Oooops II – Further Complications

by B. C.

***

Jim was trying to get a hand in his pocket and get hold of his keys without dropping the small duffel that hung from that shoulder, or having to take his other arm from around Rafe.

"Jim, use both hands or we'll be out here all day."

"Promise you won't flip out and run back home if I let go of you, mister 'This may have been the weirdest night of my life'?" Jim grinned.

"Don't be so sensitive. Are you always this insecure? Here, let me." Grinning too, Brian reached around behind Jim and managed to snake a hand into his pocket, plucking the keys free.

"Ooh." Cackling, Jim gave a small wiggle in response to the movement.

"Not in the hallway, Jim," Brian chuckled back, fiddling with the key and the lock. "What are we going to tell Sandburg?"

"That we were having dinner. Which is what we did. Which is where I told him I'd be."

"All night? I think we'd better be prepared for some serious nudge-nudge wink-wink. Especially since you couldn't stand for the party to be over and dragged me home with you."

"Dragged? Right. Okay, so we ate and talked."

"We sure talked. For about eight hours," Brian added. He turned the knob and shoved the door open, sidling through.

Jim turned to shut and re-lock it behind them. "Yeah, well, who knew you'd turn out to be such an interesting OH my God what the hell--" Jim's face had screwed up and he staggered away from the door, dropping the duffel, turning to face the apartment, which was dim in the early morning light. His eyes widened. "Jesus."

"What? I can't see anything--though you're right, it does smell a little, well, gamy in here..."

Jim flicked the kitchen lights on. Combined with the muted dawnlight glowing from the windows, they were sufficient to reveal to Brian's eyes the disaster the living room had become.

They both just stared a moment. "What the *fuck*..." Brian breathed, trailing off.

"Not again," Jim groaned.

"I guess we better...um, check on them?" Brian was obviously vacillating between lunging in concern toward the apparently unconscious-or-dead pair on the living room floor, or turning around and walking back out the door in common politeness.

"They're alive," Jim said, "but we'd better...um, grab that quilt off the back of the sofa? Least we can do before we wake them is..."

"Cover 'em up," Brian agreed, moving to grab the quilt. "Might be just a little less of a shock that way."

"Chief," Jim was saying, kneeling next to Blair as Brian gently settled the quilt over their tangled-up persons. "I hate to do this to you, but I need to know if you're okay. Come on, come around..."

Rafe, with an air of realization, muttered "Jim...shit. Connor was on stakeout last night."

"I know. And Sandburg was with her."

"This whole scenario is frighteningly familiar."

"I know. Sandburg's coming around...maybe you could find all their clothes while I get them awake?"

"Oh, sure--" Rafe jumped up hastily, glancing rapidly around the apartment. "Good lord, how'd they manage to get Connor's shorts all the way up there?"

"Probably the same way we managed to get your wallet in that saucepan. That's it, Chief, come on...no, don't sit up yet, you're still wrapped up with Megan."

"Huh?" Blair said indistinctly. "Jim...what's..."

"You've been drugged."

"Mmm..." Blair shook his head groggily, more with being woken out of a sound sleep than any aftereffect of the drug, Jim suspected, if his own experience was any indication. Blair said "I feel okay."

"I bet you do. And you will until all the sore muscles start announcing themselves."

"Wait a--Megan? OhmiGOD *Megan*--"

"Hmfnrl," Megan snorted as she thudded back to the rug when Blair sat bolt upright, smacking into Jim and knocking him on his ass. Blair didn't even notice. "Megan!? Are you okay?"

"Sandy...?" Megan blinked sleepily, then just cuddled back up to Blair, kind of crawling into his lap, and started to fall asleep again.

"Megan, come on, wake up, we've got a problem."

Rafe came over to them again with an armload of clothes. Fortunately Connor liked to be comfortable on stakeout, so she'd been wearing jeans, a Throwing Muses T-shirt, and Keds, nothing that would wind up unwearable for spending a few hours on a light fixture, or the kitchen table, or the back of the sofa, or...

"Mm," Megan smiled in her sleep.

So did Jim, rather grimly. "Yeah, I felt great when I first woke up, too," he admitted. "Connor, come on."

"Jim," she muttered, eyes still closed, smooth brow creasing a little as she tried to place where she was. "What are you doing..." Then she was hit with the same galvanic reaction as had clobbered Blair, and Jim and Rafe too a few days earlier, and shot bolt upright. "SANDY! Oh my God!"

"Megan, I am so fucking sorry--"

"No, no, I'm sorry, it was my...it was..." She trailed off, noticing Jim and Rafe's bleakly sympathetic presence. She gulped. "Um...this isn't what it looks like, mates."

Jim and Rafe exchanged a look. Jim said "It's okay, Megan. Well, it's not okay, but we know it's not what it looks like. The same thing happened to Rafe and me a few days ago while *we* were on stakeout."

She blinked. "You and Rafe?"

"Mm-hm," Rafe affirmed.

"Oh." She seemed to be trying to reconnoiter. "That explains the way the two of you have been acting. You said..." she frowned, trying to remember what she'd heard while still half-asleep. "We were drugged?"

"You have to have been."

"What else can you tell us?"

"Not a lot," Blair admitted. "I knew about it--helped them get medical exams from a friend of mine. They made me swear not to tell."

"Did you tell Banks, though?"

Rafe cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Not yet."

"Whyever not?! You were drugged on stakeout and apparently whoever's responsible did for Sandy and me, too!"

"We couldn't know at the time that history was going to repeat itself," Jim said. "We didn't tell Simon because...we wanted to figure out the best way to handle it to keep our asses covered. We were *going* to, but--"

"We falsified the report," Brian said. "We were afraid of it getting out at the station."

"You know what it could have done to their careers if what they'd done went on record, Megan," Blair said.

Megan deflated a little. "Hm...all right, I suppose I can see that. I don't like flouting regs and procedure, but I can see it a bit in this case. But I think you'll both agree it's time to bite the bullet and tell him."

"Ohhhhhh, definitely," Rafe agreed with a dismal little chuckle, sitting on the couch and rubbing his forehead with one hand.

"You say you've got a friend we can get checked by?" Megan said. "We can get that out of the way. Then, if we're fine, we can go ahead to the PD doctor to be recertified for duty, and we won't have to let on about any embarrassing details--well, being drugged on stakeout is embarrassing enough, but you know what I mean--to anyone but the captain, that is. *He'll* need to know everything."

"Er, why?" Blair wondered faintly.

"Because somebody damn well needs to know *everything* if we're going to find out who's doing this. That we reacted to the drug the way we did might be a significant factor in identifying it, which gives us a start pinning down who might be able to get hold of it."

"Hadn't thought of it that way," Blair admitted.

Rafe added "In fact, things like that might be all we have to go on. Apparently this stuff, whatever it is, is flushed from the system so quickly--Doctor Vallejo said likely through sweat and/or respiration moisture, it's the only thing that would have been able to dissipate it so fast--the various tests weren't able to pull up anything definitive. Just a few odd imbalances that seem to be an aftereffect; nothing on the drug itself. We've already got copies of those records."

Connor said "But the PD techs and the forensics lab might have better luck. How long were you and Jim...how long was it before...you know what I mean."

"At least six hours before we were tested," Jim said.

"It's been less than that for Sandy and me, if memory serves about when I started...um, or Sandy, I mean..."

"Don't bother trying to figure out who started it," Rafe advised. "If it went down with you two like it did with Jim and me, it was mutual."

"Yeah, it pretty much was," Blair sighed.

"Sandy, call your friend. She can at least do the preliminary check and take the samples; we'll get those to forensics. She can also check us for...all the usual things you check for on this kind of morning-after, so

we won't have that in the PD records. Rafe, Jim, we'll need samples from you, too. If you've been exposed to this and our people *do* have better luck than a non-crime laboratory, there might be *something* left in your chemistry--an imbalance, anything at all--that might help point up what this stuff is. Can someone loan me a change of shorts?"

Blair said "Uh, yeah, I'll grab you some--but what time is it?"

"Five-fifteen," Rafe said.

"Consuelo won't be at the voodoo hut until--"

Connor snapped "Wake her up. Time is against us here, Sandy."

"You're right," he sighed, starting to stand up with the quilt; he realized as he did that he'd be pulling it off Megan and hesitated. "Er..."

Megan sighed and stood up, letting the quilt slide off. "I'll start the shower. Call your friend and join me. We'll get cleaned up and be at the clinic to meet her in half an hour, right mate?"

"Uh," Blair said.

Jim said quietly "He'll be right in."

"Thanks, Jim." She stumped off toward the bathroom, having accepted her clothing bundle from Rafe on the way. "Has anybody seen my purse?"

"I haven't," Rafe said.

"Could somebody check Sandy's car for it? It's got a few emergency items in it. Toothbrush and such."

"I'll do it," Rafe said.

"Thanks." The bathroom door shut.

"Uh," Blair said again, eyes huge.

"We've seen Connor before, Chief," Jim explained gently to the highly startled Sandburg.

"She's seen us, too," Rafe added.

"Remember the bust at the sewage processing plant?" Jim asked.

"Uh...oh. Yeah."

"That was about the least sexy shower I've ever taken with a woman," Rafe said ruefully. "Or, for that matter, with a woman and two other guys. Ye Gods, what a stink. We'd have paraded naked in front of the entire department to get that stuff off as fast as possible."

"Call Consuelo, Chief," Jim said, wrapping Blair in the quilt and giving him a helpful shove in the direction of the phone. "Explain the situation and offer her anything in our power to give as a return favor."

"Well...she *does* have a couple of parking tickets..."

"We'll fix them," Rafe said, making shooing motions at Blair. "Go call."

"Right." Blair moved to the phone and began to dial. Rafe trotted down the stairs to Blair's car, snagging his keys (let's hear it for ingrained habit; amidst the general chaos of clothing and valuables flung in all directions, furniture knocked askew, etc., Blair's keys nestled comfortably in the basket by the door) on his way out.

By the time he got back up, carrying Connor's purse--a complex affair designed to hold a large number of items in the smallest possible space--Blair was heading for the bathroom. Rafe handed him the purse.

"Thanks, Brian," Blair said dully, and paced into the bathroom, the quilt trailing behind him on the floor, and shut the door on a waft of steam.

"Boy. He *is* rocked," Brian murmured. "You know all isn't right with the world when Sandburg looks upset over getting laid."

"Yeah. I think partly--on top of the whole shock aspect of the whole thing--it's who he got laid with," Jim said, holding out a hand in invitation. Rafe came and joined him on the couch, still gazing speculatively back toward the bathroom.

"Really? Those two used to flirt a little," Rafe wondered.

"They even tried to date, but they both felt stupid, according to them. They make better friends. Once they went out on a fancy dinner date--Connor looked great, some slinky green dress and heels--and Blair was in a tux...and they wound up back here an hour later, drinking beer and watching the Woodstock video. And making rude comments at it. They got a little sloshed and went to sleep in Blair's room, curled up on the futon in their underwear. Which I guess is why Connor needed a moment before she remembered what'd happened. She's used to sleeping with him, in the literal sense."

Rafe winced in sympathy. "Ouch. I mean, the kind of opposite-sex friend close enough that you can, well--" he waved toward the bathroom in a see-what-I-mean gesture; steam, the sounds of splashing and desultory muttering could be heard emanating from behind the door, "--take a shower with her, and then this happens...they must be having as hard a time looking each other in the face as we did."

"Though not for the same reasons. And sadly enough, I don't think it's gonna work out as well for them," Jim muttered.

"Maybe. But I'd have said a disaster like that couldn't have worked out for us, either," Rafe pointed out, his eyes scanning the floor.

"True," Jim said, watching Rafe curiously. "Looking for something?"

"Jim...you don't see any...wrappers or tubes or anything lying around, do you?"

"No, but then *we* didn't use anything eith--" Their eyes met. "Oh, shit," Jim muttered.

"No wonder he's freaked," Rafe said grimly. "Lack of protection presents an additional problem to him and Connor that it didn't to us."

"Hell. And they won't know anything for a couple of weeks at least."

"When we find who's doing this, I'm gonna--"

"You'll have to get in line behind Connor," Jim said. "She deserves first shot."

"No wonder she's being so levelheaded about this," Rafe observed. "She *has* to be."

"Whereas you and I were too busy losing it because we'd done it with another...well, we were spending too much energy questioning our own masculinity to think straight, pardon the statement," Jim said.

"We got over that pretty quick, though, didn't we?" Rafe added, smiling a little again.

"Luckily. Like I said--who knew you'd turn out to be such an interesting guy?" Jim said, smiling back.

"You, too." Rafe glanced back toward the bathroom. "I think I'm in some kind of shock. We could all be in some serious shit here, and Sandburg and Connor have a major personal crisis to deal with, and all I can think about is that it isn't the jeans that give Sandburg that incredible ass."

"What, one drugged night of sexcapades and a make-out session on your couch, and suddenly you're a connoisseur of male ass?" Jim managed a half-smirk.

"I guess I can't find it in my heart to be enough of a cad to drool over Connor under these circumstances. Besides, Jim, I've always been...at least interested. In guys. I told you that. I just never did anything about it."

"How long've you been 'interested' in Sandburg in particular?"

"Um...well, ever since I started wondering if he was maybe interested in *me*."

"Ah. I see. When was this?"

"A while back. We were playing shirts and skins b-ball--I was on skins--and my moves aren't impressive enough to warrant that kind of staring all by themselves."

"He *was* pretty gobsmacked--and riveted--the other day when you ran down the stairs naked. Speaking of which, I never got around to asking last night--how's the bruising and such?"

"Fading. That bite on my shoulder needed a few squirts of Bactine, but most of the rest of it is nothing much. Though I'm still a little sore. How about you?"

"Most of the marks are turning yellow by now. Except for the one on my ass." Jim shifted slightly. "That puppy's gonna be around a while, I suspect."

"Sorry about that," Rafe said sheepishly.

"Hey, at the time I was all for it. Wouldn't have missed it."

"Me neither. Shoulder bite and all."

Jim glanced toward the bathroom. "They didn't look as beat up as we did the next day."

"Maybe they spent most of their session on the floor here instead of falling off various pieces of furniture like we did."

"Yeah. That slide down the stairs would have been a killer if we hadn't been drowning in endorphins."

Rafe sighed. "You want to call Simon, or should I?"

Jim sighed resignedly, too. "You do it. He just lives for the chance to blame me and Sandburg for everything from his cholesterol count to the national debt."

***

"All right," Simon sighed, grabbing the just-filled pot from the coffee maker behind his desk, "let's have everybody's mug..." Those needing a.m. jolts approached the divine altar and received their blessing.

"Thanks, Captain."

"Yeah, Simon."

"Thanks, man."

"Okay. We're gonna walk through this a step at a time. I wasn't expecting to have to come in at seven in the morning on my day off, so I may be just a *little* bit slow in integrating what you told me over the phone, Rafe," Simon growled. "You said this could be an issue of concern to the entire PD, not only us here in major crimes."

"Yes, sir," Rafe muttered.

"You and Ellison were on stakeout at the McElroy warehouse last Tuesday, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Rafe said. His partner, seated next to him, snitched his mug and stole a drink of coffee. Henri was trying to cut down on caffeine, and apparently subscribed to the time-honored principle that coffee drunk from other people's mugs contained none.

"You apparently inhaled some kind of airborne intoxicant, all other possible avenues of ingestion seeming unlikely enough to disqualify them from the running, correct?"

"Yes, sir, though now, of course, we'll be examining that assumption more closely; it'll be up to the people in the labs to totally rule out things like--hey." Rafe re-appropriated his mug from Henri, with a small glare, which was answered with an abashed "Who, me?" grin.

"Right," Simon graveled dryly. "You...became distracted, I believe you said?"

"Yes, sir," Rafe muttered, trying to find somewhere to look that wouldn't present the threat of eye contact with anybody in the room. Not that he

needed to worry that much with Sandburg and Connor. They were staring into a shell-shocked distance.

"By what? Was this drug a hallucinogen? You got distracted by the air molecules or something?"

"No, sir, it wasn't an hallucinogen. As I mentioned, Detective Ellison was able to drive his truck with no difficulty under its influence." Rafe's first experience with giving a blow job was a lot bigger a problem for Jim's control of the vehicle during that little trip than the drug had been, he thought, coughed when he accidentally caught Jim's eye and realized the older man was thinking the same thing, and continued hastily "We...became...uh...uninhibited."

"So this is like some kind of airborne date-rape drug?"

Rafe blinked. "Well, you could call the effects something like that, I suppose, but it's a lot more complicated than that. And like I said, we no longer had the drug in our systems by the time we were checked, so it was impossible to identify it absolutely."

"And you falsified the report because...?"

"Because..." Brian hemmed and hawed for a second.

"Because we fucked like rabbits, sir," Jim said.

Simon spurbled coffee and grabbed a napkin from the pile by the coffee maker.

"And any mention of having been drugged would result in our undergoing complete physicals with full reports to the department," Rafe continued a little desperately.

"And just what they'd been doing would have--been--well, pretty damned obvious, to hear them tell it," Blair added, with a wry look back at Jim.

"And the evidence of it would have been on record, sir," Jim finished quietly. "And not only as a few obscure Latin phrases in our medical files that wouldn't mean anything to anyone but a doctor. Our...behavior that night, both in abandoning the stakeout and in screwing around, would have been specifically noted as part of the investigation into the matter--the screwing around part if for no other reason than something Connor mentioned earlier; namely, that the specific sort of behavior we demonstrated would have been at least one factor in determining just what it was we were dosed with."

Simon was motionless a moment, then suddenly collapsed back in his chair. "So you falsified a report because you were worried people would know you had...uh...intimate relations with Rafe while you were under the influence of some unknown drug?"

"With a male co-worker, sir. That could have been bad for both of our careers, through official and unofficial channels both," Rafe reminded him. "The rumours alone could have been the ruin of us. We didn't intend to hide it long--we were just trying to come up with the best way to present it to you, so that the relevant information would be on record, and useful, while leaving our...indiscretion out of it. And no, we still haven't come up with a way to do that."

"Not without waiting until we've both healed up a little more, at least," Jim added dourly. "In more ways than the obvious."

Simon winced, leaning back and holding his hand up. "Jim, Jim--ho, there. Too much information."

"Sorry, sir. You have a problem with...well, with two men--"

"Specifically? No, but I have a problem with graphic details of ANY sex coming up in my office! At least if we're not talking about a crime."

"Well, this was a crime, sir, but it wasn't committed by Brian or me."

Simon gave a blustery sigh and said "Moving right along, even though you haven't come up with a way to keep what happened between you completely out of it, you are still coming to me with the whole story now...why?"

"You know that saying--once could be an accident, twice could be a coincidence--but three times is a pattern'?" Connor said, abruptly coming out of her stupor, drawing all eyes to her.

"Yeah," Simon said cautiously.

"I think we can modify it to 'Once was damned disquieting, twice and you'd better call out the guard'. The same thing happened to Sandy and me at the Balfour Hotel last night."

"And before you ask," Blair said, "no, Megan's case and that case of Jim's and mine that he and Rafe were working on Tuesday night have, so far as we can tell, absolutely nothing to do with each other."

"Let me get this straight. You and Connor, on stakeout at the Balfour..."

"...became 'uninhibited'," Megan concurred dryly. "And eventually took off for Sandy's place, it being closer."

"You and Sandburg...?"

"Yep," Megan said grimly.

"Several times," Blair added.

"I count close to half a dozen," Connor said, "if we're counting...you know, every way we did it, instead of just--"

"All RIGHT, all right," Simon interrupted, paused to set his coffee down and give a moan/sigh, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "First things first. *Have* you all been examined by a doctor?"

"Yes, sir," Connor said. "And we've got various samples for the people in forensics. We also thought that since the intoxicant is likely airborne, there could be traces on our clothes that lasted beyond what might have been on our skin, and we brought what we were wearing in. Jim too, but Rafe had already done his laundry."

"That's supposed to be your job this week," Jim muttered, with no real heat, to Blair.

"I've been busy," Blair noted pointedly, with a glance around at Jim, Connor, himself and Rafe to indicate what kind of "busy" he meant. Jim could only shrug and give him a can't-fight-you statement.

"And the results?"

"The doctor who did the work was unable to find anything conclusive from Jim and Rafe," Connor said. "We thought that the more specific materials and equipment in the crime labs might be able to provide something, though, so we had samples taken from them again just to cover all the bases. The results on those, and the initial work on Sandy and me, are still pending. The weekend's an awful time to try to get lab work done."

Rafe muttered "I'll say. H and I took all that stuff down to forensics, including copies of the files on the work on Jim and me, and had to get one of the maintenance people to let us in. We had to stash it all at a work station with a note in case anyone found it before we managed to roust some technicians."

"What'd you expect, my brother? It's seven o'clock Saturday morning," Henri reminded him.

"So get on the horn and start making calls," Simon said. "We need an analysis *yesterday*. All four of you *are* all right?" Simon asked, looking just a touch guilty for not having asked sooner.

"All right," Connor said, "but..."

"But none of us used any sort of protection," Blair said quietly. "During the sex, I mean."

Simon just blinked a moment, then muttered "Of course you wouldn't, in that condition. You've all been checked for all the usual...the usual things you check when something like this happens, too, right?"

"Results still pending on Sandy and me. Jim and Rafe are fine. But it'll be a few weeks before...*I* know for sure, Captain, about..."

"Oh. Mm, yeah..." Simon gazed at his fingers a moment. "Connor, Sandburg, I'm sorry. Nobody should have to be put through something like this."

"Thanks, Captain," Connor said, almost inaudibly; Blair made an equally small sound of agreement.

Simon sighed again and shook himself, then said "Hell, *none* of you should have had to go through this, but the bigger question we have to deal with now is--"

"What the hell is goin' on," Henri agreed gloomily. He had stolen Rafe's coffee again, but this time Brian seemed disinclined to contest ownership.

"You say that these two cases are completely unrelated as far as you know," Simon pondered.

"Yeah, as far as we know," Rafe concurred.

Jim said "Rafe and I were thinking that the fact we were staking out a pharmaceuticals wholesaling operation might be relevant to the fact that we were subjected to some kind of...gas or whatever that no one ever seems to have heard of, but Connor's case..."

"I have no idea what relevance Jim's case could have to Bartholomew Panteras," Connor sighed. "There's simply no connection."

Simon pondered "So you think this may be...some kind of freelancer. Poisoner for hire. Finds the surveillance, if any, at crucial operation sites before the operation goes down, and takes it out."

"It's not a new idea," Rafe admitted, "just a new method of doing it. Instead of killing or distracting the cops, or whoever, in question--or even hitting them with trank darts, which is also a pretty popular method, or slipping them something in coffee or food, this guy uses some kind of odorless gas, or some other kind of airborne intoxicant that seems to leave no traces. Like I said, not a new idea. It's not even the first time it's been done to me."

"Or me," Blair added.

"Conkle, right," Simon nodded.

Rafe continued "But that was a pretty straightforward run-of-the-mill gassing--usual method, usual gas--acts as much by lowering the victim's oxygen absorption rate as by any direct drugging. By the time we realized we were in trouble, it was too late to do anything about it; we were already on our lips. But that was a known quantity, it did leave discernible traces in our systems, and it didn't make us want to get naked and frolic amidst the wildflowers or whatever the hell. It just booked us on the redeye express to the floor."

Jim said "That's another big point. This particular intoxicant inspires the kind of behavior that the victim might very well keep under wraps if at all possible. As cops, we have a degree of credibility in our corner--if we say we were drugged, even if there are no traces to be found of said drug, we'd at least have a shot at getting the benefit of the doubt about it, because there are screening procedures and ongoing evaluations that we can use to argue that we wouldn't simply...get silly or whatever for no reason. But if some other type of security--bodyguard, bank guard, whatever--were to experience the same thing, even if they *were* able to figure out they'd been drugged...well, they might be disinclined to reveal what they'd done under its influence, considering what sort of things they *might* do, judging by what happened to the four of us. They'd have a lot more reason to fear for their jobs, even to fear legal action. They'd make up some story, maybe even set a stage for it of one degree of complexity or another. But also, they wouldn't be as likely to figure out what had happened as we were...because--see, Rafe and I were never...um...we were never..." Jim floundered.

"We just didn't feel drugged," Brian said quietly. "There wasn't even the kind of physical boost and emotional euphoria you get with speed--I'm not saying there was no euphoria, but it wasn't like being coked up. We spoke and acted just as clearly as I am right now. We weren't able to figure out that we *had* been drugged until the drug wore off--that might seem to go without saying, but what I mean is, we had to eliminate possibilities and come to that conclusion, because this stuff just doesn't have any of the hallmarks we're trained to check ourselves for under those circumstances. There's no memory loss, no serious confusion, no hangover effect, none of the physical effects we know to watch for. Ability to perform complex tasks isn't affected, and--near as we can tell--neither is general interactive ability, unless you, uh, get distracted like we did. So someone *without* our training might just think they..."

Blair helped out "...did something incredibly stupid, and they have no idea why--they might decide they're having psychotic episodes or losing their minds--but in any case, they could easily feel that they can't take the chance on talking about what happened," Blair finished. "For those reasons as well as the ones Jim mentioned."

"Think about it, Simon," Jim said. "Rafe and I did something so out-there we temporarily falsified a report about it to protect ourselves. But it took us a while to decide we *had* to have been drugged, simply because there was no other explanation. And we're *cops*."

Simon frowned. "By any chance, d'you think there may be *other* cops who've done the same thing?"

"It's not impossible," Connor admitted. "It did occur to us--Rafe brought it up. While it's true Jim and Rafe were only stalling for a couple of days, and they'd have come to you with it soon, there are those without the native balls to do the same thing, those who committed a significantly higher breach of regs than ditching a stakeout--even did something flat-out illegal--or those who have more of a reason to fear...a lack of understanding from a superior." The fact that Connor was trying to say that Simon's people trusted him to believe in them and back them, and that all cops weren't so lucky, lost any ass-kissing connotations through her neutral phrasing. She finished "It's the specific nature of this drug, you see--it seems almost impossible that it could work the way it does, and it leaves no traces for evidence."

"So the victims end up covering the perp's tracks for him," Simon mused. "And even if they don't, there's a good chance they won't be believed...and if they *are* believed, there's still no way to trace the drug. Pretty ingenious. But the scariest thing, of course..."

"We were both staked out in vehicles," Megan said. "Somehow this bloke got us dosed up with something that travels through the air, from the outside of a closed vehicle. That would mean it would have to be powerful enough to be certain of getting through air spaces in the car and intoxicating both people at roughly equal rates, lest one of them should manage to figure out something is up when the first one starts to lose it. That's why we ruled out a contact poison left in the vehicles. There are other reasons having to do with the specific circumstances of what happened to Jim and Rafe to make the use of a diffuser left hidden *in* the car doubtful--on top of the same reasons we ruled out drugs in food or coffee, Jim's truck was thoroughly searched, and Sandy's car is next. No evidence of any sort of break-in or vandalism was found."

"That being the case, in order to reach you and be sure to get to you to the same degree both at once, this stuff would have to be damned potent," Simon concurred.

H added "And if some nut case's got ahold of a mind-altering chemical that powerful, that does what it can do, without people realizing they're affected and without makin' it impossible for them to perform complex tasks--what's more, maybe without making it apparent to anybody around that *hasn't* been affected that somethin's up--"

Connor concluded "He could create mayhem wherever he chose. If this stuff is strong enough to function out-of-doors..."

"Okay," Simon said, "do we *know* of any circumstances besides the four of you where this stuff was used, or are we all just speculating so far?"

"Speculation, so far, sir," Rafe said. "As far as any of us know for certain, we're the only victims--and for that matter, we don't even know for sure Blair and Megan were hit with the same stuff Jim and I were...but like Megan said, anything else is just too much of a coincidence."

"And if we're right, this endangers every single stakeout operation in the city," Blair added. "We don't know this guy's agenda, or even if he has one--it could be all about money. So there's no telling who'll be next."

"Though so far," Megan pointed out, "we only *know* of the four of us, and we're all in this department. In one capacity or another," she amended, patting Blair's hand, giving him a wan smile. He gave her one back, and then they both went back to staring at their inner landscapes again.

"You think there could be a connection to Major Crimes?" Simon wondered.

"We think we can't afford to rule it out," Rafe replied. "Not with no more than we have to go on yet, at least."

"I think you're right, Brian," Simon sighed. "Okay, all of you--refresh my memory. What are your caseloads like?"

The four cops and a consultant looked around at each other.

"I'm carrying a full solo load, and with the Panteras case it's a bugger," Megan said.

"Jim and I are doing the McElroy case and a bunch of follow-ups," Blair said. "Not too bad."

"Bri and me just closed two of ours," Brown volunteered, "and we ain't been assigned anything else yet. We got a light load."

Simon nodded. "Okay. Brown, Rafe, Jim, you're here for the morning. I need those analyses done--Jim, you're on that, throw your weight around if you have to, I'll back you up. All of you, clean up any loose scutwork you've got lying around for any of your cases--interviews you haven't gotten around to, records subpoenaed if you can get anybody in the office, that kind of thing. Clear a path for yourselves. I'll see if I can't get you some help for your regular loads...'cause I'm putting the four of you on this. Connor, at your discretion, assist--you've got too much to do already, so just lend a hand where you can.

"Before you ask, the reason I'm putting you all on this, despite the fact that you all have a personal stake in the case, is that you've all been exposed to this stuff. Since we can't put gas masks on the entire PD--not without causing a panic, even if we had them--our best move is to use people who might be able to recognize when they're under its influence again. You might still not know, but from what you tell me it's a pretty sure bet that anybody who hasn't been hit with this *definitely* won't be aware of it. You guys at least have a shot. Also, judging by...er, by the one instance of exposure each of you've had, you'd be unlikely to...um..."

"We'd be more likely to get naked and party than to end up on top of a tower with a sniper's rifle?" Jim smirked, the black humor actually making Rafe chuckle.

"Or the hood of a cruiser with a revolver," Blair muttered.

"Right," Simon nodded. "Once again, no way to be sure you'd react in a relatively harmless fashion with a second exposure, but it's more than we have to go on with anybody else."

"What about Connor and me, Simon?" Blair wondered. "This morning, I mean."

"You two are going to go home and get some rest," Simon said seriously. "Just from what I can see lookin' at the bunch of you here, I don't think you two are taking what happened as well as Jim and Rafe seem to be...?" he looked the question piercingly at Jim, then at Rafe, who exchanged a glance.

Brian said "We've...worked it out, sir. No problems."

"Well, I'm glad to hear *that*. Hell of a thing. Any hint of a problem, though, and--hell, I can't tell you to see one of the department shrinks, at least not yet, so I'll just say handle it on your own or I'll have to handle it for you. And eventually, all four of you *are* definitely going to need some sessions. With your own shrink if you have one and you'd rather do it that way, but we can't ignore this kind of trauma. Anyway, you can go ahead, Brown, Rafe. Get started--Rafe, see if you can kick Welles or Serena and some of their people out of bed until Ellison gets out there to take over. You three, sit a minute, something I want to ask you about."

"Yes sir," Rafe said, and H nodded as he and Rafe got up and headed out to the bullpen.

"The drug," Blair said before Simon could speak, as soon as the door had closed. "Jim's senses."

"Mm," Simon said. "You sure he's not suffering any leftover effects from this stuff?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Blair said, shaking his head. "None of my usual tests show anything odd. He says he feels fine."

"I am fine, sir," Jim said. "There *are* drugs that affect me pretty much like they do everybody else. I guess we can safely assume this stuff is one of them."

"Assuming isn't ever a very safe business, Detective."

"Point taken, sir."

"I *will* take you off this if Sandburg thinks there's any special danger to you...?" Simon looked at Sandburg and waited.

Blair shrugged helplessly. "Like he says, there are some drugs and other chemical substances he reacts normally to, and what he describes experiencing is just like what I remember. If this *is* dangerous to him, I don't have any way to tell past what I've already checked."

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Simon," Jim stated shortly.

"If you say so. Connor, you know what to keep an eye out for, too, right?"

"Sandy's briefed me pretty thoroughly. He reckoned as long as I knew about Jim anyway, I might as well know enough to do him some good in an emergency if I happened to be there when one struck."

"Well, he's right, but for the moment, well...to be blunt, you look like shit. You too, Sandburg. Both of you better just go home and...cope."

Connor nodded ruefully. "I don't think I'll be doing anything at all other than that today, sir."

"You can do your reports at home, bring 'em when you come back in, or e-mail 'em. We won't have forensics' take on things for a while anyway, judging by how annoyed Rafe looks out there on the phone."

Blair and Megan got up slowly, moving carefully. Simon didn't fail to note this, but he wisely didn't say anything.

"Care for some company, Megan?" Blair said. "I'm not looking forward to going back home right now. Not without Jim there."

"That'd be nice, Sandy, if you want some company to sleep; that's about all I want to do right now."

"And if we can't sleep we can always talk about baby names."

"Bloody *hell*, Sandy, don't say that." The door closed behind their painfully shuffling forms. Simon and Jim both gazed after them.

"Christ, that's rough," Simon said. "I wonder if Connor is, you know. Near the time she has to worry about this."

"If you mean is she fertile right now, I can't tell for sure, but from the way she smells, she might be."

Simon blinked. "Do all women smell...uh, a certain way, then?"

"No, of course not, everybody's got their own complex of scent, but I know Connor well enough by now to know she's somewhere in the middle of her cycle."

"Shit."

"Yeah. We're so used to having all kinds of contraception available, we've kind of gotten out of the *habit* of associating sex and pregnancy. She took a shower at our place; she didn't smell strongly enough again for me to tell where she was cycle-wise until just a little while ago; and before she got in the shower--and Rafe mentioned that he didn't see any rubber wrappers lying around with the other debris--it hadn't occurred to me yet."

"Well, the odds are with her and Sandburg, from what I understand. We'll just all have to keep thinking good thoughts for the next couple of weeks 'til she can get an accurate test."

"You think she thought about the other reason you didn't put her on this full-time with the rest of us?"

"I think she's too stunned. But it's true we don't know how long this might go on, and there's no way to tell what this drug might do to a developing fetus. Though rumours to the contrary, there *is* such a thing as just a little bit pregnant; from what I recall of the classes I went to with Joan before she had Daryl, there ain't much that could affect a pregnancy that hasn't even made it to the womb yet, which is why I said she could assist however much she had time for."

"She deserves a crack at whoever's responsible for this too, sir."

"Probably more than any of you other guys."

"Yeah. Listen, Simon...I know our heads are all still swimming here, and this probably won't be a lot of help, but there's something I think I ought to tell you. It's about Rafe and me."

Simon, who'd been extracting a cigar from his humidor, paused. "So, you guys *haven't* worked everything out after all? It wouldn't surprise me, Jim. This isn't the kind of thing they tell you to be prepared for in those personnel-management team workshops they keep sending us to. Frankly I'm surprised you're so calm. Maybe you had a sideline all this time and I never knew about it?" He raised an eyebrow, curious rather than upset, as he took the cigar in his teeth and leaned his elbows on his desk.

Jim shook his head. "No, Simon, no sideline. The occasional idle thoughts, would go away as fast as they came and pretty much hardly ever showed up to begin with. It's a little more than that to Rafe--I went to his place for dinner last night, and we pretty much talked until dawn; he's been...really curious. Had a little more than just idle thoughts, maybe a little less than out-and-out fantasies. But, Simon...we decided last night that we should mention this to you because...well, hell. It'd probably be kinder *not* to tell you, but you're too close to me for that."

"I'm reeeeeeeally gonna hate this, aren't I," Simon slumped, resting his forehead in his palm.

"I don't know. Possibly. The point is...well, not only did Rafe and I not hate what happened last Tuesday night, we liked it well enough to want to...explore it."

"Explore it."

"Yeah."

Simon's voice dropped to a dangerous basso moderato. "Are you saying that you and Rafe are lovers?"

"No, that'd be an exaggeration. So far, at least. We're--how shall I put this--seeing each other."

"Seeing each other."

"Right."

"As in dating."

"Yeah, that's another way of putting it, sir."

"Who knows about this?"

"Sandburg and Brown. And you, now."

"Let me get this straight. You two were so worried about anyone finding out you'd fooled around together, even though you were drugged, that you falsified a report, but now you're deliberately pursuing a *relationship*?"

"Come on, Simon, there's a big difference between irrefutable evidence of a man-to-man fuckfest in our permanent records, with the fact of our having had sex being tossed around as one of the relevant points of the various investigations, and two grown men who know how to be discreet. Hell, he's done his share of undercover, and so have I. We know how to keep our heads down. We just didn't want it on *record* and all over the station."

Simon shook his head, rubbing his forehead again. "Practically speaking, when two detectives--or anybody else of similar rank and job status on the force--get involved, and they work closely, one of 'em generally gets transferred to a different department, just to keep things nice and copacetic, though that's kind of an unwritten policy. Technically, it's not against regs, unless he was your partner--you're not fooling around with Sandburg too, are you?" Simon suddenly demanded in a low voice. "'Cause half this damn department thinks you are, you know."

"Of course I know, I can hear them talking on the other side of the building. No, Sandburg and I haven't been fooling around."

"Didn't think you had, really, just thought I--wait. 'Haven't been'. What does that mean? That it's in the cards?"

"It means just that sir. Sandburg and I have never been intimate in that way." Jim looked innocent.

Simon eyed him. "Riiiiight. Okay, I've gotta think about how I'm gonna approach the chief about this intoxicant business, and see about getting forensics out to your stakeout sites. Trail's colder than a well-digger's ass by this time, but like Connor said, we need to cover all the bases on this. Dismissed."

"Right, sir." Jim got up. "I'll see about those analyses."

***

"I've got to stop at the ladies', Sandy," Connor sighed as she pulled the door to the Captain's office closed behind them. "Meet you at the car?"

"I'll wait here for you. I want to talk to Brian a minute."

She nodded in acknowledgement and proceeded to the hallway. Rafe was just hanging up his phone. "Machines everywhere," he groused. Blair was the only one who heard it, since the one or two inhabited desks were too far away and Henri was figuratively flashing his shield at what sounded like someone at the courthouse; apparently, gentler measures hadn't worked.

"Any luck?"

"Nah, nothing at all," Rafe said, getting up and moving toward the break room. "H drank my coffee; I need another infusion. Want any?"

Following him, Blair shook his head. "No. Megan and I plan to go to her place and sleep like rocks. I don't really want to be alone at the loft right now, even asleep."

"Don't blame you," Rafe said quietly, beginning to rustle up a pot of semi-inferior break room coffee. "Should I ask how you're holding up?"

"Not as well as you and Jim, unfortunately." Blair plopped into a chair. Then he winced and shifted.

Rafe touched his shoulder carefully. "Is it just the possibility of Connor..."

"...being pregnant? Isn't that enough?"

"Of course it is. It's just that--you two have a great thing, you know. I've been noticing it ever since she beat up those three drunk hickaboos who were hassling you at Marisol's."

Blair smiled briefly. "Never seen three more surprised rednecks in my life. Anyway, it's kind of been there since Peru, since we didn't really know each other that well, and frankly Jim's always been kind of an asshole to her--not that Jim isn't usually an asshole anyway--but she could see what he meant to me, and she could see I was still weak and needed help...so she pushed the procedural envelope and came with me."

"I don't know her as well as you, but she seems like a good friend to have. Hate to see you lose that over this; it can throw a real wrench into a lot of friendships, even if there's no pregnancy threat. Happened to me once, minus that part. It didn't turn out well after we went to bed."

"That's what I wanted to ask you about. Brian...when you woke up with Jim...did you apologize? Did he?"

Brian grinned. "No. We both woke up and remembered at the same time, jumped three feet in the air and started swearing. Then we started trying to figure out what the fuck happened, and what we should do next. That's about where you came in."

"Then...why do you suppose apologizing is the first thing Megan and I did?"

"Maybe because Jim and I had never thought about each other that way."

Blair frowned. "You're going past me, man."

"Well...Jim and I were talking about it day before yesterday, and he pointed out that all the chemicals in the world can't make you fall ravenously on someone you really can't stand the thought of sex with--and it wasn't even like we were too fogged up to care, or thought we were with someone else--we were clear, both of us, and we wanted it *bad*. That's what made him think maybe he'd been ignoring something all his life that could...could maybe really bring him something great, if he was willing to cope with the newness and strangeness of it. Well, that and the fact that he kept getting hot thinking about Tuesday night. Or I guess Wednesday morning, by that time. Anyway, you and Megan have a little history--flirting, considering the possibilities. You may have decided you'd work better as friends, and you may both be comfortable with that, neither of you pining away or anything. But that doesn't mean there isn't some attraction there, on both your parts. A lot of friendships have a little of that; it doesn't have to be a big deal, and in my experience it usually isn't. But maybe the first thing that occurred to both of you when you woke up was...well, your friendship. The first thing you felt was scared that you'd...made the other one think you'd taken advantage of the situation, since there is that bit of attraction and you both know it, and so you each wanted the other one to know..."

"...that it wasn't like that?"

"Yeah, and that it was okay. That you didn't blame her, and she didn't blame you."

"So the first thing that popped out was 'I'm sorry, it's my fault'?"

"Yeah, basically. That's what it looked like to me, at least." Rafe patted his shoulder and turned away to pour a mug of coffee. He dumped in some creamer and stirred.

Megan came in, shut the door and leaned against it, sighing. "I've just had an epiphany in the ladies'." The wry statement on her face indicated that she didn't consider that the most poetic location in the world for an epiphany.

Blair smiled a little and shrugged. "You'd be surprised at the insights that come to me in there when I haven't got anything to read."

She snorted, covering her mouth with her fingertips, as Rafe made a "hear hear" noise and grinned, toasting Blair with his coffee. Megan said "Wasn't on the throne. Was staring at myself in the mirror." She sighed. "The time's not right, Sandy. I know that. There's no point in waiting any bloody two or three weeks. I called my gynecologist, and she's meeting us at her office. We'll have to make that stop before we head to my place to crash."

Rafe was quiet, neutral, sinking silently to a chair as Blair looked up at Megan, then rose and went to fold her close. She rested her cheek on his head. They didn't move for a few minutes.

Finally Rafe cleared his throat softly and said "My sympathies, Connor. No matter how you slice it, this is a tough thing."

She just nodded slightly a couple of times. Blair, leaning back, said "I'll be around for whatever you need."

"I know you will, Sandy."

"Should I crash at your place for a while?"

"Oh, just a day or so, maybe come look in on me every once in a while after that. I'll be feeling pretty sick, though they give you pills for that, but that'll be over quick, no worries. And then next week I'll have hormone symptoms from hell--physical ones, I mean, bloating and headache and such. No fun, but nothing I haven't dealt with before. I'm going to tell the Captain I'll be poorly for a few days, and not to expect me; I certainly have the sick time. Wouldn't even need to take it really, but I'm feeling pissed off and self-indulgent. I'll meet you downstairs--the Captain might want to speak with me for a moment. You know how he is."

"Yeah," Blair sighed. "He *can* get paternal, with the right provocation." They let each other go, somewhat reluctantly, and she slipped out, closing the door again.

Blair was motionless a moment, then faintly sighed "Ohhhhh, Jesus..." he slumped quietly as his eyes closed.

"Ever happened to you before?" Brian wondered, setting down his coffee to get up, come over and touch Blair's shoulder.

"What, pregnancy scares? Yeah, twice--the infamous lost rubber situation, and even though my friend and I had backed up with spermicide we were both freaking all over anyway--but neither of those scares panned out; she wanted to wait and do the test, and it turned out she wasn't...but with Megan, now, we'll never know for sure, so it...feels different. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I want a kid right now, or even necessarily at all, but I still...feel this distant melancholy somewhere, you know? Nothing really big. I don't mean she shouldn't do the morning-after thing, almost all of me is *really* relieved, but...I guess there's this little part that kind of wondered about the possibilities. I think I feel a little like the way she likely does about it." Hastily he added "Not that I'm trying to say it could, you know, be as *significant* to me, I mean, it's her body and everything here...but it feels at least a little significant. Hell. Am I making any sense?"

Rafe was still a moment, then pulled at Blair's shoulder, drawing the consultant in for a hug. Blair's surprise managed to penetrate his swamp of confusion. "Uh...um, thanks, man." He managed to put his arms around Rafe's waist and lightly squeeze back.

Brian murmured "A few years ago, I had a girlfriend who did get pregnant; she decided on an abortion. I wasn't against the idea, I didn't want a kid at the time either, but I was still...it doesn't really matter if you want a kid or not. It's...if nothing else, it's a very big fat reality check. It can leave you feeling adrift. Like you don't know *what* you feel."

"Yeah," Blair sighed against Rafe's shoulder. "It's like that."

They were still a little while longer; then Blair said "I'd better head down to meet Megan."

"Yeah." Rafe began making disengaging motions, but paused, holding Blair in an embrace just loose enough to look into his face, and said quietly, large hazel eyes intent, "Like you told Megan, I'll be here for whatever you need, okay? And I don't mean just Megan. I mean you."

Blair blinked up at him for a moment, almost in incomprehension, then smiled slightly. "That's...that's really...that's great of you, man. Thanks."

"I just thought you should know that Jim isn't the only one around here you can count on."

"I appreciate that, Rafe. Brian...thanks." They stared at each other a moment longer, and Rafe leaned down, and they kissed very gently.

When they separated, Blair, his eyes substantially dilated, swallowed, licked his lips and said "I was kinda wondering if you were just saying all that about being here for me because of you and Jim and everything, but...hey, I guess you mean it."

Brian smiled softly. "I guess I do. But you can consider that kiss to be from Jim, too. He can't really give you the hug he'd like to in the middle of the bullpen, so he might not get the chance before you leave. Connor would probably like to get on with this as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, I know I would. Well...thanks from him, then, too. For thinking of that." Blair fell silent, just looking up into Rafe's compassionate eyes. There was a long, still moment.

The break room door opened and banged directly into their shoulders with the force of a pooped, pissed detective seeking caffeine. Brian lost his balance, tripped on his own ankle and nearly fell, held up only by a fast grab from Sandburg and his own grip on the shorter man's shoulders. They did a clumsy stability-seeking dance as Rafe groused "Geez, H, watch it, will you?"

"Well hell, man, why're you havin' your reassurance hug right next to the door, for God's sake? Outta the way; I smell coffee in there. What's up? Connor don't look too good," Henri wondered, concern lining his usually placid features.

"Um...Rafe'll tell you," Blair said, nodding at Rafe in permission. "Megan would, but she doesn't really feel like talking right now, and neither do I. But thanks for backing us all up on this insane...thing, H."

"Sure thing, Hairboy. What are partners for? Besides to fetch coffee. Pour me a slug, there, would you, Bri?"

Blair wandered back out to the bullpen. Megan was still there, perched in a tired droop on the edge of Jim's desk. She was just leaning back up, as though she had been speaking softly in his ear. He met her eyes and nodded, with a brief touch to her arm.

"Ready?" Blair wondered in a low voice as he came up to the desk.

Megan nodded. "Just updating Jim. He's going to bring you some things, at my place, when he's done here. He says he hopes he'll have news," she replied, equally softly.

"Thanks, man. I really look forward to seeing you." Blair managed a return smile for Jim's encouraging one as Megan got up carefully, and they started for the doors.

"Hey, Chief--"

Blair stopped and glanced back. "Yeah, Jim?"

Jim started to speak, stopped and threw a glare toward the slightly denser population of the bullpen; the weekend shift was starting to come in. Jim threw an almost entreating glance back at Sandburg.

Blair smiled again. "It's all right, man. Brian relayed the message."

Jim blinked, then smiled again, nodding. "Thought he might. I'll see you this afternoon, Chief, Connor."

Megan only nodded; Blair gave Jim a small wave as he took her hand with his free one. They went out, toward the elevators.