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After the Fact     
by Kikkimax

If one more person asked him 'What does the other guy look like?' Blair was sure he would have to yell back 'He's dead' in response. It was true, after all, killed by the crazy young woman who had started the whole mess.

There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting Blair's tortured thoughts. "Mr. Sandburg?" asked the thin woman wearing a lab coat. "I'm sorry, you need to put on the gown so I can examine you. I'll give you a minute and come right back."

"Wait!" Blair anxiously called after her as she was closing the door. "I just need to talk to you. I don't need to be examined. Please."

"Okay," she said slowly, walking back into the room and taking a seat. "I'm Dr. Jessup. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to get an HIV test," Blair stated as he met the doctor's eyes.

"I see. Is there something else I need to know about?" she asked as she studied his discolored face.

"I was attacked two weeks ago. I've been thinking about it, you know, after the fact. There was a lot of blood. I was bleeding, he was bleeding. I just think there was a lot of room for cross contamination." Blair was sure he sounded calm and reasonable. He had practiced the speech on the way over to the clinic.

The doctor nodded. "You were fighting and there was some blood. That doesn't sound too serious, but I'd be happy to order the test for you if it gives you some peace of mind."

"Well, I bit him," Blair admitted softly.

"Hmm. That might be a little worse if you're sure you broke the skin. Where did you bite him?"

Blair sighed and looked away. He had planned this so carefully, now it was spiraling out of his control. Only three people knew what happened, and the other two were dead. "I bit his tongue," he managed. He felt his cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment, but also shame. "My mouth was full of blood, but I'm not sure if it was his or mine. And my lip was cut on the inside, too."

Dr. Jessup rose from her chair and gently placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Was this a sexual assault?" she asked.

"No," Blair answered a little too quickly. "I mean, I guess it could be considered...that. But nothing else happened, that's not why I'm here. It's just that he had a lot of prison tattoos and I've heard stories about prison life. I did some research and I know AIDS is rampant in prison populations. I just think he was high risk..."

"Mr. Sandburg, it's okay. You don't have to convince me. Is it possible to test the other man as well?"

"He's dead," Blair answered simply.

The doctor nodded her understanding and wrote briefly on the chart in her hand. "This test requires informed consent. My nurse will bring in the forms and go over everything with you. Do you have any questions for me?"

Blair shook his head. "No. When I research something, I really research it." He tried to smile.

When she reached the door Dr. Jessup turned back to him. "I can see by looking at you that this was a traumatic experience. Not just by the bruises. I see a great deal of emotional pain in your eyes. I'm going to give you some phone numbers. Please consider calling one of them for some counseling."

"I don't need..." Blair started then stopped. He paused and once again turned away from the doctor. She had been nothing if not professional. She was concerned and caring and she had seen right though him. Is that why he felt so defiled? "I'll think about it," he said instead, ending the debate before it could begin.

Blair tugged off the Band-Aid from the inside of his elbow and stared briefly at the small purple bruise over his vein that bore witness to the passing of a needle through his skin. He gathered up the papers and pamphlets the clinic had sent home with him and placed them into the grate of the fireplace. After reading through them he had found nothing he didn't already know about HIV and AIDS after his exhaustive internet search of the subject. 

In about six weeks someone would call and ask him to return to the clinic, whether it was good news or bad. Even if the test was negative, he would have to go back every six months for a while, just to make sure. All he could do was wait, but he didn't want Jim to stumble onto anything that would make him ask questions. He didn't want Jim to know. No need for both of them to worry, right? In reality, he just didn't want Jim to know about the attack. Somehow he felt Jim would see him differently if he knew.  

After he started the fire he remember the card the doctor had insisted he needed. He opened his wallet and threw it on the fire as well. The words Rape Crisis Center were licked by a tongue of flame before they disappeared as tiny pieces of paper ash danced around inside the grate and up the smoke stack.

He touched Blair's hair, and then smelled it. Blair hit him hard in the face with both hands but Clay caught his hair in a meaty fist and yanked Blair down to the mattress. He straddled him and pinned his arms down with his weight. As he continued to hold Blair's hair with one hand he started to stroke his face and neck with the other.

"We're gonna get along just fine," he cooed.

Blair tried to turn his head, but the hold was too tight. "No!" he pleaded once before he closed his eyes and mouth tight.

The ugly man pressed his lips hard against Blair's mouth and began to  rock against his body.  Now both of the thick hands were roughly in his hair forcing his head back as Clay kissed and bit his neck. Blair's eyes stung with blood and tears. He wanted to scream for help but didn't dare open his mouth. 

When at last he let out a desperate cry, the man's foul tasting mouth covered his and a tongue forced its way past his lips. Blair bit the tongue and was rewarded by a short reprieve followed quickly by a hard punch to the right cheek. He lay dazed, vaguely realizing the weight had lifted from him. With an unspeakable horror he felt his body being rolled over onto his belly...

Blair sat up in the bed with a gasp. Sweat soaked hair plastered itself to his face and his heart was pounding out of his chest. He ran through a calming mantra in his head and slowly his breathing came under control. Overhead he heard Jim moving around. Slipping from the bed he made it to the bathroom before the Sentinel descended the stairs. He splashed his face with water, and took a sip from his cupped hand. By the time Jim reached the bathroom door, his heart beat was steady.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked as he tapped on the door.

"Yeah, Jim. Fine. I'll be another minute." His voice was calm, surprising even Blair. He studied his reflection briefly in the mirror with red rimmed eyes. Go back to bed, Jim, he pleaded silently. As if by request, footsteps carried the Sentinel back upstairs. "Night, Jim," Blair called through the door.

Blair didn't see the concerned gaze turned on the closed bathroom door for a second or hear the muttered "Rest easy, Chief."

The mayor was throwing a party for the men and women in blue to thank them for an especially successful year in the annuals of crime fighting in the city of Cascade. Simon Banks had insisted that everyone not on duty in the Major Crimes unit at least make an appearance, because in his humble opinion they had played a large part in the dropping crime rate. 

Blair had tried to beg off, but Jim had wheedled him into coming for a little while to appease Simon. The large banquet hall was decked out and the festivities were just beginning. A live band was setting up on the little stage and a small dance floor was in place. The gang from Major Crimes was already settled into a corner table when Jim arrived with Blair reluctantly in tow. They made their way over and Blair slumped into a chair next to Megan, ignoring the two empty chairs together on the other side of the table.

"What's wrong with the kid?" Simon asked Jim nodding toward the ominously silent observer.

Jim grimaced as the grad student looked around nervously, as if he were out of place somehow, and not in the middle of a group of friends. "He's not sleeping very well, I think. I hope that's all it is," he responded at last.

A waitress arrived with a pitcher of beer for the table. Blair leaned forward and eagerly accepted a mug full. A round of toasts ensued, and another pitcher was quickly consumed. Most notably by Brown, as his partner was driving tonight, and Sandburg. After a third mug in rapid succession, Blair seemed to relax a little and joined in the conversation. Much to the relief of his comrades.

The band began to play and Blair excused himself from the table. After way too much time for a bathroom break had passed, Jim began to think he had been ditched. Looking around, he keyed up his hearing and began separating out the multiple noises of the party in progress. At last he locked onto his partner's rapid heart rate. When he spotted the anthropologist he grinned. Blair had not one, but two lovely, if somewhat matronly, ladies occupied on the dance floor. One of which happened to be the mayor's wife, the other the mayor's mother. They seemed to be having a wonderful time. Jim elbowed his boss and pointed to the spectacle.

Simon groaned. "I hope I don't end up explaining this on Monday morning."

"Sandburg is in fine form tonight," Taggert noted as he sat down next to Ellison with an overflowing plate of various edibles.

"Yeah, and he didn't even want to come to the party," Jim agreed watching his partner collect the third, or maybe it was the fourth phone number of the evening, assuming of course that the mayor's mother hadn't slipped him one, too.

Jim looked at his watch. The cops were starting to drift toward home, but the mayor had graciously opened up the party to include the hotel guests as well, since there was food to spare and the band was quite good. Tearing himself away from the dance floor, Blair stopped at the table long enough to throw back another beer. He leaned back and placed an arm around Megan's chair.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he purred into her ear.

"All right, Sandy, what's up with you tonight?" she asked. "I've never seen you this wound up."

"What do you mean?"

"Why all the romance?"

"Not romance," Blair corrected. "I'm just in the mood for some female companionship. What's wrong with that?"

"So you're not really flirting with me and everything else in a skirt this evening?"

Blair threw his head back and laughed. "Of course I am. I'm just having a little fun," he said. "Come dance with me, and I'll show you how us Yanks do it." 

He drug Conner, protesting every step of the way, to the absolute center of the dance floor. The music was fast and loud and the crowd moved as one to the rhythm. Megan began to loosen up and move as well. Blair cheered her on with a grin. He kept his hand on her hip or waist and helped her find the beat. In no time she was into the bump and grind right along with him, smiling in spite of herself.

"Check them out," Rafe said loudly as Ellison joined him at the corner of the dance floor.

"Go figure," Jim answered with a grin. He was glad to see Blair come out of his shell, but he still didn't act normal. Not even normal for Sandburg. It was as if he had gone too far the other way. Sandburg on steroids, maybe.

When the music changed and the dance floor cleared a little, suddenly it became apparent who was dancing with whom. Rafe raised an eyebrow and Jim shrugged back at him. "Oh, yeah, there's a conference at the hotel," Jim said into Rafe's ear.

Blair pulled Megan close and swayed to the softer music. She didn't protest, she could slow dance with the best of them. Blair's eyes twinkled and she felt herself melt a little in his arms.

Halfway through the song, a handsome young man walked up and tapped Blair on the shoulder. "May I cut in?" he asked politely.

"You'll have to ask the lady," Blair replied in kind.

"Oh, sorry. I meant I wanted to dance with you," the man clarified. Blair looked around to see who had instigated the joke, instead he realized that he didn't know most of the people who were dancing now. In fact, most of them were same sex couples.

"No thanks," Blair said brusquely and pulled Megan away with him towards the table.

"Okay, no problem," the man said, following through the crowd. "Can I at least get your number?" He gently grasped Blair by the elbow to slow him down.

"Trouble," Rafe said just as Jim turned to go sit down.

Jim spun back around and saw Sandburg take out a larger man with one good right cross. As the man tumbled into the other dancers and fell, Blair stalked away through the crowd to the door. Megan stared after him and jumped as Jim reached her and grabbed onto her shoulder. 

"What happened?" Jim asked. "Why did Sandburg hit that guy?"

"Because he asked him to dance," Megan supplied as she knelt down to check on the man still laying in the floor rubbing his jaw.

Jim followed the path his errant partner had taken, pushing his way through the gathering crowd, then out the door and into the street. Blair was flagging down a cab half a block away. 

"Sandburg!" Jim shouted. 

Blair turned and looked directly at him briefly before stepping into the taxi without a word. The cab sped away in the other direction. Jim went back into the hotel to grab his coat and keys, and get someone to do damage control from the inside.

The cab dropped Blair off ten or twelve blocks from the loft. He wanted to walk a little to clear his head. He also wanted Jim to have time to get home, find out he wasn't there and tear out again to find him. Sometimes it was scary how well he knew his blessed protector and he was somewhat ashamed that he used the information from time to time for his own benefit. He just couldn't face Jim's wrath at the moment, he needed to gather his strength first. Jim would be pissed and disappointed at his behavior, but he would be concerned for Blair as well. That concern would be Blair's undoing and he might say things he would much rather keep to himself.

Blair stepped into the shadows down a side street when he saw the familiar blue and white truck making a bee line for the loft. He sat on a bench outside the long since closed barber shop around the corner and waited, fairly confident Jim wouldn't look for him this close to home. Rainier would likely be Jim's next destination. 

A cold drizzle began to fall and he had left his coat at the ballroom. Already wet with sweat from dancing all night, Blair began to shiver. After an eternity of self castigation, he decided the coast must be clear, even if it wasn't he was too cold to care anymore and he rounded the last corner for home. The truck was gone and it hadn't passed the way it had come. He was sure Jim had gone to the university to check his office.

Unlocking the loft with shaking hands, Blair flicked on the light as soon as he stumbled into the room. His keys, wallet, and several wet napkins complete with names and numbers went into the basket by the door. He picked up one and noted the unreadable smear of blue ink. Didn't matter. He wasn't going to call any of them anyway, more or less he had been killing time. 

Finding himself with nothing to say with the macho group of cops had been unnerving for him. He had done pretty well with the ladies though, even Megan had started to come around. His confidence level had been zero tonight, but after a few beers he had put on a flirtatious mask and dived head first into the female population. Anything to get away from the boys for a while. Some might call it over compensating. Yep, he had faked it, smile and all. As far as he could tell, no one had noticed. Not even Jim.

Where the doubt had come from he wasn't sure, but it had ambushed him about the time he and Jim entered the banquet room. He hadn't wanted to go anyway, he just wasn't in a party kind of mood. But Jim didn't get out much and seemed to want him to be there so he agreed to tag along. He hadn't realized he was feeling so unsure of himself until they got there. 

After the first round of 'What's wrong with Blair?' he decided he wasn't going to give anyone any ammunition to use against him. The last thing he needed was for the Major Crime family to come to him one at a time asking questions. He knew they cared and quite frankly it was a good feeling most of the time. But now the question 'What's wrong?' just might send him off the deep end. He had to find an out, and he did.

The mayor's wife had literally fallen right into his lap after tripping over her own feet. It hadn't taken much convincing to get her to dance. Apparently the mayor wasn't much of a twinkle toes when there was flesh to be pressed. And his mother, can't forget Edith, was all for having a good time with a nice young man, even if he did need a haircut. Between the drinking and the dancing he had even started to fake himself out and enjoy himself. Until the wrong person expressed an interest in him. Any other time he would have laughed it off, instead he lashed out. That poor man had bad timing.

The walk, the cold, and the wet conspired against him, because now the nice little buzz he'd had was gone. Clear headed was definitely not the way to go with this one. He went to the fridge and collected a couple of beers and drank the first one while standing at the sink. The second one followed quickly as he paced the kitchen. Jim would be back soon and he didn't want to face him sober. 

He hated the way he felt right now, as if he had done something wrong, other than hitting another human being in the face. He shivered in earnest now as he drank the cold beer. Knowing he had been an innocent victim did nothing to appease his sense of guilt. A victim. Like that was any better. If he felt this bad just because someone had tried to...he couldn't even finish the thought. If it hadn't been for Randy, he didn't know if he would have been able to fight Clay off.

Blair hadn't even given Clay a second thought for almost a week after the attack and Clay's subsequent death. He had pushed back the memory almost to repression. Jim had asked, but Blair had successfully swept any reference as to the nature of the assault under the proverbial rug. 

Then, one day while sitting in his office, Blair had run his tongue over the healing cut on the inside of his lip. The memory of the room after the struggle came unbidden to his mind. There had been blood everywhere and he remembered spitting out a mouthful of it when Randy sent Clay away. He wondered if Clay had ever forced himself on anyone else, or if he had been the first. He was definitely the last, thanks to Chris. Putting two and two together, he came up with crude, black tattoos equal prison. Randy had even said that prison had been hard on Clay. Even though Clay didn't look sick, Blair knew you couldn't tell by looking. It began to work on his mind and soon after on his subconscious. He began to replay the scene night after night in his dreams.

Once again he flashed on Clay's face. He felt the vulgar touch of the man's hands on his face, tasted the vile stench of his breath. Fighting the urge to vomit, Blair moved to the sink. When the nausea passed, Blair stood at the counter feeling violated. He raised the bottle and slammed it down on the edge of the sink. It broke impressively with shards of glass and beer splashing in every direction. 

Letting the shattered neck slip from his grasp, Blair intently watched the thick crimson fluid that dripped through his fingers. He held his hand up to get a better look, fascination overriding the pain for the moment. As he watched the flow drip into the sink, he marveled at the human body, the cells, the structure. So perfect when functioning properly, so easily destroyed. He wished for the Sentinel's eyesight to better study the blood, knowing even Jim wouldn't be able to see the tiny virus he feared might be lurking within his own bloodstream. An insidious virus that could reduce him to a shell of a man before taking his life. One he could pass onto others inadvertently, killing them as well.

Blair jumped when the door swung open and an angry Jim Ellison crashed through it. He swept most of the glass and beer into the sink with a dish towel and dropped the other hand into the sink out of sight. He surmised anger and worry had prevented Jim's over-active nose from registering the blood from out in the hall.

"What the hell happened , Sandburg?" Jim roared. "I can't believe you left me standing in the street like that."

"Am I under arrest?" Blair asked, visibly shaking and not bothering to make eye contact.

Jim paused for a moment taking in the pitiful specter of his cold and wet roommate standing at the sink. Something was wrong and it didn't have anything to do with the man at the club. He was calmer when he spoke again. 

"No. Megan calmed the guy down some. She told him you had a recent trauma in your life and for him not to take it personally. He said to tell you he was sorry, he was drunk, and he usually doesn't act that way. He said he'd been watching you..." Jim stopped when Blair raised his head and finally met his eyes. The raw emotion in the blue orbs was crippling: anger, fear, and pain. Lots and lots of pain. "God, Blair," Jim exclaimed, "What is it? Tell me what's wrong."

As Jim moved to his side, Blair reached up and turned on the water, but not fast enough to wash away the blood. Jim grasped him by the wrist and held the hand under the stream to examine the wound. "What have you done to yourself?" Jim breathed as he ran sensitive fingers over the cuts to determine the extent of the damage. He silently cursed himself for not noticing sooner.

Blair allowed the ministrations for a second before a nightmare vision of Jim's gaunt and lifeless face found it's way into his active imagination. 

"Stop it, Jim. Let me go." Blair pulled away and grabbed a paper towel and wrapped it around the still bleeding hand.

"Don't be stupid, Blair," Jim admonished. "Let me see how bad it is."

"No. It's too dangerous. You might get exposed to...something," Blair tried to explain without saying the words, his voice straining to keep the emotions at bay.

"What are you talking about? If I were going to catch something from you, I would have caught it a long time ago. You bleed on me a lot, you know," Jim said lightly. "Unless something has changed?"

"Just put some gloves on. I know you've got some latex around here somewhere," Blair said as he started to pick the larger pieces of glass out of the sink and put them into the trash. The paper towel began to soak through with patchy red splotches and Blair's teeth chattered slightly.

"Leave it, I'll get it later," Jim said as he went to his coat and pulled out a pair of crime scene gloves to appease his anxious partner. 

Blair ignored him and continued to clean the sink, scrubbing at the last of the blood with an SOS pad. Jim ducked into the bathroom and returned with the first aid kit and a towel, which he dropped over Blair's wet head. Blair accepted the towel gratefully and began to rub clumsily at his hair with his left hand. Jim guided him to the table and pushed him into a chair. At Blair's long suffering look, he popped the latex gloves into place and pushed Blair's sleeve up past his elbow. Jim noticed the small hole and surrounding bruise at the crook of his arm but he filed the information in the 'ask later' drawer of his brain and got to work on the more recent wounds.

"Do you want to tell me your version of what happened?" Jim asked cautiously as he began to clean the lacerations with peroxide, somewhat surprised when Blair didn't even flinch. In fact, he showed no sign of discomfort other than the appearance of being very cold.

"Nothing to tell," Blair uttered stubbornly. Jim looked up with a raised eyebrow that spoke clearly of his disbelief. Blair sighed and tried again. "The guy tried to cut in while I was dancing with Megan. I thought he wanted to dance with her, but he really wanted to dance with me. I was embarrassed and tried to lead Megan off the dance floor."

"Yeah, I found out after you left that there is a gay issues conference in town this week. Guess where they're staying?"

Blair chuckled in spite of himself. "A cop party and a gay convention in the same hotel? Who planned that?"

"Hey, we behaved ourselves. We're not all homophobic, you know. It was our peace-loving observer who took one of them out, with a nice right cross I might add," Jim said with a grin.

Blair's smile faded. "Oh, you saw it, huh?" He cleared his throat and added, "I'd have been okay if he hadn't grabbed me."

Both of Jim's eyebrows went up. "He grabbed you?"

Blair shook his head. "No. Not like that. Jeez, Jim."

"Well you said..."

"Okay, maybe grabbed is a little strong here. He touched my arm. That's all," Blair assured. "I don't know what happened to me. He put his hand on me and I went ape shit. Oh, God, and I left Megan right there in the middle of it."

Jim scowled at the dejected look on his partner's face. "Megan can take care of herself. She's just really worried about you. We all are." 

Jim began to apply Band-Aids to the smaller nicks on Blair's palm and fingers, still waiting for some type of reaction. When none came he continued. "Megan has your coat and cell phone. When I tried to call you, your jacket started to ring. At least you had it turned on this time." 

Blair didn't react to the teasing either. He just sat there trembling and morose. "I guess I should have got your stuff from her, but I was in a hurry." Jim placed a gauze pad over the large cut at the base of the thumb and taped it in place. "We'll hold pressure on this for a little while. If it doesn't stop bleeding soon, we'll go and get some stitches in it."

"Whatever," Blair said.

"Chief, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong," Jim urged gently as he applied pressure to Blair's thumb, holding it firmly between both of his hands. "Is it Christina?" he asked at last.

Blair smirked. "Jim, Chris was just sad. She didn't hurt anything but my pride and she doesn't give me nightmares. I just feel sorry for her is all."

"Who does give you nightmares?" Jim asked bluntly as Blair winced at his slip of the tongue. "And don't lie to me, because I hear you every night when you startle out of sleep like the devil himself is after you."

Blair pulled his hand away and held pressure with his left thumb and forefinger. "I'm going to put on some dry clothes," he said softly.

Jim let him get almost to the doors of his room before he spoke again. "It's Clayton Preston, isn't it? He's the one who gives you nightmares."

Ugly Clay, Blair thought, stopping but not turning around. "Sometimes it sucks living with a detective," he said in a small childlike tone.

Jim swallowed. Now he was getting somewhere. Preston was the problem. "I'll start a fire," he said changing the subject. "We gotta get you warmed up."

Blair did turn at the mention of a fire, his eyes big as saucers darted to the fireplace. "Don't go to any trouble," he said wishing he had checked the grate for residual evidence.

"No trouble," Jim assured and moved across to the livingroom. "How'd you get wet, anyway?"

"I walked part of the way," Blair said with a hopeless, loss expression.

Jim couldn't stand to see his friend in such a state, so he busied himself with preparing the fireplace. When he looked up again, Blair had gone into his room. Jim registered the rapid heart rate and knew he had upset him. Gathering wood for the fire, Jim frowned as he examined the ashes in the grate. Someone had burned paper within the last couple of days, and it hadn't been him. 

The ashes fell apart as he touched them, leaving sooty remains on his fingers. Off to the side was a piece of blackened business card. Jim gently ran a finger tip over the top of it. The embossed letters still intact spelled out Rape Crisis Cen. Jim crushed the card to dust as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. The nightmares, the fear when Jim tried to wash away the blood, Blair's reaction to the man at the hotel. 

"Oh, Blair, no," Jim groaned softly. Sometimes it sucks living with a Sentinel, too, he thought.

When Blair entered the living room wrapped tightly in a quilt, Jim had a roaring fire started. Heat poured into the room and Blair seated himself front and center closing his eyes in a meditative pose. "That feels good," he said.

"Blair," Jim choked out awkwardly. "I know."

Opening his eyes, Blair turned slightly to face him. "You know what?" he asked slowly.

"I know about Preston. I know what happened," Jim dropped down next to Blair, who turned back to the fire.

"How did you find out?" The calm voice belied the jackhammer heart beat.

Much to Jim's horror, there was no denial. Not even a false one. It was true. "I'm a detective, remember?" he managed to squeeze past the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, I remember." Blair studied the flames for a long time in silence. "Jim," he said at last. "I'll get past this. Just give me a little time, okay? I'm making too much out of it, I know."

"Too much? No, I think you're taking it too well. I think it'll blow up in your face if you don't do something. Let's call someone..."

"No," Blair stated firmly. "I don't want anyone else to know."

"Blair, this isn't your fault. You need professional help to deal with this."

"I don't need help. I couldn't stand it to have people look at me that way."

"What way?" Jim asked, desperate to do something.

"The way you're looking at me now. Like I'm broken or something. I'm not."

Jim reached for his Guide, needing to comfort, needing to be comforted, but Blair shifted away from his touch. "I got a test. That's really the only thing," Blair said barely above a whisper.

"What kind of test?" Jim asked, his voice rough with emotion as he lowered his arm, stung by the seeming rejection.

"An HIV test. Oh, and a hepatitis screen. I guess hep C is even easier to spread so they advised me to get that one, too," Blair stated calmly, as if lecturing on something other than the subject that confirmed Jim's nightmare deduction. 

"Jim, promise me you won't tell anyone about this," Blair insisted suddenly. "Promise." He waited several minutes, and no answer came. "I'm going to take your silence as a promise, so if you're planning on telling someone, you'd better let me know now, man."

Blair stood and readjusted his cover around him. "Thanks for fixing me up, Jim. I'm going to go to bed before my buzz wears off again. I don't want you laying up there and worrying, okay? Clay's dead and he won't ever hurt anyone else." 

With those words he lumbered off to the sanctuary of his room. When he closed the door, Jim knew he had been shut out. For now at least. A plan began to form in his mind, but he didn't know if he had the guts to go through with it. He'd have to sleep on it tonight.

Jim couldn't sleep. He was waiting for the nightly commotion from down below, and he couldn't get the thought out of his mind that his partner had been hurting and he hadn't noticed. He had been so happy to get Blair back from the psycho bitch that he hadn't paid much attention to what Blair didn't say about the whole affair. 

And Jim had missed the obvious clues. First of all, it hadn't made sense that the drug lord had beat Blair up. He was already a prisoner, and a cooperative one for once. Then it wasn't the drug lord Blair had asked anxiously about after Christina had shot him and his thug. When he realized that Preston was dead, Blair had actually been happy about it. That was so out of character for his guide that Jim should have realized immediately there was something terribly wrong. And as usual, Blair seemed to bounce right back, taking a load of shit from the guys at the station in stride. 

Making a decision, Jim reached for the phone and dialed the number he had already looked up.

"Hello," came the sultry with sleep voice over the phone line.

Jim glanced at the clock and winced. Two am. "BJ? Hi, it's Jim Ellison. Please don't hang up."

A long silence ensued. "Jim?"

"Yeah."

A soft feminine chuckle tickled his ear. "See, I knew you'd call. And it's only been what? Four years?"

"Something like that. I'm really sorry, BJ."

"Is this like one of those twelve step programs where you have to call all the people you've wronged and apologize? And do you have to do it at an ungodly hour of the night?"

"No, nothing like that. I need your help. I didn't know who else to call for this." Jim felt the pleading tone in his voice, but he couldn't help it right now.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

"Do you still do that rape counseling thing?"

Another long pause. "Yeah, Jim, I still do that thing."

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by that. I need your help with a friend, but it has to be confidential."

"She must be a pretty special friend for you to swallow your pride and call me."

"He is," Jim corrected.

"I see." Jim listened to the soft whisper of air move in and out of the lady's lungs as she pondered the situation. "What do you need me to do?" she asked at last.

The dream started as usual, with Clay touching and kissing and Blair fighting him away. This time when he looked up he met Jim's disapproving stare. The coldness in the blue eyes was more than Blair could take. He turned away in shame and listened as Jim walked out. 

Tears formed in his eyes and ran into his pillow, but he didn't wake this time until a hand touched his arm. He flinched away before he realized Jim was there in real life, standing next to his bed. Caught crying like a baby, he rolled toward the wall to hide his face from the Sentinel's gaze. But he made room for Jim to sit on the bed, and he did.

Jim didn't try to touch him again, instead he lay down beside him so they lay back to back. He had no words for the situation, so he said nothing. Soon Blair would know of his betrayal, after that he didn't know if Blair would stay. But tonight he would give comfort in the only way Blair seemed to allow, by his presence. He hoped Blair wouldn't send him away, and he didn't. 

Soon the ragged breaths evened out and Blair relaxed against him. As soon as he was sure Blair was asleep, he rolled over and put an arm around his friend. He realized it was more for his sake than Blair's, but he couldn't help himself. Dozing lightly so as to make a quick break if Blair began to wake, he waited for the sun. It came after a long, long night. Jim slipped from the bed before Blair woke up.

Jim finally heard the heartbeat he had been listening for. It was on the elevator one floor down. He made his way to the hall and waited for it to arrive, listening to the familiar timbre make small talk with a female passenger. The kid put up a brave front, and it tugged at the big detectives heart. 

Blair looked up and smiled when the doors opened. "Hey, Jim. What's up?"

Jim let the woman out of the elevator before pushing the observer back in with a hand on his chest. "You need to get out of here, Chief, before Simon sees you," he said as the door slid shut.

"Why can't I just talk to him?" Blair asked.

"Do you remember last night at all?" Jim replied sarcastically. "I'm afraid the mayor's gonna pull your ride along. Now let's get you out of here before they have the chance to do it."

"You don't want me here," Blair accused.

"I think you need some down time," Jim agreed. "That doesn't mean I don't want you around."

Blair stared at the wall the rest of the way to the garage. "I can find my way home," he said icily. "Unless you don't want me there anymore either."

"How can you think that?" Jim asked reaching out a hand but stopping and pulling away at the glare shot his way. He was afraid to touch his best friend now. Afraid that his intent would be misconstrued. He couldn't stand the thought of causing Blair any more pain, so he refused to act on his instinct to hug him. "Just go home. We'll talk later."

When the doors opened Blair popped out of the elevator without a look back. Jim stood and watched him go, wondering if he had done the right thing after all.

"Ellison, my office," Captain Banks bellowed as soon as he got back from a lunch meeting with the mayor.

Jim grimaced and gathered his long legs wearily under him to travel to the lion's den.

"Where's Sandburg?" Simon growled as soon as Jim closed the door.

"I sent him home," Jim said, unconsciously standing at parade rest next to the desk. "I want to make sure the heat is off before he comes back to the station."

"That's not like you," Simon mused. "I'd have thought you would want him to face the music. He is responsible for his own actions, isn't he?"

Jim's jaw clenched audibly. "There are extenuating circumstances, sir," he said stiffly.

Simon's scowl was replaced by a look of genuine concern. "What's wrong with Sandburg?"

"He asked me not to say anything, Simon. He'd never forgive me if I told anyone."

"Jim, if whatever it is affects him like it did last night, I need to know about it. I can't have him out on the streets with you if he's a powder keg looking for a spark. I won't let on that I know," Banks assured.

"I don't think you could hide this, sir," Jim said seriously, aware his own emotions were beginning to show.

"That bad?" Simon frowned as Jim nodded silently. "Go home, Jim. The kid needs you."

Jim let out a pent up breath and slumped into a chair. "Won't do any good. He won't let me near him. Physically or emotionally. Besides, I'm not any good with this kind of thing. That's one of the reasons Sandburg comes in so handy at crime scenes, he always seems to know what to say and I never do. I called someone who may be able to help, though."

"Didn't you just say Blair doesn't want anyone to know about whatever this is?"

"Yeah. I probably just blew our friendship out of the water, but I had to do something. I couldn't just let him suffer alone."

Simon was silent for a long time. "Do I need to pull his credentials?" he asked.

"No. I won't let him ride until we're over the rough spots. If we get over them that is. Wait a minute, you mean the mayor didn't already pull his pass?"

Simon smiled and then chuckled. "Well his honor is somewhat embarrassed about the whole thing. Most of it came down on my head, and believe me, I was ready to pass it along to Sandburg. But the mayor left it to my discretion."

"Why would he do that?" Jim asked suspiciously.

"Because the mayor's wife and mother are defending Sandburg with a vengeance. They are firmly in his camp on this thing. Apparently his lethal charms work equally as well on the older ladies," Simon laughed.

Jim didn't exactly smile, but a lot of the tension eased out of his face. His eyes, however reflected the pain he had seen vividly in Blair's.

Blair frowned when he opened the door and was greeted by the aroma of garlic bread. Jim couldn't have beat him home, let alone be cooking dinner. He hung his jacket by an unfamiliar one on the rack and stepped quietly into the kitchen. 

The posterior of the person digging through the refrigerator was obviously not Jim's. Blair cocked his head and smiled appreciatively at the nicely packed pair of jeans. He leaned against the counter with his arms across his chest and waited patiently with a grin plastered on his face. The owner of the great backside backed out of the fridge and shut the door as she swiveled to unload her burdens on the counter, coming face to face with her admirer. With a startled squeal she dumped the makings for a really good salad on the floor.

"Sorry," Blair said sheepishly as he bent to help her pick up the vegetables that were rolling around underfoot.

"You must be Blair," she said breathlessly with an embarrassed smile. "Snuck up on me, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," Blair grinned taking in the woman's stats automatically. She was about Jim's age, as tall or slightly taller than Blair, and fit, but curvaceous. "Who are you?"

"I'm Barbara Johnson. Call me BJ. Jim said not to expect him home any time soon."

"Oookay," Blair said, clearly confused "So..." he indicated the stove with a glance.

"I guess it'll just be you and me for dinner."

Blair processed the information slowly. "Look, BJ, I don't know what Jim told you, but I don't need a baby-sitter."

"I'm not a baby-sitter," BJ protested pushing a strawberry blonde lock of hair out of her green eyes. "Just consider me your date for the evening."

Blair's eyebrows knit together. "You're not a hooker, are you?" he asked wondering if Jim was trying to help in a twisted, macho sort of way. "No offense."

"None taken," BJ laughed. "Actually, I'm a nurse."

"Oh."

"And a counselor. A rape counselor."

The color blanched from Blair's face and his mouth fell open. "What?"

"Jim wanted me to talk to you. I thought dinner would be a nice way to break the ice."

Blair's pale cheeks flushed to red as his anger boiled to the surface. Jim broke his promise. Okay, it had been an implied promise, but he had lead Blair to believe that he wouldn't tell anyone about the assault. "What did he tell you?" Blair demanded, his tone pure ice.

"Only that you were kidnapped and held against your will. He didn't go into specifics, he just hinted that you needed my expertise," BJ explained. "Calm down, please. I'm not the enemy here," she offered in a pretty good imitation of a guide voice.

"Son of a bitch," Blair murmured and stormed into his bedroom slamming the door behind him. BJ let him go and turned her attention back to the salad.

Blair lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about the fraud his best friend had perpetrated on him. Now everyone would know that he was weak, that he couldn't even protect himself against the invasion of his personal space. The teasing at the station, hell it was almost as bad at the university, had been bad enough when he was kidnapped by a girl. He endured the taunts of 'boy toy' with apparent good nature, but inside it had hurt. And they didn't even know about Clay. He was an equal opportunity victim, fighting off male and female aggressors alike.

And now Jim had banned him from the station with some lame excuse about the mayor being pissed. He had thought Jim was going to offer some sort of comfort last night after the nightmare, but he never said a word, never even touched him. At least he had stayed for a while, until Blair had gone back to sleep, whether out of pity or loyalty or something else entirely, he didn't know. But then he dragged a stranger into Blair's grief, so he wouldn't have to deal with him himself. After he was explicitly asked not to tell anyone. That hurt. Just like his dream, Jim was walking away, Blair's newest injury too much to take.

Waiting was hell. And Ellison never waited well. He went over the situation in his head a dozen times. There had to be something he could do, some action that would ease his friend's pain. When he remembered the tiny puncture mark on the inside of Blair's arm he thought about Blair's brave pronouncement that he'd had a blood test. Knowing that those things took forever to come back helped to make his decision. At least he had something that he could be doing now, something he hoped would help. 

Jim spent the afternoon on the phone. By the time he finished, he had called in every favor owed to him in the police community. Rules were bent, if not broken out right. And through it all, he had kept Blair's name out of it. It was hard work, and he wasn't done yet. He still had to drive out to the prison. It was gonna be a late night.

"Blair, dinner's ready," BJ said softly from outside the door.

"Are you still here?" Blair answered coolly.

"I'm kind of hard to get rid of," BJ replied poking her head through the doorway. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Not really," Blair lied, refusing to look at her.

She entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "You gonna make me eat alone?"

"I didn't invite you," Blair pointed out, fixing a hard gaze on her as he sat up on the edge of the bed.

"No, you didn't."

Blair's expression changed so suddenly it startled her. "Do you think I'm attractive?" he asked, the mask of anger gone, replaced by pure vulnerability.

"Very," BJ answered gently. Comprehension dawned on her as his face fell at her answer. "Oh, I see where you're going with this."

"Would it help if I cut my hair?"

"You think if you weren't attractive to your assailant it wouldn't have happened. So now you want to change your appearance to protect yourself."

Blair turned away, his eyes becoming moist as his barriers began to tumble. He wasn't ready to talk just yet. She  would have to earn his trust, and he was gonna make her work at it.

"Blair, this wasn't about attraction or appearance. Rape is about power, control over someone else."

"You don't understand," Blair said turning back to her, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"I do. A lot more than you think."

Blair considered her words carefully. He watched her face as she wiped away his tear. She was compassionate, but there was no pity in her face. Not like Jim's. At last he smiled a little, once again catching her off guard. "I feel silly," he said.

"Silly? That's a new one," BJ admitted.

"I guess you don't counsel many men in your line of work, huh?"

"A few," she conceded. "For the most part, rape is considered to be a woman's problem. When it happens to a man, it's usually kept secret. Like somehow it's worse when it happens to a man. Very few men consent to treatment."

"BJ," Blair said earnestly "I wasn't raped."

"No?" she asked, reading his open face. "Jim is under the impression that you were."

"What's for dinner? I'm starved," Blair said, not wanting to deal with the implications of Jim's beliefs at the moment. It certainly explained Jim's reaction, though.

Blair ate two helpings of baked spaghetti squash as well as a large salad and half a loaf of whole wheat garlic toast. BJ was as big a health nut as he was, and not bad company. They kept the conversation light, with Blair telling tall tales of his world travels, and unfortunately not so tall tales of life at Cascade PD. Most of those stories revolved around one Detective James Ellison. Even though, technically, he was still mad at Jim. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

"So how did you meet my asshole roommate?" Blair asked, phrasing it just so to remind himself that Jim had betrayed him. It was hard to keep up the anger. But the anger was easier to take than the hurt. If he gave in to the hurt, Blair was certain he would drown in it.

"Oh, let me think. I first met him when he worked in Vice and I worked at the ER at Cas Gen. Then, after I opened up the Crisis Center one night he brought in a young runaway that had been through a lot. I had thought he was an asshole too before that night, but I was so impressed with his caring attitude toward the poor girl. When he asked me out, I accepted right away."

"So you dated? Nifty."

"Not so nifty. Actually, it's kind of a sore subject. We went out a couple of times. It didn't last long."

"Why not?" Blair asked as he began to clear the table.

Taking the dishes from Blair's injured hand, BJ winced. "You ask the hard questions, don't you?" She ran the dishwater and settled the dishes into the sink.

"Well, if you want me to open up later..." Blair returned with the rest of the dishes and leaned against the counter.

"You don't play fair."

"Come on, give. You want me to trust you, right? Tit for tat," Blair urged not giving an inch, pinning her with unrelenting blue eyes.

"Look, Jim really hurt me, but I'm not so sure he'd want me to tell you about it." She kept her eyes on the dishes as she spoke.

"So why do you care what he wants? He didn't respect my wishes, so I don't feel too bad for asking," Blair said stubbornly.

BJ shrugged, he was right. "Fine, here's the short version. Jim had just realized that the separation from his wife, what's her name, was going to be permanent."

"Carolyn, nice lady."

"Whatever," BJ shot him a look that said don't interrupt. "Well, we went out a couple of times, one thing lead to another..."

"Oh, no, not that!" Blair teased and was almost hit by the dish rag that sailed past him.

"He hadn't been with anyone since Carolyn the nice lady, and I hadn't been with anyone since.. well, in a long time. Anyway, it was awkward, and he never called me again."

"I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with you," Blair soothed, "Jim was probably going through a rough time. He's not like that."

"You're defending him," BJ accused with a grin.

"You're right. The bastard. I'll kick his ass," Blair said, returning the grin.

"Now you're defending me."

"I get the feeling you don't need defending. Why did you come here if he was such a jerk?"

"He said someone very special needed me. So I came. Blair, this was no small thing for him. He swallowed a lot of pride to call me."

"Now you're defending him," Blair said. "I'll deal with him later. Let's make some coffee, then we can talk. I think that maybe you can help me."

Blair opened the balcony doors, coffee in hand.  BJ followed and sat next to him when he settled into one of two chairs facing the railing. She sipped her mug quietly and waited for Blair to take the lead.

"So, what am I?" he asked casually as he put his feet up on the edge of the crate that served as a makeshift table, keeping his eyes on the city as one light after another flickered on in the growing dusk.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What do you call people in my situation? Patient? Client? Victim?"

BJ thought for a minute. "Normally, I would refer to you as a client."

Blair nodded. It was better than victim. "And what are your qualifications for this?" he asked politely. "I have a right to know, don't I?" he asked when she didn't answer right away.

"Of course," BJ said. "I have a BSN and a master's degree in social work."

Taking in the information, apparently weighing it in his head, he sat silently for several minutes. When he spoke again it startled her. "When were you raped?" he asked softly.

"What?" BJ stared open mouthed.

"You were raped weren't you?" Blair asked again, never taking his eyes off the glittering skyline.

"This isn't about me," BJ began, maintaining her cool.

"Isn't it? Isn't that why you do this? Does helping other people help you to deal with your own pain?"

The rape wasn't common knowledge, but she never lied about it either when confronted. "How did you know?" Her voice gave no indication of her feelings one way or the other.

Blair shrugged. "You dropped some hints. I thought maybe it was your way of telling me that you understood."

"Maybe unconsciously, but most people aren't as perceptive as you are."

"That's why Jim hurt you so bad. He was the first person you let your guard down with after the assault, and he let you down. He made you feel like damaged goods."

"Stop it," BJ said firmly. "Why are you doing this?"

"Sorry," Blair sighed and finished his coffee. When he finally did look at her he looked pained. "I knew you'd be tough."

"Oh, that's it? You're testing me," BJ exclaimed. "You want to see if I got past the rape or if I merely survived it. You want to see if it's worth the effort to try. Well it is, Blair. And I can help you, but you've got to stop trying to mess with my head."

"Okay."

"Let's get this straight right now. I'm not damaged goods. And neither are you."

"I told you I wasn't raped," Blair said defensively.

"But something did happen, didn't it?"

Blair put his feet on the ground, but didn't stand up. "In the larger scheme of things, it really was nothing. It just makes me feel bad. I know I shouldn't, but I do."

"Don't discount your feelings, Blair. You don't have to validate them, just accept them for what they are. You can't control the way you feel."

Blair chewed his thumb thoughtfully as he returned his gaze to the city lights. "You owe me now, Blair. Tell me what happened," BJ insisted. "Who kidnapped you?"

"Chris," Blair supplied calmly.

"Okay, a man named Chris kidnapped you and held you against your will. What happened next?"

Blair quit chewing his thumb and turned an amused expression to his counselor. "You're jumping to conclusions. You and Jim have a lot in common," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Chris is short for Christina. She was one of my students."

"Oh, okay. I understand," BJ said, although she subtly shook her head. "No, actually, I don't."

"I'm not too good with the short version of anything, but we've got time, right? I'm sorry I was such an ass before. Get comfortable and I'll tell you the whole sordid affair. Good enough?"

"Good enough." BJ pulled her feet into the chair and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"One of my students became obsessed with me a while back, which in itself is pretty embarrassing. She apparently followed me for a long time and sat in on all my classes to the exclusion of her own. She even drew all these sketches of me, over a hundred Jim said. I have a couple if you want to see them later. A little over two weeks ago she tricked me into meeting with her away from the university. She drugged me and held me captive at this remote cabin that she bought with money she made working at a meth lab. Well, she also stole a lot of money from her boss, and he came looking for her.

"Randy, that was the drug lord, brought this thug with him when he came to the cabin." Blair's voice, which had been calm and steady, took on an edge. "This guy kept looking at me like he was gonna have me for breakfast or something. And I was handcuffed to this wire, not like I could get away from him or anything. 

"Clay. His name was Clay. He was ugly as shit, and had a positive teeth to tattoo ratio, if you know what I mean. As soon as Randy turned his back, Clay was all over me." Blair stopped and swallowed. "I haven't told anybody about this and I'd like to keep it between us," he said, meeting her eyes with a determined look. BJ nodded and he continued, looking away.

"He cut the wire and it hit me in the face," Blair said as he fingered the almost invisible mark the wire had left below his eye. "There was a lot of blood and I couldn't see. He checked it out for me, but then he didn't back off. Next thing I know he had me pinned to the bed with my hands cuffed together. I hit him at least once I think, but he was a lot bigger and stronger.  He was touching me and kissing me, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I tried. I really tried to get away from him. Just when I thought I would lose my mind, I screamed."

Blair blinked and rose from his chair to stand at the railing. When he continued, his voice was flat, but tightly controlled. "He covered my lips with his rancid, rotten toothed mouth and I lost it. I bit his tongue as hard as I could. He hit me so hard I was stunned for a minute. As he started to roll me over to finish the job, Randy came back into the room. I guess he heard me cry out. He put a stop to it. Good guy for a drug lord.

"Well, Chris shot and killed both of them. God help me, I was fucking ecstatic. I thought it was over, but every night when I go to sleep I get to re-live the whole scene. I just feel dirty. I know my body wasn't raped, but I sure as hell feel like my soul was."

BJ approached slowly and placed a hand on his face. "You didn't do anything wrong," she soothed.

"I know, but I feel so ashamed," Blair answered and closed his eyes and leaned his cheek into her touch. "How do I get past this?"

"It's going to take time. But getting it out in the open and talking about it will take some of the sting out of it."

Blair gathered BJ into his arms and after a seconds hesitation she went willingly. "When I said that you could help me, I something specific in mind," he said. "But it's probably not something you do with your other clients."

BJ pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you really think having sex with a woman will make this just go away?"

Blair had the good grace to blush slightly and lower his gaze. "That's not exactly what I had in mind," he said. "Besides, I'm waiting on blood tests to come back before I'll be comfortable with anyone like that."

"What then?"

"A kiss?" 

BJ frowned and pulled away completely. "Let me explain," Blair said. "The last kiss I had was forced on me. It even busted my lip. It was foul and gave me the dry heaves. Very gross. I just want to know that it won't always be like that. But if you're not comfortable with that, I can call my friend Megan. Of course, I'll probably have to explain to her what it's about, and I don't really want to do that."

"Don't you have a little girlfriend somewhere," BJ asked.

"I suppose I could find someone, but it would be better if the other person had no illusions about what it meant. I mean I can't guarantee I won't puke."

BJ studied her client's face intently. She found no trace of manipulation or deceit. There were faint shadows of bruises reminiscent of the attack, but the most compelling evidence was the despair locked in the soulful eyes.

"This is highly unorthodox, Mr. Sandburg," she teased lightly. She smiled, but Blair remained pensive. "It's okay, Blair. I want to help."

With her gentle assurance Blair leaned forward and timidly brushed his lips to hers. When he pulled away, BJ ran her hand up to the nape of his neck and pulled him to her once again. She softly surrendered her mouth to him, which he took hesitantly at first, testing, then more urgently exploring. The tenderness he found there reassured him. At last he pulled away. "Thank you," he sighed holding her face in both hands, his eyes remaining closed.

"Anytime," BJ answered a little breathlessly. "At least I didn't make you puke."

Jim entered the loft cautiously. The only light on was the lamp next to the couch where BJ sat reading a book and holding a cup of tea. Sandburg lay with his head in her lap, sound asleep, the fingers of his undamaged hand lightly grasping the material of her shirt. She sat the cup down and turned the page, then rested her free hand on Blair's hair, gently fingering a wayward curl as she read. As Jim closed the door she looked up and put the book down. A hint of a smile played at her lips.

"How'd it go?" Jim asked anxiously, dropping a manila folder on the coffee table.

"Fine," BJ said noncommittally. "He laughed, he cried, he yelled a little. I think he feels better for it. He was a hard nut to crack, though."

"I'll bet. What did he say?"

"Sorry, Jim, that's privileged information. I promised I wouldn't say anything and I think at least one of us should keep our promise."

"Ouch," Jim said through his clenched jaw.

"That was a low blow. Sorry, again," BJ apologized. "I'm sure he'll tell you everything when he's ready."

"How much trouble am I in? Can you tell me that?" Jim shifted to sit on the arm of the couch, physically closing the distance between him and his partner. If only the emotional span could be bridged so easily.

"He's mad. And hurt. He thinks the world of you, you know. But don't expect him to go easy on you." BJ brought her gaze down to the sleeping man in her lap. "You were right about one thing..."

"Just one?" Jim said with an unconvincing smile.

"He is special."

"Yeah, he is." Jim confirmed as he stroked his partner's sock covered feet.

BJ laughed suddenly. "I swear, even in his sleep he keeps trying to cop a feel." As if on cue, Blair flexed and extended his fingers, brushing the lower edge of her breast.

"I see what you mean. Here, let me help." Jim unclenched Blair's fingers from the shirt, and lifted his partner slightly by the shoulders so BJ could slip out from under him. She slid a pillow under his head and Jim lowered him back to the couch. Blair didn't wake up exactly, but he frowned and groped briefly along the couch with his hand. BJ bent down and brushed her lips across his forehead and the frown eased back into peaceful slumber.

Jim watched with interest, and maybe just a touch of envy that BJ had managed to fill his usual role in such a short time. It didn't matter, Jim told himself, as long as Blair got the help he needed. "BJ, I don't know how to thank you."

"I didn't do anything, Jim. He just needed someone to listen." She noted the hurt expression Jim tried to hide. "Someone without a stake in his well being," she amended.

Jim walked her to the door and helped her into her coat. "About the way I left things between us, I'd like to explain."

"That was a long time ago. Don't worry about it. I'm not. Besides, my hero over there is going to kick your ass for me."

"You told him?" Jim asked incredulously, just short of anger.

"Let's just say it came out in the conversation."

"I can only imagine that conversation," Jim said. "Are we okay?"

"You bet." BJ smiled and kissed Jim on the cheek. "Blair's gonna call me next week and we'll see how things go."

"Next week? Is that soon enough?"

"Just be there for him. He's still going to need a friend."

"He's got one. Whether he wants one or not."

After locking the door, Jim ate some of the left over spaghetti. It was really good, but there was something different about it. He debated whether to put Blair to bed, but opted to leave him on the couch. Lifting him gently, he slid into the spot where BJ had been. He picked up the book briefly, then set it aside and turned off the lamp. Blair didn't push him away as he ran his fingers through the silky strands of brown curls. Instead, he reached out in his sleep and hooked his fingers into Jim's shirt.

When Blair woke sun was streaming through the windows and his head was cradled on a pillow in a sleeping Sentinel's lap. He smiled to himself as he studied the somber face of his snoozing partner, whose head was cocked to the side, propped up on one hand. The other hand gently cupped Blair under the chin. Attempting to slide out from under the hand resulted in a firm squeeze to his neck as Jim jolted into wakefulness.

"Ugh," Blair grunted and Jim quickly released his hold.

"Sorry, Chief," Jim said as he rubbed his face with his propping hand. "What's wrong? Bad dream?"

Blair settled back into the lap with a chuckle, much to the larger man's surprise. "Nah, man, just disappointed," he said.

"Why?"

"You know. I went to bed with Cinderella and woke up with a pumpkin," he grinned.

"Oh," Jim said with a serious face. He wasn't sure what to do with his hand so he laid it on Blair's chest, happy it wasn't pushed away. "Do you want me to call Barbara?" he asked softly.

"Jim, it was a joke, man. Chill out," Blair said, now serious as well. He placed his hand over Jim's and rubbed it gently. "We've got to talk," he said.

"Yeah, lets get breakfast and then we'll talk."

"It's not gonna be a bad talk, Jim. Let's just do it now while I have your attention," Blair said, "I'm not mad at you anymore."

Jim flushed. He wanted to run, but couldn't escape. Sure he could push past his smaller roommate and pull away from the gentle grasp that held his hand, but he couldn't break free of the strong gaze that bore all the way into his soul. "I'm sorry," Jim offered sincerely.

"No, that talk we'll save for later. I want to ask you a question."

"Okay," Jim said suspiciously.

"Why did you dump BJ? Was it because she had been raped?"

"What?" Jim asked, horrified by the thought. "When?"

"Okay, so you didn't know. That's what I thought. She wasn't sure if you knew or not."

"Oh, God," Jim exclaimed as Blair's words soaked in.

"No, Jim. It's okay. She's over it now. She said she might have become really dependent on you if you had let her. When she didn't fall apart afterward, she knew she was gonna be okay."

"I was going to explain to her about that last night, but she wouldn't let me. Oh, Chief," Jim sighed and rubbed his eyes again, harder this time. "I panicked. I started to feel something for her. She was so vulnerable. I didn't want to get that involved again. That's why I never called her. Fear based responses, right?"

"Yeah, that's your MO all right. Hey, don't worry about it. We did this role playing thing last night where we were both you, and man, you're ears must have been burning. We laughed our asses off." Blair grinned at the memory, then sobered when he added "We both forgave you last night and let it go."

"Really?"

"That depends, can I come back to the station now?"

"I don't know, Chief, are you up to it?"

"Is Simon gonna kill me?"

"No. The mayor let you off the hook since the guy didn't press charges. All I can say is you sure know how to pick your allies."

"You mean Edith and Mary. I was just fooling around, trying to see if one of them would dance with me. I'll tell you about it sometime," he said gleefully.

Jim narrowed his eyes. "See what you're doing? You act like nothing's wrong and you say you'll tell me later, but you never do. That's why I missed it before, I think. Because your so damned good at hiding your feelings."

"I guess there's some truth to that," Blair admitted, "But you're wrong too, Detective Ellison. You took a bunch of circumstantial evidence and jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Huh?"

"Well, while BJ assures me that it would be considered a sexual assault in a court room..." Jim winced and closed his eyes. "Jim, hear me out. He tried, man, but Randy stopped him."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Jim said raising his eyes.

"You said you knew what happened. I thought you really knew, I never dreamed you were bluffing," Blair scolded. "Basically I got fondled. I didn't take it very well, and I didn't want you to know."

"But the card in the fireplace..."

"Dammit, I knew I should have double checked that grate. If you only knew how hard it is to live with a Sentinel sometimes," Blair grumbled.

"Try living with a secretive, sneaky Guide," Jim shot back. "The card?"

"Yeah, yeah, cool your jets. After Clay busted my lip, he forced his tongue into my mouth..."

"That bastard!" Jim raged and jumped to his feet, sending Blair to the floor.

"And that's the reaction I was hoping to avoid. Next you'll start with the guilt."

"Chief, I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stop him." Jim sank back to the couch.

"Right on schedule."

"The card?" Jim asked again with a sigh.

Still on the floor, Blair leaned against the couch. "I bit his tongue. There was a lot of blood and I knew he had been in prison."

"So you went to the clinic to get a blood test," Jim finished for him.

"Right. They gave me a whole stack of stuff, including that card. I didn't think I needed it and I didn't want you to find it and freak, which you did. So I burned all of it. Ironically, it was BJ's business card. She gave me another one just like it and I put it in my wallet because it has her number on it."

"What about the bad dreams you've been having?"

"I didn't have one last night. I think it helped to get all of that stuff out of my head."

"Hand me that file, will you? I've got something for you."

Blair frowned and picked up the file on the coffee table that hadn't been there when he had fallen asleep. Jim plucked it out of his hand and flipped through it. When he found what he was looking for he held it out to Blair. "This is a copy of Preston's medical records," he said. "Read this. As of one month ago, Preston tested negative for HIV."

"Jim, this is suppose to be confidential. How did you get this?"

"It wasn't easy. Besides, he's dead. What does he care?"

"Oh, I don't know, man. This is bad karma," Blair warned.

"Aren't you even a little relieved?" Jim asked pleadingly.

"Yeah, I am," Blair admitted, knowing Jim had tried his best to come to the rescue again. "What else does it say?"

"Oh, no you don't. Bad karma, remember. What kind of Blessed Protector would I be if I allowed you to read this?" Jim said, snatching the file out of Blair's hands.

"Jerk."

"Punk."

"Flatfoot."

"Hippie."

"Fix me breakfast."

"What?"

"Come on Jim, you owe me, after the way you abandoned me."

"I did what?" Jim sputtered. "You wouldn't let me near you."

"You didn't try hard enough."

"Oh, I guess we're going to have that conversation now."

"I'd rather have breakfast," Blair answered sweetly, crawling up onto the couch.

"Yeah," Jim agreed, "so would I. But then we are going to have a long talk."

"You're right. We are."

"Right after breakfast," Jim said heading for the kitchen. Blair smiled and laid back down on the couch with his hands under his head. If Jim was going to feel guilty, and he was going to feel guilty no matter what Blair said or did, he might as well enjoy it, for a while anyway. At least until after breakfast.                                                                      

The End

Disclaimer - Images, characters, and settings taken from various television shows are the property of their respective owners, producers, etc.  No copyright infringement intended, I'm just having a little fun.