The letter arrived, via special delivery courier, three days before his thirty-fifth birthday. The name of an unfamiliar law firm, as well as an out-of-state postmark, surprised him. To his consternation his hands shook a little as he opened the envelope. What kind of *good* news could come from an out-of-state attorney?

The envelope and the paper within were expensive-looking, probably high quality stuff. Both were textured, the envelope embossed with gold lettering, and the paper a fancy cream color with heavy black ink. If his partner were here with him he probably could have smelled the ink.

Dr. Blair Sandburg, Forensics Specialist
Victims Advocacy Department
Cascade Police Department, Cascade, Washington

Dear Doctor Sandburg:

This is to inform you of the recent passing of Henry Aaron Trader. You have been named in Mr. Trader's last will and testament as the sole beneficiary of his estate.

Please contact our firm at your earliest convenience to arrange a meeting with the trustee.

Sincerely yours,

Arnold Hammond, Attorney-at-law

"Jesus," Blair breathed out loud, reading the short letter through one more time. //Henry Aaron Trader. Who the hell is he?// He looked around his small office and picked up the phone. When a gruff voice on the other end answered, Blair looked down at the paper in his hand.

"Jim? Could you come down here for a few? I got something you're *not* going to believe."

Captain Jim Ellison hung up the phone with a frown. Blair didn't sound like there was anything wrong, yet something was definitely off-kilter. He got to his feet slowly and headed out of his office. He and Blair were in the same wing - the new wing - but because of the differences in their duties they'd been placed at nearly opposite ends. Never mind that the entire wing was devoted to the newest brainchild of the Cascade Police: the Center for Victim Advocacy. As chief of the Center, his office was on the outer edge of the hub where he had a nice view of the bay. Blair, as head of the social forensics division, was on the inner edge, nearer the elevators. Jim shook his head as he walked out, stopping to inform his secretary. Life had *really* changed over the last five years.

//Who'd ever thought I'd be chief of anything?// He headed down the long, carpeted corridor. //Amazing the changes one little bullet--among other thing--can make.// He snorted at the thought, favoring his left leg slightly as he took a corner. A well-aimed bullet to his kneecap had shattered the bone, as well as his chances of ever continuing his career as a Major Crimes detective, five years before. //God, life was really messed up for a while,// he mused, smiling pleasantly at one of the volunteers he passed. //I wonder where we'd be now,if life hadn't thrown a few curve balls?// Shortly after Jim's injury, while they were in the midst of coping with his rehabilitation and therapy, Blair made the decision to change his dissertation thesis, having come to the conclusion that advertising Jim's sentinel abilities would bring nothing but headaches for both of them.

Six months later he'd wrapped up the dissertation on his "dummy" subject, the closed society of a police force. A week after receiving his doctorate, Simon approached Blair with an offer from the Police Commissioner to become their social forensics specialist. More and more often, the crimes committed were leaving victims in social stratum the police force didn't know how to handle. That was the beginning of the birth of the Center for Victims Advocacy. Blair accepted the job with hardly any time required to think it over. He'd told Jim later he would miss teaching, and some of the other opportunities that came with academia, but the chance to do something, to make a contribution, was too good to pass up.

Jim halted outside Blair's door, smiling again at the poster that adorned it. Designed by Blair himself, and drawn by several children that the CVA had helped, it consisted of a number of children and adults, hands joined together. The caption beneath it read, "Somewhere in all the pain is someone who cares. You've found that someone. Join the chain and make us stronger." It was repeated in Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, Spanish and a few other languages Jim couldn't remember. It had become the motto for the CVA.

He pushed the door open. Blair was sitting at his desk, holding a piece of paper, staring into space.

"Chief?"

Dark smoky-blue eyes cleared and Blair looked up at him, smiling. "Hey. Thought that was my line." His partner extended the paper toward him, his voice wavering once. "Sit down, man. You're not going to believe this."

"I think you should call them. Right now."

"Really? Why's that?" Dark eyes regarded him steadily and Jim shrugged.

"Just a feeling."

"I don't know, man. I don't have a clue who this guy is. I've never been to Missouri; never had any desire to go, particularly." Blair laughed. "Who could I know there? I don't even recognize the name."

"Somebody Naomi knows?" Jim raised his eyes to meet Blair's. "Or knew?" He saw by the look on Blair's face that the younger man had picked up on how he was stressing the word.

"Jesus..." the epithet died on Blair's lips as the color drained from his face. "You don't suppose...my--." He looked at Jim, his lips forming the word 'father', though no sound emerged.

"I don't suppose anything, right now, Chief. But I think you should pick up the phone and give them a call. Missouri's two hours ahead of us; if you're gonna call today you'd best do it soon."

"Stay here with me?" Blair's voice sounded rusty.

"I wouldn't leave you," Jim said quietly, smiling at his partner. He nodded encouragingly when Blair picked up the phone. "Go on...I'm right here." He got up and quietly closed the door, then gave Blair's hand a quick squeeze as he sat back down.

While they waited for Blair to be connected, Jim let his mind wander around the past some more. He stopped on that horrible, wonderful day when he and the man across the desk from him both realized what they felt for the other was reciprocated. They'd returned from a big bust which had gone down bad. They'd lost a good man. Morale was low, and Jim was tired of fighting the bad guys and never seeing the good guys win.

They'd walked into the loft, both bone-tired and weary from the violence they'd dealt with for the last several hours.

"Who's gonna tell Carla?" Blair asked him, leaning--sagging--against the counter.

"Simon will take care of that," Jim responded dully, his brain refusing to accept that Brown was dead. "Christ, I can't believe this happened!" He slammed his fist down on the counter next to him. "I just don't fucking believe this! Good men like him dying when scum like Parkins walk? God, when's it gonna end? When are the scales gonna tip in favor of the *good* guys for a change?" He started shaking then, his body trying to cope with all the stresses thrown at it.

Blair was there in an instant, hands strong and steady on his shoulders, guiding him to the couch. "Easy, Jim. You're in shock, I think. Easy--"

"Don't die on me, Blair! Promise me nothing will happen to you!" Jim gripped Blair's shirt with a strength he hadn't realized he still had, and pulled the younger man close to him. "I can hardly handle what's just happened...I can't even stand to think of what would happen if--" he broke off, unable to make himself voice the thought out loud.

Blair shuddered in the almost-embrace. "I can't make that promise, Jim. You know that. But I'll be here for you for as long as I'm able." He wrapped his arms around Jim and pulled the bigger man close, rubbing his back and making soothing noises as Jim continued to shake and cry without tears.

The dry, wrenching sobs had ended after just a few minutes, but Jim was reluctant to leave the warmth of Blair's embrace. Instead, he'd moved closer, mindlessly seeking the comfort those arms were giving him and wanting more. Blair tilted his head back and looked at him. "Jim?"

"For always, Blair," the bigger man had whispered just before he covered Blair's mouth with his own.

They made love for the first time that morning. That was almost seven years ago.

Blair's voice pulled Jim back into the present. "Yes, I'll hold for Mr. Hammond."

Long fingers drummed impatiently, nervously, on the desktop, catching Jim's attention. Funny, how people judged Blair so much on his height, but never noticed how big, how broad the man really was. His hands were an extension of that; slender, but strong fingers tapering into broad, capable hands. Jim looked at Blair and mouthed 'want me to listen, too?' His partner nodded, an odd look in his eyes.

"Arnold Hammond."

"Mr. Hammond, this is Dr. Sandburg. I received a letter from your firm today."

"Dr. Sandburg." The voice on the other end of the line was gruff, but friendly. "Thank you for responding so quickly. We need to make arrangements for you to meet with our firm, which is acting as trustee for the estate--"

"Mr. Hammond," Blair cut in, "I need a little more information here. I don't even know who Henry Trader is. Was. I don't recognize the name." As far as Jim was concerned, his face clearly said, "and I don't want to."

"Oh." Hammond was silent for a long moment, then drew a deep breath. "Well, that certainly complicates things, doesn't it? He told me he'd contacted you."

"Contacted me? About what?"

"Dr. Sandburg, it's imperative that you meet with our firm. There is a great deal of information that needs to be shared with you, but not over the telephone."

Startled eyes met Jim's; it was easy to see his partner's skepticism and hesitation. "Go on," he whispered. "I'll get us the time off." Securing time off for Blair was no problem; time for himself was a little trickier, but hell, even the chief of the CVA earned vacation days.

"When would be the best time?" The quiet in Blair's voice indicated to Jim that his partner didn't think this was the best thing he could do; that he was wondering what he was getting himself into.

"When is the soonest you can get out here?"

Jim glanced down at the paper on Blair's desk, eyeing the return address. Jefferson City, Missouri. "I'll need a day or so to make airline arrangements," Blair told the man on the other end of the phone, eyes flashing at Jim. "I can probably be there Thursday." Sotto voce, he added to Jim, I'm going to spend my birthday in Missouri, talking to lawyers. Yeah, buddy.

Jim cracked a grin and nodded.

"Very good, Dr. Sandburg. I'm going to go ahead and pencil you in for one p.m. Will that be all right?"

"That's fine, Mr. Hammond."

"If you'll give me your fax number I'll have my secretary send you directions to our office from the airport, as well as some local hotels and whatnot."

"Okay," Blair said slowly. "Uh, Mr. Hammond?"

"Yes?"

"Where, exactly, did Mr. Trader live?"

There was a pause on the other end, then the gruff voice said, "Lake Ozark."

"Oh. Okay. Um, the fax number is 912-273-1313."

"Thank you, Dr. Sandburg. I look forward to meeting you."

"Thanks. See you Thursday."

Blair severed the connection then, and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. Jim studied him for a moment, his concern blossoming. "You okay, Chief?"

The younger man opened his eyes. "Fine, I guess. This is all just kinda freaking me out, you know? It's weird, man. Just plain weird." His eyes widened suddenly. "Shit, I gotta make us plane reservations."

Jim smiled at the sudden burst of activity as Sandburg logged back onto his computer and into the internet connection he had there. "Guess we're vacationing in Missouri this week?"

Blair made a face at him. "What kind of birthday d'you suppose *this* one's gonna be? Spent with lawyers. Ugh."

"Yeah, but y'know, the Ozarks are supposed to have some pretty good fishing. Maybe if you get all this taken care of Thursday then we can go find someplace to hang out for Friday and Saturday, get a little casting in." Jim wiggled his eyebrows at Blair, showing him he meant more than just the fishing type.

A smile was his reward for that; a brilliant, blindingly beautiful smile. "Might work," his partner allowed, his fingers flying on the keyboard. "We could do that. Should I make our return reservations for Sunday?"

"Nah, make 'em for Monday and we'll have an extra day to play." Jim gave him a lecherous grin. "You know how you are in the fresh air."

"Me?" Blair squeaked indignantly. "Man, if we weren't here I'd make you eat your words."

"Make me eat 'em tonight." The whole idea sent vibrations through his own body; Jim was pleased to note a sudden increase in Blair's breathing and body temperature, as well.

"Maybe I'll have you eat something else." Blair licked his lips teasingly and Jim shivered as a flush spread up his neck. "Hah. That'll teach you to mess with me," his partner said in a low voice.

"Not likely, Chief." Jim rose to his feet, stifling a low groan when his knee twinged. Although they'd had a beautiful autumn, it was getting colder now and arthritis was something that had made itself known in the shattered joint. He paused at the door. "I plan to mess with you every day that we have together."

He ducked the wad of paper that Blair chucked at him as he headed out the door.

They met at the elevator at the end of the day, Blair holding several notebooks in one hand and his laptop case and a satchel in the other. Jim shook his head and grinned.

"What makes you think you're going to have time to work on all this?"

"What, like you're not bringing anything home?" Blair nodded his chin in the direction of Jim's briefcase.

"Sandburg, what I have here is what I take home every night."

"Me too, man." Blair bounced on the balls of his feet while they waited for the elevator. "Oh yeah, I got us on a three p.m. flight tomorrow afternoon. There wasn't anything Thursday that would get us in in time for the meeting, so we have to go beforehand."

"That's fine." Jim placed a hand on the small of Blair's back and pushed him toward the now open elevator. Blair hid a smile when his partner smiled and nodded at the woman who got on after them. She was one of the victims they'd helped recently, who needed a job. She'd found it at the Center. "How's it going, Janice?"

She blushed. "Fine, Captain Ellison. Thank you."

"Getting settled in your new place?"

"Yes. I--thank you. Both of you." She caught Blair in her grateful glance and he smiled at her as well.

"Good. Let me know, or let Amy know, if you need anything else, okay?"

"I will." She blushed again, and hurried out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. The two men followed at a more sedate pace, heading for the parking garage.

"She's got a crush on you, man," Blair grinned at him.

"Must be my good looks and personality," Jim joked, running a hand over his receding hairline.

"Or else the 'knight-in-shining-armor' syndrome."

"The what?" Jim raised an eyebrow as he unlocked the Range Rover.

"You're her knight, man. You saved her. Figuratively, of course."

"Of course." Jim shook his head, pulling a smirk from Blair. "And that's why she has a crush on me?"

The younger man shrugged, an impish gleam in his eyes. "Well," he drawled, "it *could* be your ass...but I'm betting on the knight thing."

"You're too much, Sandburg." Jim rolled his eyes and eased the vehicle onto the highway. "Want to get a bite to eat on the way home, or were we gonna cook?"

Another smirk. "'We', kimosabe? What 'we'? Let's stop and get something--I've got a lot of work to do tonight, besides packing."

They went to El Mundo Mexicano, since it had black bean tostadas that Blair was hooked on, and it was the only place they both could agree on. The drive home was quiet, with both men introspective, going over the events of the day and what the rest of the week would hold for them.

Jim turned his head briefly to watch Blair, who was looking out the window. He reached out and stroked his finger down one cheek, smiling when Blair tilted his head down to rub against his hand briefly. It was nice to be going home; to be in the privacy of the truck and be able to do things like a lingering touch, or hand holding, if they wanted. They were very careful about their actions in public. It wasn't so much being in the closet as just being intensely private people, who didn't feel the public needed to be in on their private lives.

The drive out of town took them past where the loft had been. Jim shook his head at the memory of that place, still feeling a pang of loss over it. Two years before, someone had lit a kerosene lamp in the kitchen of the little shop on the ground floor of their building. The lamp had tipped over, been knocked over, something. The end result was the same: the entire building went up in flames. Although some of their things had been salvaged, the place was no longer habitable, and so he and Blair went house hunting.

They'd settled on a nice single-level, two-bedroom home about seven miles outside of the city, in a new housing development. Lots of wide-open space, and best of all, the city wasn't *right there* on top of them.

"I love you."

The quiet voice pulled him from his musings, and Jim turned toward his partner. "I love you, too, Chief."

"What're you thinking so intently about?"

"How'd you know it was intently?" He fired the question back, loving the slow smile that spread across Sandburg's face.

"I know all your expressions, Jim. I know what you're feeling; when you're happy, sad, upset. I know when you want to have sex, and when you want to make love. I've spent the last eight years of my life with you, watching you...memorizing you. There isn't very much I don't know about you."

The honesty and love in Blair's answer stunned him and his throat closed up momentarily. He cleared it, the rough sound bouncing in the interior of the Rover. "I was just letting my mind wander, mostly. Thinking about when we lost the loft."

Blair made a face, reflecting the pain that Jim still felt. It'd been his first real home and he missed it as well. "Nice thought," he commented dryly. "Want to add a few about killing small children and animals to round it out?"

"You're such a funny man." Jim squeezed the hand tighter. "How'd I get so lucky?"

"Karma from your last life, man."

"Yeah, but is that good or bad?"

"You tell me." Blair turned wide eyes on his mate and smiled when Jim's darkened in response.

"Good, definitely good."

"Yeah, I think so too," Blair's voice turned husky as Jim's eyes caressed him. "C'mon, big guy. Get us home and I'll give you an early birthday present."

"It's your birthday coming up, Chief, not mine." But the truck moved forward faster, anyway.

Some of the urgency had faded by the time they arrived home, and they smiled at each other, knowing that it would be that much sweeter later, for waiting. They went about their evening routine, checking mail and phone messages; logging on for email messages from their home account.

"Simon emailed," Blair called over his shoulder. Jim was in the kitchen feeding Siam, the cat who'd adopted them and never gone home. She had a permanent home with them now, including a basket in their room to sleep in.

"What's he say?"

"He hates the heat in Orlando." Blair swiveled on the stool and grinned at Jim. "Man, he doesn't know how lucky he is! I'd love to live somewhere I didn't have to worry about rain and snow and ice--"

"No," Jim interrupted dryly, "just hurricanes and tornadoes, things like that."

"Orlando is pretty far inland for hurricanes to do much damage, man. He's asking when we're gonna come down and visit--says he knows a guy who can charter a deep-sea fishing expedition for us."

"We should go sometime when the weather is really rotten here. Say, like, February. Or March."

"March?!" Blair hooted with delight. "You just want to check out the co-eds in skimpy bikinis, man."

"Hey, just 'cause I'm taken doesn't mean I'm blind." Jim leaned against the counter and watched Blair typing a response to their former Captain. "Come on, cat, off the counter," he picked her up and dropped her gently on the floor. "You let her get away with that, don't you?"

"I'm not as anal about it as you, no," Blair smirked.

"I'm not anal; I just don't like cat hair on my countertops."

"Uh-huh."

Long fingers flew across the keyboard and Jim shivered watching them, remembering how good they felt flying across him. His body tightened in response to the visual and mental stimuli and he leaned closer to Blair.

"How 'bout we call it an early night?" he whispered into the ear closest to him. He licked the edge teasingly, then blew a gentle stream of air across it when his lover shivered.

Blair smiled but didn't turn toward him. "Horny already," he murmured, hitting the "send" button.

"For you, always. I couldn't get enough of you if I spent the next ten centuries trying."

"Y'know, lover, flattery will get you anywhere." The younger man swiveled around and Jim stepped between his knees, fingers sliding through the dark curls.

"It wasn't flattery," Jim husked. "It's the truth." He leaned in and pressed his lips to Blair's, tongue gently flicking across the other man's mouth. "You taste so good," he whispered, before pushing for entry. Blair swallowed a moan and opened up for him.

The air around them grew heated from their caresses, and wet, sucking noises bounced off the walls of the kitchen as their kiss grew deeper, drawing them into the intensity.

With the thrum of desire pounding in his pulse, Jim raised his hands and began to undo the buttons on Blair's shirt, his own clothing being taken care of by his lover.

The younger man shivered in his arms as cool air touched his heated body. Jim's fingers were like points of fire as they eased across the flat nubs of his nipples, coaxing and teasing them into erect little points. "You are so good at that," he panted, his heart pounding a little faster. In retaliation for the sweet torment, Blair lowered his mouth and flicked his tongue across the hollow of Jim's throat where his pulse pounded. The bigger man breathed in raggedly and pinched the tender buds his fingers were still caressing. Blair bit back a groan and sucked on the pulse-point.

Jim shivered as heat flowed through his body. Man, it was like this always with them. They didn't even have their clothes off yet; their shirts were undone, nothing more. Yet, every time, it was fireworks going off. He sucked air in, trying to calm himself, when a hot hand rubbed the bulge in his pants, stroking him roughly. He growled, a rough, savage sound, and bent his head to take Blair's mouth in a blistering exchange of heat and desire.

Blair arched toward the larger man as the passion grew between them. He sucked Jim's tongue into his mouth and mated his own with it, the slick feel of their exploration rousing him further. Jim's fingers tweaked the nipple with the ring threaded through it and Blair gasped, drawing away from the kiss as lightening bolts of pleasure ripped through him. He made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat and Jim smiled at him, fingers sliding soothingly across the over-stimulated flesh.

"I love the noises you make when you're aroused," he said in a rough voice. "And you're so sexy like this, your lips swollen, your eyes dark...it's enough to make me want to toss you on the floor and fuck you senseless."

"Who's...stopping you?" Blair asked in an equally rough voice.

"Damn, you're asking for it, aren't you?" Jim pushed back from his lover and began to shed his clothes.

Blair unfastened his pants and pushed them down over his hips. "I think there was a question of eating words?"

Sky-blue eyes, stormy with desire, met his and a tendril of heat unfurled through him as he read the intent there. "I thought there was something else I was supposed to eat." Jim's eyes darkened further with his words and Blair sucked air in, trying desperately to remember how to breathe.

"You're--"

"I'm gonna nail you to the fucking mattress, Sandburg," Jim growled. "The taste of you...the feel of you beneath my hands and lips...You've got me so hot for you I can barely think straight." The bigger man leaned over and sucked a peaked nipple into his mouth, his own body responding to the shudders that racked the lean frame of his lover.

"Ohhh...yeah..." Blair clutched at Jim's shoulders, fingers curling into the muscles there. Jim grunted a little at the nips of pain from fingernails, but continued his assault on the tiny bits of tactile flesh in front of him.

Blair slid his hands from Jim's shoulders down to the waistband of his pants and pushed them down over the larger man's hips. Jim groaned against his chest when Blair's fingers skimmed over the outline of his throbbing cock, rubbing against the wet spot that had appeared on the shorts he was wearing. "Touch me, lover," he begged in a raspy voice. "Take it out and touch me."

He groaned again when the boxers were pushed down and a slender hand wrapped itself around his pulsing length, stroking slowly, maddeningly. He shuddered against Blair's body when his lover rubbed his thumb across the leaking tip, smoothing the pre-cum there into his heated flesh.

"Are you hot for me, big guy? Want to shove yourself up inside me?" Blair whispered the words in a hot, throaty voice, his thumb still caressing the head of Jim's cock. "Want to push your dick inside me and fuck me 'til I scream?"

Jim shuddered again and pushed himself back from the younger man. His eyes were nearly black with lust; the heat within seemed to emanate outward like a living, breathing thing, catching Blair in its web. "You're asking for it, Chief," he grated out.

"I want it, Jim. I want all you can give me, and then some. I want to push you over the edge and have you take me with you." Blair continued to stroke the engorged organ, running his fingertips up and down, raking lightly with his nails. Jim bucked his hips, pushing himself toward Blair. Both men groaned when their pelvises contacted, hot silk brushing against hot silk.

"I want to taste you," Ellison panted. "Jesus, Blair--have pity, if you want me to last for you..."

"What d'you want to taste?" Blair leaned back and licked his lips, giving Jim a clear view of his own engorged member, peeking out of his boxers.

"God--you, your cock...I want to swallow you whole...suck you..." With that, Jim dropped to his knees in front of Blair, pulling the slacks and boxers with him. The thick, hard shaft curved upward, bobbing heavily in the cool air.

Exposed to Jim's hungry gaze, Blair's cock swelled further, and a glistening sheen of pre-cum welled up, covering the tip. Ellison reached out and grasped Blair's hips, pulling him closer. His tongue darted out and delicately licked at the bitter fluid, tiny, teasing licks like a cat might make. Blair groaned and clutched at his partner's short hair, trying to hold him in place for thrusting.

"No way, Blair," Jim's breath against his hot skin elicited shudders from the younger man. "My way, to start." He sucked the tip in, his tongue probing at the tiny fissure at the top.

"Don't wanna...c-come before you..." Blair panted, his pulse pounding in his ears. The hot mouth sucking on him felt way too good and he was going to lose it if it kept up. "J-Jim...no..." He pushed himself back, groaning in frustration when the mouth released him, though it had to happen if he was going to last.

"You're gonna come before me and with me," Jim growled, pulling his lover back to him. He gave Blair no warning, but went down on him, taking him in in one fluid motion, swallowing him to the root. Blair threw his head back and shrieked, his hips thrusting forward, seeking the heat. Jim grinned around his mouthful and cupped Blair's balls with one hand, rolling and squeezing them in time to his sucking.

Too soon, the hot, grasping mouth sensed a tightening of the skin of the cock; an increase in the rush of fluids through the engorged member; a sudden leap in heartrate and breathing. Jim increased his suction, drawing Blair as deeply in as he could take him. He was rewarded with a hoarse shout from his lover and a flood of hot, thick fluid filling his mouth.

"Oh, God," Blair sighed, sagging back against the countertop. "Jesus, you're good at that." He stared down at Jim, taking in the flushed face, wet lips and still-hard dick. "Looks like you've got a problem that needs tending to," he offered. "Still want to nail me?"

"Actually," Jim growled, pulling himself up, "I'd like to have you sit astride. Ride me hard."

Blair felt a slow flush moving through his body, the words stirring an interest in his flaccid penis. "I think we can arrange that," he muttered, pushing Jim toward the armchair in the corner of the living room. "I got something I want to take care of first." He shoved the older man gently back into the chair, then knelt in front of him, spreading his legs wide open. "Further," he nudged Jim. "I want you spread open, babe," he grinned.

"What you have in mind?" Jim asked hoarsely, shifting his body. The only thing he wanted to do right now was bury himself as deep inside Blair as was humanly possible.

Blair was moving forward, leaning down. "You tasted me, lover...it's my turn."

A hot, wet tongue lapped at his balls, then moved further down. Jim wiggled a bit, then moved so that he was draping one leg over the arm of the chair, increasing accessibility. He knew where that tongue was going... "Oh!"... but it was still a surprise when he felt it circle his asshole.

The tongue teased the outer edge of his anus, coaxing the little pucker to relax. Jim groaned low in his throat when he felt the tip pressing into him, thrusting gently. Blair pulled back then, and returned to licking at his hole, alternating back and forth between hot, sensuous licks and rapid-fire thrusts. Jim growled at the intensity of the dual sensations, his body shuddering as multiple levels of information were processed.

His cock was standing up straight, throbbing heavily when his partner finally backed away.

"Come here," he managed, pulling Blair onto his lap. He pulled a tube of lubricant out from the cushion and spread it on three fingers. Blair straddled his legs and leaned forward, their mouths fusing togther as Jim slid the first finger into Blair's passage.

His guide tasted of dark musk...of him. It was a highly erotic flavor, combined with Blair's own essence and scent, and it stirred the flames in the pit of his belly higher. He thrust a second finger into Blair, then quickly added a third when his partner began moving up and down on his hand, fucking himself. Jim let his fingers stretch up inside, and he rubbed against the little gland that was guaranteed to get a vocal response. Sure enough, Blair shifted hard against him and shouted, "SHIT! Oh, God, do it again!"

"Want you," he moaned against Blair's mouth. "I'm so close--I want to come inside you."

Blair pulled away and nodded, his eyes dark and dilated, mostly unfocused. Jim spread some more lube on his cock, wincing a little as the sensations arced through him, then shifted Blair around, pulling his back against Jim's chest. Sandburg raised himself up on his knees and straddled the throbbing cock, moaning when it pressed against his anus. "Here we go," he whispered hoarsely, pushing down.

Both men groaned as Blair's body opened, letting the cockhead slip past the ring of muscle protecting his entrance. He pushed hard, and the shaft began to slide inside, the heated interior of Blair's body wringing a ragged cry from Jim as it engulfed him.

"So good," he moaned into Blair's neck, the pulsing of his lover's body surrounding him, tantilizing him.

Blair hissed his agreement, then rocked his body down further, until he was practically sitting on Jim's lap, the other man's pubic hair tickling his asscheeks. Jim gathered him close, seeking out a nipple with one hand, while he closed the other around Blair's newly-engorged cock and began a stroking rhythm.

They settled into a rough, steady rhythm, until Jim pinched at the nipple with the ring, pulling gently on the ring itself. Blair slammed himself down onto Jim's cock, growling at the pleasure knifing through him. He gave a ragged cry when Jim tugged again, and raised himself up to slam down once more. Jim echoed the growl when Blair tightened his internal muscles, drawing the older man deeper into him.

"Gonna...fuck you..." Jim gasped, dropping his hands to Blair's waist, grasping him roughly. He bit the side of Blair's neck and the younger man yelled.

"Do it...give it to me..." ragged breathing made it hard to get the words out, but Blair managed, pushing his body down hard onto Jim's again, fucking himself on the older man. He felt teeth grasp the sensitive skin on his neck, hard, and screamed. Jim's hand tightened on his cock and Blair surged forward into it, then pushed his ass down on the cock inside him. His body felt like it was about to explode--teeth, hand, cock. Teeth, hand, cock. It was a ruthless rhythm, and his brain was on overload trying to keep up with the signals. It gave up at last and with another shriek of mindless pleasure he fell over the edge and let the storm claim him.

Jim gave his own shout when he felt the warm fluid spatter his hand; at the same instant Blair's body tightened around him, the internal spasms from his partner's orgasm clenching and massaging his aching cock. He shouted again and released himself deep into Blair's body.

They collapsed backward against the chair in a sprawl of utter bonelessness.

"Is that all you're taking?"

Blair studied his suitcase, then his partner. "You think I need more?"

"No--just wondering. Marcie should be here in a minute; I was just making sure."

"Well, I'm going to take my laptop, too. I have some data I wanted to go over one more time, then I thought I'd hook into the plane's comm system and send it back to Mark and Tracy."

"Which case?" Jim set his own suitcase next to the door and moved Blair's beside it.

"The Tamaran case." Blair's face grew dark as he spoke the name. "Man, I can't think of many things I hate worse than domestic violence. 'Specially when there're kids involved."

Jim nodded somberly. He hated that too. "Heads up, Junior, she's turning onto our street now." They gathered their bags and opened the door. Jim paused in the doorway and turned around. "Stay off the counters, cat," he hollered into the empty house.

Marcie Levithson had been Jim's physical therapist during his recovery from knee surgery. She and her husband were also among the first people that the CVA had assisted when their ten-month old daughter was kidnapped. It still made Jim's gut clench up when he remembered the look on her face, three years ago, when they'd found the tiny, lifeless body. He didn't like to remember the things that had been done to Rachel Levithson; had spent a long time with Marcie and Tim and the CVA counselors teaching them how to forget.

Six months ago he and Blair had been invited to be godparents to the Levithson's newborn son, Daniel.

Now they'd called on Marcie to get them to the airport and to feed Siam for them. He grinned, thinking that poor Siam was in for a shock if Marcie brought Daniel with her. The kid had learned how to crawl recently, and nothing much escaped his attention.

"Earth to Jim. Hey, man--c'mon!" Jim shook his head when he realized that Blair was shaking his arm.

"What?"

"Man, what are you doing? Spacing or zoning? And is there a difference?"

"Just thinking, Chief."

"Been doing a lot of that lately, haven't you?"

"Must be the season. It's almost our anniversary, y'know." He watched in amusement as a shiver tripped up and down Blair's body.

"Yeah, man. I know." The husky voice sent its own shivers through his body and he smiled.

"Got our tickets and everything?"

Blair made a big show out of patting his pockets, then grinned at his partner. "Electronic vouchers, babe. We have to show ID at the ticket counter when we get to the airport."

"You're a little shit, Sandburg."

"That's 'cause you're so much fun to tease, Ellison."

Marcie pulled into their driveway and smiled at them through the open window. "Guys ready to go?"

"All set, Marce." Blair grinned at her, then waggled his fingers at Daniel, strapped into his carseat. They loaded the two suitcases into the back of the car and climbed in.

"We really appreciate this, Marcie." Jim reached forward and tickled Daniel's ear. "Guess we owe you some babysitting."

"Tim's birthday is in two weeks. I'll call you." The young woman grinned at him and headed for the airport.

"God, I hate flying," Blair moaned as they strapped themselves in. "I didn't use to...I wonder what happened?"

"Dunno, Chief." Jim shifted himself around to get the maximum advantage out of his leg room. Or lack thereof. "I know why I--" he grunted when Blair's elbow shifted against his side, as the younger man moved to get comfortable, "--don't. Never enough room in these things."

"Yeah, well if you didn't have legs as long as beanpoles--"

"You don't seem to mind when my legs are wrapped around your head or your waist," the older man leaned down and whispered the words into Blair's ear, enjoying the dull flush that spread up his lover's face.

"Way different, man," the anthropologist managed, swallowing hard. "God, thanks. Nice imagery to deal with on a plane ride." He gestured to where his pants had tented slightly.

Jim grinned at him. "Consider it foreplay."

Blair rolled his eyes and settled deeper into his seat, his fingers already typing commands onto the laptop keyboard, calling up the forensics files he needed to review.

They had to change planes in Kansas City, the remainder of their flight being in what Blair referred to as a crop duster. Jim just smiled at him and reminded Blair that not many crop dusters came with twin engines--admittedly propeller driven, but twin nonetheless--and seated twenty. That was of very little importance to Blair. He wasn't on a nice large jet that could cushion them from the air currents, therefore, he didn't care.

Jefferson City, Missouri, was a far cry from Cascade, Washington. The small commuter plane circled over the city before landing in the small airfield, and Jim and Blair just shook their heads in amazement.

"Guess I thought it'd be bigger," Blair commented. Now that they were here, his stomach was beginning to tie itself into knots of anticipation and a little fear. Not fear, like being afraid; more like unsure of the unknown. He looked over at Jim and smiled briefly. "I'm glad you came with me, man. I'd hate like hell to do this by myself."

The smile was returned. "I wouldn't leave you to deal with this by yourself, Chief. 'Partners in all things', remember."

A wry grin this time, as the words that Blair had offered to him, that first morning after they'd made love were returned.

"God that was incredible." He'd moved, his lithe body shuddering from the sensual pleasures of stretching.

"You're incredible." Strong, long-fingered hands stroked down his side, pulling a sigh out of him. "I never considered before--"

"What, us?" Blair shifted fully onto his side and traced a finger around Jim's mouth. Lips pursed and kissed the tip of the finger.

"Yeah. I'd never really thought about how much you meant to me. I mean, I did, but it was a friends thing, you know? I needed a friend; someone to be there for me, to take care of me, to love me for me, not because it was convenient for them."

"Well it started out as convenient, for both of us." Blair scooted up a little and moved so that he was lying partially on top of the bigger man. "We started out as 'business partners', if you will."

"Then proceeded to working partners--" Jim smiled as pouty lips touched his briefly.

"Partners in all things, now," Blair whispered, before covering the other's mouth fully this time.

"For always," Jim had echoed again, his words of earlier which had begun this.

"Hard to believe its been almost seven years, isn't it?" Jim's voice pulled Blair out of his reverie.

"Yes, and no. Actually, eight years, Jim." The younger man shouldered his laptop case and motioned with his head. "Let's get our rental car and get going before I start to feel nostalgic, or something."

Jim nodded and headed for the Hertz desk ahead of them. "Do you ever regret--anything?"

"What, like with us? Or the turns in our lives?"

The older man nodded, studying his partner's face, listening to his heart.

"No. Well, maybe sometimes that I didn't do the Sentinel dissertation, but the rest of it? Nah. Life is a series of chances and wild rides, man. You gotta hang on and see where it takes you. Nothing is set in stone. If that were the case, then humankind would still be living in caves and grunting when they wanted something." Blair smiled and cast a sultry look Jim's way. "Of course, there's nothing wrong with cavemen. Or grunting."

A non-commital grunt was his answer and the smile on Blair's face got wider and less sultry. More like expectant. "Hey, man, you didn't expect me to not come up with something for that little stunt earlier, did you?"

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much, Sandburg?" the words were spoken without any sting though, and rich with warmth and teasing.

"All the time, Jim."

It was nearly eight-thirty before they'd gotten their bags, the rental car, and found their way to the Best Western hotel. They ran next door to the restaurant and had a late dinner, then went back to the room to relax for a while.

"I wonder who Henry Trader is," Blair remarked for about the tenth time in an hour. He was holding the stationary from Hammond's law firm, tracing the gold letters embossed on the top. Jim looked up from the file he'd been studying.

"You're going to find out tomorrow, Chief. You should put that away--you're going to drive yourself nuts if you keep going over it."

"I'm already there, Jim," the younger man smiled. "This is killing me. There are so many possibilities." He folded the letter up and stuck it back into his computer bag, then turned to Jim. "Want to help me take my mind off of things?"

A warm blue gaze turned his way again. "What, you mean you'd rather have me kissing you senseless than to lie there, wondering about some dead guy?"

"Well, I hadn't figured on stopping with the kissing part, but yeah, that's pretty much it." Blair shifted on to his back and stretched enticingly, one arm going behind his head, pulling the thin cotton of his tank tee tight across his chest. When he was certain he had Jim's attention he ran his free hand down his chest, then back up, pausing to circle his nipple before pinching it lightly through the fabric.

A low growl was all the warning he got before Jim was straddling him, pulling the free arm up and pining it above his head with the first. "You're a wanton little thing, aren't you?"

Blair wiggled his hips, pressing upward against Jim's ass. "Always, for you, babe." He wiggled some more until he could press his now-hard cock against Jim's ass. "For you, lover," he muttered in a low voice. "All for you--Oh! Oh, shit!" His body arched upward as Jim's fingers pinched the hard nipple, sharply enough to sting.

Jim smiled, satisfied that he'd gotten Blair's attention, then returned his focus to the impossibly hard little bud poking through the tee-shirt. Holding Blair's eyes with his own he lowered his head and sucked the bud into his mouth, taking the cloth in as well. He concentrated and could taste Blair's salt through the tee-shirt, felt the heat throbbing through the nipple. Blair moaned and arched into him again as he suckled hard, releasing his lover with a wet popping noise. His free hand reached down and yanked Blair's shirt upward, exposing the turgid nipples before replacing his mouth. Sucking kisses, nibbles and nips soon had the younger man writhing beneath his lover, the movements punctuated by low moans and growls.

Jim pulled away at last, satisfied by the now-rosy color of the throbbing bud and licked his way across Blair's torso, nosing through the hair there, tasting the beads of sweat that had welled up. Blair's chest was rising and falling rapidly and he whimpered low in his throat when Jim licked him slowly, his tongue tracing a gradually tightening circle around the as-yet-untouched nipple.

The second little peak, with the ring threaded through, got the same treatment as the first. Blair groaned and thrashed his head against the bed, unable to dislodge Jim's hands. He rubbed himself upward against Jim's body, his cock throbbing when it made contact with the heated cleft of Jim's ass.

"You like it like this, don't you?" Jim questioned roughly, his voice hot and heavy. "You like it rough...want it rough. Don't you?!" He nipped at the swollen flesh.

"Oh yeah..." Blair wiggled some more, trying to get Jim's mouth back on him. He was hovering just above, close enough that the younger man could feel the moist warmth whenever Jim exhaled. "Suck it," he growled, arching toward the heat. "Suck my tit, Jim, oh, god...oh...GOD!!!" He shrieked as his orgasm ripped through him, spurred on by Jim tugging on the ring with his teeth. "Jesus fucking Christ...oh...oh..." he whimpered the last couple of syllables as his straining body slowly relaxed.

With a low growl of his own Jim backed off him and pulled his shorts down, revealing a soft, sticky cock. He shucked off his own pants and scooped up as much of the come as he could on his finger, pressing them against Blair's anus. The little hole was already relaxing for him, loosened by Blair's orgasm. He smiled, his eyes hot as he watched his fingers sliding in and out of the tight channel.

Blair drew his knees up against his chest and held them there, his hips beginning to move in time with Jim's thrusts. "Do...it," he managed in a tight voice, his own rising excitement evident.

Jim leaned down and kissed him, rubbing the head of his cock against the little pucker. Blair groaned and pushed up against him.

"Got the lube?" he asked hoarsely, the feel of Blair's body against his driving him wild.

"Under...the pillow..." the younger man panted, his arm reaching next to him. He groped for a second or two, then drew the tube out triumphantly. Jim snagged it and flipped the cap open, all the while rubbing himself against the hungry hole, feeling Blair relaxing against him.

He drew himself back and spread the lube on his cock, then pressed up against his lover once again. One steady stroke and he was in, a hoarse cry ripped from him as the heated interior of Blair's body closed around him.

He set a hard fast pace, wanting to take what was his, stake his claim. Blair wrapped his legs around his waist and hung on, whimpers and groans emerging, his own body rising to meet Jim's. It was hot and hard and fast, and Jim couldn't hold his control any longer when Blair began squeezing his muscles. He pounded into Blair, releasing his juices in a flood of heat with a growl that was probably heard in the next county.

As they lay twined together afterward, Blair sighed and said, "Man, I hope the walls on this place aren't as thin as they look. We'll be arrested for disturbing the peace."

"It was worth it." Jim kissed the swollen lips and pulled away. "God, you were hot, Chief. It was incredible."

Blair sighed and snuggled closer. "Yeah, it was." He closed his eyes. "I love you, Jim."

"Love you too, partner." A warm hand smoothed down head, petting him. "Go to sleep, Chief. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

Arnold Hammond, like his office, was a surprise. Dignified, without being pretentious. The office was fair-sized, and obviously doing well, but wasn't ostentatious. Mr. Hammond himself reminded Blair a lot of a white-haired Ichobod Crane; tall, lanky, almost gangly. He had a shock of pure white hair, a large beak of a nose, and the tiniest glasses which perched incongruously on that large nose. Blair had to stifle a laugh when he first saw him. It was Hammond's eyes that drew him in though; they were the most startling shade of green he'd ever seen, and they radiated personality and warmth. The younger man felt at ease almost as soon as he met him.

Surprisingly enough, Hammond hadn't batted an eyelash at Jim, either. Which got Blair to wondering if maybe his earlier thoughts about Missiouri weren't a bit uncharitable. After all, he'd never been here; folks here could be just as accepting or non-accepting as anyone else. Just because he'd read and heard some things before didn't mean that the whole state was homophobic. True to his nature he began to relax and figure that all was going to be well.

"Dr. Sandburg, Mr. Ellison, if you'll come back this way, we've prepared our smaller conference room to go over the estate documents and talk with the trustee."

"Mr. Hammond, about all of this--" Blair began, only to be cut off.

"Don't worry, Dr. Sandburg, we'll answer all of your questions. It's just easier to get everything centrally located, and take it from there."

"Is the trustee a member of this firm?" Jim put a steadying hand on Blair's shoulder, trying to calm him a little. His lover, if he could be judged from his pulse, was nothing more than a ball of nervous energy.

"Oh, yes," Hammond said, leading them through several more yards of corridor. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Henry Trader was a close friend of mine for at least the last decade, and I promised him I'd take care of things for him."

The three men stopped in front of a small, comfortably appointed conference room. There was another man in there, who rose to greet them when they walked through the door. Hammond gestured toward him.

"Dr. Sandburg, Mr. Ellison, this is Jeremy Walters. He's been appointed trustee of the estate until such a time as we located you, Dr. Sandburg. Jeremy, this is Dr. Blair Sandburg, and his partner, Jim Ellison."

"Nice to meet you," Jeremy answered, shaking their hands. "Partners, huh? What do you do?"

Blair closed his eyes, and was saved from having to answer by Jim's voice. "We work for the Cascade Police."

"But this isn't--"

"Jeremy, let's get down to business, shall we? These men have come a long way for this."

Walters flushed and sat back down. "Certainly, sir," he mumbled. Hammond smiled and shut the door, then joined them at the small, round table.

"Now then," Hammond leaned back in his chair, his face etched with concern. "You said that Henry never contacted you, Dr. Sandburg?"

"That's right. I've never heard of this man." Blair slid a hand down his leg, reaching for Jim's. He sighed quietly when strong fingers tightened around his.

"Dr. Sandburg--may I call you Blair?" He waited for Blair's tentative nod, then continued, "this is particularly difficult for me to do, because I know how Henry felt; or at least I thought I did, and I think that he should have taken care of this himself. This," he drew a photo out of a small envelope and pushed it across the table, "is Henry Aaron Trader. Your father."

Later, he would think about that moment, and be able to recall it. At that time, however, he could barely think, much less anything else, for the sudden pounding in his head, the roaring in his ears. He let go of Jim's hand and pulled the picture closer, eyes widening in shock and surprise.

It was like looking into a mirror. Right down to the hair-color. The only major difference between him and the man in the photo was that the man was wearing his hair short. His eyes aren't the same color as mine, was his disjointed thought. I wonder what color they are? It's hard to tell from the picture. Father. Could you really be? I guess it would be hard to deny it, but just a picture isn't enough proof.

"Do you..." his voice shook a little, and Blair stopped to clear his throat. "Do you have something else that could...I mean..." he stopped helplessly, not sure of how to ask what he wanted to ask. "Are you sure?" he blurted finally, his eyes never leaving the picture in front of him.

Rustling sounds in front of him, then another picture and a piece of paper were pushed toward him. Blair raised shaking hands to gather them closer. The picture he picked up then dropped from nerveless fingers. Jim placed a steadying arm across his shoulders and picked the picture back up, holding it up in front of them.

It was an old picture. And it showed a man, a woman, and an infant cradled in the woman's arms. The man was the same--albeit younger--as the man in the other picture. Henry Trader. The woman was the woman he'd called 'mother' all his life: Naomi Sandburg.

"Is the baby me?" he asked. Jim turned the photo over. In clear, flowing script was the caption, Henry and Naomi bringing Blair home; November 11th, 1969.

"Blair's last name is really Trader?" Jim asked suddenly, watching in concern as Blair closed his eyes.

"No, Henry and Naomi never married."

"Why?" The question was nearly whispered. Jim had never seen Blair so shaken before.

Arnold Hammond shook his head. "I don't know. I know he asked her, although his parents didn't care much for her."

"How long did you know my--did you know Mr. Trader?"

Hammond sat back in his chair. "I knew Henry for his entire life, Blair. My children went to school with him; I knew his parents. Later, after his father died, he transferred all of his legal affairs from his lawyer, to me. Said he trusted me more. We met frequently for business and started a friendship. He was a fine man, but a very unhappy man, although he seemed happy with Naomi. We never did figure out why he didn't marry her; or why she didn't marry him. Folks in this part of the country are wary of outsiders, perhaps she was scared off. I don't know. All I know is that you were no more than a few months old when your mother left, taking you with her. Henry never saw you again, although he tried to keep track of you. Of her. In '73 he lost track, and didn't find you again until '97."

"We went overseas," Blair said hoarsely. "Naomi took me to Morocco, and we stayed with some friends of hers there, for almost a year. When we left we went to Zaire and then to New Zealand before returning to the states."

"When did you return stateside?" Hammond asked gently. Jim looked over, surprised at the concern, the caring, in the older man's voice.

"Um...around '75 or '76. I'm not sure. After that we went to California and stayed at the commune until I was ready to start high school. Then I insisted on going to a regular public school, so we left the commune."

"How in the world did you end up in Cascade, Washington?" Jim couldn't help the question--he hadn't heard this much about Blair's childhood, ever.

The younger man gave him a sickly smile. "Beats me. One of the guys Naomi had been seeing just before we moved was threatening her, so we high-tailed it out of there. That's just where we ended up."

Blair glanced down at the other piece of paper and picked it up. It was a trothing agreement. "They hand-fasted?" he asked in disbelief. Who the hell hand-fasts in the states, back in the '60's? Maybe teenagers in love, whose parents won't agree to marriage. "You said they weren't married," he accused the lawyer.

"Technically, they weren't. A hand-fast is only binding for a year, then the actual ceremony must be done. You must know that, given your field of study. Naomi disappeared just before the year was up."

Blair sat back, shaking, and leaned gratefully into Jim's warmth. He caught Jeremy Walters staring at them. Well, guess he knows what kind of partners we are now, he thought with acrid amusement.

"Okay," he began, shock still coloring his voice. He closed his mouth and turned his head, pressing his face into Jim's shoulder. This was too much. Way too much. All his life he'd thought about, dreamed about, who his father might be. It's not even so much the finding out, now, it's just that now everything else is fantasy and this is reality. How'd Naomi meet him? Where? When? Why'd she always tell me that she didn't know? Would it have been so bad to let me know I really did have a father?

"Chief? Blair--are you okay?"

Blair looked up to see Jim's clear blue eyes staring down at him in concern. He still had his face partially pressed against the other man's shoulder, and he breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the rich scent of his mate and trying to clear his mind.

"I'm okay," he said softly. "Just trying to sort everything out in my mind."

"Would you like to come back in an hour or two to go over the other things?" Arnold Hammond looked over at the younger man, concern also clear in his eyes.

"Um...yeah. Yeah, I think that might be a good idea. God." Blair knuckled his eyes, trying to dull the throbbing behind them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hammond--this is a lot to take in."

"I understand, Blair. Truly. I still can't believe that Henry didn't contact you himself, and tell you this. He insisted to me that he was going to." The white-haired old man shook his head sadly, then began gathering up papers. "You go on back to the hotel, and we'll meet here again at four o'clock. Will that work for you?"

"That'll be great. Thanks." Blair turned to say goodbye to Jeremy Walters but felt his throat close up at the coldness in the other man's eyes. "'Bye then. See you at four." He turned and headed for the door. Behind him he could hear Jim telling the men goodbye, then following him.

Just down the hall from the conference room, Jim put his hand on Blair's arm, stilling him.

"What--?"

"Shh." His partner had a familiar look of concentration on his face, so Blair stood patiently.

I'm not going to work with a couple of fags, Arnold. I can't do it.

You don't have a choice if you want to keep your standing here, Jeremy. I did warn you that there are people in the world that have lifestyles which don't necessarily meet with our approval; you need to learn to see the person, not that lifestyle.

It's sick, Arnold.

It's their choice, Jeremy, whether you approve or not.

I won't be here when they come back.

That's your choice, son. I wish you felt differently.

"C'mon, Chief," Jim said, absently pulling on Blair's arm. "Let's get out of here."

"What'd you hear, man?"

"Just the same old song and dance." Even Jim sounded tired now, and Blair figured he knew without being told what his lover had heard.

"Feel like talking about any of it?" Jim waited until they got into the rental car, and Blair's fingers were firmly entwined with his. His partner was still pale, though some of his color was beginning to creep back in.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin, Jim. I can't believe...I never expected...to find out who my father was. Naomi certainly never indicated that she had information for me and after a while I just stopped wondering. I mean, it's not like there's the social stigma attached to it today that there was a hundred years ago; she and I got along just fine without anyone else...it's just weird, y'know?" Blair raised their hands and rubbed his cheek against the back of Jim's. "I am so glad you came with me. I couldn't have heard that by myself."

Jim brought their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed Blair's. "I know. And I hope you realize by now that we're in this together; for better or worse, et cetera."

A small smile spread across still-pale lips. "'For better or worse', huh? Didn't we do something like that already?"

Jim growled low and nipped at the hand still rubbing against his lips. "If you even tell me you don't remember that," he began in a mock-threatening tone.

"As if. The chances of me forgetting that night are about as good as you spontaneously growing a third arm or something. No, scratch that. You have a better chance of that happening." Blair gave Jim a genuine smile. "I love you, James Ellison. I'd never forget the night we said our vows."

They'd been lovers for six months when he came home from a long day at school; tired, weary of the politics that seemed to be a requisite thing for his doctorate, missing Jim. To his surprise, Jim was already home, with dinner in the oven.

"Hey, Chief. How was your day?"

"Rotten, man." He'd accepted the glass of tea gratefully, so glad that he could snuggle up to his partner's warm body and cuddle shamelessly. There were days he just needed Jim's strength; a little boost to his own system.

"Tell me about it." And he did. The magic of having someone there who cared, who just wanted to make things a little better for him, awed him. They ate dinner, shared their respective days, then cleaned up.

Jim sat on the couch, and he tucked himself against the larger man, relaxing when a large hand began petting his hair. "Blair?"

"Yeah, man."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Jim." He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the caresses.

"I want us to be together forever. Never apart."

He opened his eyes, shifted so he could stare into the other man's. "I agree. What'd you have in mind?"

"I don't know...I feel like I should declare to you, or something." Jim smiled, and Blair recognized the nervousness there.

"Take a vow, you mean?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, man, I can do that." He'd gazed thoughtfully at his lover for several long minutes, then untucked himself from him and gone to retrieve a candle from the study--once his bedroom. He turned off the lights, then lit the candle and set it on the coffee table, before reclaiming his seat next to Jim. This time though he faced him, his legs tucked up underneath him.

Jim's hand was steady when he reached out and traced the outline of Blair's lips, and he pursed his mouth to kiss the tip of one finger. "I love you," was the soft whisper. "Now, forever, for always. Heart and soul, body and spirit. You're mine, Blair. You belong to me, I belong to you. For better or worse, I'll be here for you."

He reached out and traced Jim's lips lovingly, holding the older man's gaze with his own. "I love you," he started. "Now, forever, for always, I'm here for you." He smiled a little as he changed the words slightly. "Breath of my body, beat of my heart; you're mine. You belong to me like the moon to the sky; I belong to you like the waves to the ocean. For better or worse, together always."

They'd sealed their vows with a long, sweet kiss which gradually deepened until they were panting for air. They doused the candle then, and went upstairs and indulged in their passion, reaffirming their love for each other, sealing their vows with their bodies this time.

"Right," Blair said again. "As if I'd forget that night." He laid his head on Jim's shoulder. "Let's get back to the hotel, man. I need a nap."

The bigger man murmured a quiet agreement and turned the car onto the street their hotel was on, glad he was able to give Blair at least the comfort of himself.

"Jeremy won't be returning this afternoon," Mr. Hammond informed them as he was leading them to the conference room, later that afternoon.

"Oh?" Jim figured he'd done pretty well seeming at least a little surprise. Maybe not though, judging from the glance that Hammond shot him.

"No. He wasn't comfortable with your lifestyle."

No wonder I kinda like this guy. Says what needs to be said, doesn't mince words. Too bad most people can't be that upfront. "Mmm." Jim glanced down at Blair; the younger man still looked a little shell-shocked. "How 'bout you, Mr. Hammond. Are you comfortable with it?"

Arnold Hammond shrugged. "It's not something I would choose, personally, but I don't like to judge. If it works for you, so be it." He paused, seeming to come to some sort of decision within himself. "My youngest brother was gay. He killed himself in '53. The world wasn't nearly as accepting of homosexuals then as it is now."

Blair said softly, "It's still not very accepting."

"No, young man, it isn't. But it's changing. It's changed a lot, and it'll change a lot more." The lawyer shook himself. "Shall we get down to business? The sooner we're finished the sooner you can be on your way."

"Yes, let's." Blair and Jim sat down and waited while Hammond took documents out, looked them over, then passed them on.

"Henry didn't have much in the way of an 'estate', so I'm sorry that that's been misleading. It is the technical term, so we're obliged to use it. The Trader estate consists of a six-acre piece of lakefront property in Lake Ozark, about eighty miles from here. There is a three-bedroom home there, as well as some outbuildings and a two-car garage. There is a ban on speedboats at that part of the lake, but there is a small dock for a rowboat. I've got the stat sheet here for the house," Hammond leafed through the stack of papers and passed one to Blair, who held it up for Jim to look at as well.

Built in 1947. Three bedrooms, plus an attic which had been converted into living space. 1900 square feet. Kitchen, living room, den with fireplace. Two bathrooms. Brick and plywood construction. A crawl-space basement. Barn, two sheds and a garage.

"At least it has indoor plumbing," Blair muttered under his breath. Jim whipped his head around, trying to decide if his lover was teasing or serious, but he couldn't tell from the look on his face.

"Now, there is one thing, Blair. Regardless of your feelings on the property, the provisions in Henry's will state this: you cannot sell the property at this time."

"Why?" Blair looked up from the stat sheet he was still holding.

"Henry's mother, your grandmother, Teresa Trader, is still living. In fact, she lives in that house. Her care is not your concern; she's been provided for, and has a live-in nurse to do for her needs. However, as Jack's will, and then Henry's, have both stated, she's to be allowed to remain in the house until the end of her natural life."

"Grandmother?" Blair managed, his voice breaking on the second syllable.

"Henry did also stipulate that you go and meet her, talk with her. You are her only grandchild, and she's not seen you in nearly thirty-five years."

"Oh, man." Blair's voice broke again, and Jim leaned in to hug him.

"You okay, Chief?"

"Yeah, I guess..." The younger man glared at the lawyer. "You couldn't have insisted on proof from Henry that he'd told me some of this? Man, this is like way over the top here! How'm I supposed to deal with all of this?"

"He was gone for two weeks, back in September. I saw the airline tickets; I drove him to the airport. I know he went to Cascade, Washington, with the express purpose of looking you up and introducing himself. He wanted to get to know you and knew there wasn't a lot of time left."

"Time left?" Jim gripped Blair's hand tightly, trying to impart some comfort. He could feel the smaller body shaking even though they were barely touching.

"That's right, Mr. Ellison." Hammond sighed and removed his glasses, began to polish them on his shirt. "May I call you Jim?" At Ellison's nod he continued, "Henry had a lot of health problems, Jim, the majority of which stemmed from his days of drinking too much. He had cirrhosis, and it was in the advanced stages when he decided to go and try to meet you, Blair, in person. I don't know why he didn't, actually. When he returned from the trip he refused to talk about anything, and was hospitalized about week after that. He died at the end of September."

"Why wasn't I contacted prior to now?"

Hammond shook his head. "Again, a lot of this doesn't make sense to me, so I can't say for sure. Henry had it stipulated in his will that you were not to be contacted until after he'd been buried; then you were to come out here to received the trusteeship of the estate and to meet your grandmother. That's it."

Blair stared at the lawyer, his brain a little numb. So many questions swirling around in his head and he wasn't able to make sense of any of them. September! His father had been in Cascade in September; been there to meet him. Of course he wouldn't have been able to, since he and Jim were Tucson for three weeks in September, attending a Victim's Rights seminar. It made him a little sad to think of this old man, dying, and he'd never had the chance to meet him. It made him angry, too. Why didn't he try harder to find me? It's not like I've ever hidden who I was or where I was. And if he knew I lived in Cascade, knew where I worked, he could have called, or something. Damn. His head hurt again.

"There's some paperwork you need to sign," the lawyer began shuffling papers in earnest now, gathering them together. He pushed a pen over toward Blair, then began handing off papers.

Deed. Trust paperwork. Copy of the will. Other legal papers that transferred various this-n-that's from the law firm to him. An envelope marked "Personal", with instructions to read it before going to the house in Lake Ozark. Copies of the death certificate, funeral papers, location of the gravesite. Blair's head was throbbing by the time they finished, roughly around seven p.m.

"Here are instructions on how to get to Lake Ozark from Jefferson City, as well as instructions on finding the house once you're there. My card, with our phone number, and my personal home phone as well. You call me if there are any problems, understand?" Hammond's green eyes exuded concern and Blair felt a little of the numbness dissipate.

"Thank you, Mr. Hammond." He shook the lawyer's hand, then waited for Jim to do the same. "I'll be sure to call you if we need anything."

"You do that. Good luck, gentlemen. And Blair?"

The younger man stopped at the door to the outside of the office. "Yes?"

"Be careful."

"So what time do you want to leave in the morning." Blair laid on the bed, listening to the sounds of Jim brushing his teeth and washing his face. The much-loved, familiar face appeared in door to the bathroom a minute later.

"We're not in any hurry, are we?" Jim patted his face dry, watching Blair watch him.

"No. Christ, no. Jim--man, I don't want to do this. I mean, I do, but...fuck, this is scaring me."

Jim disappeared for a minute, then reappeared, switching lights off. He left the one right next to the bed on, and crawled in next to Blair. "Why so scared, Chief?"

"I don't know, and that's bugging the hell out of me. I mean, I'm dyin' to know about my father, and his relationship with my mom. And it'll be cool to meet my grandmother. The only grandparent I've ever known was Naomi's father; he died when I was seven, and I never saw much of him anyway. He didn't really approve of Naomi's lifestyle." Blair shrugged that off, dismissing.

"But this is...it's almost eerie. You know what I mean? I keep getting bad vibes, man. Like this whole thing with Henry coming out to see me and missing me; the whole thing reeks of bad karma. I do not want to go to the Ozarks." He fell silent, staring up at the ceiling, trying to see the future in the raised stucco pattern there.

"The will doesn't say how long we have to stay," Jim began in a reasonable voice. "Why don't we drive up there tomorrow morning; you can meet your grandmother, talk with her for a while, then we'll come back here and spend Saturday and Sunday lying in bed, screwing each other senseless."

Blair flicked his eyes sideways to look at Jim. "You say the most romantic things to me, Ellison," he smiled.

"Hey," Jim feigned hurt, "we both know that's what we're gonna do--why talk around it?"

Blair rolled over to partially drape himself across Jim's chest. "We gonna screw each other senseless, or fuck each other silly? Or better yet," he leaned down and licked Jim's ear, breathing the hot words in, blowing cool air across the sensitive organ. "Better yet, let's do this: we'll fuck each other so long, so hard, we both wear ourselves out screaming in ecstacy."

He smiled in satisfaction against the older man's mouth when Jim pulled his head down for a long, bruising kiss.

He woke to a tickling sensation in the vicinity of his navel.

(And that's where this one leaves off. I can say with almost 100% certainty it'll never be finished. I've been gone from the TS fandom for so long, I can't even imagine writing in it any more. But hopefully, anyone reading it, enjoyed it. :))