The loft was exactly the way they'd left it when they made their hurried departure for the police station- lights still burning, food halfway out, somewhere in the middle of being turned into a dinner.

Jim threw his keys in the basket by the door and went to the kitchen. Doubting Blair would have much of an appetite, he put about half the food back in the fridge, and set out making the other half into something little they could force into themselves.

He didn't have much of an appetite himself, he had to admit. He was feeling...well, he also had to admit that what he most felt was guilty. For being such a pigheaded idiot the night before that he'd both upset Blair and offended his girlfriend. It surprised him to overhear how much she thought he didn't like her, but he saw no way to refute it to her yet. So he was left feeling guilty, wondering whether if he hadn't been such a pig, she would have accepted Blair's invitation, and would have been at the loft having a hearty lunch instead of alone in her apartment being...hurt.

He was also upset. Crime did that to him. Crimes like rape should never be allowed to happen, ever, to anyone. And it was especially hard when it happened to someone he knew. So he hadn't known Angela very well, so what? She was a normal, healthy young woman, intelligent, happy. She didn't deserve to have the rug of her calm existence snatched out from under her feet, not in such a horrible way.

Jim pulled himself out of his musings long enough to scan the loft for Blair's heartbeat, just to make sure he was alright. He judged by the distance that Blair was on the balcony. His heartbeat was steady, thank God.

But that didn't stop Jim from worrying, so he finished preparing the food, slid it into the oven, set the timer, and made a beeline for the doors to the balcony.

Blair was standing by the railing, his eyes overlooking the street below, not really seeing any of it. His hair had been pulled up hurriedly, and a few unruly strands were being blown gently by the breeze. He didn't turn when Jim came out, but the stiffness that appeared in his shoulders told Jim the kid was aware he was there.

"You wanna talk about it?" Jim asked quietly.

"What's to talk about?" Blair answered back, not turning. "She's the one who should be talking, and she's not. There's nothing we can do for her by talking to each other."

Jim took a few steps forward, reaching the railing an arm's length from his roommate. "You're really upset she didn't want to tell you."

Blair looked at him then, a quick, incredulous glance before turning away again. "Of course I'm upset! I thought she trusted me."

Jim followed his gaze now, looking down at the city below them. "Blair...imagine it had been you. Would you really go telling people about it?"

"I'm not people, man. I'm...I'm her best friend. She tells me everything."

"And? This isn't everything," Jim replied, not wanting to sound harsh, but for some -guilty- reason, he wanted to defend Angela's decision to keep silent.

Blair turned to face him finally. "So? What if it was you? You wouldn't tell me either?"

Jim frowned. "I don't think I'd be-"

"Think about it." Blair sounded serious. "Really. If something like that happened to you, would you tell me? Really."

Jim thought about it dutifully. Rape. It brought the anger rising up inside of him, but....But it was all macho-cop anger. Anger that some degenerate criminals were allowed to get away with it. Anger that the victims of it lost something of themselves they'd never be able to get back. His feelings were never personal. It was never that-could-be-me anger. Had he ever thought about himself in that position? No. But Blair was asking him to now, so he would.

He thought about the victims he'd come in contact with, the couple of people he had known, and the few recent victims he had seen at the station or at a crime scene. He knew what was involved, the helplessness, the humiliation, the physical pain. What if it was him?

Blair stayed quiet, letting him think, his eyes going back to the street below to avoid putting any pressure on him.

Jim answered finally. "Yes. I would. I'd tell you, Blair. But only you, if it was possible. And...well, maybe not the same day. Maybe not even the next day. I can't see myself telling anyone so soon. I'd need time, I think. To recover, to get back some of what I'd... I don't know."

Blair had looked back at him as he started talking, and seemed to take in what he was saying.

"But, Blair." Jim paused, uncomfortable. "You're...you're like a brother. No, not even a brother. Different. Better. I've...never really felt so close to anyone else. That's why I'd tell you. Most people don't have that. Angela's known you for...what? A month? You can't expect her to open up to you so fast."

Blair's blue eyes were inscrutable. Finally he let out a breath. "I know. I just want to help. And she won't let me."

"It's been hours, Blair. Wait until it's been days. Maybe it'll be easier for her then."

Blair nodded again, and there was silence for a long time.

Jim thought about going to check on the food, or going to make sure no messages were waiting for them. He thought about just going so Blair could be alone. But he really didn't want to. "Who was it you knew?" he asked finally.

Blair turned to him. "What?"

"Who was it you knew who was raped?"

"Oh," Blair was thoughtful for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to tell him. "Naomi," he admitted finally.

Jim's eyes grew round in surprise. "Really?"

Blair nodded. "It happened a few years before I was even born. She told me about it maybe four years ago, out of the blue. I couldn't believe it either. I had always assumed rape victims became...I dunno, frigid or depressed or something, for the rest of their lives. I wouldn't have ever guessed if she hadn't told me. I told her that, and she said she'd met quite a few women in counseling sessions-" He stopped when he saw Jim's surprise growing. He allowed himself a small smile. "Yeah, I know. Naomi in a counseling session. It had to be wild. But anyway, she said they were all different. She said a lot of women do let themselves become victims for the rest of their lives, but quite a few don't. She had to make the same decision they all do- whether or not to let it affect the rest of their lives. I mean, she said it was always there, in a shadow, haunting her. She still has nightmares, she can still see the guy's face on a total stranger in a crowd and freak out. But she's decided to go on with her life."

Jim nodded, his respect for Sandburg's free-spirited mother growing. Quickly, though, he decided to change the subject- technically, it was still a holiday. And this was just too damn depressing. "So, are you...uh, are you coming into the station tomorrow?"

Blair's surprised eyes turned to him. "Um, I don't know. What does that have to do with anything?"

Jim shrugged. "Well, for one, we do have a job that has to be done. Simon considers it generous to give us today off, he said he wants us back first thing. Second..." Jim paused, not sure what Blair's reaction would be. "There has been a crime committed."

Blair opened his mouth, then shut it, his eyes growing wide. "You mean...you mean they'll let us find who attacked Angie?" His normally bright, twinkling blue eyes were suddenly steel. "I'm there. First thing in the morning. What have we got to go on so far? Did Simon tell you anything?"

"Hang on, Chief. Tomorrow. It can wait."

Blair started to protest. "Jim, Angie was-"

"She can wait, Blair." Jim was firm. "Until tomorrow. We won't get anything meaningful accomplished tonight. We'll have to talk to Joanna, the woman who took her statement. We'll have to talk to whatever officers they sent to investigate the crime scene. We can't do any of that tonight. And you saw yourself, Angela isn't exactly cooperating. So enough about it for tonight."

"I can't believe you would-"

Jim held up a hand suddenly, silencing the younger man before the rant could really get underway.

"What is it?" Blair asked, only shutting up when he recognized the classic sentinel-in-action signs in Jim's face.

"Someone's coming,"

Blair relaxed, shrugging. "Probably just Simon. Let him knock for once. It's Christmas, it'll make him happy."

Jim nodded, feeling a little of the tension that knotted through him fading as he saw the small smile threatening to appear on Blair's face.

The two men were quiet, waiting for the knock.

It didn't come.

Jim figured maybe Simon was so used to someone acknowledging him before he could knock, he'd forgotten how to do it himself. Then he realized no familiar tobacco-wafts reached his nose. "It isn't Simon."

Blair immediately left the balcony and headed for the door.

Jim followed, surprised by the firm stride of his roommate. But then he remembered what had happened the last time the two of them had chosen to ignore a communication from the outside world- Angie's frantic message.

Blair swung the door open and breathed in. "Angie?" he knelt down next to the figure that had huddled down on the ground beside their door.

She looked up sharply, gasping in. "Blair! I...I thought you'd still be out. Your car..."

"It's in the shop," Blair said quietly. "What's wrong?" He reached a hand out to her gently.

She reached out and grasped it like a lifeline. "I..couldn't go back. My apartment...I couldn't go in." She spoke in a whisper.

"Come on," Blair helped her up quickly and led her into the apartment, past Jim, who stood staring. He led her to the couch and sat her down. "You can stay here. As long as you want." Blair only glanced at Jim briefly, not bothering to wait for his roommate's okay.

She turned hooded eyes to him. "Are you sure? I really don't want-"

"Angela. Stop it. You aren't imposing, or bothering us, or anything else. Just relax. Are you alright? Do you want some water, or tea, or something?"

She actually smiled faintly. "No thanks."

"It's no trouble." Blair insisted, standing. "I'll get you some of that hibiscus tea you liked. Just sit here, I'll be back in a minute," he rushed off to the kitchen.

Jim was left with Angela, looking after his roommate, distinctly uncomfortable. He glanced back at the girl on the sofa, and saw her eyes were already on him. She looked away when he met her eyes.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," she said quietly.

It took Jim a minute to figure out what she was doing- apologizing. Actually apologizing to him because she thought he didn't like her. Not that he'd done much to warrant her changing her opinion. Well, that was one thing he could fix then and there.

He went up to the couch slowly, wondering whether or not he should get too close. He opted to just perch on the arm of the sofa. "Angela."

She didn't look up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison. I didn't mean to-"

"When Blair said it was no bother, he was speaking for both of us," Jim cut her off firmly. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk last night, I'm sorry I made you think I don't like you. Believe me, I've learned to value Blair's opinion about a number of things- he is a good judge of character. Really, I think it's incredible how you're coping after what you've been through."

Her head jerked up and she stared daggers at him.

Jim saw her expression and mentally scanned his comments for anything he might have said that would have offended her.

"What I've been through?" she repeated slowly.

He froze, resisting the urge to actually slap his hand over his mouth. "Um," he commented at last.

"You know what..." She met Jim's guilty eyes, and suddenly crumbled in front of him. "How could you...oh my God, you're a cop. That's why you were at the station...oh my God. Does Blair know? Of course he does. No wonder he..." She stood suddenly, her horrified eyes going to the kitchen just as Blair appeared.

"It'll be another minute on- Angie? An, what's wrong?" Blair's eyes went to Jim, accusing.

"How did you find out?" she asked him hoarsely.

Blair's eye's widened as he caught her meaning. "Ohhh...An, it was my fault. I was so worried...I mean, after that message, I had-"

"That message, that god damned message," Angie's eyes went from one to the other, but her voice was getting softer, almost like she was going into shock.

"I-I had eveyone out looking for you. They sent some officers to your apartment..." Blair trailed off.

She sat herself back heavily on the couch. "I think I heard them knocking...someone. I don't know when." She spoke barely above a whisper.

Blair quickly sat himself next to her. "I'm sorry, Angie. I never meant to invade your privacy. I was just worried about you. I figured you would tell me...."

She didn't answer. Her eyes were locked on her lap, unmoving.

After a minute Jim cleared his throat slightly. "Um. I think I'm gonna go check on that tea." He backed up and left the two alone without waiting or a reply.

Jiim had no idea if Blair and Angela had gotten anything settled that night. He had given the two their privacy, not listening in at all, only going back into the room to take Angela the tea Blair made for him. He then went up to his bedroom and waited, doing some paperwork he'd brought from the station, listening to music, staring out the window...just passing the time.

When he finally went back down, the two had obviously called it a night. The living room was dark, and Jim smiled at the huddled form of his roommate on the sofa with a comforter spread over him. He wasn't surprised Blair had insisted Angela sleep in his bed.

Jim ducked into the bathroom, and hurriedly went through his nighttime routine, brushing his teeth, checking the hairline to make sure it hadn't receded during the day, the usual.

He left the bathroom, and used his sentinel-advanced sight to make his way through the living roomn and to the stairs without making any noise.

But on the first step he froze.

A whimpering, a sudden increased heart-rate, the light sounds of someone tossing in their sleep. He had lived with Blair long enough to immediately recognize the symptoms- nightmare. A bad one. But for once it wasn't Blair's heartbeat that started racing.

Slowly, tentatively, Jim left the staircase and headed for Blair's door. He opened it a crack and peered in.

Angela was pale, sweating. Her hands were raised slightly, fighting off invisible attackers, and she made a sound as though she were trying to speak but was muffled.

Jim could see the terror in her face, and he paused, considering. If this was Blair, he would wake him up, make him talk about what he'd seen in his dream, do his best to comfort the younger man, then send him back to bed. But this wasn't Blair, this was Blair's friends, a woman he hardly knew, who didn't exactly trust him.

Maybe he should wake Blair...no, that went too much against Jim's ingrained the-poor-overworked-kid-should-get-sleep-whenever-he-can way of thinking. But he couldn't just let her go on like this.

With a faint sigh, he approached the bed. "Angela?" he whispered quietly, not wanting to wake up Blair.

She didn't respond.

"Angela?" He reached down and touched her shoulder gently.

Her response was electric. She jerked up, her eyes bursting open, and she almost cried out.

"It's just me," Jim said quickly, taken aback by her terror. "You were having a nightmare. It's me, Jim. It's okay,"

She was breathing hard, her eyes still reflecting terror even as she started to relax. "Oh..oh, Jim. I''m sorry,"

He almost smiled. That sounded too much like Blair- apologizing for suffering just in case it interfered with Jim's plans. "For what? You were having a nightmare."

She shuddered slightly as her face slowly regained some color. "I thought...I mean, aren't you supposed to get at least one night of peace before you start having dreams?" She laughed nervously.

Now Jim smiled, but only faintly. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Are you alright?"

She nodded slightly. "Yeah, I guess I'm just...." Her voice trailed off and she suddenly blinked big eyes up at him. "Did I wake you?" She asked suddenly, her voice more formal.

"No, I was downstairs."

"I didn't wake Blair, did I?"

"Wouldn't he be in here, hovering over you and making you tea, if he was awake?"

Angela returned his growing smile, but it was unnatural, more polite than anything. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison. I'll be more quiet."

Jim sighed. This had to stop. "Angie....look, this probably isn't the time or the place to talk about this, but you and me didn't get off to a great start, and I'd like another chance. You really weren't getting me at my best when we me, and if I acted like a jerk...well, you can ask Blair. That's my natural state half the time. It's nothing personal. There's no need for you to feel like you're unwelcome here, by either of us." He perched himself on the edge of the bed, so their eyes would be level. "I'm apologizing, okay?"

She met his eyes for a long moment, then finally relaxed. "Okay."

He grinned, more relieved than he thought he'd be. "Good. Now, really, are you alright?"

Her smile faded, and she shrugged. "I don't know. I just...I don't want this to be happening. I want it to be a dream." She looked down at the bed, her hands fidgetting in a patch of moonlight reflecting from the window. "It feels wrong to me, the way I'm reacting. I mean, I should be falling apart, right? Like, crying and screaming. But I'm not. I didn't at all today. The closest I came was when I first got here....I'm just ready for this to all be over. And I know it's not going to go away. And..." She let out a shaky breath. "And I can't believe this is Christmas. Does that sound stupid?"

Jim shook his head silently.

Misinterpreting his lack of vocal response, she regained her apprehensive look. "I didn't mean to dump that on you. Sorry."

"Sounds like you needed to dump it on somebody, why not me?" he responsed easily.

She saw his sincerity and smiled faintly. "You're a good listener," she said quietly.

His eyebrows shot up. He'd been accused of being a lot of things in his life, but never a good listener. If anything, the opposite- too uncomfortable with sharing and listening to others share to be any kind of comfort.

As a matter of fact, he really wasn't uncomfortable. He was whenever she got her defenses up, but that was simply eagerness to let her know that he really wasn't an asshole. Why wasn't he more uncomfortable?

Before he could take the time to think of an answer, she let out a sigh. "Well, thanks for letting me vent. I think we should both get back to sleep." She didn't look completely comfortable with the idea.

"You worried about more nightmares?" Jim heard himself asking. "You know, sometimes it helps if there's someone else with you."

The hell? Did he just offer to spend the night watching over her? What was going through his head? He needed his own sleep. This wasn't Blair- he didn't have some biological imperative making him want to protect her.

The same reaction flashed in her eyes before she shook her head. "I...appreciate the offer, Mr. Ellison, but I don't think that would help. Some stranger, watching me as I sleep...." she shrugged.

"Jim. And we're not exactly strangers."

"Oh?" A smile reminiscent of her more natural crooked grin appeared. "Any friend of Blairs, huh?"

He chuckled. "Something like that."

"Alright. Jim. But still, no thanks on the offer."

"Fair enough," he stood and headed for the door, turning back before he left. "Just, don't be afraid to ask if you need anything. Blair's right outside, I'm upstairs."

She nodded. "Thanks," she answered, settling herself back down.

Jim left the room quietly and shut the door, glancing quickly over at Blair to make sure their talking hadn't woken the kid up. Nope, he was still, heartbeat slow, breathing even.

Not that Jim's was. Not really. He was a little off-balance, he reflected as he headed up the stairs. The conversation with Angela had unnerved him somewhat, more than he wanted to admit.

Funny thing was, what unnerved him the most was how somfortable the whole thing had felt. She was...he didn't know how to describe it. She was Blair's friend, she wasn't exactly fond of him, she was astranger, an emotional victim of a horrible crime. There were so many reasons why Jim should have been nervous, edgy, around her. When it came to comforting people, Blair always took charge. That was his field. Jim could comfort Blair, when need arose, but that was it. Jim Ellison, normally so inclined to remove himself from other people's emotions, especially females, wanted nothing more than to make sure she felt better and slept without nightmares.

Odd. But probably the least of his problems at that moment, what with a new crime to solve, and the obvious distress it would cause his partner and their new temporary roommate. So Jim shrugged it off, climbed into bed, and went to sleep.

Webmaster: PJ Browning