THE HUNTER

Author's Note:  This is a sequel to Rite of Passage.  You really need to read it first.

Jim Ellison leaned against the island in the kitchen and closed his eyes.  Clad only in jeans and still damp from his shower, he first sniffed the aroma of the hot coffee in his mug then sipped the dark beverage.

The party the night before to celebrate Blair Sandburg's graduation from the Police Academy had wound up being combined with a celebration with Vice and Narcotics when the manager of Shiff's Bar & Grill had shoved them all into the large banquet room in the rear of the restaurant. 

Then someone at the party had gotten Blair completely plastered.  In fact, Jim had never seen the younger man so completely drunk. 

A small smile flittered across Jim's lips as he took another sip of his coffee.  Actually, Blair made a cute drunk.  Cute and friendly.

Jim rolled his head onto his shoulders, working out the kinks in his neck.  It had been a long time since he'd slept with anyone in his arms.  And Blair, drunk or not, was a study in continual motion even when fast asleep.  Or passed out.

Eyeing the late morning sunlight, Jim walked back into the kitchen and rinsed out his mug.  He was willing to bet dollars to buttermilk donuts that Sandburg wouldn't remember a whole lot about the previous evening. 

Jim grinned and couldn't help but chuckle.  If so, Blair was going to be very confused when he woke up in Jim's bed.  Confused and maybe sick.  Jim frowned and made a mental note to find out which joker in Vice had gotten his partner drunk and have a nice long conversation about the event.  Jim's frown deepened when he realized that Blair might not even remember how the two of them had told each other of their love for one another.

'First things first, soldier,' Jim told himself.  'First, identify your target.'

"oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh"

"Speaking of the light of my life," Jim muttered with a grin.  He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of aspirin.  Opening the refrigerator, he grabbed one of Sandburg's bottles of water and headed upstairs.

"Oh...my...God..."

"No, just me," Jim quietly answered.  "You alive under all those blankets?"  He stared at the lump in the middle of his bed.  The tips of Blair's right hand and a few curls from the top of his head were all that could be seen from the mound of blankets.

"No."  The fingers pulled a blanket down to reveal one barely open blue eye.

Jim held up the bottles of aspirin and water.  "C'mon, Chief.  It'll get better."

The squinting eye stared at him for a moment then closed.  "Jim?"

"Yes."  Jim tried very hard not to smile at the pitiful whine.

"Do me a favor?"

The former covert-ops Ranger was too smart to fall into that trap.  "What?"

"Shoot me?"

"Can't do it, Sandburg.  Too much paperwork involved."  Jim sat on the side of the bed, ignoring the groan from under the mound of blankets.  "Come on.  Take your medicine like a good anthropologist-turned-detective."

"I hate you," Blair whispered.  He slowly uncurled and eventually managed to sit up.  "Dear God.  Did the sun go supernova?"  Sitting on his heels, he raised both hands to cover his eyes.

Sighing, Jim sat the bottles on the nightstand then gently turned his partner so his back was to the balcony windows.  "Better?"

Blair pitifully nodded, then winced.  Without a word, he swallowed the aspirin then sipped the water.  "What did I drink last night?"

"I'm not sure," Jim admitted.  "You told me you had a drink with Simon, but I think some of the guys from Vice may have kept your glass full."  He eyed the younger man, automatically using his senses to determine how Blair was recovering.  "You mentioned something about a Rite of Passage."

"Oh."  Blair sat for a few moments, sipping his water.  "Actually, I think they just wanted to get me drunk."

"So it was the guys in Vice?" Jim asked.

Blair slowly turned his head.  "Jim, I'm in too much pain to argue so let me just say this once.  Don't...I repeat...don't do anything, okay?  I gotta show 'em I can take this stuff without running to my partner for protection."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest.  "I understand, Chief.  I really do.  And if that's what you want, I'll back off.  I don't like it, but I'll back off.  This time.  They pull another stunt like this, and all bets are off.  Understand?"

"Yeah."  Blair winced and handed the water back to Jim.  "I can't drink any more right now."

Jim capped the bottle and set it on the nightstand.  "Just be sure you drink more later."  He relaxed, watching as Blair took a long look around him.

"Jim."

"mmmm?"

"I'm in your bed."  He slowly lifted the blanket, stared down at himself, then carefully replaced the blanket across his lap.  "Actually, I'm naked and in your bed."  The younger man slowly turned to his partner.  "Did I do...something stupid last night?"

"You sang," Jim calmly replied.

"Sang?"  Blair paled.

"My Old Kentucky Home," Jim continued.  "Off key and very loudly.  And assured me that you knew, from living in Kentucky, that the horses were beautiful and the women were fast."

"Really?"  Blair cleared his throat.

"You thought we were having earthquakes because the room kept moving," Jim added.

"Well...that's sorta understandable," Blair pointed out.

"You called me Jimmy Joseph."  Jim used every bit of control not to laugh at Blair's expression.

"I didn't," Blair whispered.

Jim nodded.  "While I was on the phone with Simon."

Blair covered his face with his hands.  "Please, Jim.  Shoot me now."

"And you crawled naked in my bed and asked me to make the earth move for you...right after you pulled me down on top of you."  Jim had to grin.

Blair silently curled up on his side and pulled the blankets over his head.  "Go away," he moaned.

Jim chuckled.  "Drink the water, Chief.  I'll be downstairs."  Then he leaned forward and tugged the edge of the blanket away from Blair's curled form.  "Hey, Sandburg."

"What?" Blair miserably asked.

"Look at me.  Please?" Jim asked.

Blair partially uncurled and peeked around the edge of the blanket.

Jim leaned forward and gently kissed Blair's lips.  "Relax and think about last night.  About what we talked about."  Smiling, he flipped the edge of the blanket over Blair's face.  He grinned when he heard his partner trying to catch his breath.

Downstairs, Jim grabbed the cordless phone and walked out onto the balcony.  He closed the glass door behind him and sat in one of the two chairs.  Glancing over his shoulder to be sure Blair hadn't followed, he pressed a button on the speed dial.  "Simon, it's Jim."

"How's the kid?" Simon asked.

"Breathing," Jim chuckled.  "I just got some aspirin and water down him.  He did confirm it was the guys from Vice."

"Uh-huh," Simon grunted.  "Now, look, Jim.  I know you..."

"He made me promise not to do anything," Jim interrupted.  "Said it wouldn't do him any good at the station if it was perceived that he ran to his partner for protection."

"Smart kid."  Simon admitted.

Both men were silent for several seconds.

"Vice, huh?" Simon mused.

"Yes, sir," Jim confirmed.

Simon looked into the bullpen.  "Not everyone has the day off, Detective.  I believe I need to keep some people busy.  Megan's looking a little feisty this afternoon."

"We'll see you tomorrow," Jim promised.  He disconnected the call and leaned back in his chair with a grin.

"Oh, Jimmy…Jimmy Joseph…"

Jim's grin widened.  Picking up the cordless telephone, he reentered the loft, securing the door behind him.  For once, the phone was casually tossed onto the couch as he quickly headed up the stairs.

"You know, that's not quite fair," Jim remarked as he stood on the top step.

Blair lay curled on his side, facing the stairs.  "What?" he asked.

"This 'Jimmy Joseph' thing."  Jim toed off his shoes and raised the blankets.  "Scoot over, bedhog."

Blair squirmed all of two inches away.  And innocently smiled. 

Jim sighed and slid into bed, immediately finding himself lying next to Blair.  "I don't know your middle name."

"Maybe Blair is my middle name," the younger man suggested.

Jim rolled onto his right side and rested his left arm on Blair's waist.  "Is it?"

"No."

Jim rolled his eyes.

Blair grinned.  "I was born Bard Leary Abbie Indigo Rainbow Montana Sandburg."

Jim stared in disbelief.  "Excuse me?"

"Bard because Naomi said I had the look of a storyteller when I was born," Blair explained.  "Leary after Timothy Leary.  Abbie after Abbie Hoffman.  Indigo because the midwife swore my eyes were indigo blue."  He batted his eyelashes.  "Rainbow because right after I was born, there was a rainbow in the eastern sky."  He smiled at Jim's expression.  "I'm not sure about the Montana, though.  I asked Naomi once, and she got this really soft, gentle look in her eyes.  I think I might have been conceived in Montana."

"Bard Leary Abbie Indigo Rainbow."  Jim's eyes closed.  "B L A I R."

"Yep," Blair chuckled.  "When Naomi went to get a passport for me, she had to produce a birth certificate.  Thankfully, she shortened it to Blair so legally I'm Blair."

"Didn't keep the Montana?" Jim asked, opening his eyes.

Blair shook his head.  "Disappointed?" he yawned.

"Hardly."  Jim pulled Blair's head onto his shoulder.  "Get some sleep Bard Leary Abbie Indigo Rainbow."

Blair chuckled as he closed his eyes.  He reached under the blankets and gently patted Jim's bare chest.  "Nice," he murmured.

Jim rolled his eyes.  "And if you think I believe that story, Sandburg…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, well well…look what the cat dragged in."  Vice Detective Mitchell Philips snickered.  He reached for the nearby towel and wiped his face.

The police gym was mostly deserted.  Phillips and two other Vice detectives, William Rowland and George Barton looked up from where Barton was spotting Rowland on the barbell.

Brian Rafe, Megan O'Connor, and Henri Brown casually sauntered over to them.

"Hell of a party last night, huh?" Rowland laughed as he shoved the barbell over his head and onto its resting place.

"Oh yeah, cops know how to party," Henri laughed.  "You guys really put one over on Hairboy."

Barton snorted.  "Hope he puked his guts out."  He admiringly looked at Megan to walked closer to him.  "Ever think about working in Vice, honey?"

"Depends," Megan's eyes glittered.  "Would I be working with you?"

"Oh, I think that could be arranged."  Barton licked his lips as he looked her up and down.

Megan smiled.  Then she pivoted on one foot and brought the heel of her other foot up and against the side of Barton's jaw.  The Vice detective fell to the floor.

Henri jumped over Barton's body and straddled Rowland who was trying to sit up.

Rafe grabbed Philips by his sweaty t-shirt and shoved him against the wall.

Megan slowly stood with one leg on either side of Barton's half-conscious body.  "Don't bother to get up," she advised.

"Now, fun's fun," Henri snarled.  "And we figure the new guy's entitled to have one shot taken at him."

"But from now on…"  Rafe pulled Philips away from the wall then shoved him back against it.  "You mess with somebody in Major Crimes, and you mess with all of us."

"You do understand that, don't you?" Megan purred as she stared down at Barton.  Then she looked at the other Vice detectives.  "Maybe you better explain it to him when he wakes up."  Disdainfully, she walked away.

Henri bounced one time on Rowland's stomach.  "Don't make us repeat this little warning."

"Because if we have to repeat it, the only thing Ellison's gonna have to do is help hide the bodies," Rafe snarled.  He released Philips and backed away.

Henri patted Rowland on the cheek then got up to join his friends.  The three detectives from Major Crimes walked towards the door.  Megan turned once and smiled.  "Ta-ta, boys."

Furious, Philips lunged at the swinging door, intending to inflict some sort of damage on one of the Major Crimes detectives.  He was immediately flung backwards, sliding across the gym floor.

"Gee…sorry."  Joel Taggart smiled from where he stood in the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Blair leaned against the elevator wall as they were taken up to Major Crimes.

Jim glanced at the younger man.  "Headache better?"

"Yeah," Blair nodded.  "Still a little…"  He waved his hands in the air.

"Uh-huh."  Jim hesitated when the elevator door opened.  "Ready, partner?"

Despite the headache and sore eyes, Blair widely grinned.  "Always, partner."  He bounced on his toes.  "Let's go get the bad guys."

Jim rolled his eyes and motioned for Blair to precede him.  As the approached the door to Major Crimes, they saw Detective George Barton from Vice coming out.  Jim's blue eyes narrowed when Barton stopped and glared at them.  Before he could say anything, Barton turned and stomped down the hall.

"Wonder what happened to his jaw?" Jim mused.  He caught Blair's accusing look and held up his hands.  "Hey!  I was home with you yesterday.  Remember?"

"Oh, yeah."  Blair's blue eyes softened.  He glanced down the hall at Barton's retreating back.  "Huh."

Jim opened the door to Major Crimes, automatically glancing into Simon's office.

The Captain of Major Crimes merely smiled and nodded before returning to his paperwork.

"Hey, Hairboy!  Welcome to Major Crimes!" Henri shouted.

"Thanks, H, but I've been here before," Blair chuckled.

"Not this way," Rafe grinned, leaning against his partner's desk.  "Welcome to Major Crimes."

Blair took a long slow look around the room.

Megan wiggled her fingers in greeting.

Joel smiled and raised his coffee cup.

Rafe leaned against Henri's desk with a satisfied smile.

Henri lounged in his chair, grinning as he stared at Blair and his partner.

Jim sat behind his desk, returning Henri's grin.

"Thanks, guys," Blair softly spoke.  "This means a lot."

"Sandburg!  My office!  Now!"

Henri snickered when Blair jumped.  "Yeah, welcome to Major Crimes, Hairboy."

September 2002

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