Chapter NineJim slumped in his seat as soon as he got the car safely parked. His hands, still clutching the wheel, trembled. "We made it. Thank God." He was breathing hard.
Blair squeezed his shoulder, mindful of the attendant working the pumps. Jim's whole body was shaking. "Yeah, we did. We're safe, Jim. We're safe. You made it."
"I nearly killed us both. I nearly killed *you*."
Blair snorted. "As if it matters what happens to me."
"It matters." Jim looked at him, blue eyes shining in the morning sun, brighter than the cloudy sky. "This is too...I don't know what I'm feeling. But...damn it, we have to call the cops, don't we."
Blair blinked. They would have to talk later. "Yeah. Um...you have to do it. I'm kinda stuck here." Actually, he probably could manage if he had to, but Jim needed to think about something other than driving.
"There's a phone by the office over there. I'll...I'll call the Cascade police, and we'll think about what to tell them."
"The truth. I hate dealing with the fuzz, but this time we gotta. You have a dime?"
"Yeah, I think so. I'll be right back."
Blair watched him fish in his pocket for a coin and feed it to the phone. He wished desperately for Jim's hearing just for that moment. As it was, Jim's back was to him, so he couldn't read his lips. And Jim, damn him, didn't talk with his hands, so he couldn't even interpret the gestures.
Finally, Jim nodded and hung up the phone. His walk was still a little shaky, but it was better. "Why don't I help you out of here? I'm guessing you need to use the john as much as I do."
"You got that right. What's going on?"
Jim pulled the wheelchair out of the back seat and opened it up. At Blair's gesture, he set the breaks. Then he swiftly transferred Blair from the car to the chair.
"The police'll be there soon, and then they're coming here to talk to us. Ground's a little uneven. John's just behind the phones." Blair gritted his teeth as Jim pushed him to the restrooms. He waited while Jim got the key from the attendant...and then the door was too narrow for the chair.
Jim shrugged. "Good thing I keep in shape." Blair was mortally embarrassed as Jim set him on the toilet seat and walked out, waiting for his shout. He'd fought to be independent and now look at him! And the damn ankle hurt. A lot. So did the leg that wasn't there, and he hadn't slept and he hadn't gotten laid and...and he was with Jim. That, for some reason, made it all okay. He finished up, and Jim appeared at his shout to swing him back onto his chair and take his place.
He took the time to look around. It was a typical gas station - two pumps, a garage attached to an office. There was one guy pumping gas into a late model Chevy. His uniform was fairly clean, but it was early yet. The Chevy drove away just as Jim left the bathroom. The attendant strolled up to them.
"Anything I can help you two gents with?"
"Yeah, actually. We're going to be here for a while. Do you have any vending machines?" Jim sounded desperate. Well, Blair was hungry himself. Dinner had been a long time ago.
"Yep. And there's a cooler full of cokes just outside the office. Is there something wrong with the car?"
Blair shook his head. "It's running just fine. But, I would appreciate some gas, now that I think about it."
"Sure. Just drive it up to the pumps and I'll take care of you."
"We've been up all night. Could you take care of it?" Blair held out his hands for the keys. Jim tossed them over.
The man shrugged. "Not a problem. Why are you hanging around?"
"We saw...an accident up the road a ways, and told the police. They're going to check it out, but wanted to meet us." Blair winced. His ankle was starting to swell. He picked it up and took off his shoe. Yep. He was going to be in this chair for weeks...especially if he didn't get help.
"That looks bad. I can get you some ice from the cooler, and you really should get that leg elevated. How'd you manage that, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I tripped." Blair shrugged. "We had to leave the peg and stick by the...accident scene."
The guy nodded. "I'll get you some of that ice. Then I'll take care of the car. Why don't you move your buddy to the office?" He looked at Jim then.
Jim nodded.
Twenty minutes later, Blair had his leg propped up on the office chair, a bag of ice on his ankle, while Jim raided the vending machines for candy and chips and the attendant moved the car out of the way, and was walking in the door.
"It already feels better, man. Thanks."
"No problem. Something I picked up over there - wasn't a corpsman, but I helped the medic a lot."
Blair nodded. "I had a couple guys like that in my unit. Didn't want to get out of the fighting; just wanted to help after."
"Officer or non-com?"
"They screwed up. Made me a second looie. What was your unit?" Jim sat silently throughout their conversation, just listening with the oddest expression on his face - he seemed fascinated, jealous and relieved all at the same time. When the attendant, Jack, took care of customers, Jim stayed silent while Blair leafed through the day's paper.
"What's wrong, Jim?"
"I'll never have that with you."
"Never have what?"
"The...experience. I can write about Viet Nam all I want, but it'll never be more than theory. And...I don't really want to be there, but it's something I can't...share with you."
"Feeling left out?"
"Feeling damned *jealous*." Jim grinned. "I just found you. I don't want to share you."
Blair smiled back. Jack walked back in and started perking some coffee. "I know it's old fashioned, but I got my fill of instant over there. You guys want some?"
Just as they nodded, a police car pulled up. A tall black man got out. Blair noticed Jim's eyes get wide as he took in the man's broad shoulders and how well the uniform fit, and for a minute all he could think was, "No way. You are *mine*." He tried to laugh off his fit of jealousy, but it didn't want to go away. There was another officer in the car, but he stayed where he was.
The officer came to the door. "Which one of you is James Ellison?"
Jim stood up. "I'm Ellison."
"Officer Banks. Thank you for the call. We got the stash and the guy." He held out his hand. Jim took it.
"Glad to help."
"I just need to ask you guys a couple of questions."
Blair caught Jim's eye, but shrugged. Jim turned back to Banks. "Go right ahead."
"If you'd rather, you guys can follow me to the station and we can talk there." Blair looked at Jim, who shook his head with a look of panic in his eyes. "Is something wrong, fellas?"
Blair closed his eyes. The man was being polite and trying to help. He had no idea. Before Blair could take a deep breath, though, Jim cut in. "Actually, yes. We've been up all night and my friend, Mr. Sandburg, has hurt his ankle rather badly."
"May I, Mr. Sandburg?" Blair nodded. Banks took off the ice pack and examined the ankle. "Yeah, you got yourself banged up here. Are you in much pain?"
"The ice helps, but I kinda want it checked out. And, yeah, we're both dead on our feet...so to speak."
"I guess neither one of you is really in shape to drive, looking at your eyes."
"Honestly, Officer Banks, you couldn't get me behind the wheel of a car for any amount of money." Blair hid his laughter behind a moan as Bans prodded his ankle a bit too roughly. Jim managed to look so *earnest* when he said it.
Banks nodded and came to a quick decision. He turned and shouted out the door. "Rafe! Get in here."
His partner ambled out of the car to the office. "Yeah, Simon?"
"These gentlemen who have so kindly given us a major and useful bust, require medical attention and a ride home. Could you perhaps take care of their vehicle?"
Rafe shrugged. "No problem, Simon."
"Thanks, man...I mean, officer. The guy at the pumps has my keys. I live at 852 Prospect, not too far from the bay. Thank you!"
Rafe frowned. "Not the best area."
"It's getting better. I'm in one of those converted loft spaces."
"Okay. I'll get it there."
"Thanks again."
"No problem." He strolled off to talk to Jack.
Banks turned to them again. "Now, if I play chauffeur, will the two of you give me something I can write up before my captain gets on my case?"
"We'll see what we can do, Officer Banks." Jim, clearly relieved, smiled again.
Chapter Ten
Banks was as good as his word. He'd found space in the trunk for Blair's wheelchair (next to, as it turned out, his prosthesis and cane) and let Jim sit next to him as he drove. Jim took the opportunity to look. Banks wore a wedding band. Just as well - Blair seemed to be the jealous type. 'My God, Jimmy. You were thinking of coming on to a *cop*?'
"Okay, Mr. Ellison. What happened last night, in your own words?"
"That's Dr. Ellison, Officer. He's a professor."
"Okay. *Dr.* Ellison."
Jim shrugged. "The title's not important. Mr. Sandburg and I had had dinner together last night. Afterwards, we went to look at the stars together." He ignored the sounds of repressed laughter from the back seat.
"Why would you do a thing like that, Dr. Ellison?"
"Couple reasons. One is that I have really sensitive eyesight, and Sir Richard Burton here wanted to test it out. And, then there was the romance." Jim forced a grin and a wink, as if letting the cop in on a joke, the way he learned to deflect suspicion in West Point.
Banks laughed. "A little necking, fellas?"
Jim suppressed a sigh of relief. "Well, you know how it gets. Anyway, just as Mr. Sandburg and I were, er, getting down to business, and I have to tell you, those stars were something else, I hear something. I have sensitive ears, too, you see. And two men were talking about killing someone. It was stupid. We should have gotten in the car and called you guys. Sandburg wanted to do that."
"*You* did, Mr. Sandburg?"
"Yeah, well. Sometimes the cops are the right people to call." Blair didn't sound all that happy.
"Be that as it may, what did you do?"
"Reconnaissance. Which sounded like a good idea at the time."
"Look, I kept telling you that two unarmed men had no business..." Now Blair was exasperated.
"You also gave me orders to report." Jim had to smile.
"You were an officer, Mr. Sandburg?"
"Yeah. Made it to first lieutenant before the VC retired me."
"I see. So, you went on this recon. What did you find?"
"Two men shooting up, a third drinking and cleaning a gun and a stash of heroin. Like I said when I called you guys."
"This was when?"
"About midnight or so. Maybe later." Jim held up his wrist. "I didn't wear a watch last night."
"Then what did you do...other than cuddle under the stars?" Jim made himself laugh. "You guys just talk?"
"Yeah." He managed a shrug. "I didn't quite bore him to death. Did I, Blair?"
"Just get me to the hospital. It's starting to really hurt." Blair's heart was racing and Jim could smell sweat.
"Banks, maybe you should..."
"He sounds bad. Hold on, you two. This is going to be bumpy." Banks turned on his siren and raced to Cascade General and its brand new Emergency Room. He also called ahead to make sure they were welcomed. Jim gambled that Banks was so intent on driving that he wouldn't notice that Jim was holding Blair's hand over the seat back. And Blair was holding on *hard*.
They got Blair onto the waiting gurney with the help of the orderly standing next to it. Jim had to pry his fingers off before they lifted him out of the car.
Despite the pain, Blair was able to give all his information, holding tight to Jim's hand again. Banks stood around and looked menacing, which seemed to make everyone go faster. In no time at all, Blair had been examined, x-rayed and given pain relievers. He'd insisted that Jim be with him through all of that, and Banks made sure he was.
The doctor told them Blair'd broken his ankle - only a hairline, but it meant a cast. They were all for admitting him, but he flatly refused. He could take care of himself. Hadn't he been doing that for years? The hospital had no choice. They covered his leg with plaster and let Banks take him home.
He grimaced as Jim and Banks lifted him out of the police car and set him in his wheelchair. "I can do this, too."
"Mr. Sandburg, until I see you safely at home, you are my responsibility."
"I'm home now. You can go."
Banks just smiled. "My partner seems to have discovered your neighborhood bakery, so I'm in no hurry at all." Indeed, the other cop was standing in a place called Collette's, eating a doughnut and chatting with the woman behind the counter. "Why don't Dr. Ellison and I see you to your place? Then I'll take him home as well."
"Actually, Officer Banks, if Mr. Sandburg doesn't mind, I'll stay here for awhile. Is that all right with you, Blair?"
Blair grinned. "I won't say no to your company."
"Oh. Now I'm jealous. I'm not pretty enough for you?" Banks put on a pout.
"Sorry, man. This guy got here first." Jim laughed out loud at that one, hoping Banks could not hear the strain.
There was an elevator in the building. Blair seemed relieved it was working, which worried Jim.
He wheeled himself to a large bed under the loft area, partially hidden by beaded curtains, and, with a minimum of fuss, transferred himself onto it. Jim found the kitchen and made a pot of coffee while the cop deposited his leg, cane and other shoe near the bed. He disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back he carried a bag of baked goods and Blair's keys, both of which he put on the dining room table.
"Okay, gentlemen. I need to take your statements again, and write them down this time. I don't think we need to bring you guys in later."
They repeated what they said before in the car. Banks occasionally stopped to ask questions, but seemed to accept the idea that Jim had acute sight and hearing without a problem. The only sticking point came towards the end.
"Let me get this straight. Which one of you drove the car?"
Jim felt himself blush. "I did. Blair had already hurt himself."
"Jim!" There was no need for this. It would only get them both in trouble.
"He's going to find out sooner or later, Chief. Might as well be now."
"What's the problem?" Banks looked at them both in turn - Jim at the table, Blair sitting on the bed.
"I'm not supposed to drive. I haven't in years." He pulled out his wallet and showed Banks something. "This is my non-driver's ID from Virginia. I get these...seizures, you can call them. But, Blair was injured and we had to get to a telephone somehow." He sighed. "I promise you, I will not get behind the wheel again. I have been less frightened on rollercoasters."
"Officer Banks, this man - you cannot imagine the strength of will it took for him to drive today. And he only did it because he had to. Please, take that into consideration."
Banks shook his head. "I'll talk to my captain about it. If it were up to me, I'd say you did what you had to do and let you go."
"Thank you." Blair ran his hands through his hair.
"Don't thank me yet. I'm going to get going, and pry my partner away from those pastries. I'll call you later, okay? Take care." He took one more danish from the bakery bag as he left.
"You think things'll work out, Chief?"
Blair shrugged. "The worst they can do is give us both tickets; maybe suspend my license, but I think we'll be fine. Anyway, I'm not driving for awhile now. Damn. I can't believe I broke my ankle!"
Jim grinned. "Why don't you get undressed so you can get some sleep?"
"You need sleep, too." Blair began to take off his clothes. Jim had to stare. He'd never been able to watch a man undress before. First the jacket, then the necklace. Then Blair lifted his turtleneck over his head, revealing a powerfully muscled chest covered with thick curls, with two large, dark nipples peeking through. He wondered what those nipples would feel like, would taste like as he stared at them. They filled his sight - he could see only them. He could only see. "Jim! Jim! Jim!"
"Wha..." Jim shook his head,. "Damn. I'm sorry. But...all I could think was how you looked as all those layers came off. You're beautiful, you know."
"I told you *not* to say those things." Blair looked upset. "It's okay, though. I think...I can't be sure, not unless we get to really explore this...but you've been fuguing for years now. Oh, man. I think you're stuck with them. I'm sorry. I wish I could have met you right away."
Jim shrugged. "I hate it, but I've learned to live with it. I've learned to live with a lot of things. And you're right. I'm dead on my feet. Is there a place I can crash?"
"Yeah. Right here." He patted the bed next to him. Jim's eyes widened in panic. "Just to sleep. I'm flying on this painkiller and I'm too tired to do anything. Now."
"You sure? I mean..." Jim tried to leer, but he knew it was a dismal failure. "I am willing."
"Just get that suit off and into bed, Jim." Blair laughed. "We'll sacrifice you later."
He sighed in relief and quickly stripped off his own clothes. Jim fetched Blair a t-shirt at his request and then pulled himself in the bed and under the blankets, where he proceeded to lie flat on his back. He had no idea what else to do, and he was scared. He'd never slept in the same bed as someone else, not as an adult, and the intimacy frightened him. He turned away from Blair.
Blair apparently would have none of that. "I won't bite, Jim. Nor will I break. I promise."
"You promised I wouldn't blank out in the car, too..." Despite that, he rolled over onto his other side and let Blair wrap his arms around him and lay his head on his chest. "Ohh...Yeah."
"You like?"
"Yeah." This was right. This was good. This was what he needed. He held Blair closely and listened to him breathe.
Go to Part Six.