~~~~~~

Justin stirred.

Something sharp, hard and unyielding jabbed him in his chest, stomach and thighs. What was he lying on? He opened gritty and swollen eyelids and to find himself draped on the curved stairs just outside the anteroom. His head throbbed mercilessly. Glancing at the grandfather's clock in the hall, Justin saw it was nearly two o'clock in the morning.

Choate had gone with his father to a fund-raising dinner that had lasted the better part of the evening. No lover meant no reason for Justin to be nearly naked or semi-aroused. The last thing he remembered was sitting in the playroom with a few of his friends to watch the game on T.V.

"Oh, shit! Oh, no! Please. . ." He quickly checked the front of the emerald green silk briefs he wore for telltale signs of semen. None. A sigh of relief, followed by a frantic internal search. No ache in his nether regions, no taste in his mouth other than the usual early morning ones. He breathed a deeper sigh of relief. That feeling was short-lived as he surveyed the floor below him.

There were scantily-clad bodies everywhere, along with other assorted party favors. The smell of marijuana, and something else, still hung heavy in the air.

Justin groggily picked through various articles shattered on the stairs until he found his shirt and quickly pulled it on. He had just started fumbling around for his pants when he heard the latch click on the front door. "Oh, please, don't let it be--" His whispered plea interrupted by. . .

His father's startled voice, "What the hell?"

"Ralph, get the Councilor back in the car and take off!!" Choate ordered, already shoving both men out the front door. "I'll call you when it's clear. Go!!" He stepped into Justin's view, his face grim. The Marine held his gun in both hands close to his cheek, its barrel pointed towards the ceiling. "Justin!" he called urgently, then stopped at the foot of the staircase and looked up.

Justin clutched his open shirt in both hands and smiled helplessly, fighting the inane urge to wave. He smiled a tiny, apologetic smile and softly said, "Hi."

The expression on the Chief Aide's face would've almost been comical, if not for the one that immediately replaced it. That look said he weighed the threat of life in prison against the pleasure of killing. Choate slowly slid his gun back into its shoulder holster. "Talk," he said calmly. "I know you have an explanation. So I'm going to fight the urge to blister your butt. Tell me."

But that calm exterior didn't fool Justin, he knew it masked a raging volcano. "Party?" he squeaked helplessly.

"Are these people still alive?"

Young Evers shrugged restlessly. "I guess so."

"You guess. . ." Choate sputtered. Then he clenched his teeth and seemed to count to ten. "I'll give you exactly twenty minutes to get these people up and out of here, little boy, or I'm going to give them a floor show, with you as the star."

~~~~~~

Choate watched his young lover from the alcove as he leaned against the doorway of the inner arch. His arms crossed at his chest, his feet at the ankle, his entire posture alert and tense. Coming in the mansion and seeing all those bodies had scared him nearly out of his wits.

The aide took a deep breath. He had to calm down. The Marine knew what he wanted to do, but if he touched the Councilor's son in this moment, he'd do serious damage. Get a grip, soldier! He told himself sternly.

Justin had pulled on his pants and zipped them. He left them unbuttoned, and his belt undone, his shirt hanging open and his feet bare. Wisps of hair floated around his face with each movement. He nervously checked his watch every few minutes while rousing and herding the last of his 'guests' from the premises into waiting cabs. A small mountain of keys lay on the table by the door, collected earlier, before waking everyone. Justin had called the cabs and shuttled the sick ones to the downstairs bathrooms, enlisting aid only from some of the 'walking wounded.' None of the resident staff was called. Choate felt proud of him for accomplishing that.

As Justin stood in the entrance doorway, watching the last ones leave, Choate came up behind him.

"Twenty-seven minutes." Choate stated, matter-of-factly. His tone masking the raging emotions he felt inside.

"I know," Justin said wearily, not bothering turning around. "I did the best I could."

"It never should've happened in the first place." Choate said, rekindling his original anger, trying to banish the response that came from his body language. . . "You've done some pretty stupid things in the past, Evers, but bringing drugs into the house and having whatever kind of party this turned into," he paused, taking a breath, "letting your friends lie out in the open like that."

He turned then, "I didn't."

"But the people you invited did." Choate shifted his weight. "I'm not accusing you of planning this. It's just that you should've stopped it when it got out of hand."

"I didn't," Justin protested again. "They didn't either. Paddy, I invited five people. Six came because Gideon's in love again and wouldn't come without whatshisname."

"I counted way more than six," Choate said, crossing his arms over his chest again to resist the urge to put his hands on Justin.

"I don't know where the others came from. I don't know where the drugs came from." Justin shook his head. "I don't know what could've happened."

"For this party's host, you don't know much of anything, do you?" Choate snapped, stubbornly refusing to give voice to his niggling fear.

Justin made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "I know my friends didn't do this."

"I know you should've been more careful!" Choate barked as he got in Justin's face.

Justin frowned his annoyance, stood his ground and barked right back, "I was. I told you, I didn't know most of those people."

Choate raised an eyebrow at the outburst. "You've got to know, this goes beyond simple mischief. You were getting better, Justin," he said, disappointment heavy in his voice. "I thought it'd be months before we'd have at it again." The Marine frowned. "I must be losing my touch, or Ellison was right when he thought you got off on pain. I said you didn't."

"What?" Justin paused in the act of buttoning his shirt. "Pain?" He bristled at the no-so-subtle threat. "You think I like it? That's crazy! I'd just as soon never experience it again. But even so, I'll take responsibility for something I've done! I tell you, I didn't know those other people, Paddy, and I was careful of the ones I did invite. Hell, I invited Blair Sandburg! You think I'd have drugs here knowing his partner's a cop?"

Choate wanted to shake his imp, hard. "There were drugs here, Justin."

Justin wished he were big enough to shake his Neanderthal, hard. "But my friends didn't bring them!" He spoke each word slowly and distinctly. "You can't hold me accountable for something I didn't do."

Breaking through the tension, Choate's cell phone rang. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew it. "Choate here."

"Is everything all right, Paddy?"

Damn! The Councilor, he'd forgotten him. He turned away from the front door and lowered his voice as he spoke into the phone. "Sorry, sir. I was just getting things under control." So intent on placating the Councilor, he missed the look of conflict that crossed Justin's face.

"Where's Justin? Was he there? He isn't hurt, is he?"

"No, sir, Justin's fine."

Justin's features smoothed as he made his decision. He prayed silently that the conversation lasted long enough and slowly began edging towards the open door behind him.

"Well, can you tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know, sir, we're investigating it."

Justin quickly glanced around the room. His shoes and jacket were in the den. Could he make it before his lover noticed him?

"Did you call the police?"

"No, sir, I don't think there'll be any need for the police." Choate half-turned back towards the front door and Justin panicked.

Forgetting all thoughts of additional articles of clothing, young Evers scooped all the keys from the pile into his hand as quietly as he could, hoping his bike key was among them, and sprinted away.

Once outside, Justin hastily stuffed the keys in the bike's storage compartment. He pushed it off the kick stand, and walked it as fast down the front drive as the heavy vehicle would allow. Once at the gate, he opened the compartment, frantically searched through the tangle of keys until he, thankfully, found his own. Sliding the key in the ignition, Justin punched in his code to open the front gate. When the doors started swinging open, he walked the bike through, hopped on, started it and sped away. The cool breeze drying the sweat that had soaked his entire body.

"Well, thank goodness for that. You'll let me know. . ."

"Yes, sir, when I know."

"I'll have Ralph take me to the club. Call me when you get things in order."

"Yes, sir, I will." And he flipped the case closed.

When he looked up again, Choate found himself alone. "Justin!" He turned, the front door wide open. He reached the cul-de-sac just as young Evers' bike disappeared through the front gates.

~~~~~~

Blair bounced at the front door. "Come on, Jim! We're gonna be late!"

His lover stood at the kitchen table, opening the mail.

"Jim!" He waited a few seconds. "Jim!!"

His partner finally looked up.

"The game starts in a little over two hours and we still have to pick up Simon, find a place to park and get to our seats. I don't want to miss anything."

Jim frowned. "Did you deposit that check from the insurance settlement?"

Blair went still. "Yeah, why?"

"Cause all the checks we wrote last week bounced."

"What?" Blair walked over to his Sentinel. "No way! You're kidding me, right?"

Jim shoved the statement under his nose. "See for yourself."

Blair took the paper and scanned it. It listed every check, ten all toll, as returned for insufficient funds. And every one had not only bounced once, but twice. At twenty dollars a pop... "Jim, this can't be right! I remember depositing that check Monday a week ago."

"You got the receipt?"

"Yeah! I got it right here." Blair went to his jacket hanging on the door and pulled his wallet out of the pocket. He rifled through it. "I. . .well, maybe it's in my back pack," he said as he put the wallet back in his jacket and walked over to where his back pack rested against the wall.

The phone rang and Jim went to answer it.

"Ellison."

"You sound tense," came the gruff reply.

Jim recognized the voice immediately. He had to admit, while pleased, it surprised him to hear it. "Choate."

"Justin hasn't called there, has he?"

"No, he hasn't. Is there some kind of trouble?"

"He slipped out of here a little while ago. He wasn't dressed to go very far and all of his close friends are in no condition to help hide him."

"There's got to be a story behind that."

"Maybe, some time when we're both shit-faced. You busy? Mind if I come by and wait to see if he shows?"

"You don't think he'll be back there?"

"No time soon."

"Well, we got tickets to tonight's game, just off center court. . ."

Choate made no reply.

"But, there's a problem." He looked pointedly at Blair who stood ankle deep in debris from his bag.

"It has to be here, somewhere." Blair mumbled to himself. "I know I deposited it, didn't I? Oh, man, didn't I?"

Jim frowned, the muscles of his jaw clenching. "Say, Choate, you like basketball?"

"Yes."

"You want to go to a game?"

"I really need to find Justin."

"Sounds like you need something to take your mind off your problems for a little while."

Jim heard Choate chuckle softly and slowly exhale. "A little change in scenery might save me time in prison."

"That bad?"

"Pretty bad. What the hell. Sure, I'll go."

"Ok, meet you there. Gate 16 in about forty-five minutes." He replaced the phone.

Blair had stopped shifting through papers to watch Jim, a curious look on his face. "Jim, I thought you only had two tickets."

Ellison took his jacket from the back of a kitchen chair and slipped it on. "That's right. Simon has his own."

"So, how's the Councilor's aide getting in?"

Jim opened the door. "You find that receipt, Chief?"

"No, but I know I have it," he paused, looking around, "somewhere. I'll look for it when we get back from the game."

"You'll look for it now."

Blair looked up at him, sharply. "But, Jim, the game."

"You're not going."

"Say, what?"

"You heard me."

Blair became more animated. "Not going? Of course I'm going."

"Not on my tickets, you're not."

"Jim, those tickets were a gift to both of us. You've got no right!"

"If you can't be responsible enough to. . ."

"Say, wait a minute! You're not talking to a child here! I told you I deposited the damn check, Jim!"

Ellison snatched the statement off the table and waved it in his face. "This says you didn't."

He snatched the paper from Jim's hands and slammed it back on the table. "Well, it's wrong!"

"Prove it."

"I'll find your damn receipt when we get back from the game."

Jim turned and reached in Blair's jacket pocket, extracting his set of keys and his wallet. "You'll find them now."

"Hey, man! What! You can't take those!" He made a grab for his property, but Jim just stepped away. "Hey!"

Closed the door tight, leaving his Guide to stare at it in shock. By the time Blair recovered enough to race after him, Jim had driven away.

~~~~~~

Blair had nearly torn the loft apart looking for that little scrap of paper. He had just stretched out a hanger to jimmy the door to his Volvo open when someone knocked. The young guide opened the door. Justin stood there, shirt hanging open and shoeless.

"Justin?" Blair said in extreme surprise.

He glanced apprehensively over Blair's shoulder into the loft. "Hey, Blair," young Evers whispered. "I'm so glad it's you. Ellison isn't here, is he?"

"No."

Relief relaxed his face. "Good! Can I come in?"

"Sure." Blair stepped aside. "This's a new look for you," he said, eying Justin up and down as he entered the room.

"I left in kind of a hurry," Justin replied, laughing nervously.

"Oh?" That word spoke volumes.

"You got some things I can borrow? My feet feel frozen and this shirt's kind of thin."

"Sure, man, come on," the young Shaman said as he led him upstairs.

Looking around the loft, Justin asked, "Why the mess? I remember it being pristine the last time I was here."

Blair frowned angrily. "I'm looking for a bank deposit receipt. I deposited the money, but now it's missing. It made our checking account short and about ten check checks bounced. Jim blew a major gasket."

"I can lend you the money, if that's the problem."

"No, I had the money. I deposited it, Justin. I just can't find the receipt."

"So, where is law enforcement?" Justin asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"At a Jags game. He gave my ticket to your lover." Blair complained as he rummaged around in the closet until he came up with an extra pair of shoes.

"Paddy? When'd he talk to Ellison?" Justin asked between surprise and panic.

"About an hour ago. From what I could hear of the conversation, he was looking for you." Taking a pair of socks and a T-shirt from the dresser, he handed them to Justin.

"Thanks," he said, taking them laying them on the bed next to his hip. "I don't doubt it."

"So, what's up?"

"I invited a few of my friends over last night to watch the game." Justin took his shirt off and pulled the T-shirt over his head, tucking it in his pants. He buttoned, zipped and buckled his belt and slipped his shirt back on. "You remember, I invited you but you had papers to grade." Sitting back on the bed, he began pulling on the socks. Then he pushed his feet into the shoes. "Damn, Blair, for a little guy, you've got big feet."

Blair laughed. "And you know what they say about that. . ." he said as he walked back over to the dresser and took out another pair of socks and tossed it to Justin. "Here, use these, too, and see if it helps."

Justin ducked his head as he took off the shoes. "Paddy says it's not the size of your armament, but the method of your deployment," he said as he pulled on the second pair of socks. He looked up into the strange look on Blair's face.

"Does the Chief Aide always use weaponry as an example?" Blair laughed again.

"You go with what you know."

"And what brought this discussion on?"

"I was complaining about my size. I had told him it seemed like the whole world is bigger than me. Guess that's what I get, having a china doll for a mother, huh?"

"Bet she was, a doll I mean."

Justin's cheeks colored a little. "My father seemed to think so. I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world."

"What happened to her?"

"Cancer. Some female thing. She went really quick." He began lacing up the shoes. "It was a long time ago."

"Before Paddy came to work for your father?"

"Yeah."

"Sooo, what happened at this party?"

"I don't know. This morning, I woke up sprawled on the stairs in my underwear."

Blair made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Aww, Justin."

He finished with the shoes and sat back on the bed to look at Blair. "What, Aww, Justin! Come on, Blair! Not you, too! I have no idea what happened. . .well, yeah I do. It's been a while since I smoked and when we came out of the playroom there was this cloud of prime. . .wait a minute! I walked out into the smoke!"

"So?"

"So, that means the people with the drugs were not with me. All my friends were in the den."

"I take it Paddy thought you brought dope to the Councilor's mansion?"

Justin nodded slowly. "I haven't seen him that mad in a long time. He was getting ready to pound my butt into p�t*. Can I use your phone?"

"Sure, I'll get it." Blair said as he descended the stairs to retrieve the cordless phone. Returning a minute later, he handed it to Justin.

"Thanks," he smiled, taking it and began dialling.

"Who're you calling?"

"The kitchen," came the distracted answer.

"The what?"

Justin took the phone from his ear and looked at it in disgust. "It's busy. That's weird, there's nobody home, who's he talking to?" He clicked off, then dialled another number. After a moment, he said, "Vincent."

"Mr. Justin! I have several messages for you." He paused, then said, in a soft, urgent voice. "One of them is from Mr. Patrick."

"Later, Vincent. Is anybody home?"

"No, sir. The Councilor's at his club and Mr. Patrick went to a basketball game."

Almost bouncing with nervous energy, he asked, "Will you check the kitchen for me? The line's busy."

"Of course, just a moment." And he put Justin on hold.

Justin looked up to find Blair watching him, another strange expression on his face. "What?"

"Wondering what it's like to have that much money."

Justin's lips curved in a mischievous smirk. "Do yourself a favor, put Call Waiting on the kitchen phone."

"Mr. Justin?"

The young Evers turned serious again. "Yes, Vincent?"

"I'll transfer you now."

There was silence for a moment, then Justin said, "Yuan."

The cook was immediately apologetic. "Mr. Justin, sorry you had to wait. I let the gardener's nephew use the phone. He said he'd only be a moment."

"The gardener's nephew? What's he doing on the grounds? Is he working there?"

"No, he was looking for keys. He says his cousin left them here last evening."

"Keys? What kind of keys and why would he have been at the mansion last night?"

"He didn't say, but he was here last night when I left."

"In the house?"

"Yes, he asked if he could wash up before going home. He was the gardener nephew, I thought it'd be all right."

"Do you know who he talked to on the phone, Yuan?"

"No, sorry, Mr. Justin."

"Hang up, hit redial and I'll call you back."

"Well?" Blair asked anxiously caught up in the excitement.

Deep in thought, Justin answered. "I think I found our party crashers."

"What now?"

"He used the phone. Yuan's using redial to find out where he called."

"You've got Redial, but no Call Waiting?"

"Too many gadgets on the phone drove Yuan crazy." He smiled. "Don't ask. He's a magician in the kitchen. You make allowances."

"Okay, he hits redial, then what?"

"Then we take the gardener's nephew his keys and somehow get him to confess to Paddy and get me out of the dog house." He hit the cordless' redial. "Yuan?"

"The call was to Cascade Marina."

"The Marina? Thank you, Yuan." He clicked off. "This keeps getting curiouser and curiouser." He stood. "Okay, if you'll let me borrow a jacket, we're off." Handing Blair the phone. "And let's take your car."

"We'll have to take your bike, man. Jim's got my keys."

"No way, man. If he sees us, he'll run! He knows my bike from the Mansion. Wait!" he said, taking back the phone, dialling another number. "Hey, Douggie!"

"Hey, J.C., my man, what's up?"

"A friend of mine's lost his car keys. Can you fix him up?"

"No sweat, bro', you're my best customer. Where are you?"

"852 Prospect."

"Be there in thirty."

He looked up at Blair. "We could break in and hot-wire, but why? Douggie's the best locksmith I know."

Blair went to the closet for another jacket. "Well, while you're solving problems, unravel the one about the disappearing bank deposit." He turned back into the room to find Justin dialling again.

"Ms. Hamilton, please," the young Evers said, after a moment's pause.

"Now who're you calling?"

"Someone who handles the accounts at your bank. I hope."

"How'd you know where I bank?"

"I peeked in a file on Paddy's desk."

"And why was where I bank in a file on Paddy's desk?"

"Paddy always does a background check on all my friends. He has one on your law enforcement, too."

Sandburg's forehead creased in a deep frown. "I don't like the idea of someone prying into my private life, man."

"Blair, chill. It's what he does. You'd have an easier time changing the tides than changing Chief Aide Choate. It's not like he's going to do anything sinister with the information."

"Eileen Hamilton."

"Hey, Eileen."

"Justin?"

"Yeah."

"If you're overdrawn again, handsome, I'm afraid I can't help you. That hunk of a keeper of yours left word no more overdraft insurance on any of the accounts, and to contact him. He's gonna hang you by your braid."

"Too late, Eileen, Paddy made the book go poof. It's strictly cash or plastic. This time it's for a friend. Do you handle the accounts for Cascade National, too?"

"You know I do. Whatever it is, I can't help. Justin, you and your crew need to take a course in accounting."

"I'm offering an all expense paid day at Nean's."

"A bribe, handsome?"

"Will it work?"

She waited a fast count of five. "Talk to me."

"How 'bout I get you Tomas for your masseur."

There was a pause for a longer count of five.

"Full body, the works," the Councilor's son added, raising the ante.

"What's your friend's account number?"

A few minutes later, Eileen Hamilton picked up the phone.

"Sorry, Justin, there's no deposit showing on that account, but I cross referenced by name and I do show a deposit in that amount made to Mr. Sandburg's savings account."

"Okay, Eileen, it was an honest mistake. Could you transfer the funds to the joint checking account?"

"Justin. . ."

"You make this whole thing right, Eileen, including the overdraft fees, and I'll owe you."

Another five count pause. "You better be glad I like you, handsome."

"I am, Eileen. Thanks." The dark-haired young man closed the phone. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one guilty of 'creative' banking."

An incredulous expression crossed Blair's face. "You found the money?" Blair asked in disbelief.

Justin nodded, slipping to Blair's jacket. "You're an embezzler," he said, calmly concentrating on rolling up the cuffs.

"Come again?"

Justin glanced up at his friend, a wicked grin on his face. "You deposited the money into your savings account, instead of the joint checking."

Blinking owlishly, Blair asked, "What?"

"You probably got the deposit slips mixed up." Justin shrugged the question away. "Happens all the time."

"Jim's gonna kill me," Blair moaned as he ran both hands through his hair.

Justin waved his hand dismissively. "Eileen'll take care of it, right down to the overdrafts."

"Wow, man," Blair breathed, his relief obvious. "I don't know what to say."

The smaller man smiled brilliantly, his eyes sparkling with glee. "Say, 'thank you, Justin.'"

"Yeah, thanks, man," Blair said, the smile on Justin's face, infectious.

"Say, 'I'm eternally grateful and forever in your debt.'"

"Ok, Justin. I owe you big time."

Justin did a little dance before starting down the stairs, laughing back at Blair. "Hot damn! I've never had an anthropologist/police observer in my debt before. This is fun!" He opened the front door. "Now come on, you're out of the hot seat, but my butt's still on the grill."

When they got downstairs a handsome young, black man with chin-length dreadlocks and a crooked smile, had just exited a van parked across from the loft. He took off his denim jacket, throwing it back in the van's open window, then reached in and pulled out a large case.

"Hey, Douggie, this's my friend, Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is Douggie Wright, best locksmith, and up-and-coming, best keyboarder, in all Cascade.

"Pleased to meet you, man," Blair said, extending his hand.

"Most people are," Douggie smiled, placing the case on the hood of the Volvo as he clasped Blair's hand firmly. "You know you have a classic here?"

Blair beamed at the praise of his car. "I tell Jim that all the time."

Douggie rummaged around inside the case until he found a particular crooked wire among about fifteen other crooked wires, as long as his arm. He peeled back the black rubber surrounding the window until he could insert the wire. "Not everybody can open one of these," he said, as he rested his cheek on the window and began working the wire around. "It takes a certain touch," he murmured, "a special ex. . .per. . .tise." Suddenly, he pulled up on the wire.

Blair and Justin heard a click and Douggie opened the door by the handle.

"As you guys would say, 'Piece of cake.'" Douggie smiled proudly, then searched through a huge set of keys until he found one that fit the ignition and started the car. It took him about two minutes to duplicate it using a machine in the back of the van.

"I'll talk to Morris, see if I can get you a deal on that keyboard you've been eying."

Douggie's face brightened. "Straight up?"

"Word," Justin replied somberly, then laughed out loud along with Douggie.

The locksmith nodded, then leaned over to shake Blair's hand. "Stay up, player."

Blair nodded back, frowning slightly. "Right," he said cautiously, hoping it was the correct response.

Then to Justin, Douggie said, "Later."

"See you Wednesday night, Douggie."

The two watched as Douggie climbed into his van and drove away before getting into Blair's car. It started sluggishly, but by the third try, it turned over. Blair signalled and pulled into traffic before he couldn't control his curiosity any longer."Okay, you gonna tell me where you met Douggie?"

Justin turned his face away and stared out of the window. "Around," came the evasive answer.

"Around? Give me a break, 'home boy.'" Blair mocked. "You don't meet people like Douggie in the crowd you normally hang with."

"I met him at the community center."

"That's the name of a club, right?"

Justin shook his head in the negative. "Cascade Community Center." He sighed, in heavy resolve, and said, "I teach there."

Blair brought the Volvo to a screeching halt at the stop light. He turned in his seat to stare at his companion. "Want to run that one by me again?"

Justin glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, I teach piano, keyboarding. One Monday night a month, I tutor adult reading. Thursday nights, I teach art."

Blair's lips worked silently a moment before any words came out. "You do what?"

The light had changed and now cars honked behind them. "Blair, the light," Justin said calmly.

Blair started driving as he laughed softly to himself, shaking his head.

Justin drew his arms tightly across his chest and said defensively, "I don't know what you find so damn amusing."

"I'm sorry, Justin. I guess I just always had you pegged as one of the idle rich."

"Hey, you can't judge a person by the size of their trust fund, you know." Justin said indignantly. "And, besides, I paid my dues. I got my degree in Business to make the Councilor and my mother happy. But my true love is art."

"Art, as in collecting?"

"Art, as in painting, Blair."

Astounded with that admission, Blair asked, "You paint?"

"What's so wrong with that?"

"And you play music?"

Justin turned to look sternly at the younger man. "You know, this conversation borders on the insulting, Professor Sandburg. I play piano and the flute."

"Sorry. I guess I can see piano, but flute?"

Justin smiled. "I like the sound. It keeps the fingers agile." His fingers moved through the air in front of his chest in the smooth imitation of playing the instrument in question. "And, sometimes, watching me play really gets the Councilor's Aide mega hot."

Blair shook his head as he smiled. "Now that's the Justin Evers I understand. Somehow I knew you'd get around to sex."

Justin's face broke into a Cheshire cat smile as he shrugged. "I can't help it, Paddy's my concerto allegro vivace," he said wistfully.

"Okay, Justin, I can see you as the artist and musician, but teaching at the Comm Center? That's so. . ."

"Not my style? Ok, if it helps you, believe Paddy's making me, all right?"

"Fine. . .is he?"

Justin shook his head. "Originally, he made me do a thousand hours of community service to get back the Jag."

"I thought Mr. Choate was more into corporal."

Justin blushed dull red and frowned. "And law enforcement's never heated your ass?" he said defensively.

Now Blair blushed. "Not like Choate does yours, thankfully."

Justin turned back to the window. "Anyway, that was for the tickets. He made me work to get the car back."

"How much longer?"

Justin glared at him, then back to the window. "I got the Jag back months ago."

Blair raised an eyebrow, then turned his attention back to the road.

Justin glanced back at him. "I saw that look."

Blair's face was a mask of innocence. "What look?"

"The one like you expect me to sprout horns."

Blair shrugged one shoulder. "Sorry."

"I really wasn't that bad."

Blair wisely kept quiet.

"All right! Then I'm trying to improve, okay? Damn! It was easier just to be bad when nobody cared about what I did!"

Blair harrumphed. "Was it?"

Justin looked at him. "Yeah," he sighed, "but it wasn't better."

They were quiet, each into his own thoughts, until they pulled into the Marina.

"Now what?" Blair asked, parking the car, turning off the ignition.

Justin dug into his shirt pocket and produced a key that he held up so Blair could see the tag. "We go to Slip number 11-3F."

"Where'd you get that?"

"While you were observing Douggie's expertise, I went through the keys I rounded up this morning."

"Who does it belong to?"

"Beats me," Justin said, shrugging as he started towards the gate. "I guess we'll find out when we find slip 11-3F."

"And then?" Blair asked as he followed Justin through the gate and onto the pier.

"If nobody's aboard, we sneak onboard and see if we can find out just what the gardener nephew's up to."

"Shouldn't we call somebody instead?"

Justin stopped and turned around. "Damn." The look on his face told Blair the thought failed to occur to him. "This is a test, isn't it? Paddy got you to say that, didn't he?" He flung his braid over his shoulder in frustration. "Now I'm supposed to call you some emasculating name and tell you we don't need the police. Then Mr. Choate pops out of the shadows and I spend the next four or five days eating all my meals standing and sleeping on my stomach."

Blair blinked, surprised at the outburst. "Whoa, man! Are you overreacting, or what?"

"You think? Well, news flash for you, Professor Sandburg, yes, you're right, we should call your law enforcement agent instead of barrelling in there." He paused, deep in thought, "But let's leave out the part where we considered trespassing onboard some stranger's yacht. Okay?"

"We considered?" Then at Justin's sheepish grin, Blair asked, "Are you gonna call or me?"

"You call. Paddy's probably mad enough by now to snatch me through the phone."

~~~~~~

Jim answered on the first ring. "Ellison."

"Jim, lover. . ."

"You find that receipt?"

"This is more important, man, let me tell you. . ."

"More important than four hundred dollars in bounced check fees?"

"Will you stop interrupting me for one second. . ."

"I don't have to tell you what's gonna happen if you haven't found that scrap of paper before I get back from this game, right?"

"If you stop beating your chest for a minute I'm trying to tell you, Justin and I. . ."

"Justin? Is sonnyboy with you? He knows Choate is looking for him, doesn't he?"

"Dammit, Jim. . ."

And the line went dead.

Choate turned to look at him. "What was that about?"

"Blair and Justin."

"Together?"

Jim nodded solemnly, his mind elsewhere. There had been something odd about the way his lover clicked off--

"Where are they?"

"I don't know, Blair hung up before I could ask."

Simon leaned across them. "SHHHHH!" he hissed in their faces. "I got seats good enough to see, I wanna hear too!"

"Sorry, Simon. We were talking about Blair and Justin."

"Well you two can compare notes on your own time! I wanna watch the game!"

~~~~~~

The sensation was both pain and ecstasy. Blair quickly reached the crest of an incredible orgasm, then woke from a sharp pinch to the fleshy curve of his left asscheek. "Oww, Jim, that hurt!"

"That's just it, I'm not Jim."

Blair opened his eyes, "Justin?" He sounded horrified.

"Yeah. And you talk in your sleep, man. I know more about you and law enforcement's intimate moments than I ever wanted to know."

"Sorry, man." Blair said sheepishly. "I was having the hottest dream."

"Tell me about it! I did too. Paddy rode me like a thoroughbred in the homestretch at the Preakness." He took a deep, steadying breath. "A minute ago, I came so hard it woke me up."

Blair tried to move.

"Ow!" Justin hissed in pain. "Hey, man, keep still."

"What the hell?!"

He and Justin lay on their sides on the floor in what looked like the storage facility of a small ship's galley. Pressed back-to-back, a sturdy length of rope tied tightly around their chests, but their hands and feet were free.

"How'd we get here?" Blair gave up struggling against his bonds and rested his head on the floor.

"That's right, you were on the phone. Caesar's nephew bonked you on the head."

"That explains the headache."

"I don't know, man. I have one, too, and they didn't hit me. And it smells really strange in here."

"Are your hands free?"

Blair felt squirming behind him, then Justin answered. "Yeah. Why?"

"Can you reach the back pocket of my jeans?"

Blair again felt squirming, then questing fingers.

"Yeah." After a moment, Justin asked, "What am I looking for?"

"My Swiss army knife. It's in the left pocket."

Justin tried to pry the pocket open with his fingertips. "Could you have made these pants just a little bit tighter?" he said sarcastically.

"Oh, you should talk, man. At least I can breathe! I'm surprised you still have feeling in your legs. Just find the knife before they decide to come down and check on us."

Justin's fingers became insistent and intrusive.

Blair jumped. "What are you doing??"

"I'm excavating for petroleum," Justin said in exasperation. "What do you think I'm doing??"

Now Blair began to squirm. "Stop it, Justin! It doesn't take all that to find a damn knife."

"Stop what? If you didn't spray paint your clothes on I'd have some room to put my fingers."

To his horror, Blair was developing an erection. "Justin!"

And, equally horrified, so was Justin. "Quit clownin' around, Blair!" the young Evers blustered, himself fully erect and panting before he successfully retrieved the knife.

Together they got the blade open and began sawing at the ropes. It seemed like an eternity before their binding fell free. The two jumped apart like they were on fire.

Facing each other, their eyes darting guiltily anywhere, but on each other.

"Oh, man, I don't know what happened," Justin stammered.

"Neither do I, but we better see where the hell we are."

~~~~~~

At the basketball game another cell phone rang. All three men reached simultaneously to check theirs.

Simon snapped his open. "Banks here."

"Captain Banks, sorry to disturb you at the game, but we need you to come out to the Councilor's house, sir. We have a situation."

"I'll be right there."

A second later a cell phone rang for the third time. All three men turn to check their phones again.

This time the Marine answered. "Choate."

"Mr. Choate, sir, the Councilor asks that you return to the residence immediately, please."

"On my way."

Jim looked at both men. "What's going on?"

~~~~~~

When the three men arrived at the Councilor's home, they found the gardener's son standing on the roof of the large garden tool shed screaming obscenities and threatening to jump.

"What's going on?" Simon asked the officer near him.

"His father says he was helping him carry tools back to the shed when, all of a sudden, he went crazy. Talking about 'they' were trying to kill him. He hit his father, knocking him to the ground, then climbed up there. When his father couldn't get himto come down, somebody called us."

"Caesar," Choate said to the gardener.

"Mr. Patrick," the little man turned a tear streaked face toward the Councilor's aide. "Get Rico down from there. Please, Mr. Patrick, he doesn't know what he's doing."

"Caesar, do you have any idea why Rico snapped like that?"

"I don't know, Mr. Patrick. He's been different since his cousin came to say with us. My brother sent him here to get him away from the trouble, but I think the trouble comes with him. Now it has affected my son. Rico," he called urgently, "Rico, you come down now."

"You hold his attention, Choate, while I get a tranq gun and circle around behind him."

"How're you gonna get close enough to get him with a tranq without him seeing you, Ellison?"

But Jim was already moving off. "Just hold his attention," he said as he disappeared around the corner of the shed.

"Rico," Choate called to the young man on the roof. "Rico, do you remember me?"

"Get back," the wild-eyed young man screamed.

"Rico, your father's down here with me. He's afraid for you. Why don't you come down," Choate circled the shed, keeping Rico's eyes following his movement.

About one hundred feet away, James Ellison lined up the sights of a high powered tranq rifle. Taking careful aim, he fired.

Enrico Juarez jerked once, then crumbled into the safety net below.

~~~~~~

Choate followed Ellison into his captain's office.

Jim threw himself into the chair opposite his boss' desk. "So, anything on our jumper?"

"The hospital tox-screen came back a chemist's nightmare."

"Drugs?" Choate asked, sitting in another chair.

"The kid's blood was full of enough drugs to start his own little apothecary." Banks shoved the file across his desk.

Ellison picked it up and opened it and read a few lines. "What's this? Aren't some of these things poison?"

"Lethal in large doses."

"Wait a minute, isn't this a herb? This stuff looks like more Sandburg's speed." Jim handed the file to Choate.

"Speaking of the kid, where is he? Didn't you get a call from him while we were at the game?"

Choate looked up. "That's right. It's been a while." He took his cell phone and dialled. "Vincent," he said after a pause, "has Justin called?"

"Yes, Mr. Patrick. Some time ago. I tried to give him your message, but he was in a hurry."

"What kind of hurry?"

"I don't know, sir, he talked to Yuan."

"Then put me through." Choate waited impatiently the few seconds it took for the call to be switched to the kitchen phone. "Yuan, Vincent said you talked to Justin."

"Earlier this afternoon, Mr. Patrick. Before the excitement."

The aide prompted, "About?"

"The call Caesar's nephew made to the Marina."

"You told Justin Romey called the Marina?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Yuan."

"What's up?" Jim asked him when he closed the phone.

"I think Justin went to the Marina."

"Is that a problem?"

"Rico's cousin made a call to the Marina earlier."

"Why would Justin care?" Simon asked.

Choate rose to his feet. "The same reason Justin left the house in the first place." He opened Simon's office door. "Look, I'll explain on the way, but I've got a feeling my brat might've gotten into something way over his head."

Jim rose also. "And you think my brat. . ." he cut eyes at Simon, before correcting himself, "Sandburg's with him?"

"I'd make bank on it."

~~~~~~

Once at the Marina, they quickly found the harbormaster. Simon flashed his badge and showed him a photograph of Romey Juarez.

"Have you seen this man?"

The HB nodded. "I've seen him several times hanging around with the owner of a small yacht name, 'Xtasy.'"

"Where's it docked?" Simon asked quickly.

"Its slip number's 11-3F, but it sailed earlier today."

"Where're the charts," Choate asked urgently.

The HB shook his head. "No charted route and before you ask, no return time."

"Damn," Choate hissed. "They could be anywhere."

"They can't've gotten far," the small man said. "I noticed she was riding low in the water, like she carried heavy."

"What's on the manifest?" Jim asked.

The HB shook his head again. "Sorry, but she had no cargo manifest registered."

On a hunch, Jim showed him Blair's picture, and had Choate do the same. "Have you seen either of these two men?"

The HB laughed. "Yeah, they were having a pretty animated argument by the gate about three hours ago."

"Do you know where they went?"

"They coulda been going towards 113. I had a call and when I looked back, they were gone."

~~~~~~

Peaking over the edge of the hatch through a small opening, Blair saw two men at the yacht's helm. A third was on deck arguing with a woman.

"This is business!" the woman screeched.

"Business, hell, I see the way you look at me."

"Pig! Why is it all men think with that tiny piece of flesh? Keep your mind on the shipment delivery, Romey."

"We're on course. It'll be a few more hours before we make port. What harm can it be? We'll kill a little time, have a little fun--" He leaned forward and tried to embrace her, kiss her.

She drew back and slapped him across the face, hard. "Romey, you're a pig!"

"Bitch," he snarled when he recovered and slapped her back brutally.

She lost her balance from the blow, stumbled backwards, catching her foot on a cooler resting against the side of the boat, fell over the railing and into the water.

One of the men in steerage raced to the deck. "Romey, what happened? Gina! What did you do to my sister?"

"She tripped! She went over."

Gina's brother shoved Romey back violently. "You pushed her, I heard you arguing."

"You're as crazy as that crazy bitch," Romey screamed as he swung wildly.

Gina's brother ducked and Romey's blow missed him completely. He countered with a punch of his own that sent Romey reeling and a cross punch that brought Gina's killer to his knees.

Before he could be attacked again, Romey pulled a gun from beneath his jacket and shot Gina's brother, point-blank, in the chest.

"Bastard," Romey said as he rose, spitting on the body.

"Romey," the last man, piloting the boat, called from the helm.

Calmly, Romey walked over to the tiny cabin.

"What happened? I heard a gunshot."

"It was nothing," Romey said with a smile as he levelled the gun and emptied his gun into the man behind the wheel.

Blair eased the hatch closed and slid bonelessly down the stairs.

"What'd you see?" Justin asked a pale-faced Blair.

"He killed them."

"Who?"

"Romey. They called him Romey," Blair took several deep breaths. "I just watched him kill three people like it was nothing."

Justin hugged himself tightly. "Now what?"

"You know we're next. Find something."

"Something?"

"Something we can use as a weapon." They heard footsteps above them. "Hurry," Blair hissed urgently.

Scrambling against an invisible time clock, and trying to make as little noise as possible, Blair and Justin searched through the various storage boxes.

"Justin," Blair hissed, "he's coming."

Two feet appeared on the galley stairs. Romey descended until Blair and Justin could see the gun in his hand.

When his face came into view, he saw Blair. The killer took careful aim at the young anthropologist's chest.

Justin reached for the first thing at his fingertips, a plastic-wrapped bundle the size of a brick and threw it. Luckily, it hit Romey's forearm with enough force to shift his aim. The shot went wild, missing Blair. The bullet striking a metal case in the corner, causing a spark, igniting the chemicals stored there.

~~~

Meanwhile, Blair jumped the distracted man, throwing him off balance and they landed in a tangle of arms and legs. The gun went flying.

Romey faltered, drawing his legs to Blair's chest and pushed him away. As he righted himself, he swung at Blair with his fist. Blair dodged out of the way just in time. The wind lifting his hair as the hand passed his face. Using the man's concentration on fighting Blair, Justin stepped in, throwing his full weight behind it, to deliver a sharp kick to the side of Romey's knee. The joint folded with a crack and the killer toppled sideways, catching his temple on one of the curved hooks bolted to the galley walls.

Romey flopped around like a fish a few seconds before he lay still.

Justin's eyes went wide and round. "Oh, shit. Oh, hell," he said as he raced to the corner and promptly threw up.

Blair came up behind him and rubbed reassuringly at his back. "It's okay, man. I react that way too, sometimes."

Justin straightened, but kept his face to the wall. "Damn, Blair. I killed him."

"You didn't kill him." Blair squeezed the smaller man's shoulder. "He fell, Justin. It was an accident. Anyway, you save my life. You saved both of our lives."

Justin wiped his mouth on a piece of cloth he found in the corner. Rising to his feet judiciously avoiding looking in the direction of Romey's grisly corpse.

"You're full of surprised today," Blair said, "Where'd you learn a move like that?"

"The Councilor's aid taught me. Hey, Paddy and I do more than rut like rabbits, you know," Justin said indignantly, then realized, "Blair, the fire!"

It was a hearty blaze now. The dark grey smoke rapidly filling the cabin. Blair quickly found the fire extinguisher. Justin picked up a blanket and both worked together to quell the raging flames.

Coughing heavily, they stumbled their way to the upper deck.

Feeling woozy, they made their way to the boat's control room to find the radio had been damaged by a bullet from Romey's gun.

"What're we going to do now?" Justin asked, looking off into the horizon.

Blair headed for the cabin. "We drive ourselves home."

Taking the wheel, Blair asked, "You know what this reminds me of?" A huge grin on his face. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn." His eyes seemed to glow in the waning light. "You ever read Mark Twain?"

"It's been awhile." Justin eyed him apprehensively. "Do you know what you're doing?"

Blair puffed up his chest as he said, with more confidence than he felt, "It's like driving a car."

"Yeah," Justin snorted. "But with a car, you don't sink and drown."

"Aw, where's your confidence?" Blair gave the wheel a sharp turn. "I'll just turn this puppy around and head for land. We're home free."

"Right. I put that expression right up there with 'trust me' and 'this won't hurt a bit' as things that make me cringe. I'm holding you to that, Blair." Justin lapsed into an uneasy silence.

Fifteen minutes later, they hit a smuggler's camouflaged marker buoy and started sinking like a stone.

Upon impact, the boat listed violently starboard. Justin, caught off-guard, lurched with it. His head impacted the cabin wall with a thud and he landed hard on the floor.

"We gotta get off the boat!" Blair screamed, fighting the helm. "Justin?" Seeing his body on the floor, he raced to his side. "Justin? Oh, shit. Justin!" Shaking him violently, but failing to rouse his friend, Blair hissed as he grabbed Justin by the shirt collar and turned him over. "Dammit!"

Blair slipped his arms under Justin's armpits and hauled him out of the small cabin onto the deck. Leaning Justin against the tilting rail, he made a frantic search for the life jackets. Luckily locating two, he quickly pulled his on, securing it and went to help Justin in his. That accomplished, he hoisted Justin up and over the rail, plunging behind him scant seconds before the boat disappeared under the surface of the dark water.

Blair found a large piece of debris to cling to and swam to it, pulling Justin along behind him.

~~~~~~

Choate rushed up to the man just finishing filling the tank of the small, Sikorsky helicopter."

"I need your 'copter."

"My 'copter?"

Choate barrelled past the man, climbing into the pilot seat.

"Hey man!" the owner grabbed Choate by the jacket and pulled. "You can't just waltz up here and demand my bird. Who do you think you are--"

Before the angry helicopter owner could blink his eye, he found himself slammed flat against the side of the helicopter, a forearm made of granite pressed tightly against his windpipe attached to a mad man exerting enough upward force to lift him off his feet.

"I said, I need your 'copter," he growled low, so close their noses nearly touched. "We can do this easy or hard."

Just then Choate felt a presence behind him. An arm appeared in his line of vision, the hand holding a badge.

"Cascade P.D. We need this 'copter for a search and rescue."

The helicopter pilot nodded slowly.

"Let the man go now, Choate."

Climbing into the 'copter Ellison half-turned to his companion. "Didn't anyone ever tell you, you can catch more flies with honey, Choate?"

Pulling back on the stick to lift them off the ground, Choate smiled at him. "Seems like a waste of honey to me."

Jim laughed. "So what's the plan?"

After the helicopter lifted them into the air, Choate turned them towards the open water. "The plan is, I fly, you find them."

"And you're not going to question how?"

Choate turned eyes on the Sentinel that blazed with inner light. "What do you think, Ellison?" Then he turned his attention back to the sky.

~~~~~~

Tirelessly, the Marine made his eighth pass over the rough water. The sky had begun to darken, the temperature dropping with the fading sunlight.

Jim had tuned out all sound around him, concentrating on the body of water beneath then until it became the hub of his existence. Seeking out the rhythm of human heartbeats, the pattern of two warm forms in the cold vastness that seemed to stretch out into forever. . .then, he zoned.

Choate, knuckles white from his grip on the stick, gradually sensed the change in Ellison's comportment.

"Ellison? What's the matter? Do you see something? Hear something?" Choate waited anxious moments for an answer. Receiving no reply, he released his grip on the controls with his right hand. Snapping his fingers in front of Jim's face. At the detective's lack of response, Choate one-handedly located a pain-pressure point on the side of Jim's neck, steeled two fingers, and pressed with solid force.

"Dammit, Choate," Ellison groused as he recoiled from the pain. Awareness returning to his eyes. He shook out the numbness that trailed down his left side. "You felt you had to do that?"

"You were having some kind of seizure. You wouldn't answer me."

"I. . .I was concentrating too hard."

"Don't you see anything? Hear anything?" Choate asked urgently as he turned the Sikorsky around for a ninth pass

"I see we're almost out of gas."

"Once more."

"It won't do our guys any good if we crash into the water. Turn around."

"Ellison. . ."

Jim put his hand on the trembling forearm and squeezed. "I'm scared too, but we're gonna find them."

~~~~~~

"Come on Justin. Hold on." Blair held the young man up by an arm around his chest. He guided him to a larger piece of wreckage. "Put your arms here."

"Cold, Blair," Justin murmured as he raised his arms and wrapped them around the unwieldy piece of metal and hugged it tight.

"Yeah, I know."

"Head hurts."

The water had washed away most of the blood from his face, but the ugly gash on Justin's temple still oozed blood.

Blair shook him. "Hey, stay awake for me, man."

Justin jerked, his head dipping below the waterline. He flailed his arms, releasing the wreckage and slipped under the water.

Blair reached out and caught him by the heavy braid, using it to pull the smaller man back to his side.

"Blair!" Justin coughed, spitting up water as he reached out blindly.

"It's all right. Come on. Here," he said, as he pushed Justin back to the large piece of the boat. "Hold on. Pretend it's Paddy."

Justin's sputter ended in a tight giggle as he wrapped his arms around the debris. "Kinda feels like him." He lay his cheek against the smooth surface of the metal. "You think anybody's looking for us?"

"Come on, are you kidding? Jim's probably got the entire Cascade police force out there right now."

"Not doing us much good if they're looking on the land."

"You don't think Jim'll figure it out?"

"I know he's a good cop, Blair, but we need a miracle to get out of this one."

~~~~~~

The cold had seeped deep into Blair's bones. They wouldn't last like this much longer. Justin nodded off again.

"Justin," Blair said as he prodded him for what seemed like the hundredth time. "You were telling me about Paddy. What's his favorite color?"

Justin's teeth chattered so badly you almost couldn't understand the word, "Black."

"And how did you meet?"

"My. . .knight. . .in. . .blue. . .serge."

Blair let that bit of confusing information pass for the moment. "What did he do before the Councilor?"

Justin didn't answer for a long moment. "We're gonna die out here."

"I told you we aren't gonna die! Stop talking like that, dammit."

Justin turned his face away and lapsed into silence again.

Blair became quiet also. Not for the first time thinking maybe Justin was right.

Then, he noticed the reflection of a light in the water. Turning towards it, he heard the faint roar of a small motor.

"Justin--"

"I don't want to talk anymore, Blair."

"Listen! It sounds like a boat."

"I don't hear anything."

"Listen."

~~~~~~

"I'm sorry Mr. Choate I can't let you go back out there until daylight." The Coast Guard officer tried to reason with the angry man in front of him while Ellison and Banks looked on.

"I'll take Detective Ellison with me."

"Two pairs of eyes in the dark are still four blind eyes. Unless you gentlemen suddenly develop super powers, you'll stay on land 'til sunrise. Two bodies in the water's all I need to worry about right now." He stalked off.

"He's right, Jim."

"Simon..."

"Captain Banks we can't just sit idly by and do nothing! Let Ellison and me go up again."

Simon looked back and forth between the two men. "Give me a minute. I'll see what I can do."

"This's a long shot, Choate."

"Not with you along. I read your file, Ellison." He paused, and at the detective's look said, "Yes, I did a file on you. Standard Intel, level 3." He waited again. "I don't know what it is about you that's special and, frankly, I don't wanna know, but I'm glad you're on my side."

Simon approached. "Sorry, guys. The Coast Guard threatens to have you detained if you try to go back in the air."

"Fuck this shit!" Choate growled savagely as he dug in his inside breast pocket.

Suddenly, Jim reached out to still the Marine's hand.

"Let go of me, Ellison," the threat clear in Choate's voice.

"Quiet!" Jim hissed, holding up his free hand for silence. Cocking his head to one side, he got that look in his eyes Choate had seen before and that Simon was all too familiar with.

"Ellison!" Choate barked, out of patience with the situation.

"Come on!"

Jim and Simon took off on a dead run, leaving a bewildered Choate behind. Choate hesitated only one moment before following.

He found them at the end of a pier, bent over two bodies.

"I'll find rescue," Simon said as he jumped up and ran towards the crowd of Coast Guard personnel.

"Justin?" Choate fell to his knees, quickly feeling the neck for a pulse.

"He's alive," Jim informed him, "They're both alive."

"Ellison!"

"They're all right. They look like drowned cats, but they're both all right."

~~~~~~

So small. Dammit, he didn't remember him being this small. "Dulce," Choate whispered and his voice broke. He coughed softly, then cleared his throat. "I swear, you do this on purpose." He leaned in closely to his lover's ear and pitched his voice to the volume he knew Justin loved, "Abre tus ojos, amante."

Justin stirred with a low moan. "Paddy," he whispered.

The big Marine smiled his relief. "Yes, Justin."

"Water."

Choate held the straw to his lips. "Small sips, chiquito."

Justin pulled through the straw greedily and Choate moved it away. "More," he begged pitifully.

The older man relented. "Once more. Slowly, Justin," he warned as he put the straw to his lover's lips again.

Justin closed his eyes as he pulled the water through the straw slower this time.

"That's enough."

Justin wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Blair?" he rasped.

"In the next room. You two swallowed nearly half the ocean, but you're going to be okay."

Justin's eyes drifted closed, but opened again. "I'm sorry I ran from you."

Choate leaned forward to brush the hair from his face. "I'm sorry I made you feel you had to."

Justin's eyes had closed again, and again fluttered open. "Paddy?" he said softly.

"Yes, dulce?"

"Love. . .you."

Paddy leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Love you, too."

~~~~~~

Blair slowly raised his eyelids just enough to see the head resting on the bed next to him. Jim was sitting on a chair pulled close, his head on top of his hand, his hand clutching Blair's in a strong grip.

Even in sleep, Jim sensed the changing of his lover's heartbeat. He opened his eyes. "Hey, babe." He smiled.

Blair smiled weakly back.

"Thirsty?"

He nodded.

Jim fetched the water and held the cup steady while Blair drank.

"Justin?" he croaked.

"Mild concussion, you both got pretty banged up, but you're going to be fine."

Hesitantly, Blair asked, "Trouble again?"

"You and sonnyboy do seem to find it."

Blair frowned. "We called this time."

Jim closed his eyes a moment, when he looked at Blair again they were full of pain and repentance. "And I didn't listen. I'm sorry. Instead of listening to you, I flew off the handle. I'm gonna work harder on fixing that."

"And I'll get the right deposit slip at the bank next time. Justin fixed the account for us."

Jim laughed. "We'll talk about it later, love. All I want now is for you to get better." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Blair's lips. "I love you."

Blair smiled as his eyes began to drift closed. "I know."

~~~~~~

"A synthetic cocktail?" Justin asked, confused.

"Jim said the gardener's nephew and his cousin used a mixture of cannabis, henbane and yohimbine. The street form was crystal. They had soaked the marijuana in it for their personal use that night at the party. You and your friends were unlucky enough to have inhaled the drug through the smoke."

"So, explain why I woke up in my underwear."

"Xtasy, that's what they called it, increases sexual urges, that's from the yohimbine. It got you horny enough to start, I guess your feelings for Paddy were strong enough to make you stop."

"Is that what happened to us on the boat? I mean, when we woke up?"

"Yep."

"And why'd they kill each other?"

"That was a side effect of the scopolamine, hyoscyamine and atropine in the henbane. They're narcotic and halluzinogene which stimulate aggressive behaviors. The cannabis also helped increase paranoia. Prolonged exposure to the drug in pure form induces psychosis." Blair leaned down to dip his brush in the paint.

Justin snickered. "For a minute there I had a flash back to my tenth grade chem class. That was the year we blew up the lab."

"You're certifiable, you know that?"

Justin nodded. "I was thinking the exact same thing about you, professor."

Blair shook his head. "Now, tell me again how much longer we gotta do this?"

Justin redipped his brush. "Unless you get busy, two or three more hours."

"I've covered twice the area you have."

Justin snorted. "Yeah, if you count the paint on yourself."

"It's not like precision counts. You've got the experience."

"I'm insulted. You can't compare the creation of masterpieces to painting a fence." Justin dipped his brush again. "We wouldn't be doing this at all if your law enforcement agent hadn't thought it up." He cleared his throat and began in a good imitation of the detective, "If you two want to act like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn taking a cruise down the Mississippi, you might as well do the scene about white washing the fence, too."

Blair laughed. "We did have an adventure, didn't we?"

"Yeah, right up until you sank the boat," young Evers mumbled.

The young guide stopped to look at his companion. "Me? You were the lookout, why didn't you see the buoy?"

"Well, you were the one steering the boat, why didn't you?"

"If you remember, I was busy piloting."

"Some 'pilot' you made." Justin flicked paint from his brush at him. "You stink as a captain."

And Blair flicked it right back. "Like you didn't stink as a crew."

~~~~~~

Choate laughed.

Ellison looked up from the paperwork on his desk, got up and walked over to where the Councilor's aide stood looking out the window through a pair of binoculars. "How're they coming?"

"They're at it again," he said as he passed the glasses to Jim, who made a big spectacle of taking them and looking out at the two young men in the park below.

"What's it about this time?" he asked, even though he'd been listening to them for the past half an hour.

"I could only see Justin's lips from here. It started when he accused Blair of sinking the boat. They're having a paint fight now."

"Think we should go down and stop them?"

"We'd better, before somebody calls the police."

By the time they arrived Blair and Justin were no place to be seen.

"Where'd they go?" Choate asked, looking around.

Jim heard Blair's heartbeat accelerate behind him, he turned and missed seeing the giant wad of mud Justin had thrown right after popping up from behind a sculpture.

Justin had just enough time to let out a squeak of dismay before the ball of mud caught Choate on the side of the head.

Jim, on the other hand, distracted by Justin's cry, caught the one Blair threw full in the face.

Blair said, "Oh, shit!"

Jim scraped mud from his eyes "What the--?"

"Oh, Jim, man, I am sooo sorry!" Blair choked, fighting down the laughter.

"Oh, Paddy, I didn't mean it. I was aiming for Blair!" Justin wailed at the same time.

Choate combed the mud from his hair and the side of his face with his fingers, all the while watching the stricken look on his young lover's face.

"Paddy," Justin said as he made a placating gesture with his hands. "I am sooo sorry."

Choate frowned, curling his finger at Justin in a 'come here' motion.

Justin gulped, but edged slowly forward. "Not here, Paddy," he pleaded softly. "Not in front of Blair and Jim." He stopped as he stood before his lover.

Choate pulled Justin hard up against his chest and leaned down. "Mocosito," he growled as he leaned down to take his lover's mouth in a hard kiss. Just before their lips met, Choate took each of Justin's butt cheeks in his hands, lifted the smaller man against him and squeezed. Taking advantage of the startled yelp, the Marine closed his mouth firmly over the slightly parted lips of his young companion.

When he released a dazed and breathless Justin, he smiled.

"Awww, Jim, lover! This is so not funny!"

Choate and Justin turned towards the commotion to find Blair standing there, his bottom lip slightly swollen and bruised from Jim's equally as passionate kiss, suck out in an angry pout. Mud was smeared down the front of his shirt and two perfect muddy handprints on either side of his face.

Justin gasped, looking quickly down at his own shirt, a similar muddy smear. "You bully!" Then, turning his hip so he could see, found his lover's handprints outlined on the back of his light-colored jeans. "Patrick Edward Choate!" he sputtered. "Look at this! Look!"

Choate leaned in close. "I can leave my prints on it in a different way, if you want."

Justin straightened. "No," he said softly as he leaned in for another kiss. "If I have a choice, this's okay with me."

Just before their lips met, Choate whispered, "Have I apologized for not believing you about the drugs?"

"I don't believe you did," Justin whispered back, smiling.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

Young Evers only smiled.

Choate's voice deepened. "Maybe I should start now?"

Justin shivered, the sound reverberating down his spine to settle deep in his chest, changing the rhythm of his heartbeat. "Maybe you should," he said as he wound his arms around Choate's neck and lifted up on his toes. "It's going to take a while."

As Choate lifted the young man for a kiss destined to blind, he said, "Good, 'cuz I plan to take a while."

Behind them another ruckus started.

"No! Jim! Come on! No fair man! Hey! Look out!"

A Blair-shaped blur rushed, unnoticed, pass the tightly entwined couple. Jim in hot pursuit, both hands filled with sticky mud.

Suddenly, Jim skidded to a halt as Blair changed direction and took off at a dead run.

Cranking up his sense of sight, he zeroed in on Blair's objective in the distance: the police department parking lot.

"Sandburg!" Dropping his ammunition, he took off after his partner. "Sandburg, where are you going? You wouldn't! You touch my truck and you're dead meat! Sandburg!"