"Jim! Phone for you!"

Blair watched as his partner sashayed across the room and took the receiver from Henri. "Thank you, darling. Ellison."

His face went white. "Funeral? Wake? Timothy, honey, we didn't know. Not...oh, my God! Who's handling the case? It's been *how* long? Darling, that is *not* acceptable. Of *course* we'll be there. We were on stakeout, hon. No one told us a *thing*. I *will* find out. We'll be there."

Jim hung up the phone and sat down heavily in the chair next to the desk. Blair walked over and put his hand on the padded shoulder of his partner's elegant window pane plaid jacket.

"Jim? What was that about?"

Jim's eyes were wet. "Miss Freddie. Some *bastard* killed her. Funeral's tomorrow."

"Oh, damn! Who did it?" Blair could feel the tears welling in his own eyes.

"We don't know. An incompetent *boob* named Atkins has been investigating for a *week*. I'm going to call him *now* and find out just *exactly* what's been going on." Jim's eyes were flashing. Blair understood perfectly.

"Why didn't anyone tell us? If it's been a week...Miss Freddie's Catholic, right? Wouldn't there be wakes or something?"

"We've been on stake out, Chief. And I know we haven't listened to our messages. We'll probably have a *dozen* waiting for us at home."

"Oh, man. I'll call Miss Melly now. Poor guy...he must be falling apart about now. How long were they together?"

"For*EVER*. Homicide? This is Jim Ellison. Do you have a...person by the name of 'Atkins' there? No, sweetcheeks, I will *not* hold. You just get him now, or tell me *where* I can find him, or I'll just *drop* by. Thank you."

Blair grinned. Atkins was not going to know what hit him. If anything, Jim was more intimidating *now* than he had been before he came out. He walked back to their desk and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Miss Melly?"

"*Blair*! Blair, they killed Freddie!"

"I know. We just found out. I'm *so* sorry, Melly."

"You and Jimmy *will* be there tomorrow? She would have wanted you there. She loved *both* of you *so* much."

"We loved him, too. He was so happy the last time we all got together."

****

Zacky Glass and TJ Martin had been playing in the Glasses' back yard under Freddie's supervision.

"Look, Aunt Freddie! No hands!"

Zacky balanced on his swing precariously.

Freddie had come running up, arms outstretched. "I'll catch you, honey! Auntie Freddie's here!"

Zacky giggled as only a child of that age could and timed his jump perfectly, landing gracefully in Freddie's arms.

Blair, who was carrying out a tray full of burgers from two different kingdoms and three phyla - beef, salmon and veggie - put it down on the picnic table to applaud. "Bravo, Zacky!"

Zacky grinned, slipped down from Freddie's arms and bowed the way Maestro had taught him.

"Catch me, Auntie Freddie! Catch me!" TJ stood up in his own swing. However, he didn't have Zacky's years of ballet training behind him. He missed.

However, Miriam Glass, who was at present under Blair's car with Timothy and Jim, had built the playset herself and designed it for safety.

TJ landed, laughing, on a soft mat. That didn't stop Freddie from fussing over him as if he'd actually been in danger.

"Oh, cherub! Auntie Freddie is so sorry she's so clumsy. Where does it hurt, angel? I'm soooo sorry."

"I'm fine, Aunt Freddie."

Freddie refused to be satisfied until he had checked the boy over. "Yes, sweetness, you are. But be *careful*."

Mel came rushing over. "Is he? Freddie, you can't let them be wild."

"Don't worry, Aunt Melly. Mom and Dad will still let both of you babysit." TJ grinned at both of them.

"Of course we will, Mel." Lisa Martin put her bowl of sliced vegetables next to Blair's tray. "We wouldn't trust TJ with anyone else."

Jacob Glass followed her with a bowl of marinade.

"Are you thinking of giving up Freddie and Mel? We'd love to use them some night."

"Us! You want *us*?" Mel stared at Jacob.

"Surely, Mel. Zacky loves you both, and we've seen you for months with Teej. Blair, let's get the grill fired up before the carnivores start demanding meat."

"I resemble that remark, Jake!" Blair laughed as he gathered the trays of food from the table. Jacob had already started the grill, and the coals had burned to white. He began putting out the various sorts of burgers while Blair poured marinade over the vegetables.

"I see you gentlemen have the food well in hand. I'll call in the grease monkeys." Lisa waved as she stepped into the house. Minutes later, as the burgers began to sear, three figures in filthy coveralls came to the back door, sniffing.

"Oooh. Jacob, honey, that smells *divine.* Make mine rare, sweetie." Jim had grease all over his face.

Miriam, her hair tucked up into a hat, grinned. "Well-done for me, Jacob. Blair, your car is purring like a kitten."

"I want one of them salmon burgers." Timothy was standing between both of them, a huge grin on his face. "I wish I had these guys when I was running trucks. Best mechanics I ever seen."

"You girls are sooo filthy. I love it." Freddie grinned at the trio.

"Did it just for you, Miss Freddie." Jim pretended to fluff his hair. "Butch enough for you, sweetie?"

Freddie just giggled, and went back to watching the boys play.

Lisa herded the three of them inside to clean up while Blair and Jacob manned the grill and Mel set the picnic table to perfection.

They'd ended that evening watching the boys chase fireflies and nibbling at the cake Freddie had brought for dessert, while listening to Blair and Lisa jam on their guitars.

*******

Blair shook his head. How could anyone hurt that sweet, gentle man?

"Of course, we'll be there, Melly. Why weren't we told before?"

"We *did* leave messages, Blair, honey."

"We haven't checked them yet. Melly, we *will* find out what happened. This is for you and for Freddie."

He exchanged more promises of support and assurances of love and hung up.

No sooner had Blair put down the phone than it rang again.

"Major Crimes, Sandburg speaking."

"Doc, this is Dixon from Homicide. Your partner looks like he's going to explode. You better get over here." The woman sounded frantic.

Blair jumped up and ran down the hall, his ponytail flying. He remembered Dixon - she'd been at the party the PD had thrown him when he got his Ph.D. a couple of months ago. She'd seemed level-headed enough then.

Homicide was on the same floor as Major Crimes. He practically skidded there. Dixon was at the door. She put her finger to her mouth as she gestured him in.

"...files indicate you did *nothing* for this case." Jim's voice was absolutely calm. He was leaning over the desk of this middle-aged guy in a baggy suit, far too close for that man's comfort.

"I did what I had to do, *Detective*. Why does Major Crimes give a damn? Why should anyone care. It's just some old ex-con fag."

Blair was about to take a step forward when Jim stood up straight and tossed his head back, letting the light from the desk lamp glint off the gem in his ear.

Blair motioned Dixon to stay back. Things were going to get dangerous.

"Would you care to repeat what you just said, sweetcheeks?" Jim leaned even closer to the man, who was beginning to sweat.

"He...he's...just an old fag...Ellison, *you* put him away the first time."

"Uh-huh. Tell me *more*." Jim sat on the guy's desk and crossed his legs at the knee, one foot dangling close to the guy's stomach.

"*M...more*?"

"Yes...tell me just *when* it became Homicide's departmental policy to *ignore* murders. Maybe I *should* look at your files *again*, babycakes. What *would* I find there? And would your *captain* be interested?"

"Give me a break, Ellison - do you know how many people are killed in Cascade?"

Jim touched the man's cheek. The man flinched. "Of course I do...sugar. That's why I make it part of *my* job to get killers *off* the street. Why, even if someone killed *you*..." Blair could see Jim's smile from where he was.

"I...I heard about you, Ellison. I didn't believe it. No way would Banks let a...a..."

"Faggot? Queer? Queen? Which word are you looking for, sweetie?" Jim touched the other man's hand.

Only Blair could detect the anger behind the honeyed words. Jim was all but homicidal right now, and this detective...Blair peered at the name plate...Atkins...had no idea.

But judging from the flush on Atkins' face, he was worried about something else entirely.

"Oh, so soft. You've been letting your training just *slide*, haven't you?" Atkins snatched his hand away and stared at it. "Now, you won't mind the least little bit if I take this *nasty* case away from you, will you?"

Atkins jumped up from his desk, clutching the file tightly. "This is my case, Ellison."

Jim stood up and put his hands on his hips. "The victim was killed five days ago, Atkins. You did nothing for five days. The case is *cold*. And you don't give a damn about it. You can let me have it *now*, all by your sweet self, or I can tell your captain that you let killers go because you don't approve of the victim." There was nothing languid about Jim now.

Atkins seemed to sense it. "Here! If you're so concerned about this old fruit, you can have it. Stands to reason that you'd take care of your *own* kind."

Jim took the file and handed it to Blair, who had up stepped behind him. He walked around the desk to Atkins and grabbed his shirt collar. "I'm going to forget I heard that, detective, for now. But I will be keeping an eye on you." He let go and turned to gather up Blair, not caring that Atkins was sprawled on the ground, staring at Jim.

Blair barely had time to nod at Dixon before he was propelled out the door. Jim took hold of his upper arm, and was squeezing so hard that Blair knew he'd leave a bruise.

"Jim...it's okay. Let's just find some place private, all right?"

Jim nodded and took them to an empty interrogation room. He let go as soon as the door closed behind them and collapsed on the floor, mindless of his expensive suit. Blair got down next to him and wrapped his arms around him.

"I made a *complete idiot* of myself in there, darling, didn't I?"

Blair kissed Jim's cheek. "You were wonderful, Jim. I was proud of you." Jim was shaking.

"I wanted to kill him. Simply kill him for ignoring Miss Freddie. Our Miss Freddie."

"Me, too."

"*You*?" Jim looked at Blair in amazement. "*You* still won't touch a gun, even though we got you a license and training, not to mention that *fabulous* little automatic we found. *You?*"

"He's my friend, too. And that bastard in Homicide thought that no one would care about an old 'fag'." Blair bit his lip to keep back the tears. "We are going to find that killer. We are going to see him where he belongs. I'm your partner now, officially. And then, we are going to make sure they hang Atkins out to dry." Blair let his anger pour out as he held Jim closely to him.

"How is Miss Melly taking it? Is she all right?"

"He's...not good. I want to see him tonight, before the funeral." Blair's arms tightened around Jim at that last word. He hated funerals in general.

Jim just nodded. They stayed like that a long time, until Jim's shaking stopped and Blair had his own emotions under control.

They took the time to open the file and seriously review whatever Atkins *had* done with the case. There was a sketchy autopsy report - just a couple of comments, not even a copy of the ME's file - no forensics, no description of the crime scene beyond an address and there were no interviews at all. Atkins hadn't even bothered to talk to Melvin. Blair felt his anger grow again, but he put a tight rein on his feelings. There would be time after they got the killers.

Finally, they stood up, stretching their cramped muscles. Jim brushed at his suit and made faces at the dust and wrinkles, but didn't say anything. Somehow, Blair knew he'd never see *that* outfit again. Blair berated himself for having that thought at such a time.

Holding the file in front of him like a shield, Jim, Blair by his side, stormed through Major Crimes and into Simon's office.

"Ever hear of knocking, Ellison?"

"Look at this, Simon. Look at this piece of *trash.*"

Jim tossed the folder onto Simon's desk, then leaned back against the wall, his arms folded.

Simon rolled his eyes for a moment, but opened it. He read for some minutes. "This is a Homicide folder, not a Major Crimes...Miss Freddie? And who did such a pisspoor job?"

"His name's Atkins, Simon. Apparently guys like Freddie aren't worth an investigation." Blair didn't even bother trying to keep his voice calm.

"You two want this, don't you?"

Both men nodded.

"And there is nothing I can say - not that it's *not* a major crime, or that you two are too close - is there?"

"Simon, honey, if you even *try*..."

"Good thing I'm on your side. Get who did this, Jim. And then we'll see what else is going on there."

"Hon, you *know* I'm going to find out. They *dare* let something like this go, who knows what *else* those terrible men let go." Jim's eyes were flashing.

"See to it...and...when's the funeral?"

Blair passed on the information he'd gotten earlier, and the two of them left, ready to do battle.

They drove to the crime scene first. It was an alley between Twelve Oaks Gallery and the two men's apartment. One glance told them the trip was useless.

"Freddie was loved, wasn't he?"

"Oh, she was, she was."

The alley was filled with flowers, candles and cards. The largest was a floral cross sent by the St. Bridget's Decoration Committee, but there were any number of single blooms. Their scent filled the damp air.

"Jim, you okay?" Jim had pulled out a handkerchief and was wiping at his face.

"Just *too* many flowers. We won't find anything here."

"Let's not give up, James. Most of these flowers are roses and chrysanthemums, right? Just filter those scents out."

"You *know* I'm not going find *anything* after *five* days, Chief." Jim looked like he wanted to stamp his foot.

Blair sighed. "Just *try* it. Freddie wore a very distinctive aftershave. It just might linger if you try." He put his hand on Jim's arm to center him.

Jim closed his eyes. Blair could feel him concentrate. "It's simply no *good*. It's rained here. All I can smell is dirt. I can't even smell blood, and the autopsy report says she was stabbed."

"Okay. What else is there? Let's try sight, even with the flowers."

"This is *so* ridiculous, Blair. How am I *ever* going to do this?"

Blair dug the file out of his backpack, and handed it to his partner. "He did take a picture or two."

Jim took out the photographs. Blair watched him become all business as he oriented the grisly pictures to the alley. "Okay. They found the body here..." Jim indicated a stretch of wall that had an especially large collection of bouquets. With a murmured "Sorry, Freddie, darling", he began to remove the tributes. Blair knelt to join him. Soon, they had the area cleared off.

Go to Part Two.