burns themselves aren't that severe, but they will be painful, especially the ones on his breasts and genitals. The scars will fade over time, but I'm afraid he may never be completely free of all of them. When his chest hair grows back, that will cover many of them."

Not to sentinel eyes, Jim thought. The scars will always look fresh, no matter how much they fade.

"What about his genitals?" Jim asked, almost afraid to hear. "When I walked in on that mother-fucker, he was in the process of cutting them off."

"From what I could see, most of the cuts weren't especially deep. The cockring had to be cut off and it took some time before the swelling subsided so that we could get a good look at the damage."

"And. . . ?" Jim prompted.

"There should be no permanent physical harm," she replied. "Dr. Trent will be able to tell you more after his surgery is complete. Initial assessment leads us to believe Blair should be able to have normal function. Physically, he should be able to have intercourse in about eight weeks, once the C-section has healed sufficiently. Emotionally may be another thing altogether." Lynne paused. "Blair was tortured for two days before you found him. There's no physical evidence of violation, but that doesn't mean his mind wasn't raped. His recovery will depend a lot on the state of his mental condition. I wish I could tell you more, but it's too early to know."

"Thanks, Lynne," Jim said, pulling off the soiled gown and tossing it in the disposal bin, along with his cap and mask. "How soon before I can see him?"

"It's generally against hospital policy, but I'd be willing to let you sit with him in recovery. Blair always seems to do better when you're nearby." She smiled and patted his arm. "Why don't you go out to the waiting area and tell your friends and colleagues the good news? I'll let you know the minute he's out of surgery."

Jim nodded, mechanically turning toward the door to the waiting room.

Two hours later -- ICU:

Jim sat at the side of Blair's bed, stroking one pale hand as it lay on top of the thin hospital blanket. Lynne walked in, followed by Dr. Trent.

"Mr. Ellison?" Dr. Trent extended his hand. "I'm Eliason Trent, Blair's surgeon. It's very nice to meet you."

Jim took the offered hand and shook, looking up at the earnest older doctor. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances. What can you tell me about Blair's condition?"

"The cigarette burns, though ugly and painful, are not especially dangerous. Some were festering already, so I've ordered a strong antibiotic to push back the infection. It looks like his genitals were burned on two separate occasions. Some of the burns on his penis were infected, others fresher. Ultimately, they won't impair his physical functioning, although I wouldn't expect anything from him anytime soon. The man has suffered some severe physical and mental trauma. The cuts around his genitals were generally shallow. Considering their placement, I have no doubt that the kidnapper had every intention of carrying through with his threat to castrate that young man. Fortunately, you found him in time." Dr. Trent turned sympathetic eyes on the sleeping man. "He's very lucky." He took a deep breath, continuing, "His throat is extremely raw. It was difficult to intubate him. I think we'll leave the tube in a bit longer, until the swelling subsides somewhat. I wouldn't want his airway to collapse. He will suffer severe laryngitis for several weeks, I'm afraid. He shouldn't be allowed to speak at all for the first week."

"Oh, that'll go over great," Jim deadpanned. He looked down at his sleeping lover, then up at the doctor. "The term 'motor mouth' was coined with Blair in mind." That brought a brief, but genuine chuckle from the assembled group. "How long before he wakes up?"

"Not today, I'm afraid," Dr. Trent explained. "He's still under heavy sedation. He needs his rest, and I'm afraid he won't get it outside of drugs. We'll lessen his dose beginning in the morning and see how he does. You should be able to talk to him by this time tomorrow. He won't be able to talk back, of course, but he'll know that you're here."

"Thanks, doctor." Jim turned his attention back to his partner, brushing some stray hair from his forehead. He leaned in to kiss the battered cheek, wishing he had been able to find his love sooner, and praying that Blair would find it in his heart to forgive him one more time for failing him.

Two days later:

Jim dropped Laurene off at Rainier's daycare center and hurried to the hospital. Dr. Casey had approved Blair's move out of ICU into a private room late the previous night. The sedation he had been under for the past two days had been lightened considerably, and Jim looked forward to being able to see his partner conscious again.

He walked into the hospital, steering for the information desk. "Blair Sandburg? He was moved out of ICU last night."

The receptionist keyed the information into her computer and glanced up. "Room 308. Take Elevator D." She pointed down the corridor to the bank of lettered elevators.

Jim stepped off the elevator moments later, spotting Room 308 not far from the nurses' station. As he approached the door, Dr. Casey stepped out.

"Oh, hello, Jim. Good to see you." She smiled warmly at the worried detective. "Blair is resting comfortably. He's awake and asking for you," she added.

"Asking for me?" Jim looked surprised, knowing Blair shouldn't be able to speak. Lynne handed him a pad of paper she had been holding. Scrawled in a drunken version of Blair's handwriting was Jim's name, repeated several times.

"You'd better get in there. He needs you."

Needing no more encouragement, Jim stepped through the door. Blair's eyes were closed, his breathing deep and slow. Jim wondered if he had fallen back to sleep. Pulling up a chair beside the bed, he lifted Blair's hand, cradling it between his own. Blue eyes opened to regard him from beneath sleep-heavy lids.

"Hey there, Chief." Jim tried his best to look cheerful for his lover. He felt Blair's fingers curl around his hand and squeeze lightly. "You're looking better than when I last saw you."

Blair raised his free hand, gesturing for the pad Jim had laid on the nightstand. He got the paper and a pen, handing them to Blair who scrawled a single word. Baby?

"Jeremy's fine. They have him in the NICU for now. He only weighed two pounds, thirteen ounces, but Lynne says he's strong and healthy."

Can I see him?

Jim glanced at the paper as Blair wrote. "Not for a few days. As soon as you're able to be up and about in a wheelchair, I can take you down to visit."

Tell me more.

"Well," Jim mused, picturing the infant, "they have him in an incubator. He's currently on low-flow oxygen, but Lynne thinks that shouldn't last longer than a week, given how strong he is for his age and size. He has a feeding tube down his throat and all sorts of monitors hooked up. It's a little intimidating, but everyone says how great he's doing." A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. "Come in," Jim called.

Dr. Trent entered the room, followed by a nurse with a cart. "How are you this morning, Blair?" the doctor asked. Blair waggled his hand in a so-so gesture and looked uneasily at the nurse. "You may not remember me. My name is Eliason Trent. I'm your surgeon. I'll be treating your burns, while Dr. Casey tends to the OB-GYN end of things." He glanced across the bed to where Jim sat. "Normally, I would have to ask you to leave," he said, "but Dr. Casey informed me that you're especially averse to leaving during treatment. Blair's burns are mainly shallow second-degree and require only a daily cleansing with an antiseptic wash. None of the areas, even the nipples and genitals, which were the most deeply burned, will require debriding or grafts. Most should be healed in two weeks. You were very lucky, Blair," he added, turning his attention back to his patient.

The nurse rolled the cart next to the bed and began to prepare the sterile gauze she would use to wash down the burns. Blair's eyes grew wide with concern and he looked expectantly at Jim. "Dr. Trent?" Jim stood and walked around the bed to stand next to the nurse. "Did Dr. Casey tell you of my medical training in the Army?"

"I do seem to recall her mentioning it," the doctor replied.

"Would you allow me to wash Blair's burns?" Jim asked. "Considering the delicate nature of some of the areas, I think he'd be more relaxed if he was comfortable with the person who did the work."

Dr. Trent nodded at the nurse to leave. "On one condition."

"Name it."

"You let me watch your technique. If I clear you, I'll leave word at the nurses' station for this to be part of your daily routine."

"Just the chest," Jim bartered. "If I do that well enough, you'll give us privacy for the rest."

"Deal," Dr. Trent agreed.

"You ready for this, Sweetheart?" Jim peeled the soft cotton gown down to Blair's waist, revealing only the scarred breasts and rib cage. He moistened the gauze and began a gentle cleansing of the wounds. The scabbing over the nipples was the heaviest, and with great care, he soaked away the dead skin and blood, revealing the tender new skin beneath. Blair sucked in air, holding his breath, and Jim stopped. "Does it hurt?" Blair nodded. "On a scale of one to ten?" Blair held up seven fingers. Jim turned to the doctor. "When was the last time he was given medication?"

The doctor checked the chart. "A little over an hour ago."

"Any chance we could get a hit of morphine here? This is going to get worse before it gets better."

"I think that can be arranged. I'll go get the medication, then leave you two alone. You're doing a fine job." The doctor patted Jim's arm and took his leave of the couple. Minutes later, a nurse arrived with a hypodermic which she injected into Blair's IV line.

"Just give him a minute. The morphine takes effect pretty fast." The nurse smiled and turned to go.

"Thanks," Jim called after her. "Pretty little thing, don't you think?" he asked, turning back to his partner. Blair grinned, giving Jim a thumb's up.

Jim peeled the gown back a bit further, revealing the surgery scar from the emergency C-section. He began to carefully clean around it, making sure to treat the burns in and around the stitches, as well. Blair barely grimaced, and Jim felt confident that they would finish without much trouble. He pulled the gown all the way off and steeled himself for the final hurdle.

Blair's penis and scrotum were heavily covered in burns. He cradled the sensitive organs with care and began to wash them down. The ugly stitches at the base of the penis were enough to make Jim wince. Blair had come so close to losing his manhood. Jim didn't want to contemplate what would have happened had he been even a minute or two later in his rescue.

Blair tensed and squirmed, trying to hold still while trying to pull away. Despite Jim's efforts to be gentle, it was obvious the young man was suffering.

"You have to relax, Blair." He stroked his lover's thigh, noting the stitches holding closed the final wound Mayfield had inflicted on him. "Just close your eyes. Remember Laurene's first trip to the ocean?" He watched as Blair closed his eyes and smiled at the memory. "We walked down the beach picking up shells." Blair was nodding along with the story, relaxing a bit more as Jim cleansed the delicate wounds. "Laur could even find the ones that were all but buried in the sand. Don't think I didn't notice you testing her sentinel sight that day." Blair shook with silent chuckles and Jim knew his lover realized he'd been caught.

"There. We're all done." Jim pushed aside the cart and went to the cupboards to find a fresh gown. He shook it out, draping it loosely over Blair's body, giving the young man some sense of decency. He pulled up his chair again and settled down. "I've got some good news for you."

Blair turned his head, watching Jim intently. His eyes clearly said, "Spill it already, Ellison!"

Jim chuckled, then turned serious. "Simon said to pass this along to you. Because we found you with Mayfield, the judge ordered the search warrant for his apartment immediately. Megan and Joel did the search. They found your evidence folder. Between the handwriting samples and the tapes, there's more than enough to put him away. But there's more. . . ." Blair looked at him expectantly. "They found a dark room with photos and negatives of you taken on campus. There was also photo-manipulation software on his computer and a graphic of that print he sent you. Blair, this guy is going down hard. You may not even be required to testify. The doctors documented your abuse. They can testify in your place."

Blair looked panicked. They're not going to show the pictures in public court, are they? he scribbled.

Jim picked up Blair's hand and squeezed it firmly. "Don't worry about that. Simon's been talking with the DA. If the photos are needed, they will be seen only by the judge and, possibly, the jury. Because of the sexual nature of the crime, the DA convinced the judge not to allow cameras in the courtroom." Blair looked relieved. Jim patted the hand he held, then laid it carefully back onto the sheets. "I think that's enough for you to process for the time being. Don't you think you ought to get some sleep?"

Blair nodded, finding that with the morphine coursing through his system, he was having a hard time staying awake. Jim sat beside him until he was deeply asleep, then got up and headed for the NICU.

Neonatal Intensive Care:

"Hi, Mr. Ellison!" the cheerful NICU nurse greeted him. "Come on over here and have a visit with your son."

"Can I hold him?" Jim asked.

"Not for a few weeks," the nurse told him. "But you can touch him if you like. The more contact you can have with him, the better."

Jim was required to put on latex gloves, but the thin rubber did nothing to dull the sentinel's sense of touch. He ran two fingers down the tiny back, stroking gently. His son could have easily fit in the palms of his hands.

"He's a feisty one," the nurse commented. "He's put on another two ounces in the time we've had him."

"That's all?" Jim looked up, surprised.

"That's a lot, considering," he was told. "He's going to gain three or four pounds before he leaves the hospital. He'll still be small, but he'll grow like a weed." She turned to Jim. "How is Blair doing? Is there any chance he'll be able to express milk for Jeremy?"

"You know about that?" Jim was amazed. Most of the hospital personnel he encountered still looked slightly askew at him when he discussed the subject of male pregnancy and lactation.

"Dr. Casey told us he successfully nursed your first-born up until the point of his second pregnancy. You know, the antibodies in breast milk are especially vital to a preemie. The little ones who get it grow faster and have fewer complications."

"He's still getting frequent doses of morphine for the pain," Jim explained. "He's also on antibiotics for the infections. I think it might be a while."

"The sooner the better, but I don't want to encourage another patient to give up medication prematurely, either. Do you know when Blair is scheduled to be released?"

"Dr. Casey told me at least two weeks. She wants him able to speak before she lets him out. The burns should be mostly healed by then and the surgery sites will be well under way."

"Two weeks would be fine," the nurse agreed. "If he can express the milk, we can store it here until Jeremy can drink it. He won't be able to nurse or take a bottle for a while--preemies this young usually don't have a developed sucking reflex--but we can feed him through the tube."

"I'll talk to Blair. I'm sure he'd agree to do it."

"Very good, thank you." The nurse patted his arm. "I'm afraid it's time to stop. We don't want to over stimulate Jeremy, either. If you could come down two or three times a day, that would be great."

"I'll do what I can. I'm going to have to go back to work soon. There are bills to pay," Jim said with a sigh.

"That's unfortunate. The cost of preemie care is high, even with insurance to cover most of it. Come as often as you can. Every little bit helps." She walked him to the door of the nursery.

"I'll do that," Jim assured her, taking one last look at his son.

Sunday, April 8:

"You're on compassionate medical leave at least until Blair is out of the hospital," Simon insisted. "Your husband and your son need you; not to mention Laurene. She only has one daddy to take care of her now, and you spend your days at the hospital."

"I need the pay, Simon," Jim retaliated. "I do want to spend my time with Blair and the kids, but there are bills to pay."

"Your insurance, and whatever coverage Blair has through the university, should cover the medical bills."

"There's more than just that." Jim sighed. "I still have to put food on the table, pay off Blair's student loans. He won't be going back to teaching until fall term."

"Jim," Simon said, resting a hand on his detective's shoulder, "this is paid leave and it doesn't come out of your sick leave."

"How?" Jim looked startled.

"Don't ask," Simon told him. "There's a special fund for this type of emergency. It's not generally known, so that it isn't abused. I can't think of a better use of the funds. Just don't worry about it. Take care of Blair. Get him home so that he can help you with Laurene."

"She's been a real handful without her daddy," Jim admitted.

"A 'daddy's girl', eh?" Simon chuckled.

"In a home with two fathers, that does seem a little ridiculous, doesn't it?" Jim laughed along with his captain.

"Is she at the daycare?"

"Yeah, the Chancellor said that given the circumstances, he can't see denying Laurene the daycare just because her father isn't currently working. It's been a Godsend. She loves the people and other kids there, and neither Blair nor I have to worry about her."

"That's great news," Simon agreed. "Now, get yourself down to the hospital and take care of your family."

"Blair's going to be allowed to get out of bed today," Jim said with a grin. "I'm going to take him down to the NICU to visit with Jeremy."

"His first time?"

"Yeah. It's been a week, and he's chafing at the bit to see his baby."

"I can imagine. How are the burns?"

"They still bother him, but he's down to a light dose of morphine during the washing and another one at night. Dr. Trent thinks he can be weaned completely in another two or three days. He's got another three of the antibiotics, then he can start expressing milk for Jeremy."

"I'll bet he's excited about that," Simon said, remembering the contented look on the young man's face as he had nursed Laurene. The captain had, at one time, had some trouble watching Blair breastfeed, but once Jim had placed the act in perspective, he had come to accept it.

"Yes and no," Jim said, frowning. "Some of the worst of the burns are on his nipples. Expressing milk is going to be uncomfortable for a while, I'm afraid. Especially if he uses the pump. Hand expressing is gentler, but slower. He may not feel up to trying right away."

"Give him my best, Jim. Now that he's doing better, I'll try stopping by for a visit."

"He'd love to see you, sir. I'm sure he's getting tired of seeing only my ugly mug day in and day out."

Simon chuckled. "That boy is never going to tire of seeing you, and you know it. He worships the ground you walk on."

"I wish you'd tell him that when you come visit," Jim said with a snort. "I feel more walked on than worshipped most days."

"James Joseph Ellison--that's not true, and you know it."

"Just come visit when you can. Blair needs some fresh meat to pester." Jim slapped his friend's shoulder and turned to leave. "I'm out of here. You know where you can reach me."

"Up and at 'em, Chief!" Jim strode into the room, pushing a wheelchair.

Startled, Blair sat up, gaping at his partner, the loose hospital gown pooling at his waist.

"Looking good there, Sweetheart, but I think you'd better get dressed if you're going to go visit your son." He walked over to the bed, helping Blair to fasten the ties on the gown. He fetched a robe from the closet and wrapped it around Blair's shoulders, then helped him slide off the bed, into the chair. "Comfortable?" Blair adjusted himself slightly, then nodded. "Okay, off we go."

They wheeled in to the NICU to the soft applause of the nurses on duty. "Welcome to the preemie nursery, Blair. My name is Patty." One of the nurses stepped forward and shook his hand, then turned to lead the way to Jeremy's incubator.

Blair stared into the unit, then turned wide eyes on his partner. "So small," he croaked, his voice still weak and raw.

"Yeah, it's kind of a shock at first, isn't it? I know, he's awfully small, but he's doing really well." Jim smiled. Blair entwined his arms and made a rocking motion. "Not yet," Jim sighed. "When can we hold him?" he asked Patty.

"He needs to grow a little more," Patty explained. "At the rate he's putting on weight, I'd say another week to week-and-a-half. Would you like to touch him?" she asked Blair. The young man nodded eagerly. She grabbed a pair of gloves and watched as Blair expertly snapped them on.

"Where did he learn to do that?" Patty sounded amused. "Most of our new parents struggle to get those things on."

"Police evidence work. He's learned how to handle them. You should have seen the first time he tried them on. I thought he was going to burst an artery." Blair elbowed his teasing partner before holding out his hands, asking to be shown what to do.

Patty opened the incubator. "Feel free to touch him anywhere and any way that you can. Just don't try to pick him up yet," she told the anxious father.

Blair reached into the small bed, stroking the wrinkled, red skin. He turned his head to smile up at Jim. "Ours."

"You shouldn't even be trying to talk yet, Mister," Jim scolded. "But, yeah, he's beautiful, isn't he?" Blair nodded his agreement and spent several more minutes blissfully making physical contact with his baby.

"I'm afraid that's enough for now," Patty apologized. "You can come down to visit as often as you like, though. We love to have the parents here. Jim, if you could talk or sing to Jeremy, that kind of stimulation is as important as touch." She saw Blair frown and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm told you're doing quite well. I'm sure you'll be able to talk to Jeremy soon. He needs to learn the sound of your voice as well. Just don't try to rush things and make it harder on yourself." Blair nodded his reluctant agreement. "I'll give you fellows some time alone with Jeremy." She patted Blair's shoulder and walked off.

"Talk," Blair growled.

"Ah, Chief, you know that's more your area than mine."

"Sing," Blair commanded.

Jim shook his head. "I can't, Blair. I - I'm too embarrassed, all right? I'll sound like a fool."

"For Jeremy." Blair's tentative hold on his voice was giving out quickly. "Please."

Jim glared at his recovering partner for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top. . . ."

Mid-week:

Simon opened the door to Blair's room and peeked inside. "All clear?"

"Hey, Simon! Come on in," Blair's raspy voice greeted him.

"Where's Jim?" Simon asked, entering the room carrying a balloon bouquet and a large gift basket of newborn supplies, along with big teddy bear for Laurene.

"He went in search of his morning coffee," Blair explained. "Wow, what's all this?" He took the basket Simon handed him.

"Oh, just a little collection of stuff from the gang at Major Crime. They just wanted to let you know that they're thinking about you."

"That's real nice. Tell them 'thanks' for me, will you?"

"You bet." Simon settled himself in Jim's usual spot, next to the bed. "So, how are you doing?"

"You want an obfuscation, or the truth?"

"The truth," Simon told him.

"Okay, I guess. I'm having nightmares and the burns still hurt. I haven't even tried expressing milk yet, even though I've been cleared."

"Don't push yourself," Simon said. "Take it slow and easy. Has your doctor told you yet when you'll get to go home?"

"Probably not for a few more days, at least." Blair sighed. "I'm so ready to go home, you wouldn't believe!"

Simon chuckled. "Oh, I think I can." He looked up as Jim walked in the room, carrying a steaming cup of strong, black coffee. "Hi, Jim!"

"Hey, Simon. I see you made it." He took a cautious sip of the scalding liquid, then set it down on the table.

"I had to see for myself how he was doing," Simon responded.

Blair looked from one man to the other, finally settling his gaze on the captain. "Would you like to come to the nursery with us to see Jeremy?"

"You bet I would!" Simon agreed enthusiastically. He stood as Jim helped Blair out of bed and into the wheelchair.

"He's so small," Blair was saying as he was being pushing down the corridor. He gestured with his hands, indicating the approximate size of their son.

Even with the warning, Simon was still astonished when he saw Jeremy. "My, God! I didn't know anything could be that small!" He leaned over the incubator, awed at the tiny life.

"You should have seen him when he was first born," Jim said. "I could have held him in one hand."

"Yeah, he's grown quite a bit in the past week and a half," Blair added. "He's put on nearly a pound." He opened the incubator's lid and began stroking Jeremy's back. "He seems to really like the attention. I try to come down two or three times a day, but I have to find someone to bring me." He sighed. "It sure will be nice to be able to come when I want and stay as long as I please."

"That will happen soon enough," Patty told him, approaching the group. "Now you do know the rule about the NICU, don't you? Only family?" She looked up at Simon, grinning. "You must be the proud uncle," she said with a wink.

"That's me," Simon agreed, laying a hand possessively on Blair's shoulder.

"Well, then . . . I'll just leave the three of you alone to visit with Jeremy. Call if you need anything." She waved and walked off.

"They've been great here in the nursery," Jim said, turning to Simon. "Jeremy couldn't be in better hands."

"I can see that," the captain said.

All too soon, their time was up and Patty was politely shooing them out. "Guess I'd better get myself back to the office," Simon said, sighing deeply. "Someone's got to be there to keep order."

"Thanks for coming by," Blair said. "It was nice seeing a fresh face for a change."

"That's what I kept telling him," Jim added, looking pointedly at the captain.

"What can I say?" Simon responded in his own defense. "I was just trying to give you enough time to be comfortable with visitors."

"I appreciate it, Simon," Blair said. "I really didn't want to be seen much the first week. Sometimes it was hard even when Jim was here."

"You didn't say anything to me," Jim said, shocked by the revelation.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings, man. After all, you were the one who saved my ass."

"Your ass isn't all I saved," Jim teased, earning himself a slap on the arm.

"And on that note, gentlemen, I will take my leave." Simon chuckled, stopping at the junction of two corridors. "I'll see you again once they've sprung you from this place, Blair. Take care of yourself."

"I will, Simon. Thanks."

Monday, April 16:

Lynne entered Blair's room, just as he was finishing up his lunch. "Are you about ready to be released from this place?" she asked cheerfully. "Fifteen days in here must feel like an eternity!"

"You have no idea!" Blair agreed, his voice still deep and rough.

"There are just a few things we need to go over, then I'll sign your release papers. How does that sound?"

"Fine."

"All right," Lynne began. "First, Dr. Trent asked me to remind you to be careful about using your voice. Take it easy for a while longer. Your vocal cords are still a bit swollen." Blair nodded his agreement. "The burns are all but healed and your stitches can come out before you leave today. Would you like for me to do that, or would you rather I call Dr. Trent?"

"You can," Blair told her, blanching slightly.

"You want Jim to be here before we start?" Blair nodded. "Okay. Then there's one other thing I need to try." She stood next to Blair and cupped one breast through the cotton gown. "How do your nipples feel?"

"Still a little sore," Blair admitted.

"Too sore to try expressing milk?" Blair shook his head, but didn't look very excited by the prospect. "I just need to see if the burn scars have plugged up the milk ducts." She untied the gown and pulled it down to Blair's waist. Cupping one breast in her hand, she began a gentle massage with the other. After a minute, she applied light pressure to the nipple, smiling as thin jets of milk spewed forth. "Very good! Let's try the other one." She was gently massaging the other breast when Jim walked in.

"I leave you alone for an hour and come back to find out I've been replaced!" he joked. "Hi, Lynne. How's the patient?"

"I'm sending him home," she replied with a smile. Squeezing carefully, she turned her smile on Blair when the milk sprayed from the nipple. "Looks like everything's in working order," she said. "Now, Blair . . . I want you to express milk as often as you feel comfortable. Preferably every two hours, except when you're sleeping, but at least four times a day. You need to clear the medications out of your system and build up the supply. Dump what you express down the drain the first four days--that includes today. On the fifth day, you can start collecting milk to bring with you to the nursery for Jeremy."

"Can I see him before we go home?" Blair asked.

"Of course you can!" Lynne told him. "It would be a good thing if you could visit at least once a day. Just don't forget that you're still recovering yourself. You don't have your full strength back, yet, and you need to take it easy."

"I'll make sure he behaves himself," Jim added.

"All right, then," Lynne said. "That just leaves one task to finish before you go." Blair grimaced.

"What's that?" Jim asked, moving to the side of the bed and lifting Blair's hand to cuddle against his chest.

"Dr. Trent says the stitches can come out."

"That's great news!" Jim enthused.

"I'm not so sure your partner agrees with you," Lynne replied, turning serious.

Jim looked down at the pale face. He felt the trembling begin in the thin body and stroked his free hand down Blair's cheek. "We have to get this over with, Sweetheart. I'll be right here."

"It isn't going to hurt," Lynne assured her patient. "I'm just going to need to lower the head of the bed." She pushed the button until Blair was lying flat on his back. Pushing the portable table aside, she lifted the gown. "Can you spread your legs just a little for me?"

The request caused the trembling to increase, and Blair squeezed Jim's hand tightly. "He was bound in that position, Lynne," Jim informed the doctor. "I don't think he can, right now."

"How about bending your knees for me, then?" Lynne asked. Blair drew his knees up and tried to relax as the doctor nipped, then pulled, the stitches around his penis. "There. All done. That wasn't so bad, was it?" She pushed his knees back down and pulled the gown back into place. Blair's eyes were shut tight, tears leaking from beneath the lashes. "Oh, God, Blair. I'm sorry, Honey. We're all finished. You can get dressed and go home."

Jim helped Blair to sit up and slide off the bed. Blair shrugged off his help as he headed toward the clothes hanging in the small hospital room closet and began pulling them on.

"You're going to have your hands full, Jim. Just remember what I said about his body healing before his mind," Lynne reminded him. "You haven't been here nights, when he's sleeping. The nurses tell me he frequently wakens with nightmares. It's gotten somewhat better, but his sleep is still haunted by the memories."

"Thanks, Lynne. Don't worry, I'll take care of him."

Blair wandered over and snuggled against Jim's side. Jim put an arm around him, holding him close. "Ready to go home?"

"Stop by the nursery first?" Blair tilted his head to turn deep blue eyes on his lover.

"Sure thing!" Jim guided Blair to the wheelchair and pressed him into it. "Off we go."

"Good-bye, Blair. Take care of yourself. I'll see you in a week, all right?" Lynne waved as Jim steered the chair out the door. Blair nodded and waved back before he was whisked down the hall toward the NICU.

"So, you're going home today?" Patty greeted Blair as Jim wheeled him into the nursery. "I've got good news for you both." At the men's expectant looks, she continued. "The doctor took Jeremy off the oxygen last night. He's breathing comfortably on his own. We've moved the feeding tube from down his throat to through his nose. I know that doesn't sound like much of an improvement, but it's much more comfortable for Jeremy. Come and see." She led the way to the incubator.

"He's looking better," Blair said, pleased at the changes in their son.

"He's up to three pounds, five ounces," Patty announced.

Blair snapped on the gloves and opened the incubator. Reaching in, he stroked the delicate skin. "Hey there, Jeremy. It's your daddy. You're doing great. Keep it up. I want to hold you soon."

"Will you be expressing milk for him?" Patty asked.

Blair looked up. "Yeah. Lynne says we can't use any until five days from now, though."

"That will be fine. We want to make sure that any medication in your system is cleared out before we give the milk to him. But the sooner he starts, the better," Patty said.

"When I come on Friday, I'll have some for him," Blair promised.

"We'd better get you home, Professor," Jim prodded. "You need to rest."

"I think the hospital is going to seem less regimented than my home life," Blair whispered in an aside to the nurse.

Patty chuckled. "You just see that you follow orders, soldier. Get well and come take this baby off our hands."

"I can hardly wait," Blair answered fervently.

Jim reached around Blair to unlock the loft's door. Swinging it open, he allowed Blair to step inside first.

"Welcome home, Sandy!" Megan greeted. Laurene squirmed in her arms, begging to be let down. She lowered the toddler to the floor and Laurene took off at full speed.

"Da-de!" she called, wrapping herself around Blair's leg.

Blair stooped to pick her up. "You are a sight for sore eyes, Muffin!" he cried, rubbing noses with the excited baby.

"Da-de, no go," Laurene stated, shaking her head. Auburn curls bounced around her face as she made her opinion known in no uncertain terms.

"I don't plan on going anywhere for a while, Laur," he promised. He headed for the couch, sinking down onto the cushions with the toddler in his lap.

Jim smiled at the reunited pair. "He missed her something awful," Jim confessed. "Too bad I couldn't take her to visit."

"It's just as well," Megan replied. "You wouldn't have wanted her to see her daddy hurting like that. How is Blair doing?"

"Physically, most of the wounds have healed, or are well on their way. Lynne won't be removing the C-section stitches for another week. Everything else is fine. They told me he's been having nightmares. I think it's going to take a while to get this out of his system."

"Do you think he'd be able to come down to the station tomorrow?" Megan asked.

"Tomorrow?" Jim looked skeptical. "That's pretty soon. He's not getting around all that well, yet."

"Mayfield's preliminary trial is set for two weeks, and the prosecution is rounding up all its evidence."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Jim said. "They found enough to put him away for good."

"But they want to use the hospital's photos of Blair's abuse as evidence," Megan admitted.

"What?" Jim was shocked. "They don't need that to convict him. The DA promised no one would see those photos but the judge."

"He changed his mind," Megan informed him. "He thinks the photos of the actual injuries will seal his case. He doesn't want any chance of Mayfield finding a loophole to slip through."

"I don't, either," Jim hissed, "but those photos were taken as part of a rape kit investigation. Blair doesn't want them made public."

"That's why we need him down at the station," Megan explained. "Simon wants to give him the chance to look through the photos, first."

"And relive the hell he went through?" Jim was furious. "No. I won't put him through that!"

"Put me through what?" Blair asked. He had wandered up behind the arguing couple without their noticing. He bounced Laurene on one hip. "Put me through what?" he repeated.

"The DA wants to use the photos as part of his case," Jim told him.

Blair visibly blanched, and Megan pulled Laurene from his weakening grasp. "No. . . . They can't do that. They promised they wouldn't."

"Simon wants you to come down to the station tomorrow to take a look at them," Jim continued.

"Why?" Blair's rough voice all but gave out on him.

"A couple reasons," Megan said. "One, the DA wants you to know exactly what's going up as evidence, so you won't be shocked at the trial. Secondly, he's giving you limited power of discretion over them. He's going to let you suggest which ones will go to trial."

"And if Blair says no to any of the pictures, does that mean the DA won't use them?" Jim asked for his partner, who was currently voiceless.

"It's my understanding he can veto any of Blair's decisions, if he thinks the picture is needed for his case," Megan admitted.

"Then what's the point?" Jim exploded. "Why put Blair through that, if his decision isn't the final one?"

"I'm just the messenger," Megan defended herself. She looked nearly as miserable as the two men standing before her. "You really need to talk to Simon."

"Jim?" Blair tugged on his partner's sleeve to get his attention. "I'll go."

Jim turned, gathering Blair into his arms. "You sure?"

Blair nodded against Jim's chest. "I think I need to see them, to help put this behind me."

"How much do you remember of what happened during those two days?" Jim asked. Until now, he had just assumed Blair remembered every small detail.

"Not much," Blair admitted. "I know what he did to me, I just don't remember it happening. Even my nightmares are vague."

"I think it's too soon," Jim said flatly. "You just got out of the hospital."

"The pre-trial evidence has to be submitted next week," Megan reminded him. "Talk to Simon."

"It's my decision," Blair said flatly. "We'll be there in the morning, Megan. Thanks for having Laur here when I got home."

"No problem, Sandy. You know how much I love the little one." She handed Laurene back to Blair, who cuddled her close.

After Megan had left, Blair wandered into the nursery, coming out with the breast pump. "Want to help?" he offered.

Jim chased Laurene down and deposited the lightning-fast toddler in her playpen with a number of her favorite toys. After turning on some soft music, he walked over to settle on the couch next to Blair.

Blair settled against Jim, with his back to Jim's chest and unbuttoned his shirt. Jim ran his hands over the growing stubble of chest hair. "Looks like it's about half grown in," he commented. "Does it itch?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Blair sighed, scratching lightly.

Jim grabbed his hand away. "Uh-uh. No scratching. You don't want to aggravate the burn scars." He took the pump from Blair's hand and placed it over one protruding breast. He turned on the motor and settled in, with one hand holding the pump and the other arm wrapped around Blair's waist.

"This is nice," Blair sighed.

Jim kissed his temple. "It's good having you back home again."

"Not nearly as good as it is to be home!" Blair declared, smiling.

They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's presence and the sheer normality of the situation. Jim switched the pump to the other breast, gently massaging the one he just finished. Blair's rough voice purred under the touch. "Like that?"

"Mm-hmmm," Blair murmured, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation.

When Jim finished with the pump, Blair drew himself up, taking the bottle to the sink to dump. "It feels really strange, you know."

"What does?" Jim asked from the couch.

"Not being pregnant, but also not having the baby here with us." Blair stroked his flattened stomach. "I still had nearly two months to go. It doesn't seem right."

"You feel like you were cheated out of that time?"

Blair wandered back over to the couch, dropping onto Jim's lap. "Does that sound strange?" he asked.

"No," Jim admitted. "I don't know why you do, but you enjoy being pregnant. There's nothing wrong in feeling cheated out of the full experience."

"I want to hold him," Blair whispered. "I want to hold our baby, Jim. It isn't fair. Mayfield took that away from me."

"He took that away from us," Jim corrected. "For what he did to you and Jeremy, I'm going to see that bastard go down."

"I want that, too," Blair agreed. "I never believed in revenge before. Naomi always taught me to forgive and move on. But Kurt Mayfield took something precious. Something that can never be returned to us. I wish he was dead." Blair laid his head against Jim's chest and sighed. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"It makes you human," Jim said, stroking the silken curls. "I'd kill him with my bare hands if I didn't think I'd end up in prison, leaving you to fend for yourself." He kissed the top of Blair's head.

"Love you," Blair whispered.

"Love you, too."

Dressed in boxers and a tank top, Blair climbed into the loft's big bed. It felt both strange and wonderful to finally be home, to finally be able to sleep in the arms of the man that he loved. Jim came up the stairs fresh from an evening's shower and shed his robe. Blair's eyes grew round. "What's the matter, Chief?"

"You're naked."

Jim glanced down at himself, as though noticing that fact for the first time. "Is that a problem?"

"Well, um . . . no, I guess not," Blair hedged.

"It bothers you," Jim guessed.

Blair continued to stare. "A little, I suppose," he admitted.

Jim walked over to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of boxers, stepping into them. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks, Jim."

Jim climbed into the bed, noting that Blair lay balanced precariously on the far edge. "How about a little closer?" Jim suggested.

"I don't think I'm ready, Jim." The sentinel could hear the rapid beating of his heart and the shallow, quick breaths.

"That's okay, Blair. I won't push you. Would you rather I slept on the couch?"

"No!" Blair moved a few inches in from the edge of the mattress. "No, please don't go. I'm not afraid of you, Jim. I just don't know if I'm ready for . . . you know."

"You're not ready for 'you know', anyway," Jim asserted. "You haven't been cleared by Lynne yet, and the stitches aren't out, either."

"I know, but you . . . I could help you." Blair's voice quavered.

"Not tonight, Sweetheart," Jim said, reaching out to put an arm around his partner. Blair moved into the embrace, snuggling gratefully into Jim's arms. The long day caught up to him and before he realized it, he was snoring softly. Jim stayed awake for another hour, monitoring his lover's sleep, grateful that he was alive and finally home.

"NO! Get away!"

The screams and thrashing had Jim awake in seconds. He glanced at the LED display on the clock: 3:17 A.M. Blair had fallen off the far side of the bed and was tangled in the sheets on the floor.

"Don't touch me, you bastard!"

"Blair?" Jim crawled across the bed. "Are you awake?"

"No, no, no, no, no. . . ." Blair's voiced trailed off in sobs, as he tried to back further away in the tight confines of the small room.

Jim climbed off the bed, trying to get the sheets untangled in order to free Blair. "Leave me alone!" the young man shouted.

"Blair, you have to wake up." Jim shook him lightly. "Come on, Sweetheart, please; please wake up." Blair blinked, looking up at Jim in the dim light of the loft. "It's all right, Blair," Jim soothed. "You're at home. You're safe."

"H - home?" Blair stuttered.

"Yup," Jim confirmed. "In your own bed, with your very own sentinel to watch over you."

"Mayfield?"

"He's in prison, awaiting trial. Remember?"

Blair crawled out of the tangle of sheets and into Jim's outstretched arms. "It was just a nightmare, then?"

"Yeah, Kiddo. That's all it was," Jim assured him.

Blair shook his head. "I'm so screwed up," he lamented. "When is it going to get better?"

"It will get better when it gets better," Jim told him. "There's no way to rush it. We just have to learn to take one day at a time."

One day at a time was going to be severely tested, Blair mused, as he followed Jim out of the elevator and through the doors of Major Crime. The bullpen had been forewarned of their observer's visit and were considerably restrained. Instead of mobbing the young man, scattered greetings were called out as he passed by. Blair smiled and acknowledged his friends, while anxiously sticking close to Jim as they headed toward Simon's office.

"Welcome back, Blair," Simon greeted him. "It's good to see you. I just wish it didn't have to be under these circumstances. Megan explained what's going to happen here today?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Blair croaked out, his voice failing him as his nervousness grew.

"I don't think you've met our new DA, Victor Hernandez," Simon introduced the stranger in the room. "Mr. Hernandez, this is Blair Sandburg. Gentlemen, if you'll all be seated, please."

Everyone sat, with Blair at the head of the table, and Jim and Simon to either side. Hernandez slid a manila envelope across the table and Blair picked it up with trembling fingers. "Inside are the photos taken upon your admittance to Cascade General Hospital," Hernandez said. "I would like to present these in court as evidence of the treatment you received at the hands of Kurt Mayfield."

"Wouldn't the doctors' testimony be enough?" Jim asked, as Blair's fingers played with the clasp on the envelope. "I mean, is this really necessary? I don't like putting Blair through this right now. He just got out of the hospital yesterday."

"I think Mr. Sandburg is capable of making that decision on his own, don't you, Detective?" Hernandez asked. Blair glanced up briefly, then back down at the now-open envelope.

"Normally, yes," Jim agreed. "But you have undoubtedly seen the photos, haven't you?" Hernandez nodded. "Well, then, you realize the trauma that Blair went through, both physically and mentally. He doesn't even remember the actual abuse, only the consequences of it."

"I think it only fair, given the delicate nature of some of the photos, that Mr. Sandburg be given the chance to review the evidence before it is brought up in court." Hernandez watched as the photos spilled out onto the table. The one on top was a picture of Blair's face, painted in the garish make-up of a street prostitute.

Blair picked up the picture and stared at it. "Is that me?" he asked, wondering. "Why? Why did he do that?"

"Do you remember that at all, Blair?" Jim asked gently.

"He wanted to make me look like a woman," Blair whispered. "He made me shave my chest and put on a dress, then he painted my face." Discreetly, Simon had turned on a small tape recorder at the DA's request. "I didn't know it looked that bad."

"Didn't he show you?" Simon asked. "I would think he'd like to gloat."

"No. He finished, then had to go out. He put a ball gag in my mouth. I choked on it."

"What happened after that, son?" Simon asked softly, reaching out to cover one of Blair's hands with his much larger one.

"He left me alone in the dark," Blair whispered, the tremors starting to shake his thin frame. Jim shuffled through the pictures quickly, grimacing at their explicitness. "When he came back, he had Wonder Burgers. The smell made me retch. I nearly choked on my own vomit. So he removed the gag. Then he decided to . . . he, uh. . . ." Blair fell silent.

"He said you bit him," Hernandez prompted.

"Yeah. He, uh, he was smoking," Blair continued. "He put out his cigarette on my right nipple. I didn't know anything could hurt like that." He stopped, his eyes getting glassy, the trembling increasing. "He had his dick out. He had made me look like a - a whore . . . I guess he wanted to treat me like one. He shoved his dick down my throat and when he pulled out, I bit him."

"Good for you, Blair!" Jim congratulated his partner. "The bastard deserved that and more."

"But it made him mad," Blair said, his voice going very soft. "He used a pack of cigarettes to burn my chest and belly." He pulled out the pictures of the burns. There were close-ups of his badly abused breasts and of the decorative patterns burned on his pregnant belly. The final couple of pictures were close-ups of his genitals from different angles, showing the extent of the burning and the sadistic cock-and-balls ring. Blair quickly shuffled the offending pictures to the bottom of the stack.

"What happened next?" Simon prompted, determined to get Blair's testimony on tape at one sitting, if possible.

"He, uh, he got a new pack of cigarettes and started to burn my penis and balls. I think I passed out," Blair admitted softly.

"Did he do that before or after he put on the cockring?"

"Before." Blair took a deep breath and passed the pictures back to Hernandez. "I don't want you to show the pictures of my genitalia," he said. "The rest you can use. The doctors can testify to the full extent of the abuse." Jim glared at the DA, until he nodded in agreement.

"All right, Blair. Go on," Simon prompted. "This statement is in lieu of you taking the stand, so make it good."

Blair sighed, looking down at his hands. "I don't know how long after, but he. . . ."

"Can you say who 'he' is, for the record, Blair?" the captain asked.

"Mayfield. He came back with another pack of cigarettes and said something about the first time being no fun because I'd passed out."

"What did he do?"

Jim squeezed Blair's hand, amazed at the strength his lover was exhibiting under extreme duress. "He started burning my genitals again."

"Did he use the whole pack of cigarettes?"

"I don't think so. If he had, I don't think I'd have a dick left." Blair shuddered.

"When did he put on the cockring?" Simon continued.

"Later. Much later. Just before you and Jim arrived." Blair grew quiet for a few moments, then steeled himself for the last of his story. "It hurt like hell, because of the burns," he admitted. "He stroked me until I had a full erection. . . ." Blair stopped again, blushing furiously.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Blair," Jim soothed. "We know you weren't turned on by this guy. You can't help it that your body betrayed you like that."

"I should have been able to control it," Blair hissed. "How could I get hard as badly burned as I was?"

"Blair," it was Hernandez' turn to speak. "None of this is your fault. None of it. Just tell your story, so I can put this guy away."

Blair glanced over at Jim, who squeezed his hand reassuringly. "After he got me hard, he put on the cockring. It really hurt. Then he got out a pocket knife."

"Were you still wearing the ball gag?" Simon asked.

"No. He'd taken it out. Once he found out my voice was gone, there wasn't much point. I think he liked to see me attempt to scream." Blair shook his head. "He wanted to make me into a woman. I was pregnant. I wear my hair long. He had made me up and put me in a dress. In his mind, all there was left to do was cut off my cock and balls. I don't remember much of that, really. I could feel the blade at the base of my penis, but between the burns and the cockring cutting off the circulation, I couldn't feel much else. Jim and Simon came in about that time."

"Is there anything else?" Simon prompted, vividly remembering the cracking of the pistol shot as it rang through the small room.

"He shot me," Blair whispered, his voice nearly gone. "I think it was an accident, when Jim was trying to take him down."

"Where did the bullet hit?"

"My stomach. Somewhere in the stomach. I remember being so scared he'd killed the baby. After that, everything was a blur. Jim, I remember you there." Blair smiled. "Thanks for being there."

"Okay. That's quite enough," Jim stated, standing. He turned to the DA. "You have your pictures. You know which to use and which not to. I'm going to hold you to that promise," he threatened. "And, Simon, you didn't warn us about the interview. I'll take that up with you later. Right now, I want to get Blair back home." The young man in question had gone ashen in the wake of the testimony. He sat very still, his hands resting in his lap. "Come on, Sweetheart. Time to go." Jim helped Blair out of his seat and herded him toward the office door. "Simon." He turned to his captain. "Can you come over this afternoon?"

"I'll stop by after lunch. That okay with you?"

Jim nodded and led Blair through the bullpen, an arm locked tightly around his waist to keep him upright.

"Simon, what was that down at the station?" Jim settled himself on the couch opposite his captain. "You didn't tell us you were going to interrogate Blair."

"If I'd said something, I was afraid Blair wouldn't show up. Either he'd freak out, or you'd say no."

"And you'd be right. That was a chicken-shit way of dealing with it, Captain."

"I'm sorry, Jim, but it was either that, or put him on the stand in front of Mayfield, a jury and witnesses, and make him tell the tale. You can imagine what a heyday the defense lawyer would have with the very things Blair mentioned: his pregnancy, the long hair, his involuntary response to Mayfield." Simon sighed. "It was better this way. I think he held up rather well. Where is he, by the way?"

"Upstairs, sleeping. You didn't see him when we got home. He was white as a sheet and could barely stand. I put him straight to bed and he's been sleeping ever since."

"Papa, Papa!" Laurene had awakened from her nap in the playpen by the balcony doors. She held her arms up above her head, begging to be lifted from her nylon prison. Jim got up and released her, then had to chase her down as she ripped the Velcro diaper closures open and dropped the smelly covering on the floor. "Stimky." Gales of laughter followed as she ran pell-mell through the room, playing keep-away with her father.

Simon had to laugh, despite the seriousness of the conversation they'd been having. "Go through this often, Jim?"

"Only when she has a dirty diaper," Jim panted, finally cornering Laurene. "She has a very sensitive nose."

"So I've been led to understand," Simon chuckled. "I wonder if you were this bad when you were that age."

"I was never that age," Jim denied vehemently. He took Laurene into the nursery to clean her up and put on a fresh diaper. Then he fetched the one she'd left in the living room and disposed of it. "There. Now, where were we?"

"You were reaming me a new one for what I did to Blair this morning," Simon reminded him.

"Yeah, well, you deserved it. You could have warned us," Jim said, sounding suddenly very tired. "If you'd explained the way you just did, I'm sure Blair would have agreed."

"But he did just fine this way, didn't he?" Simon prompted. "I was really proud of how well he held up."

"Yeah," Jim finally admitted. "And I suppose it was a good idea to get it over with. I thought he didn't remember anything."

"He probably didn't, while he was in the hospital," Simon admitted. "But seeing the pictures brought it all back. He'll heal better now, Jim. You'll see."

Jim sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. "Did we ever find out why Mayfield targeted Blair?"

Simon studied his detective, seeing the toll the stress had taken on him since Blair's attack. "Yeah, actually," he admitted. "But for the life of me, I don't know how this guy managed to hide it. He has ties to a white supremacist group in Oregon. They target blacks, Jews, the gay community--whoever doesn't fit their narrow definition. Blair was fine so long as his religion and sexual preferences were kept discreet, but this pregnancy was the last straw. Mayfield saw this as an opportunity to further his cause and to work his way up in the hierarchy of the organization."

"So, were we able to get any of the others in this group?" Jim asked.

"The Oregon State Police have been notified and the Feds are joining in the investigation. If there's a chance of cracking this cell group, they'll find it," Simon assured him.

"Thanks, Simon. You're a good friend."

"I try." Simon put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up off the couch. "Guess I'd better get my butt back to the office. You and Blair going to visit Jeremy later?"

"After Blair's nap. He doesn't know it yet, but he's going to get to hold Jeremy today." Jim's smile was ear-to-ear.

"That's great news!" Simon beamed. "When does the little one get to come home?"

"At least another three weeks," Jim said. "It's a long haul for preemies."

"Good luck keeping the secret," Simon said, grinning. "Maybe that'll make up for my little deception this morning."

"It should go a long way, sir," Jim agreed.

"What's going on, Jim?" Blair walked beside his partner down the hospital corridor, heading for the NICU. "You know something you're not telling."

Jim's grin grew wider. "I'm not saying a word. You'll find out soon enough." He pushed through the door into the nursery.

"Blair! Jim! Welcome back," Patty greeted the couple. She took Blair by the elbow and steered him away from Jeremy's incubator. "I want you to sit right over here," she said, guiding him toward an upholstered rocker. "I'll be right back."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, now?" Blair asked, looking up at Jim.

"Uh-uh, Chief. You'll just have to be patient."

"Here you go," Patty said, returning with a small bundle that she handed to the expectant father.

Blair accepted the offering, peeling back the layers of blankets to see the tiny face of his infant son. When he finally looked up at Jim and Patty, tears glistened in his eyes. "Thank you. Oh, thank you," he murmured, turning back to the small bundle in his arms. "He's so beautiful. Don't you think so, Jim?"

"Oh, yeah," Jim agreed, bending down to get a better look at the scrunched, red face.

"He took a bottle this morning," Patty said proudly. "Would you like to try and feed him a little?"

"Could I?" Blair was incredulous.

"Of course. I'll go get a bottle for you." Patty hurried off.

"He's taking a bottle," Blair said with surprise. "That means maybe he can nurse on Friday. I don't believe this!"

Patty returned with the bottle. "His sucking reflex isn't very strong yet, but he can manage, if you're patient."

"Could I try breastfeeding him on Friday?" Blair asked.

"Breastfeeding takes a lot more effort on the part of the baby than drinking from a bottle," Patty explained. "I'm not sure if he suckles strongly enough yet. We could certainly give it a try. Will you be bringing expressed milk that day, too?" Blair nodded. "Great. That way if the breastfeeding doesn't work out, he can still have your milk."

The nurse smiled and walked off, leaving the two proud daddies to enjoy some special time with the newest addition to their family. Blair unwrapped Jeremy further and tried to get the infant to grab at his finger with a minuscule fist. The small hand wrapped reflexively around Blair's finger, looking even tinier by comparison.

"Oh, Jim. I want so much to take him home," Blair said with a sigh, "but I think I'm a little afraid, too. He's so small."

"He'll be bigger before we get to bring him home," Jim assured his partner. "And even if he is still little, I don't doubt you'll do a fine job with him." Blair looked up, a grin of delight lighting his face.

"And how are you doing, Blair?" Dr. Casey asked, as her patient stepped through the door.

"Not bad," Blair told her. "It gets a little better every day."

"How's Jeremy?"

"I got to hold him last week." Blair beamed with pride. "He even nursed a little. He's still a little weak, but he's growing stronger every day."

"That's wonderful." Lynne nodded toward the exam room. "Let's get started, shall we?" She followed him in. "You don't need to get undressed, just drop your pants." She grinned at the young man, who readily complied. "Now, up here." Lynne patted the exam table. Once Blair was in position, she quickly snipped the stitches, then pulled them free. "Looks good. That's all there is to it," she said with a smile. "I'm clearing you for full sexual relations, too. Just remember, don't let Jim rush you into something you're not ready for. You're the leader. You take charge and remember to use safe words. It might be a while yet before you're completely comfortable."

"Jim's been great," Blair said. "He hasn't even asked, yet I know he's jacking off in the shower. He's been really patient with me."

"That's good. Just take it slow and easy."

Jim climbed the stairs to the bedroom, pleased to see that Blair was snuggled in the middle of the large mattress, instead of his more usual edge-of-the-bed position. Stripping to his boxers, he crawled under the covers. Blair scooted over next to him, draping an arm across his waist. Jim was startled to realize that his lover was nude.

"Blair?"

"Mmmm?"

"What gives?"

Blair opened his eyes, a lazy smile growing on his lips. "Lynne cleared me today," he announced.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Jim asked, concerned for his lover's feelings.

Blair snuggled closer. "I don't know," he admitted, "but I'd like to try." He captured Jim's mouth in a gentle kiss, rediscovering the taste and feel of his partner. His hands glided along the planes of Jim's back, across the strong shoulder blades, down to the small of his back and under the waistband of his boxers to caress the roundness of firm buttocks.

Tentatively, Jim's hands began their own exploration, encountering only the slightest tension in his mate. He broke the kiss, trailing moist lips along Blair's jaw, down to the hollow in his neck. Panting slightly, he took the time to ask. "You can stop this any time, you know. Just say the word. If anything is uncomfortable, tell me."

"Yes, Jim," Blair murmured, pushing the boxers off, then lifting his hands to brush across the hair on his lover's head. "I promise."

Jim ranged lower, running his fingers through the newly-grown chest hair, brushing lightly over raised nipples. Blair's only response was to moan and arch into the touch, silently pleading for more. Jim wrapped his lips around a moist nipple, licking and suckling and nipping at the tender bud.

"Oh, Jim. Yes! Yes!" Blair squirmed as Jim's mouth worked its magic on the sensitive nubs. Jim's hand ranged lower, to brush lightly over Blair's cock. He was not entirely surprised to find the organ limp and unresponsive. His lover pressed against him, wanting more, so Jim continued his soft stroking. After nearly fifteen minutes of stimulation, Blair rolled onto his back with a sigh. "This isn't working, Jim. I'm sorry."

"Blair, we both knew it wasn't going to come easy, or soon, for that matter. What counts is enjoying what we can."

"I can make love to you," Blair countered, rolling back onto his side so that he could kiss the rosy buds on Jim's chest. He pressed Jim down onto his back and straddled him, eyes lit with mischief. He began a torturously slow route down his lover's body, tasting, touching, kissing every inch. Jim summoned all his strength to hold still, to let his partner lead their lovemaking.

Blair inched lower, until Jim's rigid cock bobbed in his face. He nuzzled into the coarse pubic hair, sucking first one testicle, then the other into his mouth, rolling them around on his tongue. Jim was fighting for control as Blair licked his way up the underside of his cock, intent on inflicting as much delicious torture as he could before sucking Jim off. With deliberate slowness, his lips engulfed the glans, his tongue tracing the contours.

Despite having dialed down touch to a manageable level, when the warm mouth slid over his cock-head, Jim's hips bucked reflexively, driving his penis down the inviting throat. Blair's frantic scrambles and choking dumped instant ice water on his desire. Sitting up, he gathered Blair into his arms, rocking and soothing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh, Blair, I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry." Blair sobbed against his chest, trembling as the waking nightmare slowly faded.

"I - I guess I wasn't as ready as I thought," Blair sniffled, pushing out of the warm embrace. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to spoil it for you."

"Spoil it for me?" Jim was incredulous. "Blair, this was supposed to be for you. I'm the one who spoiled it. Forgive me?" His lover nodded, relaxing back into the circle of his arms.

"Next time will be better," Blair promised.

Jim held his lover until Blair fell asleep, then he slipped downstairs to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he took his aching cock in his fist and pulled hard: one, two, three times. His hand and chest were sprayed with semen as his orgasm overtook him. He sank to his knees on the tile floor. "Oh, Blair. What have I done?"

"It isn't working out," Blair said despondently. "We've tried every night for two weeks, and nothing."

Dr. Lynne Casey studied the man seated in front of her. "Maybe you're trying too hard. You had a traumatic experience, Blair. You can't expect sexual function to blossom overnight."

"But I can't get hard at all," Blair explained. "It's not like I can't hold an erection. I can't even get one!"

"Have you had any trouble urinating?" the doctor asked.

Blair thought about the question. "Sometimes. Not always, but once in a while."

"How often is once in a while? Once a day? Once a week?"

"Three or four times a week, I guess," Blair answered.

"What are the symptoms? Does the urine burn as it comes out, or do you have a full bladder that you have trouble voiding?"

"I have trouble emptying my bladder sometimes," Blair admitted. "Mostly it's okay, though."

"Well, why don't you let me take a look? I think I may need to refer you to a urologist, but I'd like to eliminate the obvious, first."

Blair got up and walked into the exam room, stripping off his pants without even being told. He hopped up onto the exam table, covering himself with the cotton gown Lynne had provided.

"Okay. On your back and put your feet in the stirrups, please," Lynne requested. Blair put one foot, then the other, in the cold, stainless steel devices. "Now scoot your butt down to the edge of the table. That's good." Lynne gently pressed against his knees. "Just relax, Sweetie. I'm only going to give you a visual exam. Just touching. Nothing even remotely painful." She examined the scarring at the base of his genitals. The bright red was fading, but was still very visible. She cradled Blair's penis in the palm of one hand, poking and probing gently with her fingers. "Does the scarring on the glans give you any trouble? she asked.

"It oozes sometimes. Gets a little sticky."

"Is it sore?"

"No, but it itches like crazy."

Lynne pulled the gown down to cover Blair and patted his knees. "You can get out of those things now and get dressed. I'll meet you out front." She left the room, and Blair dressed quickly.

"I don't see anything immediately wrong that would keep you from having an erection," she explained. "I'm going to write you a prescription for the discharge. It's an ointment. You need to rub it into the scars on the glans, at least three times a day. Make sure it's absorbed before you cover up. Right after urinating would be a good time to treat," she told him. "Then, I'm going to set you up with a urologist. There may be damage to the nerves that's preventing you from having an erection. The blood flow seems adequate, so he'll have to look for other causes."

"Thanks, Lynne. I appreciate the help." Blair took the prescription and stood.

"Just remember. . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair sighed. "It could all be just in my head."

"You're recovering remarkably well, Blair. Don't be impatient with your body. When the time is right, you may be pleasantly surprised." Lynne picked up her phone and began to dial. "I'm going to make your appointment with the urologist. Just give me a minute." When she hung up, she scribbled the information on an appointment card and handed it to Blair. "I couldn't get you in before Tuesday, May 29. I hope that's all right?"

Blair took the card, glancing down at the name and time. "Yeah, sure," he said. "That's fine. Thanks, Lynne."

Dr. Casey patted his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Just remember that you can call me any time."

Friday, May 25:

The NICU nurses gathered around the new family with well-wishes and sighs of regret. "We're going to miss him," Patty spoke for the assembled group. "Jeremy's been one of our sweetest success stories."

Blair hugged the bundle close to his chest, smiling. Jim had his arms wrapped around his partner and was leaning down for a closer look at the precious face.

"He's five pounds, fourteen-and-a-half ounces and a whopping eighteen inches long," Patty announced. "He's done really well. At thirty-seven weeks, he's officially full-term now. You've got all the instructions with you?" she asked. Jim pulled the folded papers from his pocket. "Good. We're sending you home with a few gifts, as well, including a month's supply of preemie diapers. By the time you use those up, Jeremy should be comfortably into the newborn size."

"Thanks, everyone." Blair smiled at the assembled nurses. "Besides the birth of our first-born, this has got to be the happiest day of my life."

"You just take good care of that precious bundle. And if you have any questions or problems, anything at all, just give us a call. That's what we're here for."

Blair settled onto the couch and unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling back the swaddling blankets, he offered a breast to the newborn. Jeremy latched on and began suckling with noisy slurps. Laurene walked over, climbing into Blair's lap. "Drink?" she asked, watching the baby.

"Uh-huh," Blair acknowledged. "He's drinking his milk."

Laurene poked a small finger at Blair's free breast. "Drink?" she tried again. The nineteen-month-old toddler crawled higher in Blair's lap, vying for room in her daddy's arms with the newcomer. Blair wrapped his free arm around his daughter and watched as she latched onto the spare nipple.

"Well, well," Jim chuckled, walking into the room. "Looks like you're going to have your hands full."

"Like I care," said Blair, a beatific smile gracing his lips. "This is heaven, man."

Friday, June 1:

"Blair, it's for you," Jim called across the room.

Blair hustled over and took the phone. "It's Lynne," Jim said, handing over the receiver. A few minutes later, Blair hung up.

"What was that?" Jim asked.

"Lynne just called to say the results of the tests done by the urologist are all negative."

"That's a good thing." Jim smiled.

"Yeah," Blair said with mock sincerity. "It means it's all in my head."

"Give it time, Sweetheart. There's no rush." Jim wrapped his arms around Blair's waist, nuzzling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I love you," Blair whispered, reaching up to guide Jim's mouth to his. The jangle of the phone broke the tender moment.

"Sandburg-Ellison residence," Blair answered. "Oh, Eli! Good to hear from you." He listened a bit longer, nodding. "Okay, yeah, I suppose we could do that. See you later."

Jim looked at him expectantly as Blair hung up the phone. "Eli says they've got some sort of end-of-the-school-year thing going on over Rainier this afternoon and he'd like the whole family to come join the fun," Blair told him.

"You feeling up to going out and hauling the kids?"

"Sure. So long as you're along to help," Blair teased.

Later that day --
Rainier University:

"Hey, Eli!" Blair greeted his mentor and friend as they walked up the path to Hargrove Hall. "Where's the party?" He was carrying Jeremy, while Jim bent over to sweep Laurene into his arms.

"There's going to be a barbecue out in the Commons later," Eli replied. "But there's something inside I want to show you." He gestured toward the building. Once inside, they took the elevator to the second floor and started down a very familiar hallway.

"Where are we going?" Blair asked suspiciously.

Eli glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "You'll see. Come on." He finally stopped at the door to Room 216.

Blair hesitated. The last time he had been in his office, his nightmare had begun. "Uh, Eli . . . is this necessary?"

"You are planning to come back to teach this fall, aren't you?" his mentor asked.

"Well, yes, but I had hoped I wouldn't have to confront my office for a couple more months, at least." Blair glanced nervously at the ornate brass doorknob.

"It won't bite," Eli assured him.

Carefully, Blair took hold of the knob and turned it. He pushed the door, still standing in the safety of the hall.

"SURPRISE!"

Blair stood, stunned to silence. His office had been cleaned and repaired. All the books and artifacts were returned to their shelves and the room was packed with friends and colleagues from the university. Blue and silver helium-filled balloon bouquets decorated several of the bookcases and a large banner proclaiming "Congratulations! It's a Boy!" was strung across several shelves. A huge cake covered the top of his desk, decorated with blue booties and teddy bears.

Blair took a tentative step inside and was immediately mobbed by his colleagues, thumping him on the back and welcoming him back into the fold. Vickie singled him out, pulling him away from the crowd.

"I'm so glad you're all right," she said. "The university just hasn't been the same without you here."

"Thanks, Vickie. I've missed you, too." Blair noticed the hopeful glances at the baby in his arms. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Oh, can I?" She reached for the bundle, cuddling the baby to her chest. She walked over to the desk and silently pointed.

At first, Blair saw only the enormous cake taking up the majority of the desktop. Then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted them. One by one, he picked up the frames, running disbelieving fingers over the images under the glass.

"Like 'em, Chief?" Jim had walked up behind his partner, still bouncing Laurene on one hip.

"Oh, God, Jim . . . I didn't think I'd ever see these again!"

"It wasn't easy," Jim admitted. "Do you have any idea how disorganized you are with your negatives? For a hot-shot professor with a Ph.D. on his wall, your filing skills leave a lot to be desired."

"You did this?" Blair turned, holding the picture of the stolen kiss at the lake. Jim nodded. "Did you know about this party?"

"Oh, yeah," Jim drawled, a grin spreading across his handsome features. Blair slapped him across his upper arm, before setting the picture down and allowing himself to be pulled back into the party.

Hours later, Jim steered his exhausted partner through the loft door, allowing him to fall limply onto the couch while he made the numerous trips required to fetch the baby shower bounty from the truck.

Blair reclined on the couch, unbuttoning his shirt. He settled Jeremy at one breast and waited patiently for Laurene to crawl into his lap to claim the other. By the time Jim had finished bringing up the last of the gifts, all three were sound asleep. He lifted Laurene first, smiling at the wet popping sound her mouth made as she was forcefully disconnected from Blair's breast. The younger man squirmed at the loss and Jim reached down to pull the soft flannel of his shirt over the moist nipple.

After putting Laurene down to sleep, Jim came back for Jeremy. He carried him upstairs to the bassinet which sat on Blair's side of the bed. He laid the baby on the special warming pad that lined the bottom of the bassinet and covered him with a light blanket. When he got back downstairs, Blair was awake.

"Thanks, Jim."

"For what? You were out cold. Somebody had to put the babies to bed."

"For the party, Smartass." Blair sat up. "You knew going back to my office was going to freak me out, didn't you? You planned this whole thing to make me comfortable."

"No," Jim corrected. "Actually, the whole thing was Eli's idea. He and the other professors wanted you to know that they're okay with us, with your pregnancy, with the babies. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place at the university, just because of what happened there." He sat down beside Blair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "He did ask me to be a part of it. Figured it might be hard getting you there, otherwise. But you fell for the whole thing hook, line and sinker."

"I guess I'm pretty easy, huh?" Blair grinned.

"Oh, I wouldn't say easy," Jim countered. "But definitely worth the effort."

"How about we take the rest of this conversation upstairs?" Blair stood, offering Jim a hand up off the couch. The two walked hand-in-hand up the staircase.

"Are you sure you want to try again?"

"I love you, Jim. Of course I want to try again." Blair advanced on his lover, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. Within minutes, two naked bodies were tangled on the bed.

Blair pushed off Jim, panting for breath. He rolled them over onto their sides and reached across his lover to the nightstand.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jim's voice was muffled by Blair's abdomen, as the smaller man dug in the nightstand's drawer. Making the best of the situation available to him, Jim kissed the navel that hovered above his nose.

"Cut that out! That tickles," Blair admonished, pulling back. Jim's mouth pulled into a pout. "I've got something better," he teased, waving the tube of K-Y in front of Jim's face. "And before you ask, yes, I'm sure."

Jim took the lube and put it down on top of the table. "In a bit," he said, capturing the astonished full lips. He then began a slow sensory mapping of his lover. Blair's scent had returned to normal--the smell of musk, sweat and milk mingling to make a unique and sensual combination. His heartbeat was steady and strong; the air rushed in and out of his lungs with no sounds of congestion or discomfort. The scars marring his perfect body had faded to normal sight, but still existed painfully fresh to sentinel vision. Fingers dusted over the worst of the scarring, causing milk to leak from the sensitized and stimulated nipples. He leaned forward to lick the offering, then worked his way down the compact body, kissing away the memories of those days of captivity.

Blair moaned his approval as the questing mouth and hands covered every inch of skin within reach. He shuddered as a careful hand stroked gently over his unresponsive cock. Desire shot to the center of his being and he cried out in delicious anguish. He allowed himself to be rolled onto his side, gasping as one lubed finger probed at the tightness of his anus.

"Relax for me, Sweetheart," Jim whispered, slipping his finger in, one knuckle at a time. He leaned down to kiss Blair's hip, then worked his way up, kissing along Blair's shoulder to his ear. Grabbing the silver rings in his teeth, he tugged lightly on the lobe, before probing the delicate curves with his tongue.

"Oh, God, Jim! Get on with it, please," Blair begged, thrusting his hips back, asking for more.

Jim slipped a second finger inside probing for Blair's pleasure point. He rubbed against the gland, sending Blair into a paroxysm of desire. His body was covered in a light sheen of perspiration, his temperature rising as his need for his lover increased with each touch.

Jim pulled his fingers out, generously coating his erection with the lube. Positioning himself against Blair, he slowly eased himself inside, gliding in with one smooth stroke. Once he had buried himself to his balls inside his mate, he spooned his body protectively against the smaller one, wrapping his arm around Blair's waist. He began with a slow, gentle rhythm, listening to and feeling for the reactions of his lover.

Blair was lost in the sensations, floating on wave after wave of desire so strong he thought he might explode. He needed for Jim to touch him, so he took the strong hand and placed it on his genitals.

Jim immediately began to stroke Blair's cock, wrapping his fingers around its length as it slowly began to rise. He pumped his fist gently, encouraging the organ to fullness. Blair's hips rocked against him and he cried out. "Oh, God, Jim! Harder!" He grunted with the effort to fuck himself in Jim's fist. Jim tightened his grip and fisted Blair's cock in time with his own thrusting into the tight heat of his lover's ass.

Blair's cry of completion woke Jeremy, who also began to wail. Covered in his own semen, and filled with Jim's, Blair thought the cry of his child was the most beautiful sound his ears had ever heard. He gathered the baby from the bassinet and put him to his breast.

Jim wiped himself and his lover clean, and pulled the sheets over all three of them. Spooning against his nursing partner, his heart soared with love. The healing was complete, and so was his family.

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