Did Sleeping Beauty Have an Older Brother? - Scribe

Blair's POV

Some people don't remember much about their childhood--they blank it out. It's either too painful, or too ordinary for them to make an effort to hold onto it. Me--not a problem. I had an interesting childhood. Boy, was it interesting, and the reason for that is also the thing--or rather the person--that most of my memories gather round. My mom--Naomi Sandburg.

Mom was... Hell, still is different. Make that Different, with a capital D. While other kids were sitting in front of the television, eating Cap'n Crunch and watching Scooby Doo and The Far Out Space Nuts, I was talking to Sherpas in Tibet or learning shiatsu from a very old, very patient healer in Shanghai. We never stayed anywhere very long. The bug would bite Mom, she'd throw our things in a couple of duffle bags, and we'd be off again. Yep, Mom gave me the world, vast experience, a rich cultural background, the ability to survive and adapt, and an appreciation and acceptance of people of all different backgrounds. What she didn't give me was stability.

She also didn't give me a father, so I suppose that could be part of it. I used to ask her about him sometimes, but she never wanted to talk about him. She did tell me he'd passed away when I was about three, so even though I still occasionally wonder, I never went through the whole 'finding my roots' bit when I was a teenager (that's usually when it strikes, right?). She did tell me that she'd really, truly loved him, but it didn't work out. I never asked her why, because I could sense a world of hurt covered by her level tone when she said that.

Come to think of it, I might credit some of my rootless upbringing to my dad after all. I have to consider the one other thing Naomi told me about my dad. She said, "Blair, your father gave me a special gift. He gave me the world."

The first time I saw him, it wasn't exactly the world he gave me. It was a dollar-fifty for a train token, but I looked forward to it. It was the highlight of my day. I guess that tells you how my life was going, huh?

Okay, some background. I guess 'restless world travel as an enriching experience' must've been pretty effective, because I entered college at sixteen, despite the fact that my formal schooling was so scant that it didn't even leave a paper trail. Rainier University in Cascade, Washington isn't as hide-bound as the Ivy League schools, so they were willing to take me on after they got a look at my entrance exam scores.

The university became the closest thing I'd ever had to a home. I ripped through my first four years (would have made it in under three, but they wouldn't let me take as heavy a load of courses as I wanted). When I got my Bachelor Degree in Anthropology, I was offered a work-study program as a TA, and I grabbed it with both hands.

It worked out well. I lived simply (hell, after dorm rooms and communes most of my life, an actual bed and access to hot water was a luxury). I worked on my Masters. It took me five years, but there was a lot of fieldwork involved there. I got a reputation for being good, and I had more offers than I had time for.

Then I got my masters, and I suddenly found out that since I now had 'marketable skills', scholarships were practically an impossibility. That meant a full time job. Well, if I wanted to actually eat a couple of times a day and sleep somewhere other than the park. But I was determined to get my PhD, so I needed a job that would leave me free to take classes and teach in the evenings. In a college town like Cascade, these are snapped up faster than fresh donuts in a police station. There wasn't a wide choice.

I went to work for the Transit Authority. Yeah, yeah--really stimulating work, but after the morning rush, there was a lot of dead time, so I could read and grade papers. It was pretty damn perfect, as long as you didn't count off for the miniscule salary. Oh, and the cold. Did I mention the cold? The booth had that damn open slot for the exchange of money and tokens, and the cold just whistled in. They provided a tiny space heater, but it was usually fighting a losing battle, and I spent every day from mid-autumn to early spring bundled up to my nose and shivering my ass off. Try typing or turning pages in gloves. Frustrating as hell. Anyway, there I was--twenty-nine--not contented with my life, but not discontented by a long shot.

He showed up on my very first day at work--practically in my first hour of work. Okay, dispensing train tokens isn't rocket science, and I guess that's why they didn't bother to spend more than a few minutes explaining it to me. They figured hey, I'd have a more experienced clerk with me, if anything came up, she'd help. Good theory, except they didn't take into account the Corollary to Murphy's Law--what can go wrong, will go wrong at the worst possible time. In this case, that was when Megan was in the can, getting rid of that Grande Mocha-Cinnamon Latte she'd had for breakfast.

I was reading Burton's monograph on Sentinels... Okay, okay--I was rereading it. I never get tired of it. I was reading when he stepped up to the window. I looked up, and... Well, the earth didn't exactly move. Sure, there was a tremor, but that was the train pulling up to the platform--I think.

He was wearing an expensive looking coat (Burberry, I think), and carrying a fancy looking briefcase. Oh, and he was wearing gloves--suede gloves. Classy, or what? He had thick, dark brown hair in one of those neat, businessman cuts, but it was a little rumpled from the wind. He was handsome without having that 'model' perfection that makes you wonder if they were put together in a genetics lab. He had blue eyes--which were looking irritated.

There were two-dollar bills lying on the counter in front of my little window... and the train had come in! I snatched at the money just as a breeze kicked up. I snagged one of them, but the other wafted off onto the ground. "Oops. Uh..."

He heaved a heavy sigh and bent quickly to snatch up the errant bill, and I frantically stabbed at the button on the dispenser with one hand, while I clicked the change dispenser for his two quarters with the other. I swear to God, I don't know what I did, but all of a sudden I had a lapful of mixed quarters and tokens, and he was staring at me through the glass like he couldn't decide whether to scream or laugh.

Thank God Megan arrived just then. She's a pro, Megan is. She assessed the situation, leaned over, plucked the second bill he was offering, fished a token and two quarters out of the jumbled pile, and handed them to him, saying, "New kid." I was waiting to have my head snapped off. Instead he just smiled, shrugged, and walked off. He smiled instead of bitching, and he was close to gorgeous. Is it any wonder I sort of, um, fixated?

This was in October. It's almost Christmas now, and I've been seeing him between eight-oh-one and eight fifteen, Monday through Friday, every day. He's just perfect--my Prince Charming. Now, if I could only get up the nerve to speak to him past 'here's your change' and 'have a nice day'. Someday... some day I'll introduce myself, and it will be perfect--just like my Prince. But while I tried to plan out how I could make myself known to him in a way that would make him immediately recognize that we were destined to be together, I got on with my life--sort of. I suppose dealing with a Christmas tree that has gone through your apartment window is getting on with life.

I'd gotten a good price on the tree because it was so damn big that the seller knew it was unlikely to be snapped up. He'd tied it on the roof of my Volvo, but there wasn't any chance of packing him along to help me haul it up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. I'm sturdy, but I'm not masochistic, so when I got back to my apartment building, I looked around for help. Just my luck that the only person around at the time was Joe Jr.--my landlady's son.

Joe is... I think you have to go to Yiddish for the proper terms. 'Putz' comes to mind. So does 'schlemiel'. Joe caused a building wide evacuation last summer when he tried barbecuing in the stairwell because it was 'too damn hot' out on the roof. Joe was on the front steps when I pulled up. I don't know why I didn't have the good sense to keep driving. He might have left, but since he knows the Volvo--probably not. Y'see, ever since Mrs. Josephine Fusco (yes, that's right--Joe is named after his mother) found out I was gay, she's been trying to fix me up with Joe Jr. She's a lovely lady, I like her a lot, but I'm not interested in a guy who thinks that Descartes is something you run on a dirt track, and that belching is a legitimate creative expression.

It's a measure of how distracted I was that I didn't realize what I'd let myself in for till I was untying the cords that bound the tree to my car roof. "Hiya, Blair. That a Christmas tree?"

I resisted the urge to inspect the evergreen closely before replying. "Yep."

Joe scratched under his armpit. "Kinda big, huh?"

"Kind of. But the living room ceiling is pretty high. It should fit. The trouble is going to be getting it up..." I winced. Too late.

"No problem! I'll be happy t' help you haul it upstairs."

"Joe, I couldn't ask you to..."

"Of course he will!" Mrs. Fusco was coming down the steps, beaming, a matchmaking glint in her eyes. "It's the least we can do for our best tenant." And the only respectable, single gay male who lives close enough by for me to risk my precious baby with, her eyes continued.

So I found myself in the middle of a procession--Mrs. Fusco steering in front, me sort of just marking a place in the middle, and Joe doing the lion's share of the toting at the bottom, trekking upstairs. Once we arrived at the top landing, I had to squeeze around and unlock the door. I honestly don't know how it happened. I mean, I was sure that with Mrs. Fusco steering nothing could happen. I didn't count on Joe's enthusiasm and intent to impress me with his physical abilities. He sort of charged, sweeping his squeaking mom ahead of him into the apartment. Luckily she sort of leaped aside in time, so she didn't end up going out the window. No, just the top part of the tree did, but considering the fact that the window was down at the time...

"Oops." Joe dropped the end of the tree (leaving another dent in the linoleum), and bent to begin trying to pick up the glass.

"No, Joe, please!" I had visions of having to rush them both to the emergency room--him to have a finger reattached, and her from chest pains after witnessing the incident. I hurried to the refrigerator and got a beer, giving it to him. "Here. You've worked hard--you should rest. I can clean that up in a little while."

Joe apparently had absolutely no sense of irony, because he nodded comfortably, taking the brew as his due, and said, "Thanks, Blair." He leered. "You really know how to treat a guy. You'd make someone a great..." His voice trailed off. I raised an eyebrow, waiting. He'd been about to say 'wife'--I knew it. I damn sure didn't feel like helping him wiggle off that particular hook.

"Friend," said Mrs. Fusco firmly.

"Yeah, friend." I'd turned to hang up my jacket, and when I turned back I knew he'd been eyeing my ass. "Good friend."

I wonder if I should dive out the window? Nah--he won't try anything with his mother here. I wasn't afraid of him, you understand, but the skin did creep a bit occasionally. I looked at his mother. "Look, I'll pay for this."

She waved off the suggestion. "Please. My brother, Julie, is in the glass business."

"Well, here." I dug an envelope out of my pocket and handed it to her. "Merry Christmas. Don't get too appreciative till you see how much it is. It should pay for the window, though."

"Oh, sweetie, you shouldn't have."

"Hey, it's the least I can do. After all, I'm a workin' man now."

"That's right," she nodded, beaming. "A scholar, and a hard worker. Such a rare combination." She looked at Joe, who was chugging the last of the beer. "Isn't he, Joe?"

Joe belched. "Huh?"

"Isn't Blair...?"

"Gosh," I said brightly. "You know, I haven't even started my shopping yet. I don't have many presents to buy, so I have no excuse for letting it go so long."

Joe snapped his fingers. "Ma, can I give that bottle of Blue Nun to my probation officer?"

"I'm saving that for company."

"But Ma..." He belched again. "Scuse me. Gotta go to the can." He left for his own apartment, thank God. I'm not sure I'd have had enough bathroom cleanser to cope if he'd used mine.

Mrs. Fusco watched him go fondly, then eyed me speculatively. I gave her a weak smile. She said, "You know, Joe Jr. is still, uh, free."

"What a shocker."

I managed to get my sweet little landlady out without having to tell her that rather than hook up with Joe I'd join a monastery--and I'm Jewish. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but brrr.

The next day I was at work with Megan when our supervisor showed up. Jerry breezed into the booth, then acted surprised to see me. "Blair? Blair, Blair, Blair! I'm glad to see you here."

Like he didn't set my schedule."I was hoping you'd find me in Jamaica."

"Jamaica." He laughed a little. "Oh, that's good."

"Yeah, the possibility of me getting a sun and surf vacation is pretty laughable, I suppose."

"Keep your hopes up. Anyway, I have good news. I'm nominating you for Employee of the Month."

I gave him a skeptical look. "I didn't know there was an Employee of the Month."

"Oh, yeah!" Jerry spread his hands out, as if framing a banner, and used his 'announcer' voice. "Supervisor Jerry Wallace nominates Blair Sandburg for Employee of the Month. Blair is never tardy," his voice sped up, "and will cheerfully work holidays, even when he has worked the previous holiday."

That made me sit up. "What? Just because he worked Thanksgiving you think he's willing to work Christmas, too? Jerry, I'm not working Christmas."

He deflated, and coaxed, "I'll get you a nice, engraved plaque with the mayor's stamp on it."

"I didn't vote for him."

"You get to ride on a float in the Easter Parade."

"One, I hate parades. Two, I keep telling you--I'm Jewish."

"So why would Christmas...?"

"Don't go there."

"Did I mention extra holiday pay?"

I thought about student loans, and my increasingly cranky laptop. "I hate you."

"Blair, look--Arelett is sick, and Celeste has some big family thing to go to. I promised my kids I'd be there with 'em this year."

"This stinks, man."

"I know it isn't fair, and I can't make you do it, but..." he trailed off.

"Oh, shit. Jerry, you're too damn old and ugly to do puppy-dog eyes."

"Blair, you're the only one without family."

Jerry's a nice guy. I'm sure he didn't know how much that stung. Yeah, it was the truth, but there are some truths you don't need rubbed in your face. I shrugged, giving up. "All right, you blackmailer. But I want to see photos of your kids opening their presents." He beamed. "And hopefully you'll get drunk on eggnog and one of 'em will take an embarrassing photo of you, snoring, with drool down your chin. I want that, too." He wasn't listening, just nodding happily as he made a note on the schedule he'd brought along. As he left, I called after him. "I'm putting it up in the booth--where the commuters can see it!"

Megan was shaking her head. "You're too good for us, Sandy."

I sat back, sighing. "Yeah, I know. I..."

"One, please."

And there he was, sliding two one dollar bills through the slot, looking at his watch. The flow of words shut off as if a trap had snapped shut in my throat. I stared at him as I mechanically took the money, made change, and passed it over with the token. Without another word he turned, and went to the edge of the platform.

Megan poked me. "Is that him?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why didn't you say something?" she hissed.

Why didn't I? "The time wasn't right."

She snorted. "Check your bloody schedule, Sandy. I think you're missing the train--or maybe that's the clue bus."

"I'm going to speak to him," I assured her. She gave me the hairy eyeball. "I am." I looked back, watching as he stepped onto the train. Someday.

*****

Christmas morning, and I'm shivering my ass off in a token booth. Life is grand.

I suppose I could have been grateful that it was so quiet. It might get busier later, with people traveling to grandma's for Christmas dinner, but it was early yet. Most people were probably still sitting on their sofas in their pajamas, yawning and watching their kids rip into what Santa had left. I thought about sitting on a sofa with someone, maybe sipping a cup of coffee that they'd made for me. Just sitting, warm and sleepy, sharing a comfortable silence. I can have that, I thought. I mechanically took the money slid toward me, made change, and pushed it over with a token. All I have to do is...

"Merry Christmas."

"Uh-huh." He smiled and turned away. All I have to do is talk to him! Oh, geez, he finally spoke to me, and I'm in la-la-land. I can talk! Hey, you, hello! Nice coat. Merry Christmas to you, too! You're beautiful. Will you marry me? I love you. Nice coat. He was standing near the edge of the platform. I sighed. Fuck. My luck he won't speak to me again till... What's the next major holiday?

I didn't think much about it when the man approached him. I thought he was going to just walk past, though I suppose I should have been a little suspicious that he was going to pass that close to the only other passenger on the platform. It happened so quickly. The guy snatched at my dream prince's briefcase, and Prince Charming didn't want to let go. It's easy now to look back and say that was kind of dumb, but I figure it's instinctive. Someone tries to grab something from you--you hang on. It was the wrong response in this case.

The crook punched him, square in that pretty face, and still Prince didn't let go. Trouble was, Prince wasn't doing anything but hanging on, nothing to convince the crook it would be in his best interests to give this up as a failed attempt. The crook punched him again--hard--and that jarred Prince loose from his property. But by now the crook was pissed, and he swung that beautiful, heavy briefcase and smacked Prince heavily in the head. That did what the two punches didn't--he fell.

I'd been observing most of this while extricating myself from the booth. It took a little effort--they lock us in pretty well (gotta protect all those dollar bills and quarters). By the time I made it out onto the platform the crook was disappearing, and... Where is he? Prince was nowhere in sight. I knew he wasn't up to sprinting after the bad guy after a knock like that. Then a horrible thought occurred to me, and I rushed to the edge of the platform.

He was down there, lying on the tracks. "Shit! Somebody, we need some help here!" I was yelling even as I hopped down. It wasn't a big drop--just a couple of feet, but that's pretty damn high when you go over it like a sack of potatoes, and gravel and steel rails is not a soft landing. I crouched over him. "Mister? Sir, are you okay?" Nothing, not even a groan. "Are you breathing?" I leaned in close to check. He was. "Oh, God, you smell good. Can you get up?" I shook his shoulder, and his head moved limply. "This is not good. Can you wake up? Why am I asking an unconscious man that question?" I raised my voice. "Help! I need some help, here!"

I heard a distant rumble. That sound was familiar, and it made my heart squeeze in panic. "Mister, you need to wake up now! There's a train coming. Please, please, God!" The rumble was getting closer. The conductor would have started braking by now, but the present momentum would still carry the train way past where we were right now. I know you're not supposed to suddenly or violently move anyone who might have a trauma, but can you understand how close to hysteria I was right then. I shook him. "It's fast--it's an express! Somebody help!" The train was nearing steadily, looming. I could feel the track against my knee vibrating. There was a sudden scream of brakes. The conductor must've seen us, and was laying on for all he was worth--but it wasn't going to be enough.

Instinct took over. I shoved my arms under his and hauled. I staggered upright, clutching him, his limp body dangling heavily, then I turned and lunged against the platform edge. Swearing in about six different languages, I heaved and shoved, and managed to manhandle him up onto the platform. Then I crawled up after him. I fell flat on my face, and felt a whoosh of air that blew my hair around my head as the train slowly ground to a stop--several dozen yards beyond where he'd first fallen.

People were rushing toward us, called from the next platform by my yells. I saw one of them flipping open a cell phone as I got to my knees beside my fallen prince. I pushed a lock of hair up off his forehead, wincing at the gash it had hidden, and murmured, "You're going to be all right now, beautiful."

*****

Megan's a brick. I borrowed the bystander's cell phone and called her, explaining what had happened, and she didn't even wait for me to ask--she just told me she was coming in. She's fast, too. The MEs were just bundling my guy into the back of the ambulance when she arrived, and I managed to follow them to the hospital. I promised the Volvo a new air freshener for not balking.

God was merciful, and I found a parking spot just in front of the emergency room (I almost kissed the bumper of whoever was pulling out), and I came in right behind him, following as he was taken into an examining room. Several medical personnel rushed in. I hung there, wringing my hands. In a few minutes he was wheeled out again. I followed, and he was taken into what looked like a private room. Again I waited. Finally a plump woman in nurse's greens noticed me, and paused. "Sir, if you're not with a patient, you need to go back into the waiting room."

"Uh... sorry. I need to talk to a doctor."

Her eyes sharpened. "You hurt, honey?"

"No." I pointed. "But the man they just brought in..."

"Oh, you're here for someone. What's his name?"

"I... uh... I don't..."

"I need to know his name."

"He's..." I pointed. "Look, he's right in there." I started toward the room.

She put a hand on my arm, voice stern. "You can't go in there. Are you family?"

"No."

"Family only. You'll have to leave."

"But you don't understand." How the hell was I going to explain this? I didn't really understand it myself. I put my head in my hands. "I was going to spend the rest of my life with him." I looked up to see the woman examining me curiously. Then her expression softened, gaze going warm.

She patted my arm. "You come with me. We need you."

I found myself led into the room. He was laid out in the bed, with a couple of medical sorts standing with a uniformed policeman, talking gravely. For a second I was worried that I was about to be arrested for trespassing, or something, but the nurse went and whispered to the men. I took the opportunity to look at Prince. It was the first time I'd ever seen him in anything but a suit. It was the first time I'd seen him in bed. Too bad he was unconscious. The doctors were nodding, and the nurse came back over and steered me over to the bed, then said quietly, "Talk to him, honey. Let him hear your voice."

Talk to him? Okay, I could do that. Great, my first attempt at conversation with him was going to be while he was knocked out. I bent down. "Um... hi. Hello, there. It's gonna be all right. Everything is gonna be fine, I'm sure."

Behind me I heard the nurse whispering to the policeman, and he said, "That's the guy who saved his life."

The nurse answered, "Yeah? Thought so. It gets even better."

"What?"

"That's his lover."

Oh, shit.

The officer moved up beside me. "Sir? I hate to bother you, but can I ask you a few questions?"

"S-sure."

I was scrambling mentally when one of the doctors interrupted. "Officer, can you do this a little later? I really need to speak to this young man."

"Oh, sure, doc. No one's going anywhere, right?" He winced. "Sorry," and moved away.

The doctor offered his hand, and I shook absently. "I'm Doctor Rubin, and you are...?"

"Blair. Blair Sandburg."

"Blair, I was wondering..."

There was a commotion out in the hall. It sounded something like an army was taking the hospital. I heard a strong male voice shouting, "Don't try to talk to me about passes! That's my brother in there." A group of people burst into the room. I'm sure they were all perfectly nice people, but I didn't get much of an impression of them till later, because I was sort of blinded by one of them.

That was the one who'd shouted, his brother. Had to be. He sort of made everyone else in the room fade into the background. There was a security guard trying to get in front of him, and I had to give that rent-a-cop credit for guts. This man was--impressive. He had to be about six-two or three, and every inch of it looked hard.

An older man pushed his way to the bedside, bending over my fallen prince, and said anxiously, "This is my son. How is he?"

I heard the nurse murmuring about how depressing it was, but the security guard was focused on doing his job. "You can't just come bursting in here..."

The police officer tapped him on the shoulder. "Kyle, it's cool. This is Detective Ellison--he's PD." The guard wavered. The officer said, "Jim, that your brother?" The man's ice blue eyes were fixed on the still figure on the bed, but he nodded grimly.

The guard looked at the doctor, who nodded, and he relented. "Sorry, man." He left the room, whispering apologetically to the others. I noticed now that they were a woman about the same age as the father and three other men--two large black men and a smaller Caucasian. All of them looked concerned, but the men were watching Jim more than they were the patient, so I got the impression they were there for him.

Jim glared at the doctor and said forcefully, "He's going to be all right." It was a statement rather than a question. I figured that if the good doctor had any sense, he'd tell this man what he wanted to hear.

The doctor took a deep breath. "He's in a coma." The woman made a soft, grieving sound and picked up one limp hand, pressing it to her cheek. I could see Jim's fists clenching. The doctor continued quickly, "But his vital signs are strong, and his brainwaves are good. I think he's going to get through this."

The father looked up. "Are you a specialist?"

"How did this happen?" snapped Jim.

Oh, yeah--cop mode. Lord help the perp if this guy ever got hold of him. I piped up. "He... he was pushed off a railway platform. The guy hit him in the head with his briefcase, and..." Everyone in the room turned to look at me, but I was only really aware of that intense, laser blue gaze. "...he fell. Hi."

He frowned at me. "Who are you?"

I opened my mouth. I don't know what I was going to say, but the nurse beat me to it. She said, almost proudly, "That's his sweetheart."

I swear to God, man, if there had been crickets in Cascade during December, you would have heard them chirping right about then. I was never examined that carefully in my life--except maybe that time I had to pass the physical to go overseas on an expedition. Finally Jim said, very slowly, "Sweetheart?"

The woman gave me a pleased look. "That's what she said. Oh, I'm so glad one of you boys found someone."

The older man, Ellison Senior, I guess, was about to pop his eyes right out of his head. He echoed his son. "Sweetheart?"

Jim was glaring at me suspiciously. I had to wonder if it was seriously kinky that he was starting to turn me on. "I don't believe it."

"Jim!" scolded the woman.

"Well, hell, Sally! Not a word?"

"Maybe he's been busy."

"Sweetheart?" Ellison Senior was looking pale.

Jim gestured at him. "Too busy to tell his own father he was serious about someone, never mind telling him he was gay?

I held up a finger. "I think the proper term is 'bi', and you should stop yelling."

"I'm not yelling!"

"Then whisper more quietly, man, because your dad isn't looking too good." He'd started sweating. I was closest to him, and I quickly took his arm and maneuvered him into a chair. "Doc? I think we need..."

"I'll be all right." He'd fumbled a little vial out of his pocket. "If I could have..."

"Make yourself useful and get him some water," I ordered.

Jim, looking suddenly a lot more concerned that pissed, filled a plastic glass in the bathroom and brought it quickly. Sally was saying, "William, do we need to get that doctor? He just stepped out into the hall."

"No." He swallowed a pill, and almost immediately looked better. "I'll be okay."

"Screw that." Jim went into the hallway. A moment later the doctor bustled in and started examining a grumbling William.

Blair went to stand beside him. "Does he have heart problems?"

"Yeah. He's had three attacks already."

William lifted his voice. "They weren't attacks--they were episodes."

"Nothing wrong with his hearing, though." Now that it looked like his father was going to be all right, he turned his attention back to me, and let me tell you--that man could give all his attention. "Why are you here again?"

The police officer had come up behind him. "He saved his life."

"What? I thought Steven fell off a railway platform."

"He did," agreed the cop. "But he landed on the tracks."

There was a gasp from Sally. "The tracks? Steven was laying on the railroad tracks?"

The cop nodded solemnly. "And a train was coming--an express." William took another pill. The cop pointed at me. "He jumped down and pulled him off. Saved his life."

Everyone stared at me. I blinked. Sally came over and hugged me--hard. "What's your name, young man? I want to be able to give thanks for you properly in my prayers.

"Blair Sandburg, ma'am."

"Ma'am! You call me Sally," she patted my cheek, "just like my other boys."

"Sally--right." I was looking around for an escape route, and grabbed at the first opportunity. "Sally, I have to go give my statement to the policeman."

The cop looked up. "Oh, you can wait for..."

"I need to do it." Jim looked at me. "While it's still fresh in my mind. Don't want to lose a detail that might help catch the creep. How about out in the hall? I'll see you folks later."

I stepped out into the hall with the policeman, but I grabbed the nurse in passing and hauled her out with me. Once outside I hissed, "Why did you tell them I was his sweetheart?"

She stared at me as if I'd started speaking Swahili. "That's what you said."

"I did not!"

"You said you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. What term did you want me to use? Lover? Significant other? Fiancé?"

"I said...? Oh, geez. Look, we're not," I gestured frantically, "connected. I've never even spoken to him."

She frowned. "Then why did you say that?"

"I was talking to myself, okay?"

"Well, honey, next time just tell yourself you're single and shut up."

"But now they think we're in love, and I don't even really know his name."

She consulted the chart on the door. "He's Steven Ellison."

"Thank you. That doesn't solve my problem." I glanced through the door, my eyes finding William. I whispered, "I was going to tell them, but... Well, I was worried about him."

She followed my gaze. "I know. Look, I may have pushed you into the hole, but baby, you're the one who dug through to China."

Jim came out. "Is there a pharmacy around here?"

The nurse was immediately alert. "What do you need, sugar?"

Jim held up the pill vial. "Nitroglycerin."

"For his heart problem?"

"Problem? Make that plural." He was staring at me. "You know, you may have saved both their lives. Dad really needed some good news right about now, and hearing that Steven is about ready to settle down qualifies."

"Why don't you come with me," the nurse said, "and I'll show you the way."

"Great." As he started down the hall after her, he turned, walking backward a couple of steps, and pointed at me. "Don't go anywhere. We need to talk."

Now, normally if someone that fine wanted to talk with me I'd be setting out chairs and getting refreshments, but now... I was ready to do a discreet fade, but I suddenly found a hand on my arm, and one of the big dark men who'd come in with Ellison said to the waiting police officer, "Patrolman, this young man can come into the station later to give a report. I'll vouch for him."

The officer nodded. "If you say so, Captain Banks. Tell Detective Ellison I'll be sending good vibes."

"I will."

He steered me back into the room. Like I was going to try to pull away from someone that big and intimidating. I don't think he was trying to be intimidating--he actually seemed like a pretty nice guy--but some things just come naturally, you know? He introduced me to the others. "I'm Simon Banks, and these are detectives Henri Brown and Rafe Rafe."

I must've looked skeptical, because the dark haired guy said with weary good humor, "Yes, that's really my name. Long story, and we'd rather hear about you and Steven."

"Are you all part of the family?"

"We work with Jim," said Henri, "and the squad is close, so we consider ourselves family. So, how did you and Steven meet? We could all use a nice story."

Rafe elbowed him. "How do you know it's a nice story?"

"When did you start working vice, Rafe? Why shouldn't it be nice?"

"Well, his last liaison certainly wasn't."

"Rafe." Simon's voice held a warning.

"Oh, come on, Simon! Steven was dating Jim's ex--how sleazy is that?" He looked at me. "Sorry. So, how did you get him away from Carolyn? It was love at first sight, right?"

"Did he pick you up in that big ass car of his?" Henri asked. "He's so proud of that BMW--really looks down his nose at Jim's truck. C'mon, you obviously have a lot going for you..." That made me blink. "so what was it that first attracted you to him?"

"Uh... his smile."

Rafe smirked. "Caps. Six hundred bucks a tooth."

Simon was staring at him. "How do you know...?"

"You don't want to know that, Captain."

"No, probably not. So?"

He was looking at me. "Well... he smiled at me, and I knew my life would never be the same again."

~*~*~*~*~

Joe Junior was waiting when I got back to the apartment. Without preamble he said, "Tomorrow night--eight o'clock."

"What?"

He puffed up. "I got tickets for the Icecapades. You like frou-frou stuff like that, right?"

I rolled my eyes and trudged up to my apartment. I had always known stress was exhausting, but I had no idea...

Anyway, I crashed, and slept for several hours. It was nighttime when I woke up again. I ate something, and spent some time staring at the bare tree I had intended to decorate that afternoon. There was nothing on television but It's a Wonderful Life (which I love), and I couldn't handle all the warm, fuzzy, family bonding, so I went out.

I shouldn't have been surprised when I found myself at the hospital. I mean, I didn't have anyone else I could go visit, since all my acquaintances were either out of town, deep in domestic bliss... or at the Icecapades.

They tried to stop me at the nurses' station. The Latino girl on the desk didn't exactly jump out and grab my arm when I started past, but her tone of voice was close enough. "Sir! Visiting hours were over a long time ago."

"Oh, sorry. Look, could you give me some information about one of the patients? I'm a little worried about him."

"We only give patient information to immediate family members," she said sternly.

"I just want to know if he's woke up yet."

She looked at me more closely. "Who would that be?"

"Steven Ellison."

Her face lit up, and she pointed at me. "You're him! Wanda described you to a tee."

Now I was confused. I didn't know any Wanda. Then I looked at the nurse's scrubs, and had a quick flash of a name tag--WANDA PRESTON--RN. The one who'd announced my 'engagement'. "I guess so."

She gestured toward the room. "You go right on in, Mister. The doctor left word that you were to be allowed in any time you wanted. He said to tell you to talk to him as much as possible."

"That won't be a problem. I have a lot to explain to him."

He was still laid out, pale and still, and he was still gorgeous. Maybe not quite as gorgeous as his older brother, but that wasn't really a fair comparison. I mean after all, total inertia isn't much competition for breathing fire. I sat next to the bed and leaned toward him.

"Hi. I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here in the middle of the night. I thought that I ought to introduce myself, seeing as half of Cascade seems to think we're deeply in love. I'm Blair Jacob Sandburg, and I think you ought to know that your family seems to think that we're sort of engaged. I've never been engaged before. How about you? Don't answer that."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I don't even know if you're gay, or if you'd freak at the very thought. Although I have to tell you--they didn't seem all that shocked by the idea, so either they've suspected, or they're really, really accepting. Either way, I'm afraid you're going to wake up into a real interesting situation, when you wake up. Please notice I said when."

"Don't be mad at me. This never would have happened if you were awake. Oh, I'm not blaming you," I said hastily. "It's just that when I was a kid I used to imagine how my life would be when I grew up--where I'd be, what I would be like. Normal stuff, right? Not with my upbringing. Most kids dream about sailing the oceans, climbing mountains, wandering around exotic foreign places. Not me. I'd been there, done that by the time I was about twelve. I used to dream about living somewhere I actually owned things that couldn't be stuffed into a suitcase on fifteen minutes notice--having someone who'd feel a hole in their life if I was gone. It... uh... it hasn't happened."

"Oh, I'm not complaining. I don't have it too bad. I have my own apartment, complete control of the remote. Okay, so there's nothing breathing in the apartment besides me. I had a monkey named Larry for a little while--he was like having a person there. If I wanted, I could have Joe. He'd be almost like having a person there, too." I thought. "Maybe I should get a cat."

"I've never met anyone I could laugh with, and I want that. Do you believe in love at first sight? Nah, you're probably too sensible for that. Or maybe you see someone who's perfect, and you think to yourself that if they'd only talked to you, if they really got to know you--they'd realize that you were..." I was remembering Jim, staring at me that morning. I could only remember two other incidents where I'd felt that alive--one was when the train was bearing down on me, and the other was while I was whitewater rafting. I shook my head. "Anyway, they'd drop the perfect model they were with and realize that you were the only one for them, and they just wanted to grow old with you." I remembered Jim, before he'd even noticed me, practically sucking the oxygen out of my lungs with the sheer force of his presence. "Have you ever fallen in love with someone before they even spoke to you?"

I watched the steady, peaceful rise and fall of his chest. The last thing I remember saying was, "Have you ever been so lonely you spent Christmas night confusing a man in a coma?"

Later someone was shaking me. I managed to sit up straight as I opened my eyes, but it was an effort. That chair was not designed for sleep. I found Sally gazing down at me. "Blair?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Yeah, hi."

William Ellison was standing behind her. "We didn't realize you were here."

"Were you here all night?" Sally sounded concerned.

"It's morning? Yeah, I was."

"You're like me--I can sleep anywhere."

William snorted. "And she has, believe me. How's Steven?"

I glanced at Sleeping Beauty. He was still in a coma, but they looked so hopeful that I had to find something positive to say. "He has more color." They peered at Steven closely, then both nodded in agreement. I stood up, wincing as sinews popped. "Well, I ought to go. It was great to see you guys again."

I noticed Sally poking William sharply as I got into my coat. He made shushing motions at her, then said, "We... Well, we didn't really get to celebrate Christmas, what with all this. We were hoping you'd join us."

I froze, stunned. They were asking me to spend Christmas with the family? Me--the perpetual outsider? "I'd love to, but I really... Christmas is for families."

Sally's expression was determined. "Jim's going to be there, and his friends from work are coming over, since most of them don't have family close by. You? You're Steven's boyfriend, and that makes you family, too." She poked William again. "Right?"

He nodded. He might have looked a little doubtful before, but his voice now was sincere. "Right. Please come. I want to get to know you. Will you come tonight?"

"I don't know... I have to work." He looked disappointed, and Sally gave me a hurt look. "Maybe. I can try."

He smiled, scribbling on a piece of paper, then handed over the little notebook and pen. "Here's our address. Give me your address and phone number, so I can call and talk you into it if you don't show up."

What could I do? The man had a heart problem. I put down my information--my correct information. If I'd never given someone a phony number to avoid having to talk to an undesirable bar acquaintance, I sure wasn't going to do it to a man with a heart condition and a son who he'd recently come to believe was gay--who was in a coma.

As I headed toward the elevators, I heard someone calling after me, "Sir? Sir? Mister Ellison's friend?" A nurse caught up with me and pushed a paper bag at me. "These are your husband's things."

I gaped. "He's not my husband."

She patted my shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm pretty sure they'll pass that legislation soon." As she walked away, I fought the urge to beat my head against the wall.

There was a man in a dark coat just coming out of the elevators, and he looked surprised. "Excuse me, did I hear her say you were, uh, with Steven Ellison?"

I sighed. I was just too tired to argue. "Yeah, sure."

He offered his hand. "Dalton Clark. I'm a colleague of Steven's at Lubel, Parker, Jacob, and Fink."

I shook his hand. "Hi."

The guy seemed nervous. "He... Steven's a great guy."

"Yeah, but he's having a tough year."

The man nodded sympathetically, "What with the accident last month, and all."

Last month? "Accident?"

He looked a little flustered. "Of course it was an accident. I mean, I didn't deliberately... Did he say it was my fault?"

"Your fault?"

He ran a hand down his face. "You had to have misunderstood him. He told me there was absolutely no hard feelings."

"I don't understand."

"Okay, we were playing basketball, right? I was carrying a pencil in my pocket. I'm a lawyer, we carry pencils, right? Well, we ran into each other..."

You know what? The very idea of what he said next makes me wince. I don't think I want to talk about it right now. Ick.

Thank God for good friends. The next day I poured it all out to Megan. Her response to my angst? "So what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? Megan, they think we're practically married. And his father has this heart problem, and if I tell them now he'll have a heart attack and die, and it will be on my head."

"Then go along with it. When this Steven guy comes out of his coma the family will be so happy, they won't care that you lied to them."

"I didn't lie to them." She gave me a look. "I just didn't, uh, correct certain assumptions."

"Obfuscate much?"

"Anyway, what if he doesn't come out of the coma?"

"Then what's the difference?"

I sighed. "I should tell them."

"Blair, look--when my mother found out I was living with my boyfriend, her intestines exploded." I burst out laughing. "Yeah, funny now, but you don't know how close that is to the truth. Tell them now, and you might as well shoot Daddy."

Crap. She was right.

So that evening I consulted the paper William had given me, and find myself in a very nice neighborhood in front of a house that could be made into a ritzy bed-and-breakfast with no trouble whatsoever. As I was coming up the walk, Sally came out the front door. She gave me a huge smile and came halfway down the walk. "Blair, you decided to come after all."

"Yeah." She was holding a big bag of sunflower seeds. I pointed, and said, "Snack?"

She laughed. "No, it's for the bird feeder. I like to keep it full. The poor things have it pretty hard in the winter. Would you come help me?"

I noticed the bird feeder hanging from a low branch on one of the pine trees that decorated the yard. She wasn't a big woman, but the feeder was obviously within easy reach, and she hadn't shown any sign of frailty since I'd met her. Maybe she just wanted company, but I had no problem with that. I wasn't exactly looking forward into going in and basically lying to everyone.

We went out to the tree, and I lifted down the feeder and opened it for her. While I did this she said, "We're so glad you came--especially William. He got used to Jim being bi a long time ago, but with Steven... He's been sort of pinning his hopes on an Ellison heir ever since Jim and Carolyn split up, but all he really wants is to see his boys happy." She smiled as she poured the seeds into the feeder. "And you'll make him happy, I'm sure."

A car had pulled up, and Simon Banks and a teenage boy got out. The boy greeted Sally with a hug, saying, "Hey, Sally? Is there any of your famous eggnog?"

"There is. And Daryl, you make sure to drink the stuff in the china punch bowl, not the crystal one."

"Ah, shoot."

"Your daddy would skin me if you got hold of some with real 'nog' in it."

"Nope," drawled Simon. "But his butt might suffer if he didn't spit it out as soon as he tasted it. Sally, Jim will be a little late. He had some paperwork he had to finish. He'd have come on, but they need it for a restraining order on some bastard who decided to celebrate Christmas by beating on his wife, and..."

"Oh, go in. As if I don't know the drill by now. We'll be in shortly."

They entered the house, and I said, "Open house?"

She was refastening the top of the feeder. "Hm? Oh, no--just family." She smiled. "You're thinking that the gene pool must've really gotten stirred, eh?"

"I wasn't going to say that."

"That's because you're polite. You see, the Ellison family isn't just blood. I'm not related, but I might as well be. I raised those boys. I love this family, and I'd never let anything hurt them--" she looked at me shrewdly. "If I could prevent it."

I stared back at her, then said firmly, "Me, too." And I meant it. They seemed like good people, and they had enough shit in their lives with this coma thing.

"The people Jim works with have become a part of us. We would have done the same for Steven's friends, but... well... Steven's sort of distanced himself the last few years. Hang it on that branch, please. We have a guard near the trunk to keep the squirrels away from it. Now, come in before you freeze."

Inside I was greeted warmly. Everyone I'd seen at the hospital was there, plus friends. Henri Brown introduced his wife, and Rafe had brought a date. I expected to feel awkward, but that wasn't the case. I was just sort of... enveloped. I found myself sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of Sally's killer eggnog (and she did spike that sucker, yowza) and flipping through a photo album with William. I had to grin over the picture of Jim holding a peanut out to a squirrel. "Two seconds after I snapped this," William told me, "he tried to pet it. He got six stitches and rabies shots, but you know, he didn't resent the squirrel? He said it was his own fault for scaring it."

The door opened, and I heard someone call, "It's the police! I've had complaints about the noise, people! You're going to have to quit blasting the Perry Como."

"Jim!" Rafe called. "Get in here. You're about three eggnogs behind."

Jim came in. He looked tired, but he was smiling. "Then I hope your date is doing the driving tonight, Rafe." He spotted me, and went still. "Full house tonight. Oh, God, Dad--you're not showing him the kiddy pictures, are you?"

"He needs to know something about the family he's coming into," William said firmly.

Jim accepted a cup of eggnog from Sally, then came over and sat on my other side. "Then I'd better supervise, to make sure you don't haul out the toddler bathtub pictures."

I'm going to have to look at that album again some day, because to tell you the truth, I didn't really see much of the pictures that were right in front of my face after Jim sat beside me. And when he rested his arm across the top of the sofa, brushing the back of my shoulders, I think my eyes crossed.

Sally came in, fiddling with a camera. "Christmas portrait time. Everyone in front of the tree. Louise has volunteered to take the picture." She handed the camera to Rafe's date, and everyone started to group in front of the big, beautifully decorated tree.

There was a lot of shuffling around and rearranging, getting the shorter people in front, so that everyone could be seen. Then William said, "Blair, what are you doing sitting there? Come on."

"I shouldn't. That's for family. It'll go in your album."

"Which is why you should be up here." I shrugged. William sighed. "You get him, Jim. I'm too old to be hauling young men around."

Jim came over, grabbed my hands, and hauled me up off the couch. "C'mon, kid. Don't make the old folks wait."

"Ha-ha, very funny," said Sally. "No, Blair, you're a little too tall to be in the front."
She pushed me back next to Jim. "There."

"I can't get everyone in," said Louise, sighting through the viewfinder. "Everyone get closer together."

"Bunch up," ordered William, and everyone began to squeeze in closer. "Tighter, everyone."

I froze as Jim put his arm over my shoulder, pulling me in till I was plastered against his side. I peeked up at him cautiously. Everyone around us was jostling and joking, so no one was paying much attention, and I wasn't self conscious about them. But Jim had sort of an intense look on his face. He'd turned his head a little toward me and... There's no other way to say it--he was sniffing my hair. I told myself I had nothing to worry about, since I'd shampooed just that morning. Besides, he didn't have that 'ew' look on his face. He looked down a little farther and caught my eye, then quickly looked up and called, "Snap the darn picture, before someone hyperventilates."

You, or me? I thought.

More pictures, more eggnog--lots more eggnog. I found myself in the middle of telling my life story, and I was surrounded by people who looked interested. No one was checking their watch, or rolling their eyes at each other. And every time I turned my head--there he was. Close enough for me to feel the heat of that solid body. Close enough for me to notice that the shadow of beard on his jaw was darkening. Close enough for me to worry that my increasingly relaxed body might react and get me pitched out into the snow--possibly with new bruises.

I'm not sure how much I told everyone, but I seem to recall making an attempt to leave at some point, and being told I was too drunk to risk even being sent in a cab. I think Jim offered to drive me home, but Sally stepped in and scolded him for wanting to haul me out into the cold when I'd exhausted myself sitting up with Steven. So I wasn't all that surprised when I woke up on the couch. I sat up blearily, pushing my hair out of my face.

"Good morning." A steaming mug of coffee was held in front of my face.

I didn't snatch, but I took it quickly. "God bless whoever you are."

I closed my eyes as I drank deeply, and I felt the sofa cushions dip at my side. "Exactly how drunk were you last night?"

I cracked an eye. Jim was sitting beside me, looking impossibly gorgeous even if he wasn't smiling. "Why? What did I do?"

His lips twitched. "Fell asleep with your head in Sally's lap. She enjoyed it, so don't apologize." He was quiet for a minute while I continued to sip. "You look very young when you sleep."

"I look like a mess." I put down the coffee and undid my hair. I didn't have far to go, since about half of it had already worked its way out of the tie. I searched and found my comb and began to work out the snarls. "Don't sit too, close, man."

"Sorry."

He started to shift, and I suddenly realized how that must have sounded. "You're not crowding. It's just that this mop can build up quite a charge of static, so you'd better move if you don't want to get zapped."

He settled back down. "I guess I can risk it. You know, Blair--you seem like an unlikely choice for Steven."

I paused in mid-stroke, then continued. "Really?"

"Don't go getting offended. It's nothing against you--it's just that Steven has always gone for a certain type. He likes them blonde, slender, sleek--and female. You're attractive, but I just can't picture Steven singling you out."

He was waiting for some sort of explanation. I looked at my watch. "Oh, wow! Look at the time! I have to go." I stood up... and realized I was in my boxers. I sat back down, jerking the afghan I'd been sleeping with back over me.

Jim stood and got my pants off a chair, handing them to me. "I'll give you a ride."

"I couldn't do that to you. I'm going to have to go straight to work, and that's way out..."

"I know where it is. Get dressed. I'll be in the truck." He left.

Damn. I ought to be fuming about being ordered around--and I would--if I'd just stop tingling.

The ride to the station didn't make things any easier. I'd never realized how fucking cramped a truck cab is. No, he wasn't driving one of those Japanese minis--this was a big sucker. But then again, Jim is a big guy, so I guess it sort of balanced out. In any case, I found myself taking shallow breaths, but since I seemed to be breathing more quickly, that balanced out, too. I only hoped we'd get to work before I hyperventilated.

I'm not sure if it would have been easier if we had talked instead of remained silent, but I honestly couldn't imagine any conversation that wouldn't have been awkward. Except maybe sports, and the Jags were having a lousy season, so I figured why bring up something depressing?

He pulled into the station parking lot, and I said, "Well, thanks. I appreciated it," and got out. He got out, too, and followed me as I walked toward the ticket shack. I paused, and he stopped also. "Are you going somewhere?"

He shrugged. "Just thought I'd walk along with you."

"I don't want to be rude, but I don't need an escort, man. I'm fully grown, if you haven't noticed."

His eyes glinted. "I noticed." Yes, definitely danger of hyperventilating. "I just thought I'd like a chance to talk to you away from the rest of the family."

"Oh. Uh... Maybe some other time?" I gestured at the building. "I really need to get to work."

Just then Megan came trudging up, headed for work herself. She stopped, and I didn't know whether to be happy that I had another person to distract Jim, or to groan because I knew I was going to have to spend my shift sitting through an interrogation that would have done a police detective proud. "Sandy, hi. Have a nice holiday?" She was eyeing Jim. "Meet anyone interesting?" she said pointedly.

"Megan, this is Jim Ellison. Jim, Megan Connors."

They shook hands, and Jim said, "I'm Steven's brother." He shot a look at me. "I guess I'm sort of Blair's brother-in-law."

I didn't cover my face, but I know I rolled my eyes toward heaven. "Really?" said Megan. "Say, do you have any idea what they'd need for a housewarming gift? He hasn't said anything about being registered anywhere."

Oh, I was so going to get her. I might have thought she was doing it to help me keep up the illusion--if it hadn't been for the smirk. "Megan, aren't we both going to be late if we don't hurry?" She twiddled her fingers at Jim and started toward the building again. "Gotta go." I started to turn away.

"Sandburg." The single word was sharp, and I just naturally stopped, fighting down a wince. This was it, he was about to tell me I was a fraud. Hell, he was a cop, he might be about to arrest me for false representation, or breech of promise, or something. I looked back at him warily. He was silent for a second, then he gave a tiny nod and said, "Welcome to the family."

I took my place in the ticket booth, under Megan's watchful eye, and waited. It didn't take long. The first customer hadn't even come up when she said, "So, Sandy..."

"Don't start."

"That's the brother?" She shook her hand and whistled. "Are there any more of them like that?"

"Go after this one--distract him."

"Nah, it wouldn't do any good. He's already interested in you."

I stared at her. "Not funny, Megan."

"Really? I think it's pretty hilarious."

"Okay, it might be, in a black comedy sort of way--if it was true--which it isn't. I mean, c'mon--look at him." She whacked me on the back of the head. "Ow! What's that for?"

"For cutting yourself down."

"I didn't say anything about myself."

"Yes, you did. You said 'he's big, buff, and gorgeous, so why would he be interested in me?'"

"I said that?"

"I'm fluent in Blairspeak. Blair, you have to raise your standards. You deserve someone like him in your life--as long as he has a personality to go with the good looks."

"He's good to his family."

"It's a start." I sighed. "I need to do something. I think Joe is telling people that we're dating." He was, but I didn't find this out till later. If I'd been sure, I'd have left work, gone home, and strangled him before Jim dropped by the apartment house looking for me.

Megan pointed at the paper sack sitting in the corner. "What's that? Your lunch?"

"No, those are Steven Ellison's effects. I haven't even looked at them yet. I should have brought them to the Ellison house, I suppose, but I sort of didn't want to make them think about it again."

Megan picked up the sack. "Let's look."

"What? Megan, don't do that. It's immoral, or unethical, or something. In any case, it's rude."

"I'll do penance by reading Miss Manners." She'd opened the sack, and was rummaging inside. She pulled out the dark coat. "Oh, nice! The man has style." She started going through the pockets.

"Megan, for Pete's sake!"

"Hey, keys. Oh, and that mugger must not have gotten much--here's his wallet. Now you can go by his place and drop off the stuff."

"I'm not going into a stranger's apartment without specific permission."

Megan was still fishing, and now she paused. "Uh-oh. I think you'd better."

"What possible reason could I have?"

"This." She pulled out a round, flat can.

I looked at it. "Puss-Puss Pate. He has a cat."

"A spoiled cat. This is some expensive stuff. And a cat who is probably pretty damn hungry by now."

I winced. "Yeah, that's a good reason. I can't let the poor animal starve."

So that's how I ended up going to Steven Ellison's apartment when I got off work. Man, he had a nice place. I was afraid that some sort of building patrol was going to come along and pitch my ass in jail. I let myself in. No cat came running to meet me, but I figured that wasn't unusual. Most animals hide from people they don't know at first, right? I dumped the sack on the sofa, then got out the can and headed for the kitchen, calling, "Kitty? Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." I glanced out at the plasma screen television. "Rich kitty."

I opened several drawers and finally located a can opener. You'd think that as expensive as that stuff was, they'd have put a pop-top lid on it. I kept calling, "Kittypuss." I made the kissy noises animals seem to love. Why will it attract an animal, but a woman will smack you for it? I got the can open... then heard a noise in the front room.

Okay, I was nervous. Hey, I was in a place I didn't think I should be, and I was supposed to be alone, so I reacted. I grabbed an orange out of a fruit basket sitting on the counter, and pitched it just as someone walked into the kitchen. If Jim hadn't been so quick, I'd have nailed him right between the eyes. As it was, he caught the orange neatly. It smacked into his hand like a baseball. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Nice shot."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone."

He put the orange on the counter. "How did you get in?"

"The usual way--a key?"

He leaned back against the counter, the picture of casualness. "Do you come here often?"

"Oh, you know. I'm here to feed the cat."

He got this 'aha!' look on his face. "Steven doesn't have a cat!"

You know, sometimes--not often, but sometimes--the timing of the universe is perfect. A fat, fluffy white Persian came strolling out of the living room, made a circle around Jim's legs, then spotted the open can of cat food. He came to me at a trot, chirping and purring like I was his dearest friend. I bent down to stroke him. "Hey, uh..." He was wearing a collar and tags, "Fluffy. Hi, Fluffy. Good kitty. Are you hungry? That's a stupid question. Hang on." There were a couple of dishes against the wall. I emptied the can into one. As soon as it hit the floor he had his face pushed into it. "I'd better get him some fresh water, too." I started rinsing the water dish, then ran water in it.

"I guess I owe you an apology. I honestly can't imagine Steven having a cat." The phone rang, and I froze. "Are you going to get that?"

"No, I don't think so. I'll just let the machine get it." Christ, I didn't want to talk to anyone else Steven knew.

He answered the phone. "Steven Ellison's residence--this is his brother, Jim. Who? Just a second." He held out the receiver. "It's for you."

Twilight Zone moment. I was almost afraid to take it, but I didn't dare not take it, because I'd have no reason not to. "Hello?"

"Mister Sandburg? This is Elizabeth Martinson. I'm a patient liaison, and we're contacting Steven's family to see if any of you would be willing to come in and donate blood. Now, I know that Steven didn't require much, but it's traditional for the family to contribute, and if you can, it would be a great help. We can't have too much blood reserve--you never can tell when there's going to be an emergency. Can we count on you?"

"Sure, I suppose so. I try to donate regularly, anyway." That wasn't strictly true. I'd sold plasma more often than I liked to contemplate.

"Super! Please come down as soon as you're free, and thanks." I hung up.

"Donate?" said Jim. "Are they asking for blood?"

"Yeah. I'd better go on down." I picked up the receiver again.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling a cab."

"You don't have to do that. Why don't you take Steven's car?" I hesitated. "You do know where it's parked, don't you?"

Sure, that's something a fiancé would know--and I don't. "I can't drive it."

"Why not?"

I thought quickly. "Insurance. I'm not on his insurance." He looked at me. "Yet. You know how picky some of the regulations are."

He nodded. "There's no reason for you to spend your money while I'm here. We'll go in my truck."

So a little while later I found myself lying beside Jim Ellison. Of course we were both lying on separate tables, with needles in our arms--not too romantic unless you're really kinky. He was flexing his fingers to help the blood flow, and I had to concentrate not to stare at the bunch and relax of the muscles in his arm. He said, "We need to get a picture."

"I don't think they commemorate the donation unless you've reached a milestone, like ten or twenty gallons."

"No, I mean of you and Steven."

"Oh, I don't think so. I'm not very photogenic."

"Are you kidding--with those cheekbones?" I know I blinked a few times over that, but he kept talking. "We need one of you and Steven together, for the mantle at Dad's. Do you have any, or are we going to have to have one done when Steven wakes up? Maybe a formal portrait. Everyone in the family does it when they get married, or just before."

"That could crowd a mantel up really quickly."

"There's room. We took down the one of me and Carolyn, and the single picture of me doesn't take up as much space."

"So, she was sort of--excised from the family?"

"Don't make it sound so cold. It was her choice."

"Wait a minute--Carolyn? That's the one they seemed to think I took Steven away from. Your wife...?"

"My ex." I winced, and it wasn't because the nurse was pulling the needle out. "Oh, it wasn't quite that messy. They didn't take up with each other till after the divorce. It was just a little uncomfortable." He held a cotton ball to the inside of his elbow as he sat up. "Steven didn't tell you about Carolyn?"

"We didn't talk much about the past."

"Uh-huh. Lets go up and see him, while we're here."

William and Sally were already there when we arrived. William was saying, "And I say there should be some way to get some premium channel in here. There's nothing for him to watch."

"William, he's in a coma," said Sally gently.

"So? That's no reason why he shouldn't have a decent choice."

"They only have it here so he can have some sort of stimulation round the clock."

"How stimulating is the Home Shopping Network if you aren't a Zirconium addict?" William turned off the set as Sally greeted us. "I'd rather read the phone book to him."

"Maybe we could sing to him," suggested Sally.

"That's a good idea," said Jim. He looked at me. "Why don't you sing to him, Blair? The voice of a loved one is supposed to work wonders. Sing him his favorite song."

Oh, shit. What sort of songs appeal to a yuppie? Maybe Huey Lewis and the News?

Sally clapped her hands. "Puff, the Magic Dragon! Oh, he loves Puff."

Jim closed his eyes for a second. Oh-oh. Supercop is up to something.

"Which of the Three Stooges is Steven's favorite?"

I frowned. "Curly."

He paused, then said, "That's no good. Curly is everyone's favorite."

"Really? I like Shemp."

"Favorite ice cream?"

I was getting irritated with this oddball third degree. "Baskin Robbins."

"Favorite baseball team?"

I put my hands on my hips. "Chicago!"

A pause. "Cubs or White Socks?"

Sally and William had been looking back and forth between us. Now William said, "Jim, what's going on here? Why are you asking him all these questions?"

"Don't ask me--ask his boyfriend."

Sally gasped, and William said sternly, "That's not funny, Jim. Steven..."

"Not him," snapped Jim. "Joe Fusco."

Everyone have someone say something that was so out of left field it left you gasping for a minute? Jim got this 'a-ha!' look on his face that really pissed me off. "Joe Junior?"

"That's right. Mister Joe Fusco Junior. He said you two were--intimate."

"Yeah, well, he also tells people he invented aluminum foil. He's delusional."

"He sounded pretty lucid when I talked to him."

William sat down, pale faced, and shook a pill into his palm, slipping it under his tongue. Sally slapped Jim on the arm. "See what you did!"

"What? Sally, I'm just trying to prove..."

"If he wanted to prove he was Steven's boyfriend, he could."

"Yeah? How. All those other questions he could have learned by asking around, or listening. I can't think of anything that's so intimate that only he would..."

"Steven has only one testicle," I said abruptly.

Absolute silence, while they all stared at me. William looked at his pill bottle, then put it away. Jim said quietly, "No way."

"Way," I assured him. "It happened just last month. He was playing basketball, and his friend had a pencil in his back pocket..."

Jim and William both winced, but Jim said. "There's no way of telling if that's true or not."

William gave him a jaundiced look. "There's one way, but I'm not going to."

"Well, don't look at me," said Jim. "And it wouldn't do any good to have him do it."

Sally straightened her shoulders. "I will."

"Sally, are you sure?"

"I bathed both of you, Jim. This isn't a problem." She lifted the sheet, then peeked under Steven's gown. She stared for a long moment, then lowered the garment and spread the sheet gently. She had a peculiar look on her face--shock mingled with relief. She nodded. All of us men groaned, and she said, "Well, look at it this way--he won't complain as much about how his tailor makes the trousers too tight in the crotch anymore."

"Look, I need to go," I said.

"You ran him off," accused William.

"No, no," I assured him. "I'm just... I have errands to run."

"Of course," said Sally. "You've been spending a lot of time here. I want to get a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, so I'll walk down with you."

Jim was pulling out his keys. "I'll take you home."

"No, really--it's too far. You should stay here with Steven."

Sally and I walked out. In the elevator, she looked at me. "I was a little surprised about the, um, injury."

"Yeah, well--it was a little freakish."

"I mean that you knew about it. Blair, the night you visited Steven, I was outside the door. I know the truth."

I slumped against the wall, then said weakly. "You don't have to worry. I'm going to tell them."

"Don't tell them anything," she said firmly. That got a blink. "Blair, do you remember when you said you'd do nothing to hurt the family? Since he's met you, William, and to a smaller extent, Jim, feel like they've got Steven back. He was drifting away before. If you tell them the truth now, it will be like they lost him again. They need you now, Blair--like you need them. I know you're a good man, and you'll do the right thing--but not now."

She hesitated. "I'm pretty sure Steven is straight, so how did you know about--?"

"His partner. The one with the pencil?"

"And this man just walked up to you and told you...? Steven really needs to reconsider his acquaintances."

I went home. Joe Junior was pissed about being 'stood up' for the Icecapades. I had one of those 'did so, did not' kindergarten arguments with him over that. Since we were both already pissed, I took the opportunity to have at him about the 'intimate' issue. I think his explanation was that we would be intimate, if I'd just admit to myself what I wanted. I didn't actually do anything, because being in jail around the holidays really sucks. I threatened to tell his mother about the time I caught him wearing her shoes if he didn't leave me alone. It worked. I had a few hours of peace. Well, peace except for my conscience nagging at me.

The relative peace lasted till early evening, when there came a pounding on my door. I'd decided to hide from reality, so since I didn't have anyone to stay up for, I'd gone ahead and gone to bed, hoping for temporary oblivion, if not peace. So naturally the peace was shattered. I staggered out and managed to weave my way through my furnishings without laying any bruises on myself. I stood on tiptoe (damn all tall home fittings designers) and squinted through the peephole. "Who is it?"

I found a bright blue eye peering back at me. "It's your brother-in-law."

I unlocked and opened the door, not quite glaring at him. "You're not my brother-in-law."

Jim shrugged. "So you and Steven go to Connecticut or Hawaii one of these days."

"More questions?"

He looked a little uncomfortable. "Look, I'm sorry about that, but I'm a cop, and I'm protective. It's my job and my nature."

I raked my hair up out of my face. "So if you're not here for another round of interrogation, what do you want?" Okay, so I was being a little snotty. I felt entitled, and I hadn't had caffeine.

"I brought you a sort of wedding present."

"I'm not..."

"We've been over that. Call it a 'welcome to the family' present." He was looking at me. I mean looking at me, and I suddenly remembered that all I was wearing was one of my rattier pairs of flannel boxers. I guess it's a good thing he wasn't in a cop mood, or I might have been open for an indecent exposure charge. He said, "Do you work the night shift, or something?"

"So I was tired. C'mon in, so I can get dressed."

He did. I waved vaguely around the apartment and said, "Have a seat. I'll be quick." I went into the bedroom, and faced the fact that I had it bad when I seriously considered putting on my good tweeds. I knew it was nudging toward love when I wondered if I'd have time to wash my hair and shave. I might even have done it if the aroma of brewing coffee hadn't ambushed me.

Dressing quickly, I went out and found Jim just pouring a mug of coffee. "Hope you don't mind."

"Mind? I'll write you into my will."

"How do you take yours?"

"I take it black when I need to jump start my brain." He handed me the mug, then poured himself a cup. I glanced around as I sipped, and said, "So, where's the present?"

"Out in the truck."

I shook my head. "Not a good idea, man. Some crook could break in and do a grab-and-go."

He smiled. "Not likely. It's a love seat."

I blinked. "You're giving me furniture?"

"It's from Dad, and he's a furniture manufacturer, remember?"

"Oh, that's great, but..." I looked around my cramped apartment. "There's no room for it here. I'm serious. It's already an obstacle course in here."

He cocked his head, considering. "It would be a tight squeeze. We could put it in Steven's apartment. Anything will go good there."

"That sounds good."

"Okay. Finish up the coffee and let's do it?"

"Us?"

"Sure. I wouldn't have brought it over now if I thought I'd have to hump that mother up the stairs by myself."

Well, I couldn't argue with that, could I? It was a really nice love seat, too. I climbed up in the truck bed to get a better look at it. I found the tag, and read it. Ellison and Sons."

Jim grimaced. "Crap. I thought Dad would have changed the tags by now. How many of those do they have in stock?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's not the company's legal name any more. It started out as Ellison and Sons, then I went into law enforcement, and it should have been 'and Son', but Dad kept hoping I'd realize I'd made the wrong career choice. Then Steven went to law school, and it went to 'Ellison', but Dad just hasn't had the heart to make that last little change." He patted my shoulder. "That's one reason why I'm glad about you. This is giving Dad a stronger sense of having family."

We arrived at Steven's apartment building, and luckily there was a parking space right near the entrance. Jim pulled up till his front grill was about two inches from the back bumper of the Accura in front. "That's a little close, isn't it?" I asked.

"Look, we're moving furniture--we want to be as close to the door as possible, don't we?"

"But what if someone comes up real close behind? How are you going to get out then?"

"We're only going to be a few minutes." He'd gotten out of the truck and was already hopping up into the truck bed. "Are you going to help me, or are you just going to sit there and watch me sweat?"

I wouldn't have minded watching him sweat. Bulging muscles? I'd have wanted popcorn. I couldn't say that, though, so we manhandled the love seat out of the truck bed. An honest to God doorman leaped to open the doors for us as we approached, but when we headed for the elevator, he moved in front of us, holding up his hand. "Sir? I'm sorry, but I don't have any deliveries listed for today. If you'll tell me who this is for, I'll call them and get their permission."

"No can do," said Jim. "It's for 57-G." The man frowned. "57-G, Ellison."

The man shook his head, beginning to look suspicious. "He's not here. He's..."

"I know that. I'm with his fiancé." He jerked his head at me.

The guy looked at me. I smiled nervously. The doorman's eyes widened. "Him?"

Jim's jaw firmed. "Yeah, him. You know him, right?"

The stare was even more puzzled. "I knew he was, er, involved--but somehow this isn't what I expected."

Jim's voice was challenging, "You have a problem with that?"

"Oh, no--no!" He smiled at me. "I'm new here. I heard that Mister Ellison's, uh, significant other was... scary."

I sighed. "You have no idea."

"I'm sorry for the trouble. Go right on up. Do you need any help? I could call the super."

"We'll make it," said Jim. "Just hit the button."

The doorman opened the elevator for us, and we wedged in. Good enough. And we managed to get the love seat through the front door, though we both had to be pretty careful about our fingers and the doorframe. We also managed to get about four feet into the apartment--and there we pretty much stuck. Steven already had a lot of furniture--big, heavy furniture. Furniture that would make professional moving men on steroids cringe. What the hell ever happened to those thin slat framed styles that used to be popular? "I think it will go well here," I said.

Jim was sweating--a thin sheen across his forehead and upper lip, so God knows what I looked like. He was also wearing a thin t-shirt under his open flannel shirt, and... I'd insert a whistle here if I knew how. It was sort of like seeing a classic Greek statue painted black. "Here?" His voice was strained. "It's in the middle of everything."

"How's your back, Jim?"

"Here is good. Careful putting it down. Watch your toes."

We put down the love seat and, as of one accord, and dropped down onto it with a duet of deep sighs. I looked over at him. "Steven can say where he wants it to go when he gets back."

"It'll give him something to do." We rested a little, I fed Fluffy, and we left--to find a SUV with its front grill almost nudging Jim's tailgate. "Oh, I don't believe this!"

The car in front hadn't moved, either, which gave Jim a total of less than half a foot to maneuver. "If you'll recall, I said..."

"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't say I told you so. Check the meter on the front one."

I did. "It says six am."

"What? That's what this one says. That turkey must have come down here and put more money in the meter."

"How dare they!"

"Sarcasm isn't helping. Crap. They could both be here all night."

"So they could." I pulled my coat a little tighter. "Well, looks like I walk back. Good thing it isn't all that far. Good night." I started walking.

He spread his arms. "You mean you're just going to leave me here with the truck?"

"Basically--yeah."

He came after me, catching up. "I'd better walk you home."

"Why?"

"Protection."

"I can take care of myself."

"I meant for me. This is Cascade. I'm a cop, and I know what the crime rate is like."

We kept walking. After a while he said. "You're shivering."

"Probably because I'm cold. I'm funny like that."

"You need a better coat."

"It was a new coat, or my text books this semester. I have a coat, even if it isn't that great, but most of the textbooks were new editions. The used ones wouldn't have done me any good."

"You're a student? I thought you were working."

"I'm doing both. Lots of people do."

We walked in silence for a moment, then he said, "I admire that." I felt an absurd urge to grin like an idiot. I managed to resist it--mostly. He continued. "We ran your ears off about our family the other night. Tell me about yourself."

"Me? I'm not that interesting."

"You must be, if Steven fell in love with you. I want to get to know you."

"I wouldn't know where to start."

"Tell me about your family. What about your father? Is he still living?"

"I wouldn't know, man."

"You've lost touch with him?"

"More like contact was never initiated." I shrugged. "I'm not exactly clear on how things went down. Naomi doesn't like to talk about it."

"Naomi?"

"My mom. Yeah, she was one of those who allowed her kid to call her by her first name. I didn't very often. I think that irritates her, but she won't say anything about it, because she's all into anything that she thinks empowers me. She's a traveler. We must've been around the world before I was twelve. I have a box of maps from everywhere at home. Usually the world is a mystery to kids--not me. I'm not sure if that's a completely good thing. Everyone needs a place to dream about."

"You don't have one?"

"Peru."

He stopped walking for a moment. "Peru?" His tone was careful. I nodded. "What made you think of there?"

"Because that's where they have the only personally observed instances of my grand obsession." I noticed that he'd fallen behind, so I stopped. "Did you step in some gum?" He came up slowly. "What's the matter?"

"That's really why you're interested in Peru?"

"That's where Sir Richard Burton observed Sentinels around the turn of the century. What other reason would I have for bringing it up?"

We started walking again. "I'm just being paranoid. Ignore me."

"Hard to do, man. There's an awful lot of you there."

"You've never been to Peru?"

"No. There were never any expeditions there, and I sure can't afford to finance a trip by myself. But I'm ready, if the opportunity ever comes up. I have my passport."

He shot me an amused glance. "What, with you?"

"Yeah. I always carry it. In case... Uh, well, you never know when you'll have to leave the country suddenly, and... I just like having it. It helps me believe I'm not going to spend the rest of my life in a ticket booth."

"Let me see."

"I don't think so."

"Look, you've already had some small indication of how stubborn I am."

"Yeah. No use in fighting it, I suppose." I dug out the passport and handed it over.

Jim looked at it. "You're right--you're not at all photogenic."

"Hey!"

"I'm joking. I do that occasionally. Not very well, though, apparently." He handed it back. "You look good. A lot better than mine ever looked."

"You have a passport?"

"Had. I had to do a good bit of traveling in my previous line of work."

I waited. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

The look in his eyes told me not to push. "Maybe some day. You're going to be around a long time, right?"

We got close to my apartment, and I discovered that, as usual, most of the other buildings on the block hadn't bothered to salt or sand their walks. The temperature had dropped enough to freeze the slush in the street, and they wouldn't be sanding it until morning, so it was pretty much a glacier for about a block. "Look, maybe I should go it alone from here. This is pretty icy."

"Nah. We've come this far, I'll take you the rest of the way."

"You can try if you're feeling brave, but I'm warning you. I've had to deal with this before, and it's a bitch."

We started toward the building. I haven't seen that much skidding and swearing since that time I worked in the school cafeteria for a work/study program, and one of the cooks dropped a five gallon bottle of Wesson. Jim started to slip and grabbed my shoulders. I braced my legs and managed to keep both of us from going down. I panted, "If you expect me to keep you upright, I think you're going to be disappointed."

"Just let me get my balance... Okay. Careful now..."

We kept moving, creeping closer. The second time I ended up clinging to him. In fact, my feet slid right out from under me, and I was sort of hanging from his neck. He put his arms around me automatically. I looked up at him, our eyes met... It was sort of like one of those camera effects I've seen in the movies. The camera locks on someone, and instead of zooming in on them, everything around them just seems to fall away, till they're all that's left. Pretty intense.

Then we both lost our footing.

I guess it's a good thing that he fell backward, because if he'd landed on me it might have been very painful. Luckily we fell onto the measly little patch of grass that ran between the street and the sidewalk, so no bones were broken, and no brains had to be scooped up. Or maybe the brains did need to be recovered, because neither one of us was acting like we had any. We both just sort of laid there, staring into each other's eyes.

Someone had to say something, so I did.

"Sorry."

I didn't say it was anything intelligent.

"It's okay."

For some reason, he wasn't being very erudite, either.

We managed to get up, and he said. "Something tore. Was it my muscles, or my pants?"

I looked. "The hazards of tight jeans. Your jacket isn't quite long enough to hide it."

We were almost to our destination. "Maybe you have a pair of pants you can loan me?"

"Even if you could actually get into a pair, you'd sing soprano."

"Nice thought. You go ahead."

"You don't have to go. I'm almost there."

"You're blocking the wind. Go on."

We inched over to the safely de-iced section in front of my building. Hazard passed, right? Wrong. Joe Junior was just coming out onto the front steps, glaring like someone had just told him they'd banned selling beer on Sundays. Joe was just stupid enough to actually try to get territorial, even with someone who could obviously break him like a breadstick. I decided to defuse things before they started. I turned to Jim and said, "Escort duty done, man. Thanks."

He glanced at Joe, eyes cool, and I was surprised to see my landlord's son actually show a little good sense by looking away and pretending to be interested in kicking a little sand down the steps. "So," said Jim, "I'll see you... when I see you?"

"Yeah." He just stood there, looking at me. I got the impression he didn't want to leave, and I can't tell you what that did to my insides. "Soon." He nodded, and started back toward his truck. I watched him go, and noticed that he looked back a few times. Maybe I should have just gone in--gazing longingly after him probably wasn't a sensible thing to do, but I couldn't help it.

Finally I turned and started up the steps. Joe lost his interest in the sand. He lifted his chin and said, "It's him or me."

"It's him." I pushed past and went inside. Okay, so I was a little blunt. Using subtlety on someone like Joe Junior is like trying to chip your way through a brick wall with a feather boa. Need proof? As I was walking away he said I didn't have to answer right away.

At work the next day I was talking to Jerry. He wasn't exactly happy about it, but he was having to check over paper work, so he couldn't escape. "I'm having an affair."

"I'm happy for you."

"Well, I'm not exactly having an affair, but--I like Jim."

"Who's Jim?"

"Steven's brother."

"That's nice."

"But he's Steven's brother."

"Who's Steven?"

"The guy in the coma."

Jerry sighed. "Yeah, that's a little awkward, but I really don't have time for this."

"Look, when I came to work here, you went on about how we were a family. Well, that makes you the wise old patriarch, so give with the advice. Tell me what to do."

"Why? It's not like you'll listen if you don't like it." I gave him puppy dog eyes. He sighed. "All right--advice. Tell the truth!"

"But if I tell Jim that I lied to his family, he'll never speak to me again. And what about William, and Sally, and I really like Simon, Rafe, and H, and they won't want to speak to me for hurting Jim and Steven..."

"Who are these people?"

"They're sort of like an extended family."

"Blair, you are born into a family--you do not join one, like the Marines."

I raked a hand through my hair. "I need something definite to do."

"Pull the plug."

I swatted him. "That's just sick."

"I'm sick? You're worried about cheating on a vegetable that you never even spoke to."

Okay, so Jerry was a bust. I was going to have to rely on my own decision. Damn, that's scary.

I decided to go to see Steven again that evening. I somehow thought that if I could just talk to him, I might be able to work things out in my mind. When I got there, though, the door was cracked, and I could hear a voice inside. I waited, hand on the knob. I wasn't eavesdropping, mind you. I just like to be sure of what I'm walking into. It was Jim, talking to Steven.

"Okay, Steve, down and dirty. Are you gonna fold?" A pause. "You're not gonna fold?" I peeked through the crack. Jim was sitting with his back to the door, and he had two hands of cards dealt out on the bedside table. He was playing poker with Steven. Maybe I wasn't as weird as I thought I was. I just talked to him--I didn't expect him to play cards. "Oo, he's staying in with a pair. Very impressive. Very bold. Confident. I'll call." There was a flicking sound. "Read 'em and weep, bro. Full house. You're just unlucky at cards." There was a sigh. "But lucky in love. D'you remember in, like, fifth or sixth grade, when I started getting really good at poker?" There was a chuckle. "I got very familiar with the inside of the principal's office. He always used to say why can't you be more like your brother, Steven? And you know what? I was all right with that. I had no problem with that, because I've always been proud of you, and I was never envious of anything you had." There was a moment of silence. "Until now." I felt my heart tighten. "Tell you what, I'll cut the deck. High card gets Blair." There was another moment of silence. "All right. Best two out of three."

I turned around and left. I couldn't face him then. God knows what would have come out of my mouth.

I could just walk away from that, get away from it for a little while. Still, over the next few days I went back. I visited. I met William, Sally, and Jim, and occasionally some of Jim's friends, there, and we talked. I always waited till Jim was involved in a conversation to slip off, because I just wasn't sure of how to deal with him. But there are some things that are harder to get away from. A guy who thinks he's God's Gift to anything with a pulse is one of them. New Year's Eve arrived, and I made my way home. I'd barely gotten my door locked and taken off my jacket when there was a knock on my door. "Who is it?"

"Joe Junior."

Crap. "I'm not here."

There was a pause. "I'm not falling for that. I know that trick."

"Go away, Joe."

The door opened, and he walked in. I gaped. He shrugged and said, "My mom has a set of keys."

"Joe, that's illegal, and you know it."

"I got something for you." He pulled out a corsage. "Ta da!"

Jesus Christ. The fact that he was giving me a corsage was inappropriate enough, but the sucker would have covered half my chest, and they were lilies. "I do not believe this."

"I told 'em to give me the same ones they use in the winner's circle at Arlington."

Yes, I was pissed off, but I swear... He'd turned the corner from annoying to pathetic. "They're beautiful, but I can't accept them."

"I could move in here. I bet Mom would knock fifty bucks off the rent."

So the sympathy is undeserved. "I have six months to live."

He looked hurt. "You're just trying to make me feel better. It's that other guy, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"C'mon, I've seen the way you look at him."

"How do I look at him?"

"Like you've just seen your first Trans Am. Ah, screw it. Here, take 'em." He shoved them into my hands. "You can lay 'em on my grave." He started to shuffle out the door.

Now I was feeling guilty again. "Joe?" He turned to look back at me. I went over and... Well, I was holding the flowers in my right hand, and I sort of... It wasn't really a hug, unless you count those 'buck up, you'll be fine' things. "Thanks."

He nodded. "Are you wearing the black briefs?"

Stunned would be the appropriate word. "What?"

"The ones I saw in the laundry room. I like black underwears."

I'm pretty sure he jumped back fast enough to avoid getting his nose broken. I pitched the lilies on the table by the door. I'd have run them down my garbage disposal, but it wasn't up to much more than an occasional lima bean or strand of spaghetti--and the spaghetti shouldn't be al dente. There was a knock at the door, and I stormed over, throwing it open. "Look, I told you..."

It was Jim. "So, were the flowers an engagement present, or what?"

He saw the flowers? Crap. How do I explain that? Simple--I don't. "I guess. Joe hasn't got a lot of imagination when it comes to gift giving."

He grunted. "Can I come in?"

I cannot deal with being alone with him right now. I grabbed my jacket again. "Sorry. I'm on my way to a party." Celeste did invite me. I was going to stay home, but I'm going now.

As I stepped out and locked the door he said, "Great. I'll give you a ride."

"You don't need to do that. It's really close."

He followed me to the stairs. "It's okay. I don't mind."

So I found myself riding in the truck again, and desperately in need of small talk. "How is everything?"

"It's fine."

His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel. "Are you sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure. Why?"

"You're just acting a little weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay, so you're acting nervous."

We rode in silence for awhile, and he abruptly said, "So, what about Steven?"

"What about Steven?"

"He's going to have a lot to deal with when he wakes up."

"Won't we all? Here it is." I got out. He got out. "Look, man, I'm telling you--I don't need an escort."

He was following me into the apartment building. "I'm not so sure about that. Joe Junior seems a little persistent to me."

"So is old Mrs. Harker's Chihuahua. When he humps my leg, I loft him a few feet. He's not mean, he just forgets. Same with Joe." We'd reached the apartment, and the sounds of partying drifted out to us. It wasn't enough for police complaints, but it sure sounded like they were having a good time. "Thanks." He waited. I sighed, and knocked. "I'd ask if you had any Chihuahua in you, but that would be ridiculous."

He held up his thumb and forefinger about a half-inch apart. "Maybe a tiny bit of jaguar."

That got a blink out of me, because I could definitely see it. The door was thrown open by Celeste. She was about five eggnogs to the good, and really happy to see me. "Blair, baby!" She snagged me around the neck, held a sprig of mistletoe over my head, and laid a liplock on me. "I'm glad you showed up, sugar. I'd already done this on all the men here, and the girlfriends would get pissed if I went for seconds. But you--I don't have to worry about anyone getting all territorial on me."

"Not necessarily." Jim's voice was dry.

Celeste focused on him. She didn't quite salver, but she wasn't far from it. "And you brought fresh supplies, you sweet thing!" She started to reach for Jim.

For some reason I felt compelled to stop her. Since I didn't want to actually knock her on her ass (hey, she was a friend), I said quickly, "Celeste, you remember hearing about the guy who got knocked onto the track?"

Her eyes got really big, and she jumped--right to the wrong conclusion. "This is...? Baby! Oh, did you ever hit the jackpot. C'mon in, you two." She grabbed a sleeve on each of us and hauled us in, yelling to the partygoers. "Hey, everybody, it's Blair! Blair and his fiancé."

Maybe if I moved to San Francisco a hole would actually open up and swallow me when I needed it. We were enveloped in a swirl of well-wishers. I guess it was kind of funny when one of them wished us many children, then realized what they'd just said. Turned a nice shade of Christmas red. It might have died down, but Celeste wanted to introduce us around, and if you think it's hard to get a word in edgewise when I get wound up, you've never met Celeste.

I found myself with a cup of eggnog in one hand and a rum ball in the other (and conspicuous consumption of either could have landed you in trouble with a breathalyzer) while Celeste introduced Jim to my boss--Jerry. Jerry shook hands, kind of bemused, and said, "I've heard a lot about you, Steven. You're looking good--a lot better than I expected. Should you be out of the hospital this soon after waking up?"

"Jer, that's not Steven," I said.

"No? But you're dating while he's...?"

"It's Jim--Steven's brother."

"Oh?" Understanding flashed in Jerry's face. "Oh!" Any idea how much meaning can be packed into a single syllable.

Celeste was confused--not surprising given her alcohol-to-blood ratio. "Who's Steven?"

"He's the guy in the coma." I figured if I was being given this trial as a way to learn patience in case I ever had children, it was a total waste.

"So why did you bring Jim?"

"I didn't bring him. He followed me."

Celeste eyed Jim. "Damn. Why can't something that fine ever follow me home? So this isn't your fiancé?"

"Celeste, men can't marry each other legally, so he couldn't be my fiancé."

She shrugged. "Fiancé, significant other, lover... Jim, right?"

"Not Jim--Steven. Well, not exactly... I mean..."

Celeste patted my arm. "Baby, let me get you some more eggnog. You need alcohol."

The evening was... interesting. I haven't had to do that much explaining since the last class I assisted in, and that was easier, because I was working with facts then. I couldn't very well run out as soon as I got there, so I stuck it out a couple of hours. Jim finally had pity on me and said something about needing to get up for work tomorrow, so we had a legitimate excuse to leave. When we got out at my place I said, "Well, that evening was uncomfortable."

"Oh, and I suppose I'm supposed to share some responsibility for that?" His voice was terse.

"What? No. Look, I'm sorry about the whole Steve/Jim/fiancé thing. It was just a misunderstanding."

"Well, on top of the Joe Junior thing..." He trailed off.

I wasn't going to let it go, not with that tone of voice. "Excuse me?"

"It's nothing."

"Oh, I don't think so. What Joe Junior thing? What? Because he gave me flowers?"

Jim shrugged. "And then you leaned."

"Leaned? I did not lean. I... hugged. Sorta."

"No, you leaned. Hugging is a lot different from leaning."

"It is not."

"Yes, it is. Hugging just involves hands and arms, like this."

I froze as he lightly put his arms around me. Oh, this should be stopped, right now. I found I was looking up at him. "And leaning?"

"Leaning involves whole bodies moving in, like this" He pulled me closer, till there wasn't a millimeter of space left between us. He was bending down toward me. You know that old saw about being able to fall into someone's eyes and drown? I was feeling like I could leap up into Jim's and soar. His voice was getting lower. "It involves wanting... and accepting."

He was going to kiss me. I know he was going to kiss me. So of course Joe Junior showed up. "Hey, Blair. Is that guy bothering you?"
_
"No."

"Are you sure? Because it looks to me like he's leaning."

Jim dropped his arms and stepped back. "You see?"

I didn't look away from him. "Joe, get out of here, or I'll tell your Mom where you hide your porno stash."

Joe sounded superior. "You don't know."

"It's in your underwear drawer." Now Joe gaped. "And don't bother moving it under your mattress, or behind the furnace in the basement. I'm psychic."

Joe left meekly. Jim said, "Okay, if you're not with him, how do you know where he hides his porn?"

"Please. Where else would someone like Joe hide his porn? Let's talk about the other misunderstanding. It seemed to be giving you a problem."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Your face got tense every time someone called me Steven's fiancé. Does that bother you?" He was silent, staring at me. "Why? It can't be because I'm a guy, since you're bi yourself. Or are you a hypocrite?"

Now he looked angry. "That's not it. It's just that you and Steven..." He stopped.

"Yeah, me and Steven. A lawyer, and a token clerk, right? I'm not good enough for him?"

"No, that's not it at all. It's just that you're not even his type."

"So we're back to the male/male thing again. What is his type?"

"My ex-wife."

Crap. Well, I can't get all sympathetic now. "You know, Jim--I had a lousy Christmas. My New Year's has just been ruined. If you come back on Easter, you can blow up my apartment."

I started up the steps, and he came after me. "C'mon, Blair."

I turned on him. "What do you want from me, Jim?"

He spread his hands helplessly. "I just want you to be happy."

"What are you, my happiness guru?"

"You seemed happy when you were with my family."

I closed my eyes. And with you. But why think about that, since I can't have either? "You can't pick your family." I went inside.

He followed, damn it. "Hey, wait. Who says you can't choose your family? People do it all the time. As long as the family chooses you back, there's no problem."

We were at my door. "Yeah? And if they don't choose you back?" I unlocked my door.

"You don't have that problem."

I gave him a look, thinking about how I was soon going to have to tell him, and his father, the truth. Thinking about how fast I'd be run out of his life when I did. "You know what I have, Jim? Nothing. Goodnight." I stepped in and shut the door, locking it.

There was a tap at the door. "Blair?" His voice was very soft. I just leaned against the door, hoping he'd go away. I couldn't talk to him, because the way I was feeling, I'd either just blurt out the truth, or I'd do something... I'd step over a line, and there'd be no going back. Finally he said, "Okay. I'll see you later." A pause. "Okay? Okay, Blair?"

I whispered, "Okay."

The next day, just as I was getting off work, there was a call from the hospital. Megan took it, because I was in the can. Since she wasn't a relative, they wouldn't give her any information, just that it was urgent, and I needed to get down there now. A phone call like that really lights a fire under your butt. I flew to the hospital. When I got there, I did everything but hurtle candystripers getting to the room.

When I got there, there was a crowd of nurses, doctors, aides, and other patients gathered in the hall, peering into Steven's room. When I came up, I swear to God, they applauded. That eased the anxiety a tiny bit. People usually don't applaud at tragedies. They parted, and I started worming my way to the door.

Sally came out and met me. "Sally, what's going on. I got a call to come here, but the didn't tell me anything. What is it? Is it good news?"

She was beaming. "Oh, yes!" Then she looked more closely at me, then shook her head slightly. "Yes, definitely." She pulled me into the room. There were people gathered around the bed--William, Jim, Simon and Rafe, the nurse who'd first taken me in to see Steven, and a couple of doctors. Steven...

Steven was sitting up... with a puzzled smile on his face... and his eyes open. Awake.

Oh, shit.

The nurse grabbed my hand and pulled me right up to the bed. "Steven?" He looked over politely. "Steven, your family is here." He looked at her, his puzzlement growing deeper. "Not me, sugar. I'm your nurse. Him." She pushed me forward.

What could I do? I waved. "Hi."

Blankness. "Wh-who are you?"

Silence. A strong stare from Jim. Then William said, "My God--he's got amnesia."

Ah, yes. Well, my life was already a soap opera, so why not? One of the doctors was saying, "Lacunar amnesia is a condition where memory loss is localized and patchy, limited to isolated events."

"Selective amnesia?" said Jim.

"Exactly!" said the doctor. "You see..."

I grabbed Sally and hauled her to the back of the room. Under my breath I hissed, "What am I gonna do?"

"You mean you didn't tell...?"

"I... I... It just didn't seem like the right time."

She sighed, patting my hand. "I'll tell them. I'm too old for them to kill. I'll do it right now. C'mon."

"I'm right behind you--seriously. There's a vase that's perfect for throwing on that table, and you've just been designated shelter."

But as soon as we neared the bed, Jim grabbed me away from Sally. I was beginning to feel like a beanbag in a keep-away game. Jim spoke to Steven. "Hey, champ! Remember him?"

Steven regarded me. "Should I?"

Jim urged me forward. "Look closely."

"He looks familiar." Well, I would. He saw me every weekday.

"Maybe it's coming back," said William hopefully. "Steven, you have amnesia."

He blinked. "I do."

"Yes. Don't you remember your lover--Blair?"

He looked around the room, perking up. "Where is she?"

Silence. Then Jim said, "Steven, this is Blair."

I've never seen anyone's eyes get that wide, that fast. I looked around for Sally, because this seemed like as good a time as any for her to break the news. You know the theory--jerk the bandaid off quickly so the pain will get over with quickly? Yeah, yeah, I know it's bullshit, but we cling to some beliefs through sheer desperation. Anyway, she wasn't there. She wasn't there! If it was anything less than alien abduction, I was going to be very pissed.

He was staring at me, looking like he was thinking very hard--or trying to think very hard. Jim was looking from him, to me, and back to him. William was still talking. "Yes, and I'm surprised that you haven't introduced him to us yet, Steven. I mean, the fact that your bi came as a little bit of a surprise, but he's such a wonderful person. How could we not be happy to have him in the family?"

The nurse came in with a tray. "Excuse me, folks. Hey, Steven! Lookin' good. I've got jello for you today."

He stared down at the quivering green cubes. "Do I like jello?"

"You always used to try to con me out of mine, so I suppose so," said Jim.

"Folks, he's had enough excitement for one evening," said the nurse. "Why don't you all go home and rest, too? You can see him again tomorrow."

William picked up his coat, glancing around. "Where's Sally?"

"I'll go look!" I was out of the room before Jim could say anything. I caught Sally just coming out of the ladies' room. "What do you mean, leaving me in there alone?" I hissed.

"What, I can't go to the restroom?"

"But they're leaving now, and you didn't..."

"I'll tell them, I'll tell them."

"When?"

She smiled. "Maybe on your golden wedding anniversary?"

"Aargh!" I didn't scream--I just sounded a little strangled. It got me a worried look from a passing nurse, though. "Frog in my throat," I explained. When she'd passed, I said, "Sally, you promised me."

"I will, I will." Jim and William came out of the room. I stared at her. "What? I'm not doing it in the hall. Later."

The two men joined us. Jim said to me, "You took a cab again, didn't you?"

"Yeah. It was too far to walk."

"I'll take you home."

"Oh, hey, no. I couldn't make you drive..."

"Dad will take Sally home. I came in my truck."

"That would be wonderful," said Sally. "I'm sure that Jim is just like me--so excited about Steven that he needs someone to share it with."

"That's right." William was beaming. "You know, Blair, Steven had gotten a little distant. I can't help but feel that maybe this near tragedy was God's way of bringing him back to us, and you've been a part of it." He hugged me. "Thank you, son. I'm glad you're going to be a part of the family."

How the hell was I supposed to answer that? I hugged back. "Me, too. Thanks." Meantime I was giving Sally accusatory looks, which she was ignoring. Maybe Sally wasn't the official mother, but she damn sure knew how to fill the space.

Jim was quiet as he drove me home. Finally I said, "You know, you've been great this week."

"Yeah?" he said quietly. "Like when I accused you of lying to everybody? Or when I accused you of hanky-panky with Joe Junior? Or when I made you believe I thought that Steven wouldn't really have been interested in you? Yeah, I've been terrific. I've really made your life easy this week."

"Look, Jim... Things are changing. Things will probably be different after tomorrow."

"I just wanted to say that I know I've been sort of an asshole, but... I've come to think of you as a friend. A good friend."

"I'm glad, Jim."

We'd stopped at my apartment building. Once again he got out and walked up the steps with me. At the door he said, "Blair?" I turned to him. He was looking down at me, and there was... You could only call it yearning in his eyes. He said quietly. "You're special. You seemed kind of alone when I first met you." He leaned down and quickly kissed me, touching his lips briefly to the corner of my mouth. "I'm glad you won't be alone any more." He hurried back to his truck and left. I went upstairs and tried to tell myself that maybe when this was all over, he might still think of me as a friend.

Sally went to see Steven again the next day. She told me later about the visit. Steven was sitting up in bed, remembering as much as he could, with William and Jim sitting by, cooberating wherever possible. "Twenty-two, ten forty eighth grade locker combination. Birth date: three eleven fifty-nine..."

"That's right," said William. "Do you remember the time?"

"Five in the morning, and Mom was in labor six hours."

"If you can remember that, you have to remember Blair," Jim insisted.

"Social Security number: one-four-four, six-oh-six-eight-nine-four," Steven recited.

"You love him, you just don't remember."

"Three point seven three grade point average, North western University--I remember that," said Steven.

Sally said, "Look, you two go get some coffee, and let me sit with Steven."

"Are you sure?" Jim asked.

"Jim, as many hours as I've sat with you two when you were sick? Go. Let me spend some time with him."

"Senior class president, nineteen eighty-one. I remember that," said Steven.

"We'll be back soon, son," William assured him.

When they were done, Sally sat down by the bed. "Steven? Dear, I know you're still floating a little right now, but I have to talk to you seriously."

"Okay."

"I've known you since the day you were born. I've been to every major event in your life from Cub Scouts to... well, to the day you discovered hair on your dangles." He gaped. "Don't look so shocked, Steven. You were so loud bragging to Jim that I couldn't miss it. You've got a good education. You're very popular with all those friends of yours. You make a nice living. And everybody knows you're a good-looking kid. But, Steven--you're a bit of a jerk."

He gaped. "Excuse me?"

"Don't get me wrong. I raised you, and I couldn't love you more if I'd carried you for nine months, but you are kind of a jerk?"

"Is there a point to this? Some sort of shock therapy?"

"There's something you've got to know about Blair." He was staring at her, and she says that right about then was when her good intentions crumbled. "He isn't just your lover--he's your guardian angel. Steven, he saved your life--literally. He'll be by to see you soon, and I want you to do yourself a favor. I want you to look into his eyes, and listen with the heart of a man who's been given a second chance at life. And, if after two minutes you're not madly in love with him, I want you to break it off. Then you can go back to being a jerk. But if you see in two minutes what it only took me, your father, and Jim seconds to see, ask him to be yours again--before he gets away." She smiled. "You know, if I was forty years younger, I'd go after him myself. That is, if he'd convert."

So the next day when I went in to see him, I thought he'd been 'informed'. It's lovely walking into a situation like that blind. When I came in, he smiled at me. "Blair?"

"Yeah, hi." I held up a bag. "I brought your stuff back--watch and wallet. I think the police found your briefcase in the trash. He didn't managed to get into it, but he messed it up pretty good. Sorry."

"There wasn't anything you could have done about it. Come in, sit down."

I did. This was weird. He'd already talked to me more than he had during the months he'd been coming to the station. I had no idea what to say to him. As I sat, I said, "Can I get you anything?"

He picked at his hospital gown. "I'd like my own clothes."

I'll admit it--I looked through his closet when I was feeding Fluffy. "I like your blue-pinstripe."

"The double breasted?" I nodded. "That's my favorite, too."

There was a moment of quiet, and I felt like I had to fill the vacuum. "I was at your father's house at Christmas--for the Christmas party. I saw a picture of you and the squirrels."

He shrugged. "They never call, they never write."

I had to smile at that, despite my nervousness. "Well, it was a long time ago."

He nodded. "I guess we don't get to do too many heroic things as an adult."

"You got that right."

"Not you, though. Or Jim."

"Jim? Oh, yeah, being a policeman."

"More than that. I guess I didn't tell you about what he went through when he was in the Rangers, and Sally wouldn't have brought out the scrapbook about it if he was there. He doesn't like to talk about it much. I don't think I've ever done anything truly heroic in my life. I chased a purse snatcher once."

"There ya go."

"I pretended to pull a hamstring."

"Well," I said judiciously, "most people wouldn't even have chased him. I work at the El--I know. You--you give up your seat on the train every day. I've seen you as the train is pulling out."

"But that's not heroic."

"It is to the person who gets the seat. And you gave me something to look forward to, every day."

He squinted at me. "You know--you do remind me of someone."

Right about then, a chic looking blonde woman stormed in, with a nurse on her heels. "Ma'am, I told you that only family is allowed to visit. We'll be transferring him to the second floor in a few minutes, then you can..."

"I am family," she snapped. "I'm his fiancée."

The nurse blinked. Then looked at me. "But I thought he was..."

"What?" She stared at me, then at Steven. "Steven, I tried to go to your apartment, and your doorman wouldn't let me in. He said that he'd seen your lover, and I didn't look a thing like him. I just figured the man was an idiot. What's going on here?"

Jim, William, and Sally crowded into the room. Jim said, "I'd sort of like to know, too. Hello, Carolyn."

"Carolyn?" I said, "As in your ex-wife?" I stared at her. "And you're Steven's fiancée?"

"I'm glad you admit it," she growled. "And the divorce was final ages ago."

"Carolyn," said Steven. "We broke up."

"No, no. I was confused. I took a step back."

"You moved to Portugal."

"I cleared my head, and I'm ready to marry you now."

"But I'm sort of committed to Blair--I think." Steven was frowning in concentration. "I didn't think I was bi, but if it's gotten this far, I must be."

"I can't believe this! I want my things back!"

"Fine, then I want my things back."

"You never gave me anything."

"What about that nose? I paid for it."

Her hand flew to cover her nose, and Sally murmured, "I thought it wasn't quite as pug as it used to be."

"Oh, shut up, you old crone!" she huffed.

"Now wait just a minute!" I really didn't like the way she was talking to Sally.

"Oh, shut up! Steven, I'm willing to go ahead and marry you anyway, if you'll just promise me we don't have to deal with your family."

I started, "You are some..."

A new voice said, "I object to that." We all turned to see a strange man in a dark coat standing in the door.

"Who are you?" asked Jim.

He pointed at Carolyn. "I'm her husband?"

I had to sit down.

Jim was gaping. "Carolyn, you've already been married again, and you accepted a proposal from my brother before your second divorce came through?"

"It's a technicality," she said defensively.

Sally had sidled over to me, and whispered, "Now would be a good time to tell them. William hasn't even gone for a pill, and with things this stirred up, a little more can't hurt."

"What? You didn't tell them?

She shook her head. "Or Steven?"

"You didn't tell Jim, William or Steven? Sally--you're fired."

"Thank God."

"Crap." Carolyn, her husband, Steven, and Jim were all talking at once. I raised my voice. "Excuse me, I have something to say." They got quiet and looked at me. "I'm about to rip the bandaid off."

"What the hell is he talking about?" said Carolyn.

"Shut up." Jim looked at me. "What is it, Blair?"

I took a deep breath. "You all remember the day Steven was brought in? Of course you do, who could forget. Well, there was a mix-up that day. I saw him pushed onto the tracks, and I pulled him off. Naturally I wanted to go along and see that he was okay. But when I got here, they wouldn't let me see him, because I wasn't, you know, family..." Jim started to say something, and I held up my hand. "Let me finish, or I'll never get this out. Someone told the doctor that Steven and I were... together, you know? But it's not true. We've never been... intimate. I never even really talked to him before, well, before he woke up again."

There was silence. Everyone looked a little stunned, but, shockingly enough, not angry. Finally William said quietly, "Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I didn't know how to tell you. When we were in the hospital room, everything happened so fast, and everyone was so upset, but it seemed to help you, believing that." Sally nodded. "And then--I didn't want to tell you. You--William, Sally, Jim... the others. You took me in and treated me like I belonged. I haven't had that for a long time--and it was nice. I fell in love with you."

Steven was obviously concentrating. "You fell in love with me?"

"No. Not you specifically. I fell in love with all of you." My eyes found Jim, who was staring at me silently. Some of you more than others. "I went from being nothing to no one, to being a lover, a son, a friend... You know, Steven, maybe I saved your life on the tracks, but you saved mine, too. You let me be a part of your family, and I needed that. I've been drifting so long, and I just didn't want to let go. So thank you. Even if it was only for a little while," my eyes went to Jim again. "I'll never forget it."

I walked out then. I hoped, God how I hoped, that someone would follow me out, ask me not to go. Preferably someone very tall, with pale blue eyes. But I guess they had a lot to talk about. I tried not to feel too empty as I made my way home.

Joe Junior was on the stoops when I got home. He started to talk, and I held up my hand to stop him. "Not now, Joe. I might bite right now." He stayed put as I went in. My apartment still had the skimpy Christmas ornaments I'd put up, so I started to take them down. I was pretty sure that I wouldn't want to celebrate Christmas for a long, long time.

There was a knock on the door. "God damn it!" I stormed toward the door. As I started unlocking it, I started ranting. "I don't want any flowers. I'm not wearing black underwear, and I damn sure don't want to move in with you, J..." Jim was standing in the hall. "Jim?"

"Jim," he agreed. "I don't have any flowers. I wouldn't mind seeing the black underwear. And under the circumstances, it might be better if we don't move in together--right now, anyway."

"I thought you were Joe Junior."

"I get that a lot." He stepped into the apartment, pushing the door shut behind him.

"I... uh... I wasn't expecting..."

"You should have been, but I suppose it's my fault that I haven't said anything." He reached out and touched my face. "I shouldn't have let you leave the hospital alone, but you have to understand that I couldn't miss the rest of that scene between Steven, Carolyn, and her present spouse."

"Yeah. I don't suppose you had a camcorder with you?"

"No, but Sally's version will be just about as good as a tape. We can go over to Dad's in a couple of days, and she'll make us tea and cakes, and give you the dirt."

I tipped my head forward, letting my hair fall down to hide my face. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"You should be."

"I didn't mean to hurt Steven..."

"He'll get over it easily. I mean you've got a lot to answer for with me--letting me think I didn't have a chance with you." I looked up questioningly. "I've been beating myself over the head for the past week because I'd fallen in love with my comatose brother's lover."

"Love?"

He nodded. "He's a jerk. You know those squirrels he saved? He knocked 'em out of their nest with a rock first. He's always doing stuff without thinking, then trying to clean up his mess. It was the same way with Carolyn. So tell me, do you think you'll be able to stand him as a brother-in-law?"

"Jim?"

He took me in his arms. "Connecticut, or Hawaii? We could also get married in the Netherlands, but I thought that with New England or Hawaii we could just go ahead and have the honeymoon without having to do a lot of traveling. If that's all right with you?"

I put my arms around his neck. "I'd kind of like to go somewhere warm. I'm cold natured."

He grinned. "Did I tell you my loft has a fireplace?"

So I am going to spend the rest of my life with one of the Ellison brothers--but it's Jim, not Steven. He gave me the perfect wedding present. He put my name with his on the deed to the loft, and wrote my name in the Ellison family Bible. He gave me a home, a family, and most importantly, a place in his heart.

Steven asked me once when I fell in love with Jim. I told him the truth.

"It was while you were sleeping."

The end.
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Author's Acknowledgements: Thanks to Blue Tattoo for the cover, Patt for the art, and Elaine for the beta.