"In two or three days, between the flophouse and food...and I was in a growth spurt, always hungry...I was completely out money. I spent one night outside, and it was...it was worse than the flophouse. I kept hearing *things*...I didn't sleep at all. And someone stole my other clothes. And I knew...I knew what I was going to have to do. Blair, I was a virgin with guys, and..."

"You had to have been terrified out of your mind."

"I was. And this...this guy...this *old* guy sees me. He was at least *thirty*. And I'm too scared to even move. He comes up to me. And he says, 'Oh, no, no, no, NO, baby girl. Aunt Freddie is *not* letting this happen.'"

"Oh, my God. *Our* Freddie?"

"Our Freddie. He took one look at me and just *knew*. Next thing you know, I'm in their apartment. Miss Melly is nowhere in sight, and I'm convinced that this...creature was going to have his way with me without *even* discussing the price. I'm even *more* convinced when he shoves me into their bathroom and insists I take a bath and that I hand him *all* my clothes. Babycakes, I was terrified."

Blair couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm really sorry, but I cannot picture Freddie as this...dirty old man."

Jim giggled. "What did *I* know? I *was* a baby girl. On the other hand, I was also filthy and I couldn't stand my clothes anymore, so I did as he asked. I had *never* seen such a bathroom. Or the bath soaps or *anything*. I was actually having fantasies about being *kept*, between total *panic* attacks."

"Oh, you poor kid!"

"Eventually, I had to get out of the tub. I couldn't *believe* the towels...or the robe he had left for me. It was...incredible. And then...and then..." Jim giggled some more. "And then he sat me, in this silk bathrobe, at their kitchen table in front of a bowl of soup."

"Now, *that's* Freddie."

"Yep. He'd tossed my clothes into the wash, and I wasn't going anywhere until they were dry and I'd eaten at least one real meal. And he assured me that 'baby girls' weren't his dish and just then Melly walked in, and she took one look at me and scolded poor Freddie for not giving me something more than soup and silk. Next thing I know, I'm wearing a velour running suit...it *was* the seventies, darling...and telling them *everything*."

Jim fell silent. When he spoke again, there was a catch in his voice. "They...they listened. They *understood*. They said I could stay as long as I wanted. And two hours later, and I *still* don't know how they managed it, I was on a bus home, and I slept that night in my own bed, still very much a virgin with men, but I also had their phone number in my pocket."

Blair bit his lip. "He *did* save your life."

"Yeah. They both did...not just then. You *can't* imagine what it felt like to have someone to *talk* to, who *understood*, where I didn't have to be Jim Ellison, jock. And that made the rest of it easier. When...when I ran away again, after the car thing, that's where I ran. And that's when Freddie told me about his own stint in the army. 'The most *fabulous* non-com that ever was.' So I joined. Best thing I could have done, too."

"Did...did they do that a lot? Rescue kids?"

"No. Mostly they happened on hustlers too late to do anything but give them some cash or something. I know now how *incredibly* lucky I was. And yet...I totally lost touch with them when I joined Major Crimes. If only...I feel like *I* killed her."

Jim began to shake in anger. Blair held him. "You didn't, James. The ones who hit him and the one who let him lie there...they're to blame. Not you."

"I *should* have known. I'll never forgive that. And I *will* get those cops."

"*We* will get them. Together." He kissed Jim softly on the mouth. "Let's get to sleep now, okay?"

"Yes, of course." Blair opened his arms so that Jim could, as usual, pillow his head on Blair's chest.

Jim went to sleep right away, but Blair lay awake a long time, thinking about a scared and hungry teenage boy.

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

Blair waited patiently while Jim brushed the cemetery mud off his well-polished black shoes. He himself was wearing the closest thing he had to dress shoes - black sneakers - and didn't worry about a little dirt. "Man, do you believe the turnout for this funeral?" He took off his gray suit coat and the black tie he'd borrowed from Jim, and put them more or less neatly in the back of the truck. All around them, other people were getting ready to drive off.

Jim straightened his black Italian suit jacket and readjusted the cobalt blue tie that matched his eyes. "It was for Freddie. I'd have been *shocked* if there were less. It was a *beautiful* funeral, too. She looked *perfect*."

Blair tried to hide his distaste. "I wouldn't know." He'd hung out in the last pew of St. Bridget's with the Glasses and a few others who felt uncomfortable either in church or around open caskets or both, whereas Jim, with his permission, had lent his support to Melvin.

"It's okay, sweetie. Father Jack did a *perfect* job, and old St. Bridget's never looked better."

"Or more full. Who was at the organ? I didn't recognize him." Blair got into the passenger seat of the truck. Jim walked around and got in on his side.

"Lady Eve, of course. She's been playing the organ there for *years*, ever since Father Sean's...friend died."

"That was Lady Eve? My God...I don't think I've ever seen him in...well, in male drag. It's...unnatural. How come? Lots of other drag queens wore dresses."

Jim shrugged and turned on the ignition. "Evie knows when to bring out the boy clothes."

"Will Mel be all right? Are we supposed to go home with him or something?"

Jim carefully followed a Ford Taurus out of the cemetery. "Normally, yes, we would, but it's already past noon, and Simon is going to be spitting *nails*."

"At least he showed up for the service. Melly looked pleased."

"Melly has *such* a crush on Simon...Darling, I'm *perishing* for a Wonderburger. It's on the way..."

Blair laughed. This was the man worried about Simon? "You're the one driving, James. I could do with some dead animal flesh myself."

"Oh, that sounds *so* appetizing."

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

Jim settled the bag of burgers and fries on his desk, and carefully draped his suit coat over the back of his chair. Simon walked out of his office and gave them an "It's about *time*" look before taking some food for himself and disappearing. Jim stared after for a moment and then sat down. He carefully spread a napkin over his desk and set his food neatly in front of him.

Blair reached into the bag and gobbled down the remaining burger. He'd already scarfed down his fries in the truck. He turned his chair around and straddled the back, facing Jim, who was taking delicate bites of his food.

"Okay, now what?"

"You mean *after* I finish my lunch?"

"Yeah. Do we talk to the 21rst, or interview people on Stonewall or talk to Atkins or bug Dave or what? I gotta do *something*." He felt like he was going to burst out of his skin.

"Calm down, darling. I'm going to be spending half the day on the phone arguing with the dear ladies down in dispatch. Why don't you be an angel and go fetch us some coffee or something?"

"That's me. Dr. Sandburg. Coffee boy." Blair shook his head with a grin. He took their coffee cups to the break room. As he filled them, he noticed a couple of other guys sitting and talking. One guy, who looked vaguely familiar, stared at him. He was wearing a dark suit...funereal, in fact. Blair blinked. He'd been there, sitting in the same pew Blair was. He was a cop - he wore a shoulder holster and there was a badge on his belt. He wasn't one Blair knew, so it wasn't anyone on their floor.

"...the only Vice cop there. Other guys just don't give a damn about some old fairy."

"Anyone else?" That was someone from Homicide...not Atkins - Copley.

"Don't know. I mostly know you and the other guys from Vice. I think the captain of Major Crimes was there..."

Blair picked up the coffee cups and went back to Major Crimes before he could be identified. Jim, who was sweet talking some woman down in dispatch for her records of that night, just nodded and kissed his cheek. "Darling, you *know* I'll keep this *strictly* between us..." Jim murmured that to the phone, not to Blair.

He went to his own desk and logged into the system. The records of other departments were supposed to be closed, but Blair had long since found his way around whatever barriers they'd put up. He quickly found his way into the Vice personnel files. He glanced at each photo as it flickered by, until he hit on the guy he'd seen earlier. It was clearly him, although his hair was now a little shorter and he didn't have the pierced eyebrow yet. Matt Green. Made detective about six months ago and transferred over from the 21rst to Vice. Blair raised his eyebrows. He definitely had to talk to him.

He quickly took his suit coat and Jim's black tie out of his backpack, shook out the wrinkles as best he could and put them on, using his computer screen for a mirror. He could *feel* Jim's amusement as he dressed. He tied back his hair, grateful he'd left off his earrings that day, as opposed to his lover, who'd worn his best black onyx. Finally, he slipped on his glasses.

Jim held a hand over his phone. "What's going on, darling?"

"Guy from vice went to the funeral. I'm going to pay him a visit."

"Why bother dressing up? And next time, do *not* let my tie get so wrinkled."

Blair grinned and shrugged. "Kinda thought it would work better if I *looked* like Dr. Sandburg."

"You *look* adorable, and you are certainly working for *me*, baby....no, no, sweetheart. I said *maybe*...yes, that's right..." Jim smirked at Blair.

Blair looked around and gave Jim a peck on the nose before heading for the stairs and the next floor. This time, the door was open. He made sure his id tag hung neatly from his lapel and walked in.

A woman with her own id tag walked up to him and smiled. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes, please. Is Detective Green available?"

She nodded and indicated his desk with her chin.

Blair thanked her and walked to him. Green looked up at his approach. Blair stuck out his hand. "Hello. I'm Dr. Sandburg. I'm a consultant to the department. Can I talk to you right now?"

Green's eyes narrowed. "You a shrink?"

"Actually, I'm an anthropologist. I'm attached to Major Crimes. Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

"Uh...sure." He led Blair to an interrogation room. "You look sort of familiar, Dr. Sandburg."

Blair sat down on the prisoner side of the table. "I should. You sat three people away from me at Miss Freddie's funeral today."

Green blinked. He had rather nice brown eyes and long eyelashes. "Yeah...I remember now. You know Miss Freddie?"

"I met them about a year ago, when my partner and I arrested them for kidnapping."

"Right. I remember Major Crimes being involved in something like that, back when I was in the Two One. Stupid, stupid thing, but given the Two One..."

"What about it?"

"They just don't give a damn. It's like...that part of town might as well not exist...I shouldn't be talking about this."

"It's okay, Detective. Besides, it has to be better in Vice. My partner used to be here."

"You keep talking about your 'partner.' You're not a cop."

Blair grinned. "That's what Captain Banks keeps telling me. It's...complex, but it's also official. Really."

Green shook his head. "Whatever. I got out of the Two One as soon as I could, and I thought this place would be perfect. Look, if you're really official, I guess you're sort of one of us. Hell, you *have* to be better than some of the scum who really wear badges these days."

Blair shrugged. "I wouldn't know. But I'm a decent listener, and if nothing else, we shared a loss today. That's some sort of bond."

"Yeah. I guess." He rubbed his face. "Okay, Dr. Sandburg."

"Call me Blair, okay? You're making me sound like real a shrink, and I am so not one."

Green smiled. "You don't sound like one, either. I'm...I'm Matt. Vice was...damn, I hate to rat them out, but I know my partner's on the take, and the captain doesn't give a damn about any of the people. Do you know who we deal with in Vice half the time?"

"Who?" Blair knew. After last night, he knew even better.

"Kids. Damn, stupid kids, running away from home, getting mixed up with the crap out there. And when I say *anything*, Hart tells me I should be a social worker, like that's something evil. My mother's a social worker. She's why I became a cop, dammit. And I know I can't save the world, or even most of them, but I can at least *try*. Except...Bobby, my partner, doesn't see any percentage in it and Hart just laughs. I mean...look at Stonewall. I patrolled there a couple of years ago. I was an idealist, wanting to bring the cops to the people, so I stayed in uniform. And they told me stories, some of them."

"Like what?"

"Like how it used to be, when the Two One did more than eat donuts and watch the gentrified areas. Before they let the gangs run wild. Like this one cop who worked Vice who gave a damn. Guys in Club Purple, the two sweet old ones who ran that art gallery...poor Freddie. He used to bring me hot cocoa because he knew I hated coffee. They raved about "Jimmy" but they never gave his name. Don't blame them. God, I'd hate to be a gay cop." Matt looked sharply at Blair. "There's one in Major Crimes, right? I mean, Hart was sounding off about the faggot...a man that homophobic shouldn't be a cop and shouldn't be in charge of Vice, either."

"Yeah. One of the cops in Major Crimes is gay. Came out about a year ago, actually. There's been no real trouble - it's a pretty tight unit and they've known him for years. Captain says there's been some problems with the brass, but...." Blair shrugged again. "He's the best one they have."

"God, he'd be killed in Vice. I mean, literally. He'd be given the worst assignments and no one would be his partner, just in case...you know. And no one would back him up. And the Two One? Forget about it. Ol' Joe says let the fruits on Stonewall take care of themselves, unless there's something in it for him."

"Why do you stay here? Why don't you transfer out or go into social services?"

"Because then, what sort of a difference could I make? Hart's driven out everyone else who doesn't do what he wants. I'm not going to follow. God, those gangs. I hate to say it, but it's like...like cockroaches, you know? You can't do anything about them. And they're mostly kids, too. It all comes down to kids. I can't sleep at night, you know? All I see are kids...strung out or hopped up, or selling themselves, or in gang colors. And dead. I see a lot of dead kids. I'm so sick of dead kids, Blair." Blair could only nod.

"Freddie...he used to tell me that he would watch the kids. He'd managed to save *one*. He got damn lucky, and he knows it. 'All those baby girls, Mattie. And I got one.' That's what he used to say when he brought me my chocolate. Damn, I'm sick of this." He rubbed his eyes again.

"Do you make a difference now, man?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I got my one. This little girl...she was already on drugs, already attached to a pimp, but it was early. I got her out and I got her in treatment, and she *writes* me, and she's doing it, you know? And I got her pimp off the street for a whole *week*. Bobby laughed at me the whole time, but I did it." Matt's laugh was bitter.

"Then you got it. What you're doing, Matt...that takes *guts*."

"No more guts than it takes to ride along without a gun...and with a gay partner. Or being gay." Matt looked right into Blair's eyes.

"You figured it out?"

Matt grinned. "There's only one out gay cop in this building and everyone knows he's partnered with a college professor. Rumor has it you're his boyfriend, too."

"I'm not a college professor. I'm a part-time instructor - I teach one class a semester. The rest..." Blair shrugged. "Even before he came out, Jim couldn't work effectively with anyone else. I can't explain why, but it's true. So Simon, our captain, had to let me stay with him. And I really am a consultant. You'd be surprised how useful an anthropologist can be."

"Yeah. Like talking to a depressed cop who was thinking seriously of quitting, but isn't anymore. Thanks, Blair." Matt reached out a hand.

"Anytime." Blair took it firmly. "I hope this hasn't affected your...reputation."

Matt shrugged. "I'll live." Blair smiled and got out, making sure he wasn't seen.

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

Jim was waiting for him, his hands full of faxed phone records. He passed a stack of papers to Blair. "Seems Freddie picked a busy night."

"I gotta tell you what I learned, Jim."

"Multitask, darling. Talk *and* look."

"No problem. The guy's name is Matt Green and..." Blair quickly perused the lists, looking for Melly's phone number. There were pages and pages. His eyes were bleeding with the tiny print.

Go to Part Five.