Simon ignored it. "Do you know what the brass is going to do about this? Jim, you don't know what I've done for the past year, all the arguments I've gotten. I've been able to keep them at bay because your record has been excellent but this..."

Jim stood still for a moment. "What have they been saying? What have you kept from me?"

"Look, don't worry about it. You proved you were a good cop. They've been quiet for months now."

"*Proved?* That is *just* the *limit*!" Jim tossed his head, making the light reflect off his earring. "I didn't become a *different* person when I came out. Why would I have to *prove* myself again? As if I didn't know."

"Calm down, Jim."

"My *record* should have spoken for *itself*. *Our* record...it's as much Blair as me. *Nothing* ever changes. It's why I went into the closet in the *first* place. I should have stayed there."

"I can't deny my life would have been easier." Simon sighed as Jim sat down and buried his head. "But I wouldn't take back a day of this past year. I like knowing who you really are, Jim, and I like knowing you two are happy - once I got used to the whole idea. You're my best officers, and you're better *now*."

"But..." Blair, who was rubbing Jim's shoulders, looked up. "I heard a but, Simon."

"I can't let you take the case. I know I said I would, but you're too damn close to it, and people would talk about you playing favorite, since he was your friend. And mine."

"Simon, it *is* a major crime. Listen." Blair told him everything Mel had said, from his problems getting help to what was happening on Stonewall Street.

Simon was silent for a long moment. "Go for it. Bring me proof of all of it - and make it airtight. Mel's a good person, and his word is good enough for me, but he's an ex-con and, well..."

"We *will*, Simon. We will *bury* them."

"First, get the killers. You say you have gang colors. Find out *which* gang and who might have been around that alleyway."

Blair nodded, but Jim shook his head. "I want to talk to the precinct. I want to know who let Freddie die like that."

Simon closed his eyes. "Let me do that. I know the guy running the Two-One. I think you've stepped on enough toes today."

"I'm going to be stepping on *more* than *toes* before we're done. I'll get the gang, but I'll get the others, too."

"This could cost you your career, Jim."

Jim took Blair's hand and looked him in the eyes. Blair understood the question and nodded. Jim smiled, and turned back to Simon. "It will be worth it. I'm not playing anymore *games*."

Simon sighed. "I can't stop you, can I? Let me call my pal Joe at the Two-One for you, okay? I think Michaelson's doing gangs now - you go talk to him, all right?"

Jim nodded. "He's on the sixth floor, right?"

"Yes. And, Jim? Let this one live. I do *not* want to hear any complaints from him."

"I'll be a *perfect* lady. I'll be in touch, Simon...and we'll see you at the funeral tomorrow, right?"

"We'll see, Jim."

Blair gave Simon a look, but he responded with a shrug and a glance at large pile of paperwork. Blair nodded, and led Jim out of the office and back to his desk.

Dave Michaelson was in his office and he had time to see them. In fact, Blair thought he sounded eager to meet them both. They gathered up their evidence and took the elevator to his floor.

His office door was open. When they entered, he stood up and offered them both his hand. The handshake was firm without a challenge. Blair took the time to look him over. Michaelson was a man of medium height, with very dark skin and short dreadlocks. His dark eyes were intelligent and Blair could see that he'd processed Jim's clothing and bearing and filed it away.

Michaelson himself wore a conservative gray suit with a light shirt and a bright tie. His expression was wary but welcoming as he indicated they should sit in the chairs in front of his desk.

His office was lined with books - psychology texts, books on negotiation and handling disputes and books directly about gangs. He had a neat pile on his desk as well.

"Now, what brings you to see me, Detective Ellison and Dr. Sandburg?"

"Last week, there was a murder in the Stonewall Street area. Are you at *all* familiar with it?"

Michaelson nodded. "More than you know. You get away from the clubs and the restaurants, and my boys run free."

"Your boys, Lt. Michaelson?" Blair tilted his head.

"The gangbangers. I've been working with them for a couple of years now. I used to be a teacher - any kids I work with, they become *mine*."

"You sound proud of them, Michaelson." Jim's voice was quiet.

"I am...of some. The ones who get out, who risk everything to get away. It takes a lot of guts to do that. But we're talking about Stonewall Street here, and they have things too easy to want to leave."

Michaelson sounded angry. He clenched his hand around the pen in his hand.

"No one does a damn thing, either. I've been all alone there."

"Michaelson..."

"Dave. Call me Dave."

Jim smiled. "Dave, this is just *disgusting*. How long as it been going on?"

"Since I got here, a couple of years ago. I'm not saying the rest of Cascade is perfect, cause it's not, but at least I got some of the gangs talking to each other, and some of the violence way down. At least I'm making progress, you know?"

"That's good news, man. It must be great to know you're making a difference." Blair fidgeted with a pencil.

"It only works when I get it all together. The cops, the kids, the schools, the parents...I'm sorry. You came here for information." He shook his head again. "I shouldn't unload this on you guys anyway."

Blair reached forward and touched Dave's hand. "We *need* to know this, Dave. Why isn't it working in Stonewall?"

"Because I'm getting no help at all. You guys have to know that's the gay part of town. I mean, you two are no secret." Jim and Blair nodded. "So you have to know that there might as well not be any cops in Stonewall. And the gangs don't even live there. They just...use the place like a playground."

Jim clenched the arm of his chair. "I know no such thing, girlfriend. When I was there, when it was *my* territory, there were plenty of boys in blue around...at least to pick on the queers."

"Oh, they do *that*. If they can get away with it. They just don't help out."

"I am going to *kill* them. Not one word. They didn't say *one* word to us." Jim was on his feet, gesturing broadly. "This is beyond tacky. Did they think *we* were involved?"

"I have no idea. I've been trying to get people involved for the past two years, and no one there will talk to me, from any side. Other cops don't trust me because I'm working with the kids, my kids don't trust me because I'm a cop and I want to take away their toys, and the gays...I don't know what's up with them."

"You are too straight, girlfriend. Those *are* your wife and kids in that picture, right?"

Dave shook his head. "That can't be all."

"It's enough. They don't trust *me* because I'm a cop...and *I'm* family."

Blair looked at Jim. "And because you went away and played straight. And they know that, too."

"I was *just* an idiot. I simply *betrayed* them. No *wonder* they didn't tell me. And now poor Freddie...I feel like a murderer *myself*."

"Gentlemen...perhaps we should get our minds back on your friend." Dave's voice was gentle but insistent. He must have been a truly effective teacher. Blair wondered why he left the classroom, and what he'd taught.

"You are *sooo* right, Dave. I cannot believe I forgot her. We found gang colors at the site. A shred of bandana and a couple of beads close to where she died."

"Good eyesight." Blair noticed that Dave didn't blink an eye at the pronoun. "What colors were they?"

"Bright green and black. Do they sound familiar at all?"

Jim took out the evidence bag and showed them to Dave.

"I know them, all right. These boys are the Terror Kings, and they were the biggest gang in Cascade Valley High School. Are the biggest gang. I hear tell they have the principal completely cowed right now. Got out...And you think they whacked your friend?"

Jim nodded. "I *don't* think they meant to kill him, just take his money and go. The *garbage* that call themselves *cops* killed poor Freddie. But, yes, they did the actual *deed*."

"I'm surprised. My boys are violent and homicidal, but they don't do things like that in the daytime."

Jim and Blair looked at each other. "Dave, Miss Freddie was killed *at night*. Late, around midnight."

Dave frowned. "That can't be. They go back to their own territory at night - leave Stonewall for the, excuse me, fags. They mostly use Stonewall for drug trafficking anyway."

"And just *how* is the business there?" Jim leaned forward.

"Too damn good. And it's not just the gays. It's become the local drug supermarket because the local cops just don't give a damn." Dave banged the table. "You sure it happened at night?"

"*Positive*. Miss Melly was certain, and *that* girl is *never* late. Except fashionably."

"Something's definitely up. Mind if I horn in on your investigation? These are my boys and I *need* to know what's happening."

Once again, Blair looked at Jim and nodded. "You are *so* welcome, man. I have a feeling we're going to need all the help you can give us. When do we start this?"

"I have to make arrangements. I can't bring two strangers to a meet - get all three of us killed. I'll let you guys know what's going down."

"Please. The trail is *freezing* cold already, but I *really* don't want to waste time."

The three of them stood up and Jim and Blair shook his hand before they left the office.

*****************

"It's about time you two showed up." Simon was waiting for them in the bullpen, his arms crossed. His voice was hard and his eyes were blazing. "In my office. Now." His voice was far too calm. Blair nearly trembled as they made their way through the crowd of detectives getting ready for shift-change.

Simon gestured them into his office and pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. He then fixed both of them cups of coffee and made one for himself. Blair recognized the activity as a calming ritual, and quietly accepted it. So did Jim, carefully balancing it on the knee he had crossed over the other one.

They waited until Simon had taken his own seat with his own coffee cup. Finally, after he neatened a pile of papers, he seemed ready.

"Simon? What's wrong?"

"It's that obvious? You're good, Sandburg." Simon sighed and took a sip. "I called the Two-One. Took me forever to get in touch with Joe, and then he wouldn't talk to me. He flat out told me that what went on his precinct was not my business. I even threatened him with IAD. Not that he cared." Simon very carefully put his cup down. Blair could see the effort he needed to *not* break it.

Jim took a dainty sip of his own. "Well, that was tacky. What *did* you say to that?"

Simon glared at him. "'Tacky' is *not* the way I'd describe it. Frustrating and suspicious is more like it. There is something going on there, and I'm going to find out."

"Does that mean you're on our side, man?" Blair didn't even pretend to drink anything.

"I'm *always* on your side, Sandburg. You're on my team, remember? And Joe's on his team's side. When you come in tomorrow, I want you to do a search for the time of the call. That's in the central records. Then we can find out who and what."

"Ummm...Simon..."

"Spit it out, Sandburg."

"Funeral. Freddie's funeral. No *way* can we miss it."

"Damn."

"Simon, Melly would *never* forgive us, I couldn't do that to her."

"I know, I know. When is this funeral?"

"10 AM tomorrow morning. At St. Bridget's. I don't know when it'll be over. How long do Catholic funerals last?" Blair looked at Jim, who shrugged one shoulder.

Simon rolled his eyes. "Try not to be all day at it, okay? And if I can find the time...maybe I'll show up."

"Please *do*. It would mean *so* much to Melly. She *worships* you, Simon." Jim set his coffee cup on the desk and stood up.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just get this done right, okay?"

Simon looked distinctly unhappy at that. Jim waggled his fingers at him and dragged Blair out of the inner office. The night shift crew were just coming in. It took only a couple of minutes for them to get their desks put away and then they were able to leave.

******************

"You barely touched dinner tonight, Jim." Blair pulled his head through the old sweatshirt he'd downgraded to sleepwear and climbed into bed.

Jim finished buttoning his silk nightshirt and joined him there. "I'm just *not* hungry, sweetie. Too much happened today."

"I know. I keep getting waves of grief and anger fighting inside me. Poor Freddie." Blair shut off the light and wrapped his arms around Jim.

Jim sighed and pulled Blair close. "Of all the people...she was..."

"He was special. I saw all those flowers."

Jim was very quiet for a long time as he held Blair very tightly. Out of long experience, Blair waited for him to say something.

Finally, he spoke, almost too softly for Blair to hear. "She saved my life."

"When?"

"It's a long story...are you sure..."

For an answer, Blair brushed Jim's cheek with his lips and nodded, knowing that Jim would see it. "I love you, too, Blair." Jim kissed Blair's forehead. "I...I was fifteen."

"Oh, no." Blair knew what that meant.

"So *true*. I'd just figured out that *just* because I was the captain of *both* JV football *and* basketball *and* had every girl in school following me, and had *even* slept with one or two didn't mean...didn't mean I wanted to. Didn't mean...that the locker room wasn't torture. Sweetheart, when did *you* figure out..."

Blair was silent himself for a bit. "I figured out I was bisexual when I was about that age. It's damn hard...It's harder to be more different. I mean, I was already *different* but now it was worse."

"Could you tell your mother?"

"Oh, man. It took me *years* to tell her. I was already in *college* before I could, but she was cool. But you *know* that. She treats you like a...like a..."

"A daughter-in-law?"

Blair had to smile. "Yeah, sort of. Freddie...?"

"Yeah, well...I finally figured out that I was gay. And admitted it to myself. And I was terrified. What would the other guys do? What would my *father* do?"

Blair repressed more anger. They'd tried to talk to William Ellison in the last year, but he tossed them both out of his house.

Jim stroked his hair. "I wasn't wrong, was I? Anyway, I couldn't see any other option, and there was *nobody* I could talk to. I ran away. I had about twenty dollars saved from doing chores and *one* change of clothes in my bookbag, but I had to leave before I was kicked out. Before I was found out."

Jim's voice held no expression. Blair was chilled at that thought. He might have been scared of telling Naomi, but he *never* thought she'd be more than disappointed.

"Anyway, I got a bus to Stonewall. You know how far that is from my dad's house. I got off the bus and I...I had no idea what to do or where to go. I wandered for awhile, fending off...well, you can guess what I was fending off. I was *almost* scared enough to go home right then. But I didn't."

Jim took a deep breath. "I found...you know those restaurants on the south end? They used to be...flophouses, I guess you could call them. You get a bed, sheets extra, bathroom down the hall. Don't leave anything in the room. Fleas come for free. Five bucks a night. In advance. I could...I could hear them going at it in the next room. It was...I cried myself to sleep."

"It's okay, Jim...you don't have to..."

Go to Part Four.