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Notes: This story is part of my Swingers Series. In the Swingers Universe, Jim's abilities, and his relationship with Blair, isn't the big secret that it is in most fanon. All of the Bullpen know, and a select few outsiders, mostly from Jim helping the federales out on various cases.

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medley (plural medleys) noun 1.music: musical sequence of different songs: a continuous piece of music consisting of two or more different tunes or songs played one after the other 2. Mixture of things: a mixture or assortment of various things

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Part One - Did You Ever See a Dream Walking?

"Jim?"

Ellison didn't look up from the paperwork spread on his desk. "Yeah, Chief?"

Blair was peering out the window, into the street below. As usual, his part of the paperwork was done, and done well. All those years of writing papers at the university had paid off. "Jim, am I asleep right now?"

This got Jim to look up. His partner, Guide, and lover, despite his puckish nature, usually made more sense than this. "Not that I can see, unless this morning has been one bastard of a sleep walk. Why do you ask?"

"I thought maybe I was asleep and having a wet dream."

All right, this was interesting. Jim put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "So, what's happening?"

Blair was staring raptly at something down in the street. "Well, not a hell of a lot right now--but I can hope."

"Blair..."

"There's a Mountie helping an old lady across the street."

Jim was silent for a moment. Then he said slowly, "Chief, I warned you that someday that health food store was gonna slip something iffy in your herbal tea blend."

"No, Jim, I'm not kidding you--there's a Mountie out there. Red tunic, jodhpur, Smokey the Bear hat, Sam Brown belt, hot as hell black boots, and all."

Jim got up, going to the window. "This I gotta see."

"Too late. He just came in the building."

A little miffed, Jim put his hand on Blair's shoulder, peering over. No, no Mountie. That didn't mean there wasn't anything, or rather anyone, interesting out there. "Okay, Chief, are wet dreams catching?" He was staring at the man who was paying off a taxi driver on the other side of the street. He looked about Blair's height, maybe a little more slender, but in a wiry way. He was wearing what was probably the single most hideous shirt Jim had ever seen. The colors were so insulting that Jim felt like dialing down his vision , but it worked for him. He crossed the street with a gait that was somewhere between a glide and a strut, and disappeared into the front of the building. "That was choice."

"Yeah, he's nice, but you didn't see my Mountie."

"Oh, your Mountie, huh?"

"Well, I'd share if I got him--you know that. But I gotta tell you, Jim, he looks awful top to me, and you just haven't been in a bottom sort of mood lately."

"Complaining?"

"As if."

"Wonder what a Mountie is doing this side of the border?"

"No telling. D'ya think he'll hang around the station long enough for me to get another good leer at him? I'd like a little more fantasy fodder."

"You could always go downstairs in search of... um... supplies? Maybe the copier on our floor quit working?"

"I love you, Ellison, but you come up with the lamest excuses of anyone I've ever known."

"Oh, like you can do better."

"How about a fund run for the Cops `n Kids program? We're due, and it would actually do some good, besides letting me go Mountie stalking."

"All right for you, but that doesn't get me downstairs to look for my object of unrequited lust." Jim tilted his head. "Okay, enough drooling--company's coming." They resumed their desks.

The door opened and was promptly filled by approximately six feet of red serge clad Canuck. Jim blinked. Wow, no wonder Blair was slavering.

His Stetson was neatly tucked under his arm, and his brown hair gleamed under the fluorescents. Eyes the color of a Canadian sky in spring swept the room quickly, settling on Jim. He obviously decided that Jim was senior officer, and spoke politely, just enough accent coloring his voice to give it an added thrill. "Excuse me, but I am looking for Mr. Simon Banks."

Blair bounced out of his chair. "He's in his office. Come on, I'll take you in." This was absolutely necessary, of course, since the office was all of a dozen steps away. Eh, he couldn't blame the kid--that was one luscious hunk of Canadian bacon. Still, Blair was right. He was probably a top, if he was gay at all. That was about as butch as it was possible to get.

"That would be most kind of you." He extended a hand, and Blair shook with his usual enthusiasm. "I am Constable Benton Fraser."

"Detective Blair Sandburg, and that's my partner--Detective Jim Ellison."

Fraser nodded, and Jim waved. "Oh, good. Just the two gentlemen we need to see."

Jim felt his eyebrows lift. Well, that was going to make Blair happy. As he thought that, a slightly annoyed voice out in the corridor said, "Benny, are you gonna move your butt, or do I stay out here in the hall for the entire visit?"

"Oh, dear. Excuse me." He stepped into the room. Blair nobly restrained himself from rubbing up against him--for the time being.

Wet Dream--Jim's Version, sauntered through the door. He'd been completely hidden by his companion. "Bout time, Benny. I was starting to get funny looks out there. I think they figured I was a detainee, trying to pull something." He put his hands on his hips, glancing between Jim and Blair. "Hiya." Jim and Blair answered automatically. He glanced up at Fraser. "So? Do the Miss Manners bit."

"Ray, these are Detectives Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg. Detectives, this is my partner, Detective Raymond Stanley Vecchio."

"Call me Stanley." He shook hands with Jim and Blair.

Jim tried not to stare. Here I thought I was attracted to the intellectual type. I guess street smart can do it for me, too. Maybe it wasn't so unusual that he felt an instant attraction to the smaller man. Stanley exuded a sort of kinetic energy that reminded Jim a bit of Blair.

"Your partner doesn't call you Stanley," Blair observed.

Stanley gave Blair a bland look. "Well, yeah, but he's weird. Nice, but weird."

"How so?" Actually, Benton's physical perfection was almost disconcerting.

"For one thing, he has a wolf."

"A wolf?" That got Blair's attention. He claimed that if reincarnation was true, he had either been a wolf in his last life, or was going to be one in his next "if I'm really, really good."

"Diefenbaker," Benton clarified, looking as if this merited no further comment.

"And he licks things," Stanley continued.

"Pardon me?" Jim watched Blair shift nervously, and knew exactly what he was imagining the big Mountie licking.

"Taste can be an important investigation tool," Fraser explained, straight faced. He meant this, he wasn't joking. "Of course, one must develop it, and Stanley does not see its efficacy. "

Blair is going to swoon at any minute. Big, built, sexy, polite, and can use words like efficacy. Jim smiled. "Actually, you're right. It can be used effectively. All the senses should be utilized when you examine a scene, or evidence."

Fraser looked at his companion. "You see, Ray? Modern technology is a wonderful thing, but we must not discount the natural methods."

"Yeah, Frase, same song, second verse." Stanley sounded bored.

Fraser looked at the two Cascade detectives apologetically. "I am sorry. Stanley is sceptical that an individual's physical senses could be developed to a degree that would make them reliable in investigation."

"Not everyone," Blair countered. "Now, there are certain individuals born with genetically superior senses..."

"Are you refering to Sentinels?" Fraser looked more than politely interested.

Jim and Blair gaped. Stanley groaned, "Oh, jeez, he's on his hobby-horse!"

"Fraser," Blair was almost vibrating with excitement. "You know about Sir Richard Burton's monograph?"

"I am afraid that I have never had the privilege of viewing a copy. I have had to make do with excerpts that I tracked down in various scholarly publications, and on the net. I believe that there is a copy in the British Royal Museum, and should I ever have a chance to visit London..."

Blair splayed his hands flat on his chest. "I have a copy!"

Fraser's face lit up. "No!"

"Yes!"

"No!" growled Stanley. "Look, we ought to get down to business. There could be some screw-up, (there usually is), and we haven't got all that much time before our flight out leaves. I'm Chicago PD, and they booked us a return flight for about six hours from now. Welch didn't feel like letting the department spring for a room, so we get to do a turn around."

"I do hope we find the opportunity to continue this discussion, Blair," Fraser said, "But, sadly, Stanley is correct. We are here to relieve you of one of your miscreants."

"Translated: We got extradition papers on one of your perps."

"Okay, that explains why you're here." Jim eyed Benton's red serge. Damn, he must spend hours on those brass buttons. "It doesn't explain why the RCMP are in on this."

"This concerns both the American and Canadian legal systems, and I am liaison for the Canadian consulate in Chicago. Raymond and I work very closely."

"So, which of our bad boys are you after?" Blair asked.

"Solomon Tyson, AKA Solly the Sneak, soon to be known as Solly the Snitch, if he lives that long." Stanley ran a hand through already spiky blonde hair.

"Tyson... Tyson..." Jim looked questioningly at Blair.

"About a week ago, Big Guy. It was a pretty minor thing, so that's probably why it didn't stick in your mind." Blair looked back at Benton. "It was an accidental bust, really. I'm waiting at a taco stand while Jim here gets his daily dose of sodium and artery filler..." Benton nodded, and looked pointedly at Stanley, who whistled and stared at the ceiling, "...and this guy comes up and wants to buy a lid of grass off me. Turns out someone had told him that a dealer hung out there. He took one look at this..." Blair flipped his hair, "and just assumed I was it. Easiest bust we've ever made."

"An indication that marijuana does, indeed, kill brain cells," Benton observed.

"But what interests you guys in a simple grass buy? Unless there's more to Solly than meets the eye?" Blair was concentrating on Fraser. Jim decided that it was only fair to Stanley if he gave him equal attention.

"Very astute, Detective Sandburg..." Benton started.

"Blair and Jim," Blair insisted.

"Thank you kindly. Please call me Benton." He glanced pointedly at Vecchio, who sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, first names all around. I'll add you guys to my Christmas card list for getting Solly for us. We've been after his ass for months, but he just dropped out of sight. Look, you guys should hear this, but we need to talk to Banks, too. Why don't we save breath and tell you all at once?"

"Sure!" Blair put his hand on the small of Benton's back, guiding him toward the inner office. "Right this way."

Careful, Blair. Don't slip and grab his ass. Not in the office, anyway. Jim watched Blair affectionately. He hadn't seen his lover this instantly lust struck since that FBI agent--Fox Mulder.

Stanley jerked his head after the couple, lifting his eyebrows at Jim. "Well, shall we?"

As Jim followed the small, but undeniably perfect, ass, he thought, Oh, I hope so. I certainly hope so.

Part Two - Whys and Wherefores

Simon watched, bemused, as Stanley flopped in one of the two chairs before his desk, and Fraser tried to get first Blair, then Jim to accept the remaining seat before being persuaded to take it himself, with a heartfelt, "Thank you kindly." Blair made the introductions, prompting the Mountie to leap up once again to shake hands.

Stanley noted Simon's stare as Fraser resumed his seat. As he shook Simon's hand himself, he nodded wryly. "Yeah, Benny has that effect on people."

"So, Constable Fraser, Detective Vecchio--you're here to extradite a prisoner? May I see the paper work?"

"Of course. How remiss of me." Benton started to unbutton his tunic. Jim was glad that Blair was standing behind Benton, out of his line of sight. The look of surprised joy on his face was palpable. The Mountie reached into his tunic and removed a couple of forms, then handed them to Simon. He explained. "I hope you do not mind. I prefer not to fold them, if possible, and this is much easier to deal with than carrying a briefcase for such a small amount of paper work."

"I think it's ingenious," Blair murmured.

"Why, thank you." Fraser gave him a dazzling smile over his shoulder. "You know, for centuries the Inuit have carried small, important items inside their clothing, close to their body for added protection."

Blair's face lit up. "Tribal culture? I'm a social anthropologist!" Benton's smile grew, if possible, more pleased. Jim and Stanley groaned simultaneously. They exchanged startled, then commiserate looks.

"Please don't get him started about the Inuit," Stanley begged. "We'll miss our flight. We only have six hours, Benny, and we need to tell them why we're here. You can set up a cultural exchange program, or lecture schedule, or whatever, with Sandburg later."

"You are right, of course, Ray. I apologize. Yes, Captain Banks. We are here, as the papers say, for one Solomon Tyson. Mr. Tyson is wanted in connection with the sale of stolen merchandise--in particular, a 17" Panasonic computer monitor."

"You came all the way out to Cascade to pick up a perp for that? The airline tickets cost more than the merchandise," Simon protested.

"Yes sir, we are aware of that, but that is merely the initial charge. You see, the monitor was determined to be part of a shipment that was confiscated as it was being smuggled into Canada. While one monitor is not much, an eighteen wheel tractor-trailer truck full of them most certainly is."

"How did you know this monitor came from that batch?" asked Jim, curiously. He moved to stand beside Simon's desk, because he was afraid that Fraser was going to wrench his neck, twisting around politely to look at his listener when he spoke.

"Serial numbers. He offered it for sale to a young man who was participating in our Cops and Computers outreach program--a very gifted young man, I might add. Thankfully he seems to intend to use his computer skills on the side of law and order instead of 'hacking', I believe they call it. We are choosing to ignore the fact that he accessed police files in order to check the serial number."

Jim nodded. "A semi full? Yeah, that's a bit of change, all right. Worth a trip."

Stanley smirked. Oh, what I'd like to do to that mouth, Jim thought.

"That isn't all, though," Stanley stated. "Solly is in a world of trouble."

"You see," Fraser went on. "With Chicago being the third largest city in the United States, located as it is on Lake Michigan and being on route for several major traffic arteries, our area does an inordinate amount of commercial shipping of all kinds. Millions of dollars each fiscal year, if not billions. Is that not so, Ray?"

"Benny, I don't keep track of the freakin' commerce records. That's for the public relations people to bull shit tourists. All I know is that a shit load of contraband and hot stuff passes through every year."

"As Raymond said, a... great deal of smuggling and hijacking takes place in our jurisdiction. Much of the goods are either taken from, or end up in Canada, thus my involvement. We do our best, along with the Port Authority and Coast Guard, but the territory is just too extensive for us to be really effective on our budget."

"Okay," Jim said. "You have a problem. How does a small-time booster figure in? He just arranged for a monitor to 'fall off' that truck, didn't he?"

Stanley ran his hand over his hair again, grinning. "Not exactly. Ya see, Solly is the nephew of Bernardo Tyson. Or, as he's known in certain circles 'Bust-the-Border Bernie'. Bernie has been operating most of the smuggling and hijacking going on in Illinois for the past twenty years."

"Nephew?" Blair rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me."

"Yup. Nepotism."

Jim grinned. Hm, Benton isn't the only one who can use two-dollar words.

"Bernie gave his little sister's idiot child a job." Stanley laughed. "God bless stupid criminals. They're the ones who get caught, and in this case, we're hoping Solly will help us catch his uncle Bernie."

Simon frowned. "He might not cooperate. Do you think he'll turn?"

"I think he'll spin like Anna Pavlova up on tippie-toe, once we get our hands on him. He ran because he was more afraid of his uncle than of us. Bernie doesn't like people doing things that draw the attention of the authorities. Especially since all the geek had to do was draw a paycheck, and instead he got greedy."

"Solomon, sad to say, has not led a blameless existence prior to this incident." Fraser sounded for all the world as if he were genuinely grieved by the crook's bad behavior. "He has already served small terms for two felony convictions. This will be his third."

"Ball park justice." Stanley stated. "He's on his third strike. They'll put him under the pen, unless..." He held up one finger.

"He sings." Blair concluded.

Stanley nodded with satisfaction. "Like it's karaoke night at the Ramada Inn, and he's had a few too many."

"Ray expresses himself rather colorfully, but yes, that is the gist of the situation," Fraser agreed.

"Well," Simon said, "I'm sure Sandburg and Ellison won't mind putting aside that little pot bust in the interest of the greater good."

Blair shrugged. "Of course not."

"That is most considerate of you, Blair." Fraser said sincerely. "I do hope that I will be able to repay you in some small manner."

Blair's eyelids dropped to half-mast. "Oh, we'll think of something."

Simon got on the phone. "I'll just tell holding to get him ready for you. Yeah, Prescott? You have a perp down there on a grass buy charge by the name of Solomon Tyson. We need..." Simon paused, frowning. "What do you mean, 'not for long'? You aren't trying to release him, are you? I thought he couldn't make bail." Another pause. "What ambulance? Oh." Another pause. "Well, damn. Sure, you have to. I'll tell the officers."

Simon hung up. Stanley said sourly, "Ya know, I have a feeling you're about to tell me something that I'm really not going to like."

"Tyson has been experiencing nausea and diarrhea since yesterday."

Jim winced. "I really didn't need to know that."

Ignoring him, Simon continued. "He's running a temperature and experiencing abdominal pain."

Fraser's forehead wrinkled. "Oh, dear. That would seem to indicate appendicitis."

Simon nodded. "An ambulance is on the way to take him to the hospital for an exam and a white cell count. If that's what it is, they'll do the operation. In any case, he isn't going anywhere soon except to the emergency room."

Stanley slapped his hands on the chair arms. "Well, crap! The little bastard has to go and get an inflammation of a totally useless scrap of flesh at exactly the right time to throw a wrench into things."

"He did not do it on purpose, Ray," Fraser said mildly.

Stanley's tone was belligerent. "Yeah? How do you know?" At Benton's accusing stare, he sighed. "All right, okay, I know. But what are we gonna do now?"

Benton looked thoughtful. "I believe the most logical course of action would be to call Lieutenant Welch and inform him of the situation before making any decisions on our own." Fraser pulled out his wallet and extracted a small plastic card. "Sir, if you would allow me to use your telephone, I have a calling card."

"Be my guest." Simon pushed it toward him. "Punch nine to get out."

"Thank you kindly."

As Fraser carefully read the information off the card and punched in a long string of numbers, Jim whispered to Stanley, "Is he always like this? So... so..."

"Perfect? Yeah. He makes Eagle Scouts blush with envy. But you can't really dislike him for it; he's such a nice guy. He's not trying to show anyone up. It's just how he is."

They listened as Fraser explained the situation to the Lieutenant. Then Fraser listened, nodding. "Yes, sir. I see. No, sir. Of course. Will you be so good as to inform Inspector Thatcher? Yes, she will see that Diefenbaker is cared for. Thank you. Yes, sir. As soon as we know. Goodbye." He hung up.

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Stanley grimaced. "We're stuck, right?"

"That is correct, Ray. Lieutenant Welsh feels that it would be shamefully extravagant to fly back to Chicago for a day or two when we will only have to return. He pointed out that it will be much less expensive if we acquire temporary lodging and return with Mr. Tyson once he is recovered sufficiently to travel."

"Mhm. And did Welsh hint at how we were supposed to pay for these accommodations?"

"The department will reimburse all expenses."

"In about six months. But Benny, you got to have money to spend in the first place for them to reimburse you. I got forty bucks to last me till next payday. I know damn good and well that won't buy a rat hole for one night, and I chipped up my MasterCard with a pair of scissors in self-defense. What about you?"

Fraser frowned. "Goodness, Ray. You know I do not have a credit card. I do not believe in them."

"One of these days, Benny, you're gonna wander back through that time warp into the Victorian era." Stanley looked at Simon hopelessly. "I don't suppose they'd have a couple of spare cots at the Academy?"

"They're at capacity."

"Say!" said Blair brightly.

Jim forced down a smile. Here it comes.

"I have an idea. We have some spare room at our place. You two could crash there till it was time for you to split. You wouldn't mind, would you, Big Guy?" Blair turned Horny Puppydog eyes on his lover.

Oh, like I'm going to say no when you look at me like that. Besides, I wouldn't mind having Blondie near to hand. "Nah, that'd be great. You and Fraser could discuss... uh, primitive cultures."

"You betcha."

"You are certain it would be no bother?" Fraser asked diffidently. "I could easily sleep on a couch or the floor. I am used to it."

Blair cocked his head. "I just noticed. You never use contractions."

"No, I do not. My grandmother Fraser considered them a form of slang, and therefore a linguistic abomination."

Stanley volunteered. "Frase may not care if he snoozes on the floor, but I do. I want a nice, soft, warm, comfortable bed after that damn plane ride."

"Oh, I think I can provide that," Jim said, glaring at Blair when he giggled. "Why don't we go on down to holding so you can get a look at Tyson before they ship him off?"

"Sounds like a plan." Stanley got up and slipped past Jim, exiting the office. Jim dialed up his sense of smell, and drank him in as he passed.

Gum, Irish Spring soap, some sort of spicy after-shave, almost smells like cinnamon and vanilla. Yummy. Jim caught up with him at the hall, and Blair and Fraser followed. Blair was telling Benton about his doctoral thesis. Fraser looked fascinated. "Those two seem to be hitting it off well," Jim commented.

Stanley slid a glance back at the others. His gaze was a mixture of pride, exasperation, and affection. "Yeah. I'm glad. I'm a little impatient with Benny about his Canadian folklore and stuff sometimes." He studied Jim. "I didn't notice you rolling your eyes when he brought up that Sentinel stuff. I've had to listen to it a lot."

"You don't believe in it?" Stanley shrugged. "Yeah, it would sound nutty to me, too--if I wasn't one myself." Stanley went still, narrowing his eyes. "No, I'm not kidding you." He leaned toward the shorter man and sniffed once. "You chewed some gum before you came in." sniff "Watermelon."

"Yeah, well, watermelon is a strong-ass scent."

"You used Irish Spring soap the last time you bathed, but that was at least a day ago."

Stanley flushed. "So I didn't know I was going to be going out of town."

"And your cologne makes you smell like a sugar cookie."

Stanley blinked. "I used the last of it right after I showered early yesterday. It's called Spice Island. Fuck, I think you're serious."

"Only when I have to be."

"A Sentinel? It isn't just more of Ben's folk lore?"

"According to Sandburg, a lot of folk lore has a solid base, if you go back far enough."

"Well, I'll be damned." He smiled. "Pretty cool, Ellison." He glanced back up the hall. "What's keeping those two?"

"I think Blair has moved on to comparing hunting rituals of the Chopek and Inuits."

Stanley sighed. "Like Ben is always dragging Inuit culture into every conversation. I keep wanting to ask him what it has to do with the price of eggs. The funny thing is, he's right a lot of the time. It does sometimes apply to things that are going on in our cases, even if it is in a cockeyed way." He grinned. "It just hurts like pulling teeth to admit it."

"Testify, my brother."

"You too?"

"I admire the hell out of Blair, but I usually don't want to hear how the ancient Minoan system of family values impacts on a money laundering racket we're investigating."

"He can find connections with that? Holy crap, and I thought Benny was convoluted. So, we both got odd ball partners we probably wouldn't swap for all the gold in Fort Knox." He slid a brilliant blue gaze toward Jim as they entered the elevator. "What else do you suppose we got in common?"

Part Three - Points of Mutual Reference

Vecchio was watching Jim with those sapphire bright eyes. The doors of the elevator started to close.

Blair and Fraser were still back near the office. Blair was speaking animatedly, hands flying about in illustration. If you handcuffed Blair, he'd be rendered half mute. Well, except for some real interesting moans and whimpers, Jim reminisced. He didn't have to dial up his hearing to know that the Guide was on one of his patented Sandburg cultural rambles. The Mountie looked enthralled.

Jim reached up to block the sliding doors, and was surprised when Stanley took hold of his sleeve and tugged his arm down. As the doors slid closed, he said, "They snooze, they lose. Benny would rather take the stairs, anyway." He punched the ground floor button, then leaned back against the metal wall, folding his arms. "So Ellison, you married?"

Jim put his fists on his hips. "Pretty direct, aren't you, Vecchio?"

Stanley shrugged. "Just finding points of mutual reference. Myself, I'm divorced."

"Me, too."

"Amicable, or nasty?"

"Not really nasty, but it hurt. No kids, thank God."

"That was one of the main problems with mine--no kids. Stella and me didn't see eye to eye on that, so I guess it was a mistake from the start." He was silent for a moment. Then, "You with someone?"

"Ye-ah, actually, I am." Jim paused. "But he's the understanding sort." He watched Stanley carefully for his reaction. If he'd misjudged this, he'd fucked up royally.

Stanley's eyebrows rose. "Good."

There was a ping, and the doors slid open. Jim found himself facing a red wall, which on second glance turned out to be Fraser. "Ray," he scolded. "That was rude of you." He looked at Jim apologetically. "I know it was not your fault, Jim. Ray has very peculiar ideas of humor sometimes. I myself did not mind, Ray, but Blair should not have been forced to exert himself in that manner."

"Hey, I didn't mind, Benton," Blair piped from behind him.

I bet you didn't, Blairboy. You followed that ass all the way down, didn't you? Jim explained, "My hand slipped, Benton. Come on."

They trooped back to the holding cells, and were shown into the one containing Solomon Tyson. He was curled up on his bunk, shivering. The room stank of vomit and shit, and the toilet in the corner was in none too fresh condition. Jim wished that he could dial his sense of smell down below normal.

Now Jim remembered Tyson--a skinny guy with bad skin, who looked like a Yorkshire Terrier had climbed up on his head and died there, and smelled like said Yorkie had been there for some time. Still, it was hard not to feel some sort of pity for the poor prick--he was so obviously miserable. His ratty face was pasty, and coated with sour smelling sweat. While his tiny eyes had never been bright with intelligence, and seldom sparkled with good will, they now positively glinted with pain. Any sympathy evaporated the second he opened his mouth.

"Mother fuckin', cock suckin', sunuvabitch, shit-heel, crappy asshole lickin', dickhead pigs!"

Jim felt the urge to cover Benton's ears. The Mountie turned a shade only slightly paler than his tunic. He said primly, "Mr. Tyson, I understand that you are in pain, and not in the best of moods, but there is no call for such language."

"Who da fuck are youse? Em'ly Fuckin' Post?"

"No, I am Constable Benton Fraser, and..."

"Benny, that was a rhetorical question," Stanley interrupted. "We love you, too, Solly. How's the gut?"

"Feels like I done swallowed fuckin' groun' glass mixed wit' lye, that's how. How's yer slut mother?"

"Collecting what your ma makes on her back with the fleet. Are we through pissing now? Can we talk?"

Solly groaned. "I got nuttin' ta say onnacounta my lawyer sez stuff it."

"Public defender, Solly?"

"Nah." He gave a smug sneer. "Unca Bernie sent me a real lawyer. You ain't extractin' me back ta Chi. I'm stayin' here, an' dis pissant pot bust is gonna go away."

Stanley squatted down next to the bunk, putting his face on level with Solly's. Jim admired his dedication to work. Personally, he didn't like being in the same building with the creep. "Is that what he told you, Solly?" Stanley glanced at Blair in grave enquiry. "Is that so, Detective Sandburg? Has someone tried to make Solly's bust go away?"

"Why no, Detective Vecchio, they have not." Benny gave Blair a look of approval at his verbal correctness.

Stanley looked back at Solly. "See, Solly? Uncle Bernie doesn't give a rat's ass if you rot inside or not. The DA back in Chicago, on the other hand, is willing to do a deal and keep your skinny, stinky butt out on the streets."

"Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me? Bernie would toast my nuts an' feed 'em ta me. He'd fuckin' kill me."

Benton was looking around the room, puzzled, as his partner spoke to the prisoner. Jim and Blair watched in astonishment as he bent down and sniffed at several places on the floor. At last he said to Blair, "Blair, are you aware of the schedule of your extermination regime for the holding cells?"

"What?"

Stanley translated. "He wants to know when you last sprayed for bugs. What's that got to do with anything, Benny?"

"There is a peculiar odor." He leaned over the toilet and sniffed. Jim tried not to gag. Could dedication be taken too far?

"I don't know," Blair said. "Quarterly? Not any time lately, anyway." He looked at Jim for affirmation. Jim nodded. He would have known. It would have been absolute hell with his sense of smell.

"Very odd. Excuse me." He bent close to Solly's face, sniffing.

Solly jerked back. "Whatarya, queer? Geddaway from me!"

Fraser frowned. "Mr. Tyson, has anyone other than a corrections officer given you anything to eat or drink recently?"

"What of it? It was jus' a fuckin' cuppa coffee, an' it tasted like shit anyways. I t'rew mosta it away after da suit left."

Fraser's forehead puckered in concern. "Oh dear. I do believe that Mr. Tyson has been poisoned."

"Huh?" "Whaddafuck?" "Poisoned?" "Benny!" Blair, Solly, Jim, and Stanley all spoke at once.

"There is a distinct odor of bug spray in Solly's vomitus and around his mouth. Potassium chlorate, an ingredient in many insecticides, can induce nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and abdominal pain. I believe that it would be prudent to have Mr. Tyson treated for ingestion, as well as being tested for appendicitis. Inducing vomiting is usually the first course of action in such cases." He glanced again at the toilet. "However in this case, such action would be rather redundant."

Two paramedics arrived just as Fraser finished speaking, rolling a gurney before them. The law officers exited the cell to allow them to do their job. Fraser told them of his suspicions, and they nodded agreement. Before a groaning, and now even more distressed Solly was wheeled out, it was decided that rather than cuffing the prisoner to the gurney (SOP), Stanley would accompany him in the ambulance. Fraser would follow with Jim and Blair.

It was crowded in the cab of the truck, not that either Jim or Blair minded. After Blair had confided that he just didn't feel secure anywhere but shotgun, Fraser had taken the center, even though it meant his long legs were a bit cramped. Then the anthropologist threw his arm across the seat back, behind Benton's neck, and had an excuse to fall against him when Jim took a corner. Jim reflected that, if they drove far enough, Sandburg would probably find a way to work himself into the Mountie's lap.

Stanley was allowed to accompany Solly back into an exam room, mainly because he simply refused to hear the nurse's protestations. "There's a chance that someone is trying to off our prize song bird, Florence. I'm not leaving him till I find out for sure." The other three went to the cafeteria to wait for word.

When Blair saw Fraser considering the shriveled remains in the steam table, he said, "Benton, tell me you aren't seriously considering eating hospital food when you aren't hooked to an IV?"

"Well, Blair, while it does not seem very palatable, I am sure it is mostly harmless, inexpensive, and bound to be nourishing. In any case, they did not serve a meal on the plane, and we did not have time to go in search of a noontime repast if we were to accomplish our goal. Now it seems we have the time, and I am feeling quite peckish."

"But don't give in and subject yourself to that. It shouldn't take long to find out about Tyson. Hang on and Jim and I will treat you and your partner to dinner."

We will? Jim thought. Sure, standard Sandburg theory. Studies have shown that the desire for food and sex are two of the strongest drives in man. Ergo--feed them, then fuck them. "Sure. It'd be our pleasure."

"That would be most considerate of you. I am sure that Stanley will be pleased."

They settled on coffee, which Blair observed probably tasted marginally better than the bug spray laced stuff Tyson had gotten. "Tell me about your wolf, Benny."

"Diefenbaker. Well, you see, he is not really mine. We are companions. He is a fine beast, with few bad habits. Since coming to Chicago I fear he has acquired bad dietary tendencies. The officers at the station are careless about where they leave their jelly donuts. I am not so worried about his pizza habit, as it includes meat and dairy products, but I do wish he would stick to plain cheese. The pepperoni is bad for him, and the anchovies make his breath unpleasant."

Jim settled back to listen, reflecting that perhaps Blair, with all his natural herbal remedies and meditation, wasn't quite as far into the fringe as he'd thought.

Part Four - Dinner

Stanley came into the cafeteria, a disgusted look on his face. Coming to the table, he licked one index finger and sketched a stroke in the air. "Chalk one up for Canada. You were right, Benny--bug spray."

Blair frowned. "How could they tell?"

"They analyzed a sample. Had absolutely no trouble getting one, the state Solly's clothes were in. I think they're gonna burn them as toxic waste."

"That is most distressing." Fraser bit his bottom lip, and Blair watched with interest. "Will he live?"

Stanley shrugged. "The doc says that if he survives the next eight hours, probably. He had the coffee about three hours ago, and twelve hours is critical time."

"It's a good thing you caught that odor, Fraser," Blair said. "Otherwise they'd have treated him for appendicitis, and he would have died."

"Oh, he's got appendicitis, too." They stared at Stanley, who nodded. "Yup. Of course, they can't operate right now, 'cause it would be too much of a strain on his system." Stanley held up his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "Turns out that Solly has a teeny bit of a heart problem. They got him on massive antibiotics, which are giving him a mother of a case of hives. This has got to be the most unlucky bastard I've ever run across."

"What does this mean for you?" Jim asked.

He sighed. "We're still stuck. First we gotta wait and see if Solly kicks it. Then if he doesn't, he has the appendix jerked, rests up for about a day, and we finally toddle his ass back to Chi. You guys are stuck with us till day after tomorrow at least."

"No problem," Blair said promptly. "This will give me a chance to Xerox the Burton book for you, Ben."

"Oh, that would be most heartily appreciated!" Then he looked doubtful. "But would Xeroxing an entire book infringe on copyrights? After all, one cannot drop by Barnes and Noble and take one of these off the front display."

Blair patted Ben's shoulder. "I really don't think that Burton's descendants, if he has any, would object. So, that's settled--you two stay with us."

"We cannot thank you enough, Blair--Jim," Fraser said sincerely.

"Yes, you can, Fraser," Jim assured him. "Please stop. We know you're grateful--it isn't like we're giving you a kidney. Now, I suggest that we keep an eye on Solly while he's here. If word gets back to Bernie that the spiked coffee didn't work..."

"I see your point, Jim," Fraser agreed. "I will stay. Stanley needs his rest."

Why did I know you were going to volunteer? Jim shook his head. "Look, hospital security can take care of him for the next few hours. Let's go get dinner, then we can work out shifts. Blair and I will share the responsibility. After all, he's ours, too."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Stanley rubbed a hand over his flat belly. "Any good rib joints in this area? I'd kick a nun for a good rack of ribs."

Fraser frowned. "Stanley."

"Not literally, Frase. Geez."

Blair and Jim exchanged glances. "Skeets, Blair?"

"Benny," Blair asked, "Do you like mesquite grilled food?"

He thought. "I do not believe I have ever had any."

"Oh, you've been deprived. Skeets it is, then."

As they walked out to the truck, Stanley said, "How are we gonna do this? There's four of us." Fraser started to open his mouth. "Don't volunteer to ride in the back."

"I was not going to." Fraser sounded hurt. "I was going to suggest that either you or Blair might sit on my lap."

Walking a few paces behind the Mountie, Blair looked up at the sky and mouthed, Thank you, God, then said, "Sounds do-able. You take the middle, Stanley." He looked up at Fraser from beneath his eyelashes. "Unless you think I'd be too heavy, Benny?"

"Certainly not," Fraser said heartily. "I am sure you are light as a feather."

Smart move, Sandburg, Jim thought, admiringly. You knew he wouldn't let you feel like you were a bother. And bless you for putting Stan next to me. He smells so good I'm having a hard time not licking him.

On the way to Skeets, Blair, perched neatly on the Mountie's strong thighs, twisted this way and that, indicating points of interest. Stanley watched, amused, as his partner's face got redder with each wiggle. By the time they reached the restaurant Benton was tugging at his collar, as if it were strangling him.

The restaurant was small and looked functional. As they stepped out of the truck, Stanley lifted his nose and sniffed the rich aroma of roasting meat hungrily. "Oh, man! I'm drooling like Pavlov's dog!"

"This place is the best." Jim led the way to the door. "None of that sweetened ketchup sauce--they use a dry rub."

The interior was just as no-nonsense as the exterior. Interior decoration consisted of badly out-of-date scenic calendars and a set of patently false Longhorn horns above the counter. The linoleum on the floor was so old that whatever pattern it had once had was blurred into an amorphous mass, and it was buckled and blistered, but it was scrupulously clean--quite an accomplishment in a barbeque joint.

The quartet paused near a sign that said PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED, and Stanley and Benton started studying the menu hung over the counter. "Crap," Stanley muttered. "It isn't expensive, but I still gotta leave a little to tide me over."

"Don't worry about the cost," Jim said firmly. "Our treat. The department will reimburse us, since you two are here on police business." Maybe. But who cares? I don't want you grumpy, Stan. Benny started to say thanks, saw Jim's look, and settled for nodding and smiling sweetly.

A family came up to the counter to check out. A tiny girl of about four stared up at Benton, round eyed. He smiled at her gently. She piped, "Are you a giant?"

"No, little lady. I am a constable."

"A what?"

Blair squatted down to speak to her. "He's a super hero. He catches bad guys."

Her eyes got even bigger. "Really?" She looked at Blair. "What's your name?"

"Blair."

She frowned, looking perplexed. "Are you a lady?"

Jim clapped a hand over his mouth to choke back the laughter, Stanley turned around quickly, and Fraser said seriously, "No. Blair is my... sidekick."

This seemed to satisfy the little girl, and she waved goodbye to them as she left. Stanley was regarding Benton with a half smile. "Benny, when did you grow a sense of humor?"

"I have always had one, Ray. It is simply different from yours. For instance, I see nothing at all amusing in three grown men poking each other in the eyes."

"The Three Stooges!" Jim and Stanley chorused.

Jim looked at Stanley. "Favorite stooge?"

"Curly."

"Of course."

"BlairandJim!" The two Chicago cops flinched at the basso shout. The Cascade officers just grinned and each opened his arms. A massive woman with improbably red hair rushed them, her footsteps sending a noticeable tremor through the floor. She scooped both of them into one warm embrace. "Where you been, you bad thangs?"

"Been busy, Mama Ivy," Blair squeaked. "Ribs! Ribs!"

"Shoot, child, toughen up. You don't hear your man complainin', do you?" Jim glanced worriedly at his guests, but their faces reflected only good-natured astonishment. Mama Ivy was a bit overwhelming at first.

She released them, and Jim said, "Mama Ivy, we have some fellow officers visiting from Chicago, and we thought we'd show them the right way to do barbeque. This is Ray Vecchio, and Benton Fraser."

Ivy put her hands on her ample hips, tucked all of her chins, and raked a thorough gaze over the two men, then she gave them a blinding smile. "Well, ain't this my lucky night? Now I got four pretty men to feed: two no bigger than a minute an' two tree-top tall. I must be livin' right for the Lord to bless me so. Come on, honey. I got a booth for y'all." She snagged four menus from a pile on the counter and led them to the back of the room.

They all squeezed in, the partners taking sides together, Benton and Blair on the inside, and started studying the menu. "What do you boys want to drink?" Blair, Jim, and Stan opted for beer. Benton politely asked for tea.

Not looking up from the menu, Stan explained, "Hot tea."

Ivy nodded. "No ice."

"No, hot--as in heated." Ivy looked scandalized, and Stanley glanced up at her. "He's Canadian." Ivy nodded, as if this explained everything, and left. "I can't decide between the beef short ribs and the pork spare ribs."

"Then don't decide." Jim folded his menu. "We'll get both and split."

Ray grinned. "Champion. And fries."

"Coleslaw."

"Baked beans."

"Where the hell will you put all that?"

Ray leaned an elbow on the table, propping his chin in his hand. "Small body, big appetites."

Benton was frowning at the menu. "It all sounds delicious, but I have had plenty of cholesterol this week."

Blair tapped the menu. "Grilled lemon-basil turkey breast. That's what I'm having. Ivy makes a wicked pilaf to go with it. Got pecans in it."

"That sounds tasty."

Ivy returned with the drinks. Setting a steaming mug in front of Fraser she said doubtfully, "Here ya go, hon. I hotted you up some Lipton's in the micro." She watched as he took a sip, then he smiled charmingly. She was too busy taking the orders to notice the horrified look he gave the cup while she was preoccupied.

When she left, Blair said, "You'll pardon the pun, but not your cup of tea, huh?"

Fraser took a sip of water to clear his pallet. "The word 'foul' does come to mind."

The food arrived quickly. Mama Ivy confided that she'd threatened to pitch the cook into the smoker if he didn't put a rush on the order for her favorite boys. Fraser and Blair eyed the heaped platter of steaming ribs set between Jim and Stanley with open dismay. As Jim selected his first, a chunky short rib, Blair said severely, "I can hear your arteries clogging already."

"So put your fingers in your ears."

Benton and Blair continued discussing Canadian culture ("Oxymoron," Stanley had confided quietly to Jim) while their partners concentrated on the food. Jim watched in amazement as the smaller man denuded bone after bone, piling them to one side, and not neglecting the side dishes. "Christ, Vecchio. I'm glad I didn't have your parents' food bill when you went through adolescence. Piranhas leave more meat on the bone."

Stanley was in the process of stripping a sparerib. He paused, and shook the bone at Jim. "I don't believe in wasting good, sweet meat." His lips and fingers were greasy. "This is how you can tell good barbeque: if you feel like a barbarian while you're eating it. I feel ready to go out and rape and pillage." Before Fraser could open his mouth he said, "Just an expression, Benny."

"I should hope so."

Jim was helping himself to a little more coleslaw when the foot nudged his under the table. He didn't pay it much mind, since things were pretty crowded down there. When it nudged him again, he glanced at Blair. No, Blair was absorbed in watching Benton sketch the Inuit symbol for 'wolf' on a paper napkin. He looked up to find Stanley watching him, gnawing the last shreds of meat from the last rib. Jim's eyebrows lifted. So did Stanley's. The nudge came again. Well, now.

The touch was soft, so Vecchio must have slipped his shoe off. Jim felt the sock clad toes quest over the arch of his foot, then edge under his cuff to stroke his ankle. Ellison had never had a foot fetish, but there was something undeniably erotic about this.

Stanley finished his meal, and scrubbed his face and hands with a napkin. Then he slumped, patting his stomach with a contented sigh. As he stretched out, his foot glided up Jim's calf, and stroked up and down. Jim started to get hard. Blair and Benton continued eating and chattering, not noticing that their companions had both become very quiet.

Jim casually scooted forward a couple of inches, spreading his knees apart. Stanley gave him a small smile. The foot went to his knee, and stayed there for a moment. Then slowly, with firm pressure, it slid along the inside of his thigh and came to rest against his fly. The toes started to wiggle.

He became erect very fast. In only a couple of minutes his cock was feeling strangled in his jeans. The maddening foot kneaded the bulge at his crotch firmly, rubbing and twisting. Jim would have humped against it if he thought he could do so without drawing attention. Blair said something. "What's that?" The foot flexed.

"He said he and Benny are through. What about you, Jim?" It flexed again, and Stanley's smile widened. "You done yet?"

There was a rough edge to Jim's voice. "Not yet, but let's take care of the check."

Part Five - Jim and Stanley

When he stood up out of the booth, Jim snagged an abandoned menu from another table and casually held it at crotch level. Blair and Benton didn't seem to notice, as they were involved in a discussion now about hunting traditions. Stanley smirked, and there was a bit of extra swagger in his walk as they went to the front. Oh, you're gonna pay when I get you alone, Vecchio. That strut's going to be a little stiff by the time I get through with you.

Mama Ivy scolded them about not having dessert, and pressed a whole pecan pie on them before they left. "Y'all would be doing me a favor, sugar. If I don't give it away, I'll eat the whole damn thing by myself, and I can't afford to lose my girlish figure. You boys might stop coming to see me."

She was pished and toshed about that, and received a kiss from both Jim and Blair. Then she expectantly offered her cheek to Stan. He laughed, and smacked her heartily. "I'll marry you, if you'll move to Chi with me."

She snorted, smiling. "Little Bit, I'd wear you out."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Don't you believe it. I'm the Energizer Bunny of lovin'."

Another laugh, and she offered her cheek to Benton. He blushed, but leaned down and gravely pressed his lips to the brightly rouged surface. "You are a fine lady, Mama Ivy."

"Lady?" She howled. "Child, who been spreading those nasty rumors about me?"

Out in the parking lot, Jim said, "Okay, here's what I suggest. Blair and Benny, you two can take the first shift--I'll take Stan back to the apartment. Tomorrow morning, we'll relieve you two, and you can get some rest. If you feel up to it, you can spend some time during the day looking for that supposed shyster who slipped Solly the Combat cocktail."

"Sounds like a winning plan to me," Stan agreed.

Neither Blair nor Fraser had any objections, so it was decided. They drove back to the hospital, and found that Solly had been transferred to a private room. He wasn't doing well, but he wasn't doing any worse, either. They talked to the hospital security guard and ascertained that no one had tried to come in, or called for information about the prisoner.

"But they will want to know something soon. Mr. Bernie is not, to all accounts, a patient man," Fraser observed.

"No shit," Stanley countered. "Rumor has it that a guy who keyed his Mercedes lost a testicle over it. Rumor also has that he was forced to eat said nut raw--with ketchup. Bernie is a sick bastard."

Blair looked green. "I really didn't need to hear that."

Benny frowned in concern. "Do not be distressed, Blair. I am almost positive that Ray is only joking with you." He hesitated. "At least about the ketchup part. I believe that mustard would be a much more likely condiment."

"Excuse me."

Blair went in the bathroom. A moment later they heard retching sounds. Fraser's face puckered. "Oh dear."

"Nice going, guys. That was about fifteen bucks worth of food, literally down the drain. I'm leaving the pie with you two. He'll need something later, if he recovers." Jim pushed the pie into the Mountie's hands, then jerked his head toward the door. "C'mon, Vecchio. Tell Blair good night for me, Benny."

"I most assuredly will."

"Christ, Benny, just say yes! G'night, ya big maple leaf." Stanley followed Jim down the corridor, walking rapidly to catch up with his longer strides.

Neither of the men spoke as they exited the building and went to the truck. They slid in on opposite sides, and Jim put his key in the ignition, then paused. He looked over to Stanley. "You do know that when we get to the apartment, you aren't getting any sleep?"

Stanley regarded him with half closed eyes. "If I do, I want to know what the fuck I've been doing wrong."

"I'm going to fuck you raw," Jim warned.

Stanley's grin was bright, and as feral as any Jim ever gave himself. "Bring it on, Big Guy." Jim fired up the engine. For the first time in years, he burned rubber outside a police chase.

As he drove, Stanley slid closer, and put his hand in Jim's lap. He squeezed the bulge pressing against the fly. "Still got some left over from Skeets, huh? You manage to smuggle a bone out in your pants, Ellison?"

"I'll show you a bone."

"Promises, promises," Stanley cooed.

"You're a fucking prick tease, you know that?"

"Nah, I'm not." He leaned over and licked Jim's ear, then whispered, "Teases don't intend to give it up. I do." He squeezed again.

"Fuck." Jim muttered.

"Oh, yeah."

Stan kept rubbing and squeezing, nibbling at Jim's neck and ear. It became increasingly difficult for Jim to pay attention to the traffic, and he hoped desperately that he could get home before he ran them into a pole. By the time he parked in front of the building, he was almost crazy with lust. It was all he could do to keep from tossing the little blond over the hood of the truck and mounting him out on the street.

Instead he made it around to the passenger side while Stanley was still opening his door. Grabbing him by the front of his garish shirt, he hauled him out onto the sidewalk, then kicked the door shut and dragged him up the steps.

As they stumbled down the hall, Stanley was saying, "One thing, Ellison--don't rip the clothes." Jim let go with one hand to unlock the door, opening it. "I mean, I don't have any spare with me, and Benny..." Jim shoved him into the apartment, then followed, locking the door. "Benny would want to know what happened. The poor angel cake doesn't know I'm gay, and I don't want to have to..." Jim jerked Stanley up flush against his body, leaned down, and kissed him, hard and long. When he pulled back, Stan continued, "...explain things." He reached up, grabbed the back of Jim's head, and pulled him down into another kiss, this time opening his mouth. Jim promptly slid his tongue in and let it roam, exploring the different textures of teeth, tongue, gums and pallet. Stanley grunted deep in his throat and tightened his grip on Jim's hair, answering each movement with enthusiasm.

Stanley wondered how Jim got so good at undoing buttons without actually looking. He had no idea of how much practice Ellison had gotten by unwrapping Blair from his usual layers of flannel during the winter. In any case, his shirt hit the floor. Still hanging on to his soon-to-be lover, Stanley managed to kick his shoes off. There was a clatter indicating that one of them had knocked something over, but neither of the men were inclined to investigate.

Stanley was involved in trying to peel Jim's shirt up over his broad chest without losing oral contact. It caught under Jim's arms, and he swore violently into Ellison's mouth, which earned an eruption of laughter. "Funny, huh?" He nipped Jim sharply on the chest.

Jim gasped. His tone was sharp, but not angry. "Slut!"

Stanley licked the sore spot. "Proud of it. Where's this gonna happen, Ellison? I don't wanna get rug burns on my knees."

Jim released him, spun him around, and smacked him on the butt. "Upstairs. Move your sweet ass. I'll get the supplies." He watched with a chuckle as the smaller man raced to the stairs and bounded up them. A moment later, his pants came sailing over the rail, followed in short order by a tiny pair of bright red briefs. "Aw, damn. I would have liked to take those off you."

His voice floated down. "Then bring 'em up with you and I'll put 'em back on, but I thought you were in a hurry."

Jim went into the bathroom and quickly located a tube of lubricant and a box of condoms, then hurried up the stairs. As he came to the top, he stopped, staring.

Stanley had stripped the top sheet down to the foot, piled the pillows, and was lounging against them, totally naked except for his socks. Somehow that made him seem more than nude. He gave Jim a sultry look, delicately pinched the toe of one sock, and sl-o-o-o-ly pulled it off, then repeated the action.

Jim found himself licking his lips. "Stan, I hope your heart is strong. Otherwise you might not survive this."

Stan stretched languidly. Jim watched the play of wiry muscles beneath smooth skin. "Fuck me to death, and it'll take the mortician a week to get the smile off my face. Now come on."

Jim dumped the supplies on the nightstand, stripping out of the rest of his clothes. Blair would have been astonished at the abandon with which his roommate tossed them aside. Then, with a growl, he pounced.

But as fast as he was, Stanley was faster. Damn, he can whip that little body around quick. Stan rose up and caught him as he lunged, twisting like a snake, and Jim found himself underneath a very warm, very active body.

"Ya know, Ellison, I had kinda the same reaction to you that I did to Benny. The second I saw you, I wanted to just climb all over you."

"Feeling's mutual." Jim wrapped his arms around Stanley and rolled them both over. "Now shut up."

"'kay." Stanley hooked his ankles over the back of Jim's legs and began to undulate his hips. His erection slid against Jim's with a delicious friction.

The Sentinel grunted his approval and began the very pleasant task of exploring the wiggling body with mouth and hands. He loved Blair, God knew he loved him. He never wanted to be without the man who was his Guide, his friend, his partner, and basically the center of his universe. But there was always something intoxicating about the first time with a new lover. Thank heaven Blair knew that, too, and understood. As for Jim...Well, he had a hard time wishing anyone a life without a little Blair in it, unless they were an asshole.

The two men slid and writhed together, Stanley clutching at Jim's shoulders, because he couldn't quite reach all the way around his back. Finally the Chicago cop panted, "Look, I know you don't want small talk, but I need you to fuck me. Now!"

Jim tried to move, but Stan's legs were surprisingly strong. "Then let me up so I can get you ready." Stan unhooked his legs, and Jim pulled back far enough to be able to reach the nightstand. As he took the tube of lubricant, he felt the mattress shift under Stanley's weight. When he looked back, Stan was on his hands and knees, legs braced wide. The sight of the presentation sent a throb of pure, primal lust through Jim, gathering in his crotch. He hadn't thought he could get any harder.

Jim moved into the space behind Stanley, popping the top off the tube, and spread the firm, pale cheeks apart, drawing a thick squiggle of gel down the exposed crease. Stanley hissed a little at the cold, and Jim saw his tiny pink pucker flex in reaction. Jim started to rub it in, warming the stuff with his hand and Stanley's own body heat. Then he slowly pushed the first finger inside, working his way carefully past the tight ring of muscle. Stanley sighed, dropping his head. A light tremor ran through his body, and Jim felt him squeeze. "Don't tense up on me, buddy."

"Sorry. Been awhile."

"Just relax, and I'll get you good and open." Jim slid in and out, feeling the gradual loosening. It was a little easier to work the second finger in. He stroked slowly, twisting and spreading, massaging the inner passage gently till the flesh began to warm and spread.

Stan's voice was quiet. "Can you do my prostate?"

"I'll try. Hang on." He probed further, rubbing over the interior, and finally felt the little bump. Stanley made a cooing noise that went straight to Jim's cock. He rubbed again, kneading the tender lump of flesh and nerves till the blond was shuddering and mewling.

"Oh, damn, Ellison, put your cock in me. I want you to ride me hard. I'm not a fucking virgin, I won't break."

Jim couldn't wait any longer, either. His cock was already slick with his own fluids. The condom slipped on easily, and he anointed it with another generous smear of gel before moving up behind Stanley. He gripped Stanley's hip with one hand, and guided himself till the head of his prick pressed against the slightly spread hole. "You ready?"

"Shit! Give it to me, Ellison! And you call me a tease."

Jim jerked his hips, burying half his length in the smaller man's ass. Stanley flinched, crying out as Jim's cock passed over his sensitized prostate. Jim could see his fingers working on the sheet, flexing rapidly like a cat sheathing and unsheathing its claws. Not giving his lover time to catch his breath, Jim moved forward, sinking in till he was molded flush against Stanley's butt, spreading the smooth cheeks wide.

Jim sighed. "Oh, yeah." He drew back, watching, fascinated as his cock oozed back out of the heated, clinging flesh, then slid all the way back in. Stanley moaned. "That's it, baby. Take it all." He started to move, setting up a steady rhythm of long, gliding strokes.

Stanley closed his eyes, biting his lip, and let the sensations wash over him. Oh, this felt so right. Sex with Stella had been pleasant enough, but nothing like this. Nothing like the raw passion and power he could get from a man like Jim Ellison. He was so damn glad Solly the Snitch had chosen Cascade to run to.

Jim filled him, again and again. How did other men live without this? Stanley braced his arms and legs, and pushed back into the thrusts firmly. Jim's hands slid off his hips, gliding around under his belly. He smoothed down to Stanley's groin and wrapped Stan's aching cock in his big hands, starting to jerk him off. Stan was disoriented with pleasure for a moment, his movements uncoordinated. Then he caught the rhythm, and began to surge forward into the squeezing grasp, then impale himself further with a backward shove.

Stan's eager enjoyment was a beautiful thing. Jim couldn't help but be flattered by his responses. He had no doubts about his own prowess, But he makes me feel like a goddamn stud bull!

Vecchio was moaning. "Almost... almost... oh, geez. Harder, Ellison! Gimme more!"

The last two words were a breathy plea that snapped whatever control Jim had been able to maintain. With a snarl, he started pounding into Stanley with short, hard strokes that would have been punishing to someone not so thoroughly lust inflamed. Their bodies met with wet, smacking noises. He drove the smaller man up higher in the bed with each lunge.

Stanley's trembling arms gave way, dropping his upper body to the mattress and tilting his ass. The new angle brought Jim's cock across his prostate again, and he screamed. Jim felt Stanley's prick pulse in his hands, and his fingers were covered by jet after jet of warm semen. At the same time the muscles in the blond man's anal passage clamped on his own engorged cock, squeezing like a fist. A few more hard, ramming thrusts, and Jim shot his load, too. The tidal wave of passion crashed over him and sucked him down into the familiar roaring darkness, and he prayed that he wouldn't zone Please don't let me zone, it'll scare Stanley, he'll think he killed me.

He lost track of things for a couple of seconds, but it was just the more normal post coital senselessness that many men experience. When he came back to reality, he was laying full length on top of a collapsed Stanley Vecchio. The little man was still, except for the ragged heave of his breath. Jim quickly rolled off him, being careful to hold the rubber tight around the base of his softening prick. Then he stripped it off and dropped it in the wastebasket. He cleaned himself with some tissues, then grabbed another handful of them and nudged Stanley's shoulder. "Roll over, babe. Let me clean you up."

Stanley muttered something, then rolled over, arms and legs moving bonelessly. He stared up at the ceiling, mouth a little slack, eyes a little glazed, as Jim gently wiped him clean. After discarding the tissues, Jim crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up over both of them. Stanley immediately snuggled next to him. Actually, he half draped himself over Jim's body. "Wet spot on the other side," he explained sleepily.

He didn't say thank you, which was fine by Jim. Instead he just gave him a soft, thoughtful kiss, sighed, tucked his head down on Jim's broad shoulder, and passed out. Jim watched him sleep for a few minutes. In slumber, the sharp, savvy lines of his face were smoothed, and he looked quite young, rather like Blair. Jim smiled. They look so innocent when they're asleep. He drifted off to sleep, unaware that Blair would have been able to make the same comment about one particular Sentinel.

Part Six - Sitting Up With the Sick

Constable Benton Fraser eyed the door to the men's room with some trepidation. The retching sounds coming from inside had been impressive. They had stopped now, but Detective Sandburg had still not reappeared, and he was beginning to get worried about the young man.

Benton knew that some people, despite how little sense it made, were embarrassed when they evacuated the contents of their stomach. It was silly, really. People didn't do it on purpose. He paused in thought. Perhaps except for that one drunk with a bad attitude back in Chicago. He had seemed to aim at Stanley.

Fraser eased the door open and peeked inside. Sandburg was bent over one of the sinks, rinsing his mouth out. "Blair? Are you all right?"

Blair's voice was strained. "Not really, Benny. Up chucking your guts is not all right." He stared, and said in a choked tone, "Is that the pie?"

"Yes. Jim thought that you..." Blair dashed for one of the stalls again. The retches this time were a little less frantic. In a moment, the toilet flushed, and he emerged, a little shakily.

"Oh, dear." Benton went to him. "Was it only Ray's distasteful joke, or is there a physical problem? Perhaps I should call a physician?"

"No, no. It was just that the story gave me a turn, and the thought of more food...." He shuddered. Benton hid the pie under his hat. Blair splashed his face. "Hand me a paper towel, wouldya, buddy?"

Fraser pulled a couple of paper towels out of the dispenser and extended them toward Blair. As the Cascade detective reached for them, Benny suddenly noticed that there were droplets of water caught on his eyelashes, like crystal beads. Such thick eyelashes. They look very dark when he lowers them against his skin.

"Benny? You gonna let me have those?"

With a start, Fraser realized that Blair had hold of the paper towels, had for several seconds. He released them quickly, and Blair blotted his face. "Ya know, that stuff tasted a lot better the first time around. Benny, I wish you wouldn't stare at me like that."

"Oh." Benton flushed. Was I staring? I guess I was, if he noticed it.

"I mean, I know I'm no walk in the park, here, but have a little pity on a guy."

"What? You look fine, Blair."

Blair peered into the mirror. "Bullshit, but bless you for tryin', man. I'm green around the gills."

"Perhaps a touch pale. But then, you have a naturally fair complexion."

"Yeah. I gotta be careful, or I burn like nobody's business." He pulled out a comb and began to run it through his hair. "Guess it's from that little bit of red in the hair."

Fraser watched with increasing fascination as Blair stroked the comb through the loose, red-brown curls that fell past his shoulders. He'd been struck by that hair the first time he saw Blair. There was something almost alive about it. Vital, like the anthropologist himself. And it looks very soft. I do believe that it would wind all the way around my hand, possibly even twice.

"Okay, damage repaired." Blair stuck the comb back in his pocket. "Have Jim and Stanley already left?"

"Yes, just after you, er, exited."

"Thought so. I knew Jim would be eager to get home. Let's go get settled in."

Back at Solly's room, they dismissed the security guard, and went inside. It was actually a semi-private room, (all they'd had available at the time), but the other bed was empty, and would stay empty. If they needed it bad enough, it could be wheeled out.

A rather pretty nurse was just unfastening a blood pressure cuff from Solly's arm, the one that didn't have the IV in it. She looked at Blair, and pointed to where Solly's right arm was cuffed to the side rail. "The other guy did that. Are you going to leave him that way?"

"Certainly not." Blair went to the bed, pulling his own set of cuffs off his belt, and cuffed Solly's left arm in the same manner. He gave the nurse a charming smile. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling back. "You two going to be here all night?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. We'll be back in to check his vitals every hour. There are extra blankets and pillows in the cabinet, if you need them." She glanced between the two men. Wow. Little and cute, and big and built. Forget the blankets, fellas. If either of you... hell, if both of you need a way to keep warm, just come and get me. "I'm just down the hall at the nurses' station if his condition changes, or you need anything." She put an extra sashay in her walk, wishing for once that they still wore those little white uniforms instead of these pea green scrubs.

Benton deposited his hat and the pie on the shelf by the cabinet. "Blair, I believe she was flirting with you."

"She was flirting with you, Benny."

The Mountie blushed. "Oh, surely not."

"Why not?"

"Well, Stanley calls me a moose. I am sure he means it in an affectionate way, but it is not very flattering."

"'Is not.' Benny, say 'it's'."

Fraser frowned. "Why should I do that?"

"I just want to hear you use a contraction. Say 'shouldn't'."

"Blair, there is no reason for me..."

"'There's'."

"No."

Blair sighed. "I'll wear you down on this."

"I do not think so." Blair's eyes sparkled. My, they are very blue. Almost the same shade as... as Stanley's eyes.

"Don't be so sure. I love a challenge." And this is going to be a challenge. You, my dear Benton, seem totally oblivious. And the nurse will be back every hour. I guess that means no nooky till I can get us back to the apartment. I'll just have to try to soften you up for the next few hours. Damn, I hope Jim and Stanley don't break the bed.

There was only one straight-backed chair in the room, and Blair was waiting for Benton to suggest that he take it. Maybe he should go look for another chair? Then Benton said, "Blair, perhaps you should lie down."

Oh, yes!

"I am sure you are quite tired. There is no reason why you cannot sleep a bit."

Crap.

Fraser watched the smaller man hopefully. He wanted to see what Blair would look like asleep, stretched out, with his hair spread on a pillow. Very fetching, I am sure. Benton gave himself a mental shake. Fetching? That was not a term to use for a man. But... it seemed appropriate with Blair. He was very appealing. So energetic. Like Stanley.

"Maybe later." Blair perched on the edge of the mattress. "I'll just sit for awhile. So, Benny, do the Mounties have the usual cop problems?"

"What sort of problems?" Fraser sat, ramrod straight, in the hard chair. Somehow he looked totally comfortable.

"Oh, girl problems? You know, your girl going to get aggravated at you for being away longer than you expected, even if it is your job, and not your fault?"

"The job does involve a great deal of unscheduled time, but as I am not involved in a relationship, it is not a problem."

"What, Benny, you don't have a girl? A big, handsome guy like you?"

Fraser flushed. He thinks I am handsome. Of course, he may just be being kind. "No, Blair. Actually, I never really have had anyone who could be called a girlfriend. When I was younger, we traveled a great deal around the territories. We were never in one place long enough for me to form attachments. Then I entered the force, and I... have not had time."

"I would have thought that the women would be tearing the red serge right off you." I know I'd like to.

"Detective Vecchio's sister Francesca has shown a marked interest in me. She is a nice girl but..." He hesitated.

"She doesn't race your motor?"

"You and Ray both express yourselves in flamboyant terms, but no. She does not rev my engine."

"So, what do you do for a social life?"

Benton thought. "I often meet nice people when I am strolling with Diefenbaker. Constable Turnbull and I play cards a good deal. And there is Ray, of course."

"Good friends with Ray?"

"Yes, very good friends." Fraser thought about what Ray... well, Stanley, meant to him. He had been hurt when the real Vecchio had disappeared into the undercover assignment with nary a word, and had resented the man who replaced him. But 'Ray the K' Stanley Kowalski had proved to be a true friend. He had accepted Fraser without hesitation, and had been there for him countless times, both with the physical dangers of the job, and the more subtle dangers of his emotional turmoil. "Friendship really is not a strong enough word to express how I feel."

Blair nodded in understanding. "Like Jim and me. I don't know what I'd do without the big lug. Well, maybe not exactly like Jim and me."

"I see a number of striking similarities between Ray and I, and you and your partner."

"Yeah, Benny, but Jim and I are real close."

"As are Ray and I."

"We've been sharing an apartment for over four years."

"It is marvelous that you can get along so well."

"Benny, the apartment has two bedrooms, but for all but the first six months, only one of them has been used." Fraser blinked at Blair. Blair could swear that he actually heard a switch click in Fraser's mind as his eyes widened. "Oh dear?"

Fraser swallowed. "Yes. Oh dear would seem to cover it. You and Jim are... uh..."

"Lovers."

"Ah."

"It's a committed relationship. We're going to stay together, but there's a little leeway allowed. Otherwise I wouldn't have let him take your partner home."

Another switch flipped. The eyes got wider. "Ray?" Fraser swallowed. "But Ray is not... I mean, he never told me he was... Why do you believe he is...?"

"Gay. He was feeling Jim up under the table with his foot. You didn't notice?"

"I thought he was just restless."

"He was restless, all right, but Jim can drain off some of that nervous energy for him."

"That does not bother you, Blair? You are not hurt?"

"Nah, I can understand. Stanley's cute as hell, even if he isn't exactly my type. Jim will have a good time with him, but when you two go back to Chicago, Jim will still be here with me. It would be kind of cruel of me to deny the world some of Jim, wouldn't it? And it works both ways. If I run into someone drooly, I can have a little fun without Jimmy getting jealous."

"That is a most enlightened attitude."

"Thank you. And may I say that you are enlightened for thinking that it is enlightened. You know, I'm not sleepy, but I am tired. Maybe I will lie down for just a little."

Blair kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. Lying on his side facing Fraser, he curved his upper leg slightly, resting the knee on the mattress, and let his hair drift half across his face. Jim loved this. Said it made him look like a classic Renaissance painting. Of course the effect is better when I'm nude.

Benton stared. Blair had folded his arms, tucking them up under his chin, and his shirt had pulled up a little. Benny could see a small slice of firm belly, with the shallow dip of the navel perfectly centered, and a thread of dark hair trickling down to disappear under the waistband of Blair's pants. Suddenly the room seemed very, very warm.

Oh dear.

Part Seven - Mountie Revelations

"So, the taste is highly developed, the vision is exceptional, the smell is very good (but probably within ordinary parameters), and you've never noticed anything unusual about your sense of touch. That about it?" Benton nodded. "And you've never had a 'zone'? Never just sort of... spaced out when you were concentrating too intensely on one sense?"

"No." Benton thought for a moment. "I have had visitations from my deceased father."

Blair blinked. "Well, I've been to the Spirit Plane, and have a wolf for a Spirit Guide, so I don't see why I should a visit from a dead parent be so hard to accept?"

Benton gave him a blinding smile, then bit his lip thoughtfully. "Blair? May I ask you a personal question?"

Blair studied him. "Are you curious, Fraser?"

Fraser considered for a moment. "Yes, I am."

Blair smiled. "Goooood. I like curious people. Tell me, do you drink a lot of orange juice?"

"As a matter of fact, I consume a good deal of orange juice. It is an excellent source of vitamin C."

"And energy. Go ahead, ask away."

"How long have you been gay?"

Blair scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hard to say, Frase. It's not like I woke up one day thinking I'd like to try an alternate lifestyle, and checked my calendar. Since I was... oh, twelve or so."

"So young?"

He shrugged. "I was precocious about everything. I didn't actually do anything for a few years, but I was the only boy I knew who watched 'The Dukes of Hazzard' because of Bo Duke and not Daisy Duke or the car."

Fraser cleared his throat. "I understand that it is not uncommon for most men to have some homosexual or homoerotic experience during their youth, but that this does not necessarily mean that they are gay."

"That's true. However the first time another guy put his hand down my pants, I had no doubt in my mind." There was silence for a moment. Finally Blair said, "I answered your personal question. Now, will you answer one for me?"

"That would seem only fair."

"Have you ever had a homosexual experience?" Oh God, that man looks delicious when he blushes!

"Uh... no."

"There was a little hesitation there, Fraser. Are you sure? I mean," he gestured, "Running around in that outfit, I hardly see how you could have avoided it. That's one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

"Oh, really... I... thank you. No. Except... Well, perhaps... But I thought that tourist patted me on the bottom in thanks for my giving him directions."

"One way to tell, Frase. Was his hand flat, or cupped?"

Fraser thought. "Cupped."

"That was copping a feel, not saying thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me. I guess that qualifies--barely. How much hetero experience have you had?"

"Um...."

"Benny?"

"A gentleman does not tell."

Blair grinned slowly. "Fraser? Are you still a virgin?"

There was a very long pause. "Yes."

Blair blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally he said, "Geez, man. I was kidding. But you're serious. You really are still cherry?"

"I told you, I never had a girlfriend."

"Well, yeah, but I thought you meant like, you never went steady, or got pinned, or whatever it is you do in Canada. I mean, you're just such a gorgeous, sexy guy, I can't understand how you've managed to escape all these years. Especially around your partner."

Benton began running his fingers over the brim of his hat. His voice was very quiet. "Ray... Stanley is not interested in me that way. He is a good friend."

"How do you know he isn't interested that way? I think you'd be just his type: big, buff, and sweet. Like Jim."

The door opened, and the nurse who had been there earlier came in. "I see you're making yourself at home. How's the patient?"

"Haven't heard a peep out of him," Blair told her.

She used an electronic thermometer to check his temperature in his ear. "Well, the fever is down a bit." She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm and pumped it up, putting her stethoscope to the crook of his elbow.

"Whadafuckyadoin?" The voice sounded clotted.

The nurse made a note on his chart, and held his wrist, looking at her watch. "Just getting your vitals, Mr. Tyson."

"Hey, cutie, howsabouta quick blow job?"

She dropped his wrist and made more notes. "Patient seems more alert and cheerful." She put the chart away, "I wouldn't suck you through a straw, mister. Though from what the ER nurse who got you in that gown tells me, it would be possible." Blair cracked up as she left, and even Fraser covered a smile. Solly muttered discontentedly for a moment, but was soon snoring gently.

Blair stretched, showing a few more inches of tummy. Benton became very interested in adjusting his hat band. "So Frase, to get back to what we were talking about..."

"I would really rather not."

"Tough. I think the question is, do you like Stanley 'that way'."

"I... he... I never... but... uh... he..."

"That's six attempts without one coherent thought. I believe you're in love."

Fraser sighed. "Oh dear."

"You like that expression, don't you?"

"It covers a multitude of emotions. Ray is a very attractive man."

"Yes, he is."

"But conventional wisdom says that partners should never become romantically involved with each other."

"Ask me what Jim and I think about that. On second thought, don't ask me. Vulgar language seems to upset you. Speaking of which... Fraser, say 'shouldn't."

"No. I do not understand..."

"Don't. Say 'don't."

"No. I do not understand this obsession you seem to have with coercing me into using contractions."

"I don't know, either. Do you suppose there's an official kink name for it?"

"I would not be surprised."

"'Wouldn't.'"

"No."

Blair cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. "You're enjoying teasing me."

"Blair, I am not the one who is..."

"'I'm' and 'who's'."

"No." They both smiled.

*****

"Ellison, you sure that your partner won't mind me borrowing his threads?" Stanley called from the loft.

Jim lifted the last slice of bacon out onto a paper towel, and broke the first egg into the sizzling grease. "He may want first dibs on skinning you out of them later, but no, he won't mind. Hurry up, it's almost done."

Jim heard Stanley thumping down the stairs, then crossing the living room to the kitchen. Like Jim promised, Stan was moving just a tiny bit more stiffly today. Jim grinned. "Sunnyside up or over easy?"

Stanley came up behind him and slipped his arms around Jim's waist, giving him a squeeze. "Sunnyside. Gotta have yolk to dip the toast in."

"I just can't explain that to Blair. He keeps making gagging noises. Make the toast, would you?"

Stanley opened the breadbox and took out the loaf. "Oh, good--white. I was afraid there for a minute it would be some sort of seven grain sprouted rye, groats, and oatmeal stuff."

"Blair keeps that in the refrigerator. He keeps trying to slip it to me, toasted."

Stanley shook his head. "You must love him."

"I do."

There was such quiet conviction in his voice that Stanley looked up from dropping the bread into the toaster. Jim was surprised to see a wistful expression ghost across his face. Tough, cocky, randy Stanley Vecchio--wistful? "That must be real nice, Jim." He pushed the plunger down on the toaster.

Jim scraped hot fat over the eggs, filming the yolk. "Stanley, have you ever made a move on Fraser?"

Stanley snorted, head deep in the refrigerator as he rooted through the shelves. "Benny? You think I want to get my ass kicked? I'd probably land back up around where he came from. Ooh, real butter!"

"Sandburg says that we might as well, if we're going to get the fat anyway. Has he given you any indication that he's intolerant? Any verbal gay bashing? I find it hard to imagine."

"You gotta be kidding." Stanley took out a carton of milk and began opening cabinets. "Benny makes Mother Theresa look hard ass when it comes to accepting people. Tell me where the glasses are, or I drink out of the carton and give you and Sandburg cooties."

"To the right of the sink. So, is he a ladies' man? You can't always go by that. Blair dated a new girl every week before we, uh, discovered each other."

Stanley poured two glasses of milk and put away the carton. "Nah. I don't think Frase has been on a date since I've known him. Which drawer is the silver in?"

"Over there. So you don't know for sure."

Vecchio laid out two place settings. "Geez, Ellison, look at him."

"Yeah." He turned off the stove and put the plates on the table. Planting his hands on his hips, he said, "So, look at me."

Stanley did, raking Jim's lean form with appreciation. This was one of the most masculine men he'd ever run into, and last night he had rocked Stanley's world without hesitation. "Point taken." He got the toast, tossing a slice on each plate, and they sat down to eat.

Both of them concentrated on the food. They'd worked up respectable appetites with their nocturnal exercise. Finally Stanley was wiping up the last few drops of molten egg yolk with a bite of toast. "Jim? You... uh... you really think there's a chance that Frase might be, shall we say, not entirely adverse to the idea?"

"Damn, Stan, you're a goner. You're picking up his speech patterns. Yeah, I think he would be not only not adverse, but probably pretty damn enthusiastic. You never know till you try."

Stanley chewed thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Can't risk it. I like him too much to risk what I already have with him. He's comfortable with me, now. Even if it didn't freak him out, and I'm by no means sure that it wouldn't, it would always be between us."

"Look, Stan, you don't have to walk up to him at the hospital and give him a soul kiss. Just think about it. If the time comes, be ready."

Stan sighed. "Yeah, I suppose Hell could freeze over. After all, I've seen winter in Chicago."

Part Eight - Blair and Benny

As they stepped out of the elevator, Stanley said, "I wonder how Benny and Blair got on last night? They seemed to be hitting it off pretty good, but that's a long time to be stuck in a room with one person."

Jim opened the door to Solly's room and glanced in. Working hard to keep a straight face, he said, "Oh, I think they did all right." Stanley peeked around him.

Blair was sitting propped against the headboard of the spare bed. Fraser was stretched out beside him, on his side, his head resting on Blair's thighs, snoring softly. Blair was gently stroking his brown hair. When he saw the two other men, he held a finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

They came in, each going to opposite sides of the bed. Jim was watching his Guide affectionately. Stan stared at his sleeping partner, bemused. Asleep, Benny looked positively angelic. "Well, fuck me," Stan said softly. Jim started to speak, and Stan said, "Say it and I'll have to hurt you, Ellison." Jim subsided, but he was smirking just as much as Stanley was.

Blair spoke quietly, "If I was to ask you two if you had a pleasant evening, how stupid a question would that be?"

"Up there on a par with do we consider the Pope to be a religious man."

"Thought so. Did you two get any rest?"

"Some. You and Benny look... uh... comfortable," observed Jim.

"Not that comfortable, not yet. But we had a nurse in and out of here all night. Plus every now and then Solly would get up enough energy to be offensive. Not a very seductive environment." He looked at Jim severely. "What am I going to find when I get home?"

"Clean kitchen and bathroom, and fresh sheets."

"Bed still intact?"

"I'd have warned you, otherwise."

Blair looked at Stanley apologetically. "We had to replace three beds before we finally found one that would hold up."

Stanley grinned, rubbing a hand through his hair, rearranging the spikes. "Yeah, I coulda guessed." He gently shook his partner's shoulder. "Wakey, wakey, Constable."

Fraser stretched, yawning, eyes still closed, murmuring, "Five more minutes." He embraced Blair's leg, hugging it like a child holding a stuffed animal. Blair grinned smugly.

A little disgruntled, Stanley poked Ben in the side. "Up, you big husky!"

Fraser blinked, then sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Oh, is it morning already? Good morning Ray, Jim." He looked at Blair shyly. "Blair. How long was I asleep?"

"Not too very long. Say 'you'll'."

"No."

"Damn. Thought maybe he'd be groggy enough to slip. C'mon, let's go. I want a shower before I go to bed."

"I also." They scrambled off the bed. "Ray, Blair and I will return this evening, and I will call you later for a report on Solly. He seems to be doing well. I believe he is going to survive the attempt."

"Yeah, he's a tough little bastard. I saw his doctor on the way up. If things go okay, they'll jerk his appendix this afternoon."

Jim and Blair shared a tender kiss before they left, and the two Chicago law officers watched them, both with not a little envy. Stanley looked away from the entwined pair to find Benton watching him. For once, damnit, that open-as-the-Northern-Territories face had a blank expression. There was no way to tell what he was thinking.

Jim handed the keys to the truck to Blair. "Ding it and I put the exact same size dent in your head."

"I love it when you're butch." He pinched Jim's ass as he left.

Stanley looked at the shelf by the cabinet. "Hey, they left us half the pie. Well, that takes care of snacks."

"We'll have a pizza sent in for lunch. I'm not eating hospital food unless I've taken a bullet."

"Why would you eat it then? That's when you need something to give you the will to live."

*****

"Good God, Ben. When you went back for your fourth plate at the breakfast buffet, I thought the shift manager was going to bite through his bottom lip."

"Well, Blair, if they do not intend for every customer to eat his fill, they should not advertise 'all you can eat.' I took them at their word."

"That you did. And I thought Stanley could pack it away. But then, you have more space to fill up." Inside the apartment, Blair tossed the keys in the basket.

Fraser looked around appreciatively. "This is a very nice place, Blair."

"Yeah, well, I know I was ragging on Jim about how it looked, but that was just because we're having company. He's the neatnik. He's trying to get me trained. If it was up to me, we'd end up shoveling paths. I'm not dirty, just disorganized. I always mean to straighten up, but then I get interested in something, and..." He shrugged. "Bathroom's right over there. You can have the shower first."

Fraser laid his hat carefully on the front table. "I believe I would prefer to shower after."

Blair cocked his head inquiringly. "After what?"

Fraser took a deep breath, stepped forward, put his hands on either side of Blair's face, and kissed him square on the mouth.

To say the Guide was startled would be a massive understatement, but Blair was nothing if not a quick study. Before Fraser pulled back, he licked the Mountie's lips. Fraser looked surprised, and Blair grinned, breathing, "Thank God. I was afraid I was going to have to rape you, Ben."

"By legal definition, rape only occurs if the victim is unwilling, Blair." He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, lifting him clean off the floor, and carried him over to the couch. Sitting down, he deposited Blair on his lap.

Blair laughed, squirming. "All this red. I feel like I'm with Santa Claus."

"Have you been a good boy this year?"

Blair threw his arms around Fraser's neck. "Noooo, I've been naughty as hell. Lemme show you." He kissed Ben, but after a couple of seconds, pulled away. "Frase? It's nicer if you open your mouth a little."

"Oh. Of course."

This time Fraser's lips were parted when Blair's settled over them. Blair happily slid his tongue into the Canadian's mouth and began a leisurely oral exploration. Ben moaned into his mouth, and his hands ran up Blair's back, under his shirt, stroking over the firm muscles.

Soon Fraser was getting a little more adventurous. His tongue met Blair's, trading licks till they both started giggling, and the kiss broke apart. The next time Blair kissed him, Fraser drew his tongue into his mouth and sucked on it. Damn, he's a fast learner!

Blair lifted his arms, and Fraser skinned his sweatshirt over his head. Then he bent and rubbed his face in the crisp curls that decorated Blair's chest, sighing. "I have wanted to do that for some time."

"Say 'I've.'"

"No." Instead Benton took Blair's nipple ring between his teeth and tugged gently, wringing a gasp from the anthropologist. "Was that too harsh, Blair?"

"Noooo, that was looovely."

"Good." He nibbled on the other nipple. Blair caught hold of his head, holding him close and arching to his mouth.

Fraser blindly popped the snap on Blair's jeans, tugged the zipper down, and pushed his hand into the gap. He went still, then whispered against Blair's chest, "Blair, you are not wearing underpants."

"It's called 'going commando', Frase. Say 'aren't'."

"No." His hand closed around Blair's cock, squeezing lightly. "And you are already hard."

"'You're.'"

"No." Benton wrapped one arm around Blair, lifted him, and slid his pants down to his knees with his free hand.

"Shit, Ben! Even Jim usually has to put me down to get me undressed." He bit Fraser's earlobe, then moved down to nip his throat. His hands moved down between them, and he worked at Fraser's buckle.

When Fraser reached for the brass buttons on his tunic, Blair stopped him. "No, don't. The first time I want to do you just like this, in full uniform."

"The first time, eh?" Benton eyed him hotly, then licked his lips. "May we do it without the hat?"

Blair laughed. "Yeah, I'd just knock it off, anyway. Don't move, I'll be right back. I have to get us some supplies." He hopped up and trotted naked to the bathroom, re-emerging in a second. "They must've left them upstairs." Fraser watched, fascinated as he bounded up the stairs, then back down in a moment. He was almost hypnotized by the proud sway of Blair's rigid cock.

"Here we go." Blair dumped a tube of lubricant, an unwrapped condom, and a towel on the sofa beside Fraser. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, eyeing the Mountie mischievously. "Now, where were we?"

Fraser unzipped his trousers. "I believe we were here."

"Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Say 'it's'."

"No." Ben reached up and buried his hand in Blair's hair, tugging gently. Blair sank gracefully to the floor before him, pushed Fraser's knees apart, bent forward, and took his cock in his mouth. Fraser groaned, head dropping back. "Yes."

Fraser watched the dark, curly head bobbing in his lap, feeling the almost unbelievably exquisite pleasure. Blair was evoking feelings with his mouth that Benton had scarcely been aware were possible. He was afraid that he would never again be able to hear a suspect taunt him with 'Blow me' without some sort of reaction.

He was disappointed when Blair stopped, but then the young man stood up and kissed him. He felt something pressed into his hand, and looked down to find that it was a half empty tube of Astroglide. Blair popped the top off it, turned around and bent down, spreading his legs and grabbing his knees. He peeked back at Fraser, and said huskily, "I got you ready. Now you get me ready."

"I am not sure how, Blair. I do not want to hurt you."

"Don't worry, I won't be shy about telling you what to do. Start off by getting your fingers coated real good." Fraser squeezed the clear gel onto the fingers of his right hand, coating them generously. "Okay, now..." Blair reached back and spread his own cheeks. Benton inhaled sharply. "Just kind of stroke up and down the crease, Ben. Press a little. When you feel the muscle at my hole relax, kind of ease one finger in, really slow."

Fraser obeyed. He massaged the deep valley gently, working patiently around Blair's puckered opening till he felt the tight muscles relax a little. Then he carefully, slowly, sank one thick finger into Blair's ass. "Is it all right, Blair?"

"Perfect. Didn't hurt at all."

"Should I move it?"

"That would be nice. Finger fuck me, Ben. When you think I'm ready, give me another."

Blair grunted softly with pleasure as Benton worked the digit in and out. In a moment, a second one joined the first. He groaned lightly, and Fraser said anxiously, "Blair?"

"It's all right, Frase. Better than all right. It's just that your hands are bigger than Jim's. I'm only going to need those two, I think. But if you'd kind of wiggle them around..."

"Your prostate should be right around..." His fingers passed over a firm knob, and Blair jerked, crying out. "Here. Was that good?"

"Jesus, Ben!"

"Ah." He rubbed again. Blair's knees went weak. He would have dropped, but Fraser caught him around the waist with his free hand. Then he rubbed again, and Blair wailed, twisting.

"Oh, shit, Benny! Fuck me!"

"Yes, Blair." Fraser removed his hand from Blair's ass. He fumbled for the condom. Instinct and luck took over, and he managed to get it on without tearing it. Then he put both hands on Blair's waist and turned him.

Blair eagerly knelt on the couch, straddling the Mountie, who slid down a little. Blair reached down and took hold of Fraser's cock. Grabbing the lubricant, he quickly smeared more on Fraser's straining, latex clad shaft. He lowered himself till he felt the hot, slick knob bump his anus. "Are you ready for this, Frase?"

"I have been ready for this for a long time."

"Say 'I've.'"

"No."

Blair gritted his teeth and dropped. He sank onto Fraser's cock, taking it all in one plunge. Fraser stiffened, and screamed. Blair didn't give him a moment to collect himself. He started posting, lifting and settling slowly. "Don't move, Benny. Just sit and enjoy."

He grabbed Fraser's shoulders and used them for leverage, rising and falling steadily. "Damn, you're big, Frase," he panted. "Big as Jim. Um, you feel so good inside me."

"This... this is... Blair," He leaned forward and fastened his mouth on the side of the younger man's throat, biting and sucking.

"Yeah, Fraser," he groaned. "Mark me. When you're back in Chicago," he whispered, "I'll look at it, and remember the feel of your cock, moving inside me, and I'll touch myself."

Blair began to speed up. Unable to stand it any more, Fraser grabbed his hips and held him firmly, beginning to buck upward. Blair surrendered control. He grabbed his own weeping dick and began to jerk off as his lover slid him up and down. It was almost as if Fraser were using his body to masturbate, and it was sexy as hell.

Fraser thrust harder and harder, jerking him down to meet each upward lunge, filling Blair to capacity each time. His movements were becoming more erratic, less rhythmic, and Blair knew he was getting close. He grabbed the towel quickly and spread it over Fraser's belly and up his chest.

"Just a little more, Frase. Hold... on... just... a little... more!"

"I.... I can't!"

"Fraser, you used a contraction!"

"Oh dear!"

Blair shot his load at the exact moment he felt the Mountie's cock begin to pulse inside him. Blair's hot seed jetted onto the towel, saving Fraser embarrassing moments later at the dry cleaners. Fraser howled like Diefenbaker under a full moon in spring, and crushed the smaller man to his massive chest.

For several moments, all either of them could do was pant and shiver. Finally Blair said, "Benton? I need to breathe, please."

"Sorry." Fraser's arms dropped.

Blair took hold of them and hooked them back around his waist. "I didn't say I didn't want to be hugged. I just said I need to breathe." He kissed Fraser on the tip of the nose. "That was splendiferous."

Fraser smiled at him. "Thank you kindly."

Part Nine - Morning After

Benton did, indeed, have his shower 'after', along with Blair, who proved to be surprisingly slippery, despite, as Benton put it 'the traction that all that lovely fur should provide'. Blair didn't have too much trouble persuading Fraser to forgo his long johns in favor of sleeping in the nude, at least this once.

The smaller man snuggled against him, happily soaking up body heat, like a cat. "There's just so goddamn much of you there, Ben. You're sorta monumental."

"You are a shameless flatterer, Blair Sandburg. There is no need for it. You have already had your way with me."

"Yeah, Ben, but there are so many other ways I'd like to try."

He was answered by a sleepy chuckle. "Not until I have had several hours of sleep. This is quite a bit to take in at one's first time. Rather like going from zero to sixty in under five seconds. A tad disorienting."

"Say 'won't."

"Go to sleep, pervert." He kissed the top of Blair's head.

*****

"I gotta crap."

Stanley frowned. "After seeing the state of your toilet yesterday, Solly, I wouldn't think you had any ammunition left."

"Fuck you. Lemme up."

"Not hardly."

"I ain't goin' nowheres."

"No, you're not. I suspect you're too weak to go more than a couple of steps without falling on your skinny ass. That's why you ain't getting up."

"But I gotta crap! Youse can't jus' make me lay here."

Jim hit the call button. He looked at Stanley. "I know nurses are over worked and under appreciated, but I am not handling a bedpan for this guy. I'll send them flowers when this is all over."

"Hey, you don't have to convince me." Stanley picked up the pie. "I'm taking the pie out into the hall. I'd never be able to touch it if I left it in here while that was going on."

"Ah, so you do have limits."

"Snot."

They exited just as the nurse entered. Stanley leaned against the wall and picked out a bit of piecrust that was gummed on one side with sticky, gelid filling. He munched it, then groaned. "I wonder if she exports these things? Maybe I could work out a sort of a pie-of-the-month deal with her."

"Keep your fingers out of that. I know where they've been. Hang on, they probably have forks on that food cart over there." Jim went to the cart, and returned with plastic cutlery. "Here you go. One of modern civilization's greatest inventions: the spork."

"Damn, that's a goofy name." Stanley dug into the pie. "Could be worse, though. They could've named it the 'foon'." Jim almost choked on a mouthful of pie.

They heard the toilet flush, and the nurse came out a moment later, stripping off a pair of latex gloves. She eyed them sympathetically. "I turned on the fan and sprayed some Lysol. Give it ten minutes, and you should be able to survive without breathing masks."

Jim sighed, "Bless you."

"The doctor will be along to have a look at him soon. If all's clear, we have him scheduled for surgery at noon."

"How long after that before we can transport him?"

"You mean take him home?"

"Home? Lady, he's not gonna look through a window without bars till after he cuts a deal with the DA."

"It all depends on how he reacts to the surgery. But if he isn't going directly into a quiet, secure environment, they may keep him a couple of days."

"Well, crap." Stanley griped.

As the nurse moved away, Jim cocked an eyebrow at him. "You in that big a hurry to get away from me, Blondie?"

"Hell, no. It's not that. It's just kinda awkward. I'm not real good at waiting. Stake outs have always been a major pain in the butt."

"And?"

"What do you mean, 'and'?"

"That's not all that's bothering you. Stakeouts are part of the job, and they're not 'awkward'. What is it?"

Stanley blew out a breath. After a moment he said, "I like Blair. I really do. But..."

"But he had Benton's head in his lap, and now they're at the apartment together, most likely humping like bunnies." Stanley nodded miserably. "So you're jealous."

Stanley thumped his head back against the wall. "I'm pea green. What the fuck am I gonna do? I don't have any right to be jealous after what I did last night."

"First, let's be clear about this. What really bothers you? The fact that Benton is with Blair? Or the fact that he isn't with you?"

"It's the same thing, isn't it?"

"No, not hardly. Do you really begrudge them some fun, or are you just frustrated that you haven't had the nerve to make a move?"

Another deep sigh. "Second one, I guess."

"Then just do something about it, and I'd suggest you do it here instead of waiting till you get back to Chicago."

"Why's that?"

"Because I want a chance to nail both of you."

Vecchio opened his mouth, then closed it. "Ellison, you give a whole new meaning to the term 'honest cop.'"

"It should be safe to go back inside now."

*****

Blair was awakened by something very soft, warm, and wet caressing his balls. Eyes still shut, he smiled dreamily, and said, "I don't remember leaving a wake-up call."

A voice down by his crotch said, "A courtesy service."

The Guide reached down blindly, finding soft hair and burying his hands in it. "You just service to your heart's content."

The lapping resumed, moving up his stiffening cock. "You have a most intriguing personal taste, Blair. Quite intoxicating."

Blair's voice was husky. "You can get a better taste if you swallow it." He was engulfed by damp heat, and he groaned, arching upward. "Oh, Benny, the things you can do with that mouth! You can do a lot more than talk pretty."

Blair could only lie back and marvel at Fraser's oral dexterity. He knew that this was the first time the Mountie had ever given head, but he was doing fantastic. Of course, Blair reflected, there really wasn't such a thing as bad fellatio--just unskilled. But Benton was working like a champion. He must be both very imaginative and intuitive, or else he'd paid close attention while Blair was blowing him.

In any case, Blair was soon bucking, shoving himself as far into Fraser's mouth as he could, hoping that he wasn't going to choke the sweet guy. He might have, if it had gone on long enough. But Fraser rolled his balls and used his tongue at exactly the right moment, and Blair orgasmed, shooting a burst of warm spunk into the Mountie's eager mouth.

Sandburg went limp. "Wow, Fraser, that's a lot better than waking up to the clock radio. Speaking of which, what time is it?" He checked the clock. "It's almost four. What say we head to the station and see if anything has broken on that fake lawyer before we head to the hospital to relieve Jim and Stanley?"

"That would be the best course of action."

Blair got up and rummaged in a drawer. "Here." He tossed a bundle of clothing to Benton. "These sweats are a little too big for Jim. They should fit you. You need something a tad less conspicuous than the uniform if we're going to be looking for suspects."

"Very well." The soft material that had hung loosely on Jim hugged Fraser lovingly, like a second skin. "Are you sure these are not too tight, Blair?"

"Do they feel too tight?"

"No. Actually, they are quite comfortable."

"Good. We just have to keep you out of the gay bars. That ass could cause a riot. Let's go."

Part Ten - Busy Day, One

10 am.

"Scratch my balls."

Jim lowered the newspaper he was reading, and looked at Stanley, who was staring at Solly. "Did he just say what I think he just said?"

"I dunno. Lemme check," Stanley peered at Solly. "Solly, what did you just say?"

"I said scratch my balls. They itch like a motherfucker. It mus' be dat damn hoozacillin theys givin' me."

"You have my deepest sympathy, Solly, but I ain't going anywhere near your nuts. I don't like you that way."

Solly jerked on the handcuffs that fastened him to the bed railing and whined, "You gotta! I'm goin' crazy here."

"Solly, all I gotta do is breathe. Think about something else."

"Like what? Like how bad my fuckin' gut aches? The tube they jammed up my dick? Fuckin' Teletubbies? What?"

"Shit." Stanley looked at Jim pleadingly.

Jim shrugged. "Don't look at me. Not even with a metal gauntlet."

Solly jerked on the handcuffs again. "Wunna youse guys scratch my stones or else I'll have da 'Merican Civic Liberry Union down on yer ass. Cop brutality. Cruel an' unusual punishment. Violation of my civil rights."

Stanley flipped him the bird. "Violate this."

Solly lifted his hips. "Move it closer..."

"Oh, crap, you are nasty. Ya know, I'd kinda like to see whatever suit you brought go to court. I'd wear a tie, just to see the look on the judge's face."

"Scratch my balls!"

Stanley sighed. "Jim, are we allowed to gag him?"

Jim thought, then shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. Awful shortsighted. Solly, shut the fuck up. You're bothering my friend."

Solly grinned at him. "You scratch my balls."

Jim folded the paper neatly, laid it aside, then leaned forward. He narrowed his eyes, and Solly got very still. Jim showed his teeth in something that definitely was not a smile, and said softly, "Solly, I really think you don't want my nails anywhere near your private parts. Now, shut the fuck up." Solly shut the fuck up.

Jim picked up the paper again. "Want the sports section?"

*****

Noon

"Gimme some pizza."

"No." Jim's hand hovered over the open box as he tried to decide between pepperoni and sausage-mushroom.

"C'mon, Ellison," Stanley pushed. "Hurry up before the cheese gets cold."

"They have a microwave down the hall."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"I want some pizza!" Solly griped.

"Tough shit, Solly." Jim finally settled on pepperoni. Despite Stanley's worries, the cheese was still warm and stretchy.

"But I din' have no brekfuss. Not even any a dem shitty hospital powdered eggs."

"Would you have eaten them if they'd brought them?" Jim asked.

"Fuck no. But dey coulda at least offered."

"For the tenth time, Solly," Stanley lifted out a slice of sausage-mushroom and took a hefty bite. "You can't eat 'cause you're going under sedation in a little while."

"So?"

"So, if you have a reaction, you could upchuck."

"So?"

"Well, personally it would be no great loss, but I'd be pissed if you strangled on your own puke before you had a chance to put Bernie away."

"Just a pepperoni?"

"Well..."

"Don't do it, Stanley," Jim warned. "You'll teach him bad habits, and he'll think he can beg at the table all the time."

A nurse came in, carrying a tiny, fluted paper cup. She eyed the two pizza munching detectives severely. "You didn't give him any of that, did you?" They shook their heads. "Good. Otherwise I would have had to spank you." Whoa. First those two I saw leaving this morning, now these two. Are they requiring looks now to become a policeman? I gotta start dating more cops. "Okay, Mr. Tyson. I have a little meds to help get you ready for your operation."

Solly bit his bottom lip. Funny, Jim thought. When Blair and Stanley do that, it looks sexy. All I can think about with Solly is that Bernie apparently doesn't give his employees dental coverage.

"Don' wanna." Solly mumbled.

"Please, Mr. Tyson," the nurse said tiredly. From her tone of voice, that could have translated as look, you sunovabitch...

"Nurse?" She looked at Jim. "Does that medication come in suppository form? We could stick those pills up his ass for you." That got a smile. Under concentrated glares from the two detectives, Solly swallowed the pills.

"There. Those will work soon, and you'll start feeling groggy." She looked at the other two men. "You'll need to uncuff him so they'll be able to transport him."

"Will do."

When Jim moved to unlock the cuffs, she said, "On second thought, maybe you should wait until after they shave him."

"I don' wanna shave." Solly made a kissing motion at her. "I like da George Michaels' stubbly look. Pretty sexy, huh?"

"Oh, I wasn't talking about your face, Mr. Tyson."

Solly looked confused. "No? Den what?" She looked pointedly below his waist. He flushed, then yapped. "No fuckin' way!"

She shrugged. "You're having abdominal surgery. It's standard procedure to cut down on the risk of infection. But maybe you can persuade the orderly to just shave the right side." She left.

Straight faced, Stan said, "Well, Solly, your luck holds. Look at it this way," he comforted. "This should take care of the itchy balls. At least till the stubble starts to grow out."

*****

Blair and Benton sought out the officer who had the most contact with the phony lawyer the day before. "We weren't going to let him in, since he wasn't on the list of regular counselors. But Tyson had been so adamant that a lawyer was on his way, and the guy was from a local firm."

"What was his name?"

"He left a card. Here, let me see..." He checked through a small folder, and came up with a small rectangle of stiff paper, then offered it to Blair. Blair accepted it and scanned it. He sighed, and handed it to Fraser, who read it and sighed also. "What?"

"Atticus Finch. Mockingbird Associates. Oh, dear." Benton handed the card back to Blair. "I suppose this gentleman is not familiar with classic American cinema."

"Tell me," Blair said, with a touch more sarcasm than Benton thought was entirely nice. "Did this guy look anything like Gregory Peck?"

"Who?"

Blair threw up his hands. "C'mon, Benny. Let's take this to the lab and see if we can lift any fingerprints off it that don't belong to you, me, or Barney here."

At the lab, they had the card dusted. "Well," said the technician. "Luckily people tend to handle business cards by the corners and edges. I've eliminated both of you, and the genius who took the card, and I still got a couple of good ones from when the guy handed the card out, probably. Enough to run through the system for a pretty firm ID."

"I would suggest checking the Illinois database first. We believe that this person was dispatched by an individual in Chicago to perform an assassination here in Cascade." Fraser offered.

The lab worker shrugged. "Couldn't hurt." He fed the information into the computer, a digitized image of the fingerprints from the card popping up on the screen. Then he logged into the print database in Illinois, and the program began a rapid check. In a moment, the screen stopped flickering, and one name appeared on the screen. "Whoa! Bulls eye on the first try!" He punched a few keys, and a picture and file information filled the screen. "What's this guy supposed to have done?"

"Given a possible snitch a cup of café au Blackflag."

"Oo, nasty. The name's Pavel Kol. Emigrated from Russia in 1991. No, um, 'official' record over there. Charged with manslaughter, dropped. Manslaughter, case dismissed due to lack of evidence. Assault with a deadly weapon. Simple assault. Grievous bodily harm. Dumped battery acid on a guy's crotch." Both the Guide and the Mountie winced, Blair unconsciously covering his own crotch protectively.

Benton studied the mug shot. "He does not look like an excessively violent individual." The man in the picture was tall, but very thin, almost reedy looking. He had thinning hair, and a mild, bland face.

"Well, he's rumored to be enforcement for hire in Chicago. People pretty much don't fuck with him. The Feebs have had him in for questioning a time or two, but he's never been caught on anything definite."

"Well, he has now," Blair declared. "Run us off a copy of his picture, and a few others that are close to his description. I want to take them down and see if the Incredible Gullible Guard can identify him. The prints should be enough to have a warrant issued for him, but I'd like to have it clinched as firmly as possible."

"Can do." In a few moments, they had a printed copy of Kol's picture, and five others of men who were approximately his size and coloring. They went back down to the holding area, and showed the pictures to the guard.

He shuffled them, then handed back Kol's picture. "That's him. Tall, skinny guy, but he had a beard."

"You're sure?"

"With that nose? I've seen smaller beaks on toucans. Yeah, it was him."

"Bingo. C'mon, Frase, let's go get that warrant issued. Attempted murder, impersonation of an attorney, presenting false information to the police, possession of a set of brass balls as big as cantaloupes...We'll see what we can come up with."

*****

Solly was giggling again.

"Geez, isn't he supposed to be asleep by now? She gave him that stuff, what, two, three hours ago?" Stanley stared at Solly, pained. Solly had a laugh that sounded almost like the seal snort that blonde on 'Three's Company' used to make. Not that he'd watched her much. He'd been too busy watching the guy who played Jack Tripper.

"I saw her when I went out for coffee. Things have gotten balled up in the OR. Big car accident came in, and they have to take care of the trauma first. The antibiotics are helping Solly, so he's not at the end of the list, but he's not at the top, either. It may be four, four thirty before they take him. We'll just have to stand it."

"I guess it's good he was blissed out when that orderly shaved him. Though I don't think the guy was prepared to have Solly ask him to shave the pubes in a heart shape."

"Who'd have thought Solly was a romantic?" Solly was still giggling, but he had his eyes closed. Stanley was sitting in the only chair. Jim casually rested a buttock on the arm, and looked down at him. "You ever thought about doing that?"

"What?"

"Shaving."

Stanley blushed furiously. "Geez, Ellison."

"No, really. Ever been with someone who shaved?"

"No." He paused. "What's it like?"

"Smooth."

"Um."

"Sometimes Blair lets me shave his face. I've gotten real good at it. He's got surprisingly sensitive skin, with that beard growth, but I can do it without irritating or nicking him."

"Are you hinting at something?"

"Yes."

"Uhhhh...."

"Think about it."

Pause. "Okay."

"Okay."

"I'll think."

"That's all I ask." Jim grinned.

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