Déjà vu

Day 1

Jim Ellison woke up to a very loud, annoying noise. "Chief!" he yelled, scrambling out of his hotel room bed. "Fire!"

Already coughing from the smoke pouring from the small heating unit at the window, Blair Sandburg tumbled out of his bed, too.

"Call the front desk," Jim said, grabbing their stuff from that side of the room and tossing it toward the door. Then the sprinkler system came on, making Blair yelp as the cold water dampened his thin tee-shirt.

"Shit," said Blair, hanging up the phone and turning to help Jim get their stuff out of the room before it was ruined. It was too late for one thing, though. Blair looked in despair at the condition of the laptop he had left out on the desk. It was now soaking wet. "Oh, man," he said, carefully pulling it to him as they headed for the hallway. "Oh, man."

Sometime later, the sympathetic hotel manager was telling them, "I’m really sorry, but we don’t have another room for the two of you. We’re all booked up for the conference. I did, however, call across town and was able to find one at the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. I made a reservation for you there. We were lucky to find it," she added. "We’re supposed to have a foot of snow, and they’re already closing the main roads."

Jim, smoky and wet, turned to Blair with a sigh. The younger man was still forlorn over the loss of his laptop. Saying little, the two trudged out to Jim’s truck and followed the directions the woman had given them to the B and B. It was on the outskirts of town, and as Jim hurried to get there so they could change and unpack, he heard the shrill whistle of a police siren behind them.

"What the…?" Jim obligingly pulled over on the side of the two-lane highway.

"Good morning," said the Trooper, young and unsmiling.

"Good morning," said Jim. "May I help you, Officer?"

"If I could just see your license and registration, please," said the man.

Jim handed them over and said, "What is the problem, sir?"

"Speeding," said the young man. "Cascade, huh? May I ask what you’re doing up this way, Mr. Ellison?"

"It’s Detective Ellison," Jim said, "and we’re in town for the criminal psychology seminar. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

"Hello," said Blair, looking over at the officer. He could only imagine what he looked like in his wet tee-shirt and sweatpants, unshaven with very mussed-up hair.

The trooper gave Jim a look, too.

"Our hotel room caught on fire," said Blair, speaking over Jim. "We had to find other accommodations."

"Yes," said the trooper skeptically. "Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket, Mr. Ellison. This is a thirty-five mile per hour zone through here, and you were going fifty-five."

"I’m sorry," said Jim. "I didn’t see the speed limit sign, and we were out of town."

"The speed limit extends a ways out of town," the man said, writing out a ticket and handing it to Jim. "If you could just sign here."

Aggravated, Jim clenched his jaw and signed the slip.

"Have a nice day," the trooper said.

"Asshole," Jim said, when the man was safely in his car and out of earshot. "Can you believe that? Not even a warning!"

"Maybe he called in your record," Blair said, and Jim shot him an ominous look.

"What a way to start the day," Jim complained. "First a fire, then a speeding ticket. Can’t wait to see what happens next."

"Yes," said the lady at the front desk of the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. "Let’s see, Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison, you’re in room…." The woman stared at the book, then looked back up at the two men and smiled faintly. "Four."

A woman with smooth upswept hair came bustling in and said, "Is there a problem?"

"No," said the other woman hastily.

"Room four," announced the new lady. "This way, please."

Jim and Blair looked at each other as they followed their new hostess up the stairs. The house was small, but well furnished with Victorian furniture and lots of books and knick-knacks. Way too cluttered for Jim’s taste. He much preferred the relative sterility of a hotel room.

"Room Four," said the woman, opening the door, and Jim’s eyes widened. Room Four had pink and white striped wallpaper, and a high queen bed complete with a white ruffled canopy. Only one bed.

"Uh," said Jim. "We’ll need two rooms."

"We only have one," said the lady. "Every place in town is full."

Jim stared dismally at the flowery Victorian room.

"You’ll share a toilet and sink with rooms two and three," she said, handing Jim a key. "Make sure you lock it from the inside. You have your own bathtub," she added, and both men’s heads swiveled to see a large Jacuzzi sitting smack dab in the middle of the wall underneath a window.

"Is there a shower?" Blair asked.

"Just a tub," the woman said firmly. "We don’t usually cater to the business crowd. My assistant downstairs assumed Blair Sandburg was a female."

Not every man and woman travelling together want this kind of set-up, Blair thought dryly. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, right?

"It’s okay," said Blair, patting the bigger man on the arm. Jim still looked shell-shocked.

"We’re still serving breakfast downstairs," said the lady, "if you want to come on down."

"Why don’t you run down and pick us up something," Jim said to Blair. "We can eat up here so we won’t be late for the conference." They were already going to be late as it was.

"I really don’t like people eating in the rooms," said the lady. "Try not to get anything on the Laura Ashley sheets."

And with a final nod, she walked off downstairs, Jim and Blair staring in her wake.

"Can you believe that?" Blair asked, as the two men moved their stuff inside.

"I can’t believe this," Jim said dryly, looking at the canopy with a dubious eye. "We can ask for a rollaway bed or something. No shower," he added, staring at the huge Jacuzzi. And a shared bathroom." He shook his head, very displeased at that little situation. "Well? Do you want to go first, or shall I?"

"I’m going to wash my hair in the sink," said Blair, holding his hand out for the bathroom key, and while Blair was gone, Jim took a quick dip in the huge tub. They were going to be late, late, late, but surely their day couldn’t get any worse.

"Jim Ellison!" said a skinny man with a wide, beaming smile. He hurried on over and put a friendly hand on Jim’s arm. "It’s me! Scooter Friday! Remember me? I went to school with you down in Cascade! You know, I heard you went into law enforcement! I hear you’re the real big shot down in those parts."

"Uh, hi," said Jim, trying to think of a way of escape. He and Blair had just made their way into the conference room where the meeting was being held.

"What are you doing up here? Interesting seminar, huh? Oh, that criminal psychology stuff, gets me every time. Guess who I married? Norma Ringley, remember her? Yeah, I chased her until she caught me," and he gave a series of chuckles that made Jim crumble his Styrofoam cup into oblivion. "Yeah, me and this fella go way back," the grinning Scooter said to Blair. "We were practically best friends back in high school."

"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago, Scooter, buddy," Jim said, patting him quickly on the back. "If you’ll excuse us…." And Jim turned around and bumped right into a doughnut cart, knocking several layers of pastry right onto the floor.

"Hey Ellison, hope the bad guys don’t sneak up on you like that!" Scooter called out happily, and Blair shot Jim a sympathetic look as they picked up the food and tried to get away.

"Who was that?" Blair asked, when they finally escaped to the back row.

"Chief, I’ve never seen that fellow before in my life."

"Well, he sure knows you," Blair smiled.

After the seminar, Blair said, "I heard they have a really good health food restaurant here, Jim. Want to check it out?"

"No way. I want a big fat juicy hamburger, Chief. I’ve had all I can take of this day."

"The roads are really getting bad," said Blair, when they got outside. "We probably better hurry."

When they returned from dinner, Jim said, "Give me that bathroom key, will you, Chief?" and stepped out to see none other than Scooter Friday moving out from behind the bathroom door.

"Well, Jim Ellison! What a surprise! Are you staying here, too? Nice place, ain’t it? The missus is going to kill me when I tell her I stayed in a place like this. Course I won’t tell her about all the women I’ve got stashed in the room." He gave Jim a big co-conspiratorial wink.

Jim gave him the barest hint of a smile, and then stepped into the bathroom, where…the toilet was overflowing.

Sometime later, Jim came back to the room, sat down on the bed, and sighed.

"What’s wrong?" Blair asked. He was messing futilely with his vanquished laptop.

"The toilet’s stopped up," said Jim.

Blair’s head jerked up. "You’re kidding."

"No, that moron Scooter is staying here, too, and he broke the damn thing right before I got to it."

"No way!" said Blair, giving a half-laugh of disbelief.

"I wish I were kidding," said Jim desolately. "So now until the plumber comes we have to walk downstairs to the half-bath off the kitchen.

"Oh, god," Blair commiserated.

Sometime later, Blair said, "Well, I guess I’ll take a bath. Or do you want to go first?"

"Go ahead," said Jim. He tried to put his headphones on and find a ballgame. There was no reception, of course.

Blair glanced over at him nervously as he ran the bath water. He wasn’t used to bathing in a huge tub in the middle of a bedroom with his male roommate sitting nearby. Trying to look unconcerned, Blair carefully wrapped a towel around his middle and took his boxers off underneath it. Stealing a look back at Jim, he saw that the other man had turned over away from him, apparently completely unconcerned. Sliding naked into the huge tub, Blair did what he could with his hair, then quickly bathed and got out. Jim still hadn’t moved from his place on the bed.

"Jim?" Blair asked, after he had put fresh clothes on. "The tub’s all yours."

"Great," grumbled Jim, who had fallen asleep. "Nothing I like better than taking a bath after somebody else."

Blair, stung, said, "Well, it’s not like I’m diseased or anything."

"How would I know? All the girlfriends you’ve had."

"Jim! That is a really shitty thing to say, man. I can’t believe you said that. What are you trying to say here?"

"Oh, nothing, Sandburg," Jim groused. He made a show of rinsing out the tub, and Blair turned over in a huff, hurt.

When Jim got back out of the tub, Blair was asleep, one arm still around his injured laptop.

"Sandburg," Jim said gruffly, to hide what the sight of Blair like that did to his insides. "Get that thing off the bed."

Blair jerked, and his movement sent the laptop crashing to the floor. If its fate hadn’t been decided before, it had now.

"Oh, man," said Blair, in the depths of despair.

"Sorry," said Jim, feeling terrible and hiding it with callousness, "but you shouldn’t have left the thing on the bed."

"You know, Jim, you have been an asshole all day," Blair said. "I know it’s not been the best of days for you, but it hasn’t been for me, either, you know? So I would just appreciate it if-"

"You didn’t get the speeding ticket," said Jim, "and you didn’t get waylaid by some idiot backwoods Mayberry sheriff pretending to be your best friend-"

"Good night," said Blair smartly, trying to reign in his trampled on emotions, and flopped over in the bed.

Day Two

Jim awoke to an ungodly sound. What the hell was that? It sounded like… Jerking out of bed, Jim sat straight up. What the…? He stared in complete disorientation at his hotel room. Where was he? How did he get here? Didn’t he and Blair go to bed last night at a bed and breakfast?

In the bed on the other side of the room, his roommate sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"It’s a fire alarm," said Jim, and Blair said, "Shit!" and sprang out of bed. White smoke was pouring out of the small heating vent at the side of the room.

"Call the front desk," said Jim, and then he thought, the sprinkler system. Right on cue, he and Blair and all their things began getting quite thoroughly misted.

"Your laptop is getting wet," Jim said, and then he thought, what? This has already happened, hasn’t it? He had the biggest flash of déjà vu he had ever had in his life. "Get your stuff," he said, and in a moment, they were out in the hall, two drowned rats seeped in smoke and water.

"I can’t believe this is happening," Jim said, as they made their way down to the front desk. "I had this dream about all of this."

Blair was barely listening. He was instead holding onto a wet laptop with a very long face.

The hotel manager made a face of sympathy and said, "I’m really sorry, but we don’t have another room for the two of you. We’re all booked up for the conference. I did, however, call across town and was able to find one at the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. I made a reservation for you there. We were lucky to find it," she added. "We’re supposed to have a foot of snow, and they’re already closing the main roads."

"Chief, I dreamed all of this," said Jim, turning to Blair as they moved to Jim’s truck.

"All of this," said Blair dully, stowing his things.

"Yeah," said Jim, sitting behind the wheel for a moment and wrinkling his brow. "All of it, the fire, the bed and breakfast, everything. Only it was so real. This is the strangest thing I’ve ever felt in my life."

"I guess that’s saying something," said Blair, his usual insatiable curiosity a bit deflated at the moment.

"You don’t remember any of this," said Jim, looking over at his roommate.

"No," said Blair. "We just got up here last night, and the conference starts this morning. I’ve never even been here before."

"I’m telling you, Chief, something weird is going on."

Blair was just starting to pay attention when Jim said, "I can’t fucking believe this."

Behind them, a state trooper motioned them over and then walked up to Jim’s window.

"Good morning," said the Trooper, young and unsmiling.

"Good morning," said Jim. "May I help you, Officer?" This can’t be happening, he thought.

"If I could just see your license and registration, please," said the man.

Numbly, Jim handed them over. He stared at the Trooper. He could swear it was the same guy. What in the hell was going on?

"You were speeding," said the young man. "Cascade, huh? May I ask what you’re doing up this way, Mr. Ellison?"

"It’s Detective Ellison," Jim said, "and we’re in town for the criminal psychology seminar. " He didn’t bother to introduce Blair this time.

"Hello," said Blair anyway, looking over at the officer. He could only imagine what he looked like in his wet tee-shirt and sweatpants, unshaven with very mussed up hair.

The trooper gave Jim a look, too.

"Our hotel room caught on fire," said Blair, speaking over Jim. "We had to find other accommodations."

"Yes," said the trooper skeptically. "Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket, Mr. Ellison. This is a thirty-five mile per hour zone through here, and you were going fifty-five."

Jim said nothing, just stared at the man.

"The speed limit extends a ways out of town," the man explained, writing out a ticket and handing it to Jim. "If you could just sign here."

Quietly, Jim signed the slip and pulled away, stopping again as soon as the trooper made a turn and headed back toward town.

"What’s wrong?" asked Blair. "I don’t think you were speeding, were you?"

"No," said Jim. "Sandburg, when was the last time I got a ticket?"

"I don’t know," said the younger man, trying to remember.

"It wasn’t yesterday?" Jim asked.

Blair made a face of confusion. "No," he said slowly. "Jim, are you okay?"

"I have no idea," said Jim. "Tell me about yesterday."

"Well," said Blair slowly. "I had my big psych test yesterday morning, and oh, I burnt breakfast, remember? The toast got stuck and the smoke alarm went off. You were really mad."

Jim concentrated. He did remember that. But that was day before yesterday.

"That was day before yesterday, wasn’t it?" he asked.

Blair’s mouth opened as he considered this question.

"Blair, you’re pulling my leg, right? C’mon man, it’s not funny. We’ve got that conference to go to, there’s no time for nonsense like this." But even as he spoke, Jim thought, how could Blair pull a stunt like this?

"Jim, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing," said Jim, starting the truck and heading toward the bed and breakfast. Which, he was sure, he had already been to. The snow was falling more heavily. Soon the roads would be covered.

"I’ve been here before," he said, when they pulled up to the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. "We stayed here yesterday."

Blair was looking at Jim with worried eyes. "Man, how are your senses?" he whispered, as they stepped inside.

The lady at the front desk said, "Yes. Let’s see, Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison, you’re in room…." She stared at the book, then looked back up at the two men and smiled faintly. "Four."

Another woman with smooth upswept hair came bustling in and said, "Is there a problem?"

"No," said the other woman hastily.

"Room four," announced the new lady. "This way, please."

Jim’s mind was whirling as he and Blair followed the lady up the stairs. He knew he had been there before. He knew the house. How could he know the house if he had never been there before? It couldn’t have been a dream, it was too real.

"Room Four," said the woman, opening the door. A canopy bed, Jim thought, and he looked for the big tub. There it was. He had taken a bath in that tub just last night, and he and Blair had slept in that bed.

"Uh," said Blair, looking at Jim uncertainly. "We’ll need two rooms."

"We only have one," said the lady. "Every place in town is full. You’ll share a toilet and sink with rooms two and three," she added, putting a key into Jim’s numb fingers. "Make sure you lock it from the inside. You have your own bathtub," and Blair stared at the large Jacuzzi sitting smack dab in the middle of the wall underneath a window.

"Is there a shower?" Blair asked.

"Just a tub," the woman said firmly. "We don’t usually cater to the business crowd. My assistant downstairs assumed Blair Sandburg was a female."

Not every man and woman travelling together want this kind of set-up, Blair thought dryly. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, right?

"It’s okay," said Blair, patting the bigger man on the arm. Jim still looked shell-shocked.

"We’re still serving breakfast downstairs," said the lady, "if you want to come on down."

"I’ll just run down and pick us up something," said Blair, looking nervously at his oh-so-quiet sentinel. "That way we can eat up here so we won’t be late for the conference." They were already going to be late as it was.

"I really don’t like people eating in the rooms," said the lady. "Try not to get anything on the Laura Ashley sheets."

And with a final nod, she walked off downstairs.

"Can you believe that?" Blair asked, as the two men moved their stuff inside.

"Frankly, Sandburg, I can’t believe any of this," said Jim, sitting down on the fluffy bed. It was very high off the ground – okay for Jim, but Blair would have to make an effort to get up on it.

I might even have to use the little step thing, Blair thought ruefully.

"What’s wrong?" Blair asked, as he unpacked his toiletries. "You really think you’ve seen this place in a dream? Like in a vision, man?" Jim seemed very serious. Blair wondered what that meant.

"Blair, I’m not kidding," said Jim, reaching over and grasping Blair’s wrist, and Blair took it very seriously now.

"You’ve had another vision?" he asked, smoothing his own unruly hair and getting truly interested.

"Blair, I’ve done all of this before."

Okay, he’s called me Blair twice in a row, thought Jim’s partner. Something is going on here.

"Before," Blair prompted.

"Yes. Like yesterday."

"You did all this yesterday," said Blair, trying to sound like that made any kind of sense.

"Yes," said Jim, still hanging onto Blair’s wrist. "I’m telling you, I’ve already done all this."

"Jim," said Blair gently, "I was with you all day yesterday. I’m telling you, we came up here and checked in at the hotel across town.

"No, that was day before yesterday. Yesterday the heater in our hotel room caught on fire and they had to book us over here, at the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. Room Four. I’m telling you, Sandburg, I’ve done this before."

Blair looked perplexed. "Well, do you want to talk about it on the way to the conference? Because we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry. I’m going to wash my hair in the sink, and then I want you to tell me all about it, okay?"

"Okay." Jim just sat there on the bed and thought, finally getting up to bathe and change clothes.

"Okay," said Blair, once they were back in the truck. The snow was falling harder now. "Tell me everything."

"It’s just like I said," said Jim. "I’m having the same day I had yesterday."

"Have you ever seen the movie "Groundhog's Day?"

"This isn’t a joke, Chief."

"I’m not joking. Bill Murray goes through something just like this."

"Sandburg! That was a movie. This is real life. My life." Jim stared impatiently at the road, and Blair could see his jaw twitch.

"Jim," said Blair slowly, "you’re not just having me on, are you? I mean, because I ruined the toaster again? I swear, I will buy another one. I don’t know what keeps happening-"

"No," said Jim. "I can assure you, I would never go to this length for a practical joke, Chief, even one on you."

"Okay, have you hit your head?"

"No."

"You’re sure?"

Jim tightened his lips, and they pulled up to the hotel.

"Hey, I’m just asking here, okay?" Blair asked defensively. "I’ve got nothing to go on, alright? I’m just gathering data."

"Jim Ellison!" said a skinny man with a wide, beaming smile. He hurried on over and lay a friendly hand on Jim’s arm. "It’s me!"

"Scooter?" Jim asked faintly. He started looking around for Blair.

"That’s right! You remembered! I went to school with you down in Cascade! You know, I heard you went into law enforcement! I hear you’re the real big shot down in those parts."

"Uh, hi," said Jim. He looked, panicked, over at Blair.

"What are you doing up here? Interesting seminar, huh? Oh, that criminal psychology stuff, gets me every time. Guess who I married?"

"Norma Ringley?" Jim guessed.

"Now how did you know that?" asked the man, eyes lighting up. Yeah, I chased her until she caught me," and he gave a series of chuckles that made Jim crumble his Styrofoam cup into oblivion. "Yeah, me and this fella go way back," the grinning Scooter said to Blair. "We were practically best friends back in high school."

"If you’ll excuse us," said Jim, frantically trying to get away. Turning, he bumped right into a doughnut cart, knocking several layers of pastry right onto the floor.

"Hey Ellison, hope the bad guys don’t sneak up on you like that!" called Scooter out happily, and Blair shot Jim a sympathetic look as they picked up the food and tried to get away.

"Who was that?" he asked, when they finally escaped to the back row.

"Chief, I’ve never seen that fellow before in my life."

"You knew his name," said Blair.

"Not until yesterday," said poor perplexed Jim.

The rest of the seminar was lost on the detective, and when Blair said, "Do you feel like eating?"

Jim said, "Well, we ate hamburgers last night from a greasy spoon down the road."

Blair stared at him quietly for a moment and said, "Maybe we better get you to a doctor, Jim."

"There’s nothing wrong with me, Sandburg. I’ve just done all this before."

"Maybe we should nix the rest of the conference and go back to Cascade."

"Didn’t you hear? The roads are closed due to the storm."

"Well, we have to eat something," said Blair. "C’mon, we’ll drive by that greasy spoon. The roads are really bad, Jim. We need to head on back to the hotel."

They picked up the food and drove back in silence, the headlights illuminating the softly falling snow. In the room, Blair said, "Okay, we’re going to figure this thing out, Jim. You’re sure it wasn’t a vision? Or maybe just a déjà vu kind of thing?"

"Sandburg, I’m telling you," Jim said tiredly. "I’ve lived this day before."

"Well, tomorrow," said Blair, "we’ll get you to the doctor and get your senses all checked out. Just in case, okay?"

"And what if there isn’t a tomorrow?"

Blair shot him a mock-annoyed glance.

Jim cleaned up the remains of dinner and picked up the bathroom key. "I’ve got to get down there before Scooter Friday," he said.

"Who?" asked Blair.

"That man at the seminar today. He’s staying here, and he’s going to break the toilet. See?" Jim asked, as the idea occurred to him. "Come with me, and I can prove it."

Blair followed the detective out into the hall, not knowing what to think. At the end of the hall, Scooter Friday stepped out of the bathroom and said, "Well, Jim Ellison! What a surprise! Are you staying here, too? Nice place, ain’t it? The missus is going to kill me when I tell her I stayed in a place like this. Course I won’t tell her about all the women I’ve got stashed in the room." He gave Jim a big co-conspiratorial wink and headed off down the hall.

Behind him, Jim opened the door.

"See?" he asked Blair triumphantly.

"Yuk," said Blair, and Jim shut the door.

After Jim got back from the bathroom downstairs, he said, "So what do you think, Sherlock?"

Blair sighed. He had been giving this a great deal of thought.

"I think it might be some kind of vision," he said carefully.

"A vision," said Jim.

"Yes," said Blair.

Jim seriously considered this. He had had visions before, after all, and they had seemed very real, too. But this still felt different.

"I don’t think so," he said, "but let’s just say it was. My visions usually say something. What would a vision like this have to say?"

"Maybe it was a warning of some kind," said Blair. "Did anything traumatic happen?"

"I got a speeding ticket," said Jim, frowning.

"Well, I know that’s no fun, but it’s hardly vision inducing, I would guess," said Blair dryly. "I mean, you’ve been through much more traumatic stuff than that, man. How are your senses? Shall we test them?"

"They seem fine," said Jim, but he did what Blair said anyway, and after a while, said, "See? They’re okay, Sandburg."

Blair sighed. "I don’t know," he said. "Let me think about it, okay?"

Jim shrugged, lost in his own thought.

"I guess I need to take a bath," he said. He was getting worried about Jim. This was something they had to figure out. "Or do you want to go first?"

"Go ahead," said Jim.

"Why don’t you try and relax for a bit?" Blair suggested. "Try some cleansing breaths. Or just try to listen to a ballgame on your headphones or something."

"There’s no reception," said Jim. He sat there like a man made of stone as Blair ran his bath water. The student wasn’t used to bathing in a huge tub in the middle of a bedroom with his male roommate sitting nearby. Trying to look unconcerned, Blair carefully wrapped a towel around his middle and took his boxers off underneath it. Stealing a look back at Jim, he saw that the other man had turned over away from him, apparently completely unconcerned. Sliding naked into the huge tub, Blair did what he could with his hair, then quickly bathed and got out. Jim still hadn’t moved from his place on the bed.

"Jim?" Blair asked, after he had put fresh clothes on. "The tub’s all yours."

Jim moved over like a man in a trance and started cleaning out the tub.

"Sorry," said Blair, "let me do that. I am clean, in case you need to know," he added, a bit embarrassed.

"I know," said Jim. "You said that last night. You said you weren’t diseased or anything, and I think I made some kind of remark about your love life."

"Jim!" said Blair, stung. "I’ve always had safe sex, man. I’m not stupid." He got onto the bed and started messing with his injured laptop. "It won’t work," he said, very depressed. "I thought maybe I could find some websites on vision research. I don’t have my books with me."

When Jim got back out of the tub, Blair was still awake, obviously trying to think about the situation despite his red-rimmed eyes.

"Sandburg," Jim said gruffly, to hide what the sight of Blair like that did to his insides, "get that laptop off the bed. It’s going to fall off and bust."

Blair jerked at Jim’s voice, and his movement sent the laptop crashing to the floor. If its fate hadn’t been decided before, it had now.

"Oh, man," said Blair, in the depths of despair.

"Sorry," said Jim, feeling very guilty. "Don’t leave that thing on the bed next time, okay?" Then, his words softer, he said, "Go to sleep. We’ll figure this all out tomorrow."

Day 3

Jim awoke to an ungodly sound. What the hell was that? It sounded like… Jerking out of bed, Jim sat straight up. What the…? He stared in complete disorientation at his hotel room.

Oh, my god. Not again.

This could not be happening.

"Sandburg," he said loudly, getting out of bed. "The heater’s on fire. Let’s get out of here."

"Shit!" said Blair, springing out of bed.

"The sprinkler’s getting ready to come on," said Jim. "Better get that laptop."

But it was too late. Blair was still standing there, coughing, as the water poured down upon them.

"The hotel is full," said Jim, as they headed downstairs with their stuff. "The manager is going to put us up at a bed and breakfast across town."

Blair listened to the hotel manager say sympathetically, "I’m really sorry, but we don’t have another room for the two of you. We’re all booked up for the conference. I did, however, call across town and was able to find one at the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. I made a reservation for you there. We were lucky to find it," she added. "We’re supposed to have a foot of snow, and they’re already closing the main roads."

"How the hell did you know that?" Blair asked as they moved toward Jim’s truck. "Talk about a lucky guess."

"It wasn’t a guess," said Jim tiredly. "This day has already happened to me twice now."

Blair was staring at him as the other man got in the truck.

"We’re at a seminar on criminal psychology," Jim said. "It’s snowing south of us and the roads are blocked. Since our heater caught on fire they’re sending us across town to the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast where we will be put in a room for couples since they assumed Blair Sandburg was a woman. We will come back to the conference, meet some total geek who thinks he knows me, knock over a doughnut cart and then finish the rest of the day with hamburgers and a stopped up toilet."

"Sounds lovely," Blair said, not knowing whether to laugh or not.

"It is," sighed Jim, "believe me." He started the truck and they pulled out onto the main road.

Blair didn’t know what to say. "Seriously," he finally tried. "How did you know about the bed and breakfast?"

"I’m telling you, it’s all happened before. It’s happened to me twice now, this is my third day doing the exact same thing over and over."

"Jim, you’re scaring me here, buddy."

"Ssh, I’m getting ready to get a speeding ticket." Jim looked down at his speedometer, made sure he wasn’t doing over thirty-five. Even so, they both heard the whine of the siren.

Blair was staring at Jim in befuddlement as a young trooper approached them.

"Good morning," said the Trooper, young and unsmiling.

"Good morning," said Jim, getting out his license and registration.

"You were speeding," said the young man. "Cascade, huh? May I ask what you’re doing up this way, Mr. Ellison?"

"It’s Detective Ellison," Jim said, "and I wasn’t speeding."

"You were doing fifty-five in a thirty-five, sir."

"I was doing thirty-five," Jim said. "I know, because I checked the speedometer."

Blair listened with widening eyes.

"Then I’d suggest having your speedometer checked," said the trooper.

"Hi," said Blair quickly, as the man looked over at him. "We’re in town for the criminal psychology seminar". He could only imagine what he looked like in his wet tee-shirt and sweatpants, unshaven with very mussed up hair.

The trooper gave Jim another look, too.

"Our hotel room caught on fire," said Blair, speaking over Jim. "We had to find other accommodations."

"Yes," said the trooper skeptically, writing out his ticket. "Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket, Mr. Ellison."

Jim said nothing, but his jaw clenched tightly.

"If you could just sign here."

Jim signed the slip and pulled away. "That asshole," he said after the trooper left. "He knows damn well I wasn’t doing fifty-five miles per hour."

"Jim, what’s going on? Is this a senses thing?"

"Who knows?" Jim asked bitterly. "I don’t, you don’t."

"How do you know I don’t?" Blair asked. "Tell me what’s going on here, Jim."

"You didn’t know yesterday," said Jim, pulling up to the bed and breakfast. "Why should you know today?"

Blair was at an uncharacteristic loss for words. "Man, are you okay?" he whispered, as they stepped inside.

"We’re Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg," said Jim. "We’re in number four."

The lady at the front desk stared at the book, then looked back up at the two men and said, "Yes, number four." She looked a little confused.

Another woman with smooth upswept hair came bustling in and said, "Is there a problem?"

"No," said Jim, before the other woman could.

"Room four," announced the new lady. "This way, please."

Jim pursed his lips as he followed the lady up the stairs. Blair was watching him with the kind of concern reserved for mad dogs and others of that ilk.

"The room has a canopy bed," Jim said to Blair. "And a really big tub. But no shower."

"Room Four," said the woman, opening the door. Blair looked in and then back at Jim.

"Uh," said Blair, uncertainly, "We’ll need two rooms."

"This is the last one left, Chief," said Jim, taking the bathroom key from the woman’s dangling fingers. "Every place in town is full. We have to share a toilet and a sink with rooms two and three."

The woman was looking at him with a narrowed brow. "You must have read the brochure," she said. "About the bathroom, make sure you lock it from the inside. You have your own bathtub," she reiterated, and Blair stared at it and then at Jim.

"No shower," Jim told Blair again.

"Just a tub," the woman said firmly. "We don’t usually cater to the business crowd. My assistant downstairs assumed Blair Sandburg was a female."

"It’s okay," said Blair, looking a little shell-shocked at everything that was going on. All I need is a white rabbit to run by muttering that’s he late, he thought, dazed.

"We’re still serving breakfast downstairs," said the lady, "if you want to come on down."

"I’ll just run down and pick us up something," said Blair, looking nervously at his oh-so-quiet sentinel. "That way we can eat up here so we won’t be late for the conference." They were already going to be late as it was.

"I really don’t like people eating in the rooms," said the lady. "Try not to get anything on the Laura Ashley sheets."

And with a final nod, she walked off downstairs.

"Jim, what the hell is going on here?" Blair asked, as the two men moved their stuff inside.

"Nothing that didn’t happen yesterday, or the day before," said Jim, standing in the flowery room and looking around. "You’ve never been here before, Sandburg?"

"Never," Blair said.

"What happened to you yesterday?"

"Uh, nothing," said Blair. "We came up here and checked in at the hotel across town."

"Yeah, that’s what you said when I asked you yesterday," said Jim, sitting down on the fluffy bed. It was very high off the ground – okay for Jim, but Blair would have to make an effort to get up on it.

I might even have to use the little step thing, Blair thought ruefully for a moment.

"Jim?" he asked, getting back to the moment. "What’s going on here, man?"

"I’m losing my mind," said Jim.

"No, there has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this," said Blair. "Do you think you could have dreamed it?"

"No," said Jim impatiently. "We went through all of this yesterday, Sandburg. Even the vision stuff."

"You think it could be a vision?"

"No, I said it didn’t feel like a vision when I told you this yesterday."

"Well, excuse me," Blair said, "but I don’t remember the same yesterday as you do, okay?"

Jim sighed, and Blair said softly, "I want to help you, Jim. Something is really bothering you here."

"What’s bothering me is that I keep having the same day over and over and over again."

"Did you ever see the movie Groundhog’s Day?" Blair asked hesitantly.

"You asked me that yesterday, too," said Jim.

"I’m sorry," said Blair. "Help me out here, man. I don’t know what you think I asked you yesterday."

"I didn’t "think" you asked me anything," said Jim, very annoyed now. "I know you did. I was right here, and so were you. We talked about it all day yesterday, and you didn’t know any more about it then than you do now." His voice was thick with frustration.

"Hey, give me a chance here, Jim, I’m trying to help," Blair said sharply.

"Augh." Jim rubbed his face in his hands and said, "Maybe I need to see a shrink."

Blair was completely taken aback at this. "Are you serious?"

"Well? You can’t help me."

"Jim, you haven’t even given me a choice here," said Blair, hurt. This had always been his weakness, his fear that his shaman and guide abilities were not enough to help Jim when it really counted.

"I wish Incacha was here," Jim said without thinking, and Blair did look stricken then. He didn’t know what to say.

"I could…try to guide you to him," he said, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

"No, it won’t matter. Nothing matters. The same day is happening over and over and I don’t know why, Chief. Listen," he said. "I’ll prove it. I’ll tell you everything that is going to happen from now on."

"Jim, you don’t have to prove anything to me. I believe you, man," said Blair.

Jim eyed him skeptically. "Nice try, Chief," he said, "but you believe this is what I think is happening, not that it is really happening."

"Hey, we’ve dealt with some pretty mysterious stuff before," said Blair. "I’m not ruling anything out here. It’s no crazier than other stuff we’ve been through."

Jim looked into Blair’s honest blue eyes and thought, he’s telling me the truth here. Blair really believes in me.

"Okay," said Jim. "This is what is going to happen."

At the hotel, a skinny man with a wide beaming smile ran over to Jim. "Jim Ellison!" he said. "It’s me!"

Jim looked over at Blair and said in triumph, "Scooter Friday."

"That’s right! You remembered!" said the man, beaming at both of them. "I went to school with you down in Cascade! You know, I heard you went into law enforcement! I hear you’re the real big shot down in those parts."

Jim started walking off.

"What are you doing up here?" asked the man excitedly, following him. "Interesting seminar, huh? Oh, that criminal psychology stuff, gets me every time. Guess who I married?"

"Norma Ringley," breathed Blair.

"Now how did you know that?" asked the man, but that didn’t stop his happy tirade. "Yeah, I chased her until she caught me." He gave a series of chuckles as Jim walked on away. "Me and this fella go way back," the grinning Scooter said to Blair. "We were practically best friends back in high school."

Jim jumped aside, and the eager Scooter bumped right into the doughnut cart, knocking several layers of pastry right onto the floor.

"Let’s hope the bad guys don’t sneak up on you like that," Jim said with a smile as he hurried Blair off into the crowd.

"See?" Jim asked, as they got to the back of the seminar.

"You’ve never seen that man before this seminar."

"Don’t you think I would have remembered?"

"Man, this is too weird," said Blair.

"You’re telling me."

Blair started to sit down, but Jim said, "Not me, Chief. I’ve already heard this lecture twice. I’m going for a walk."

"Jim!" said Blair. He needed this course for his new position as an advisor to the department in criminal psychology. It was something they had all come up with when Blair’s short tenure at the police academy didn’t work out. Not knowing what to do, Blair sat there for a moment, waffling, then said, "Excuse me," to the person beside him and headed out after his sentinel.

He found him walking in the snow on the Main Street.

"Jim," said Blair. "Why don’t we call a doctor?"

"Sure," said Jim. "Take me to a shrink. I must be crazy."

"No, I’m not saying that you’re crazy. I was thinking more organic things than that."

"What? Brain tumors? Alzheimer’s?

Blair sighed. He didn’t want to think of anything like that. "I don’t guess it could be stress. You are always under a lot of pressure."

"Sandburg, how in the hell could I dream up two days in a place I’ve never been before? That would be a hell of a lot of stress."

"Jim, I’m just trying to help you here."

"You can’t," said Jim, standing in the park and kicking desolately at the snow.

"We don’t know that," said Blair. "Besides, I want to try."

Jim pursed his lips. "Okay," he said. "What can you do?"

"I don’t know," said Blair. "C’mon, help me here. You first noticed this when you woke up the other day, right?"

"I woke up in that hotel room with the smoke alarm going off," said Jim.

"The smoke," Blair said triumphantly. "Maybe that’s what this is. Maybe there’s something in the smoke that’s acting like a hallucinogen to your over-wrought senses!"

"Maybe," said Jim. It was worth considering. "But how does that make me know what is going to happen?"

"I don’t know," said Blair reflectively. They moved to a park bench and there was a long silence. "What about me?" Blair asked.

"What about you?"

"Have I done the same things, too?" Blair asked.

"Pretty much," said Jim. "You wash your hair in the sink when we get to the hotel and you take a bath at night in the tub. You’re upset over your laptop and you want to eat at the health food restaurant."

Blair analyzed this. "The thing is, if you’re having the same day over and over, where am I going during this?"

"I don’t know," Jim sighed, running his hands through his short hair.

"I think there’s actually scientific theories about this sort of thing," said Blair.

"What? The Groundhog’s Day Theorem?"

"I don’t know, some kind of time-loop or something. I knew I should have taken that physics class."

"You believe me, don’t you?" Jim asked.

"I believe it’s happening to your sense of perception, yes," said Blair, and it was the wrong thing to say. Jim’s face clouded over.

"In other words," he said, "you think I’m deluded."

"No!" said Blair quickly. He hadn’t meant that at all. "Jim, you know I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of altered realities, other realities, little bubbles of time running just before or after our own, I don’t know. I’m the last person that would say I didn’t believe you."

"I don’t care about the science part," said Jim desperately. "I want to know if you believe me."

"Of course I do," said Blair, meeting Jim’s eyes steadily.

"Fuck," said Jim, scrubbing his face again. "I can’t believe this is happening."

"Let’s go back to the seminar," Blair suggested. "I know it’s not important in your current reality, but it is in mine. Simon would kill me if I missed it. Do you mind? After dinner, we’ll get down to work on this." Blair’s mind was whirling rapidly, but there was one thing that was way above the others…I don’t know how to help him. I’m going to fail him in this.

Blair had to fight down the panic as Jim obediently followed him back to the hotel.

Afterwards, Jim just drove straight to the burger place and got their food. Back in their room, he said, "Okay, Einstein, any ideas?"

"Okay," said Blair, "we’ve ruled out visions, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, then the only other thing we have is that you really are having the same day over and over."

Jim was waiting, and finally Blair had to shrug and say, "I’m out of my league here, Jim. I don’t know what to do."

"Are you saying I’m stuck? Doomed to keep repeating this day over and over?"

"No, I’m just saying I’ve got to think about it," admitted his guide.

"You don’t know," said Jim, standing up and pacing in frustration.

"Well, Jesus, Jim, it’s not like I’ve had any time to think about it! You just told me today!"

"No, I told you yesterday, too," said Jim, "and you didn’t know what to do that day, either." His voice was getting hard.

Blair watched him uncertainly. "I’m sorry, Jim," he said, hearing his biggest nightmares come to life. He was a failure. He couldn’t help his sentinel. "I really am trying here."

"It doesn’t matter," Jim said moodily. "No one can help me now. Dammit, I wish Incacha was here."

Blair’s mouth twisted sourly. "Well, not to cast doubt on him, Jim, but how would he know? I mean, this isn’t exactly a sentinel issue, is it? One that surfaced on a regular basis?"

"What? Just because you can’t help me you don’t want anyone else to? That’s real big of you, Sandburg."

"I didn’t say that!" Blair returned hotly.

"Oh, forget it," Jim said, dismissing him with a wave of a hand. "You don’t know, so just say you don’t know, okay? Don’t pretend to be something you’re not, Blair."

"I’m not," said Blair, completely stung now. "I’ve never pretended to be anything, Jim. I’ve always been up front with you, man. Incacha passed the way of the shaman over to me, sure, but I’m still struggling here, and you know it. I never tried to hide that from you. All I can do is try, Jim, okay? And I am trying."

"Fuck it," said Jim, getting his jacket. "I’m going out."

"Where are you going?" asked Blair, moving off the bed.

"Out," said the sentinel. "I’ll be back later. Maybe I’ll just walk all night, and see what happens at midnight."

"Hey, that’s a thought," said Blair, immediately entranced at the idea.

"I’ll let you know how it turns out," said Jim sarcastically, and shut the door to their room.

Behind him, Blair slumped on the bed, depressed.

As Jim walked down the hall, Scooter Friday stepped out of the bathroom and said, "Well, Jim Ellison! What a surprise! Are you staying here, too? Nice place, ain’t it? The missus is going to kill me when I tell her I stayed in a place like this. Course I won’t tell her about all the women I’ve got stashed in the room." He gave Jim a big co-conspiratorial wink and headed off down the hall.

"You broke the fucking toilet," Jim said, and headed on downstairs, leaving a flustered Mr. Friday in his wake.

Back in the room, Blair ran a warm bath and sank into it, sighing. What the hell was happening with Jim? He tried to think about everything Jim had said to him today, not missing one little detail. He even thought about the movie Groundhog’s Day and the messages it portrayed. Surely Jim was hallucinating somehow, but if he was, how did it explain the precognition? It had to be a sentinel thing, Blair thought, getting a bit excited. This whole thing had to be connected with Jim’s heightened senses. Could this be similar to the ghost ordeal with Molly? Could Jim just perhaps sense things others couldn’t in this area, too? Blair and Jim had never really explored much in the realm of extra sensory perception, even though technically, that should be right up Jim’s alley. Then Blair remembered something else, something a bit more grim.

Heightened senses could also be a trait of mental illness. But that still couldn’t explain how Jim knew things, could it?

Maybe you’re the crazy one here, Blair thought dryly as he climbed out of the tub and got into bed clothes. He opened his laptop and tried to get it working. He couldn’t, and sighed in despair. He really couldn’t afford a new one.

Outside, Jim walked determinedly in the snow. He had nowhere to go, really. There was a bowling alley on the corner, and he turned in there, not surprised to see a few of the other officers who had been at the seminar that afternoon.

They greeted him with upturned beer glasses, and Jim ordered one, too. If he didn’t deserve one today, he never would, right?

"How’s life in the big city?" asked one of the others. Jim had spoken briefly to him some time during the past day that had stretched out over three.

"Who cares?" asked Jim, settling onto his barstool. The other two men laughed.

"Right," one said. "Who cares indeed?"

"Why couldn’t they have this seminar somewhere like L.A?" asked the other man.

"Because our department couldn’t have afforded to send us there, Smathers," was the reply.

Smathers said, "There’s nothing to do in this town. Not to mention the damn snowstorm. Even the phone lines are down. What about you?" he asked, turning to Jim. "What do you guys do for fun down in Cascade?"

"Arrest a bunch of assholes," said Jim, draining his beer.

"Yeah, us, too," someone laughed.

"Damn, in Cascade," Smathers said, "something is always happening. Something getting blown up, someone getting themselves kidnapped." It was obvious he had had a few at this point. "If I lived down there, I would live like there wasn’t a tomorrow, ‘cause you’d never know if there would be or not, it’s so dangerous."

Jim thought about this.

"We oughta always live like that," said another man. "Not on the job, of course, but off, hell yeah. Think I need to find me a good-looking blonde every night from now on."

"You wouldn’t have enough money, Dills," laughed Smathers.

When Jim spoke, it was quiet, but both men listened. "So that’s what you’d do if you knew you’d have no tomorrow?" he asked.

They stopped with the exaggerated movements of people who had drunk way too much.

"Hell, no," said Smathers. "If I knew there wouldn’t be a tomorrow, I’d tell my boss off, steal a car, and proposition every woman I’ve ever known."

"Steal a car?" asked the other man. "I’d rob a damn bank. I’d take all the hints I’ve gotten from every criminal I know, and just live the day on the lam. Sort of like an all male Thelma and Louise."

Jim smiled.

Later, as he begged off their company and walked down the street, he wondered if he’d have a tomorrow. And thought about all the things he’d do if he didn’t.

Back at the hotel, Blair was asleep on the bed, hand curled protectively around his injured laptop.

"Sandburg," he said, and Blair jerked at the sound, his laptop crashing to the floor.

"Huh?" the younger man said, starting. "Oh, damn it."

"I tell you every fucking night that that thing will fall off," said Jim, climbing into bed. "And do you ever listen? No."

And Blair just blinked as his partner turned off the light and went to sleep.

Day 4

Jim awoke to an ungodly sound. Smoke alarm, he thought. Unhurried, he got out of bed and started to dress.

Across the room, his roommate said, "Shit! Jim! The room is on fire!"

"It’s the heater," said Jim, getting his stuff together as the sprinkler system started to come on. "Don’t bother about the laptop," he said. "It’s just going to get smashed up later anyway."

Blair shot him a confused look as he ran around coughing from the smoke.

"The hotel is full," said Jim, as they headed downstairs with their stuff. "The manager is going to put us up at a bed and breakfast across town. You’ve booked us at the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast, right?" Jim said to the hotel manager, who looked surprised, but still managed to convey some sympathy. "We know where it is," said Jim, and he and Blair walked over to the truck. "It’s across town," Jim said to the quiet student. "It’s okay, but there’s no private bathroom. We have to share it with some idiot, but it doesn’t matter, because he breaks it anyway, so we have to go downstairs. There’s a tub in the room," Jim added, as Blair stared at him in confusion.

"Have you been here before?" Blair asked, surprised.

"Oh, about four times now," said Jim. "We’re in room number four. There’s only one bed, but that really doesn’t matter. How do you feel about canopy beds, Sandburg? I don’t think we’ve ever discussed that."

Blair was staring at him with rounded eyes.

"Hold that thought," said Jim. "There’s a real asshole getting ready to pull me over."

Blair’s head swiveled around as a state trooper pulled them over neatly.

"Good morning," said the Trooper, young and unsmiling.

Jim handed him his driver’s license and registration without a word.

"You were speeding," said the young man. "Cascade, huh? May I ask what you’re doing up this way, Mr. Ellison?"

"It’s Detective Ellison," he said, "and no, you may not."

The trooper glanced up at him. "You were doing fifty-five in a thirty-five, sir."

"I was doing thirty-five," Jim said, "and you damn well know it."

Blair’s eyes bulged in their sockets.

"I’m just going to have to write you a ticket, Detective Ellison," the man said, ignoring Jim’s attitude.

"Go ahead," said Jim. "I seriously doubt I’ll ever pay it."

"That’s up to you, sir," said the man. He glanced over at Blair, who managed a frozen smile.

"We’re in town for the criminal psychology seminar," the student said hastily. He knew he must look a sight in his wet tee-shirt and sweatpants, but what the hell was up with Jim?

The trooper handed the pad to Jim and said, "If you could just sign right here."

"And if I don’t?" Jim asked.

Blair’s mouth dropped open.

"I’d have no choice but to ask you to step out of the car, sir."

Sighing, Jim signed the ticket.

"Have a good day, sir," said the trooper, and he turned and walked away.

"Up yours," said Jim.

Blair stared at his roommate. "Jim," he whispered. "What the hell are you doing, man?"

"That asshole stops me every day and says I’m speeding whether I am or not," said Jim. "It’s a goddamned speed trap, Chief."

Blair was speechless for a moment. "Every day," he managed.

"Yes," said Jim. "I know, you don’t know, but you see, Chief, I’ve been reliving the same day, this day, over and over for four days now. I’m getting just a little bit tired of it."

By the time they arrived at the bed and breakfast, Blair said, "Jim, we need to talk about this, man. What’s going on? Are your senses okay?"

"We’re Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg," said Jim to the lady at the desk. "I know you thought Blair was a woman, but take a good look at him. Does he really look like a woman to you? We’re in number four, by the way," he added.

The lady at the front desk stared at the two men while another one came bustling up.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"No," said Jim, before the other woman could. "I was just asking the lady here if she thought my partner looked like a woman."

"It was just a mix-up," said the new lady smoothly, taking in the situation with a glance. "Room four. This way, please."

"Bye," said Blair, bestowing a weak smile on the poor befuddled woman at the desk. "Thanks." Then he hurried after his obviously messed-up sentinel. Something really bad was going on here.

"Room Four," said the woman, opening the door. Blair looked in and then back at Jim.

"Sorry, there’s only one room available," Jim said to Blair before Blair could comment. "Buck up, I think I’ll only be in there for half the night." He took the key from the ladies fingers and said, "I know, we have to share a bathroom, and there’s no shower. You really ought to put showers in the room. Not everybody wants to bathe in the middle of the room like that."

Blair’s eyes rounded.

The woman was looking at Jim with a narrowed brow. "About the bathroom-"

"-Make sure you lock it from the inside. I know," said Jim.

"We’re still serving breakfast downstairs," said the lady, staring at Jim suspiciously. "If you want to come on down."

"Uh, maybe I’ll just run down and pick us up something," Blair said nervously. "We’re going to be late for the criminal psychology convention."

"And don’t worry," said Jim. "We won’t touch the Laura Ashley sheets, either." And with one last smile, he shut the door in her face.

"Jim! Man, what is wrong with you?" Blair asked, standing stock-still in the room. He barely took in the tub and the ruffly white canopy.

"This is starting to feel like home," Jim said, flopping down on the bed. "Go wash your hair, Sandburg. That seems to always be your first priority at this moment."

"What are you talking about?" Blair asked, moving over toward Jim cautiously.

"I told you, I’ve already been through this day about four times now," said Jim. "I keep re-living the same day over and over."

"Re-living the same day," Blair repeated blankly.

"Yep," said Jim, putting his hands behind his head and staring up at the canopy. "Go wash your hair, Chief. You don’t believe me. No, maybe you do believe me, but you can’t help me. So why should I bother you with the details?"

"Jim, you are worrying me here, man," said Blair, scrambling up on the bed beside his best friend. It was a very high bed. He almost had to use the provided stepstool.

"Don’t worry about me, Chief," said Jim, reaching up and stroking Blair’s cheek for a moment. "I’ll be fine. I’m just crazy or something. Go to your seminar and watch out for the doughnut cart."

"Doughnut cart," Blair said.

"You better go wash your hair," Jim said, "or you’ll be late."

Still confused as hell, Blair gathered up his toiletries and headed for the bathroom and its little sink. What the hell was going on? His heart pounded as he hurried.

After he left, Jim got up off the bed and went downstairs.

"Good morning," he said to the lady downstairs, who straightened up in a hurry.

"Breakfast," he said.

"If you want to sit down, I’m making granola pancakes."

"Sounds lovely," said Jim, "but I think I’ll just have some of these doughnuts."

Back upstairs, Blair entered the room hesitantly, then stopped.

"Well," he said, looking at all the plates in front of Jim.

"Want a doughnut, Chief?" Jim asked. "They’re good. Try this sugary kind."

"No thanks," said Blair. He toweled his wet hair and said, "Can we talk about what’s going on with you?"

"Nothing going on with me, Chief," said Jim. "In fact, I’m feeling pretty good. You know what? I’ve always wanted to eat an entire box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts."

"You are going to be so sick, man."

"You’re right," said Jim. "Maybe I should have waited until tonight to eat these."

"Jim," said Blair, sitting down at the small table, "talk to me, man. You say you think you’re re-living the same day over and over?"

"See? Here’s where we differ, Sandburg. I say I’m living it, you say I think I’m living it. Happens every time we talk about it."

"We’re talked about it before?" Blair asked cautiously.

"Every day for the past three days," said Jim. "I guess technically we didn’t talk about it the first day."

"Huh," said Blair.

"Sure you don’t want a doughnut? And I’ve got these cinnamon things, too."

"No thanks," said Blair, his mouth curling up a bit at the sight of all that sugar.

"You don’t know what you’re missing," Jim said. Then he added, "Aren’t you going to be late?"

"To the seminar?" Blair asked. "Aren’t you coming with me?"

"Nah," said Jim. "I’ve already been three times. If you want to skip it, I can tell you all about it."

"Okay," said Blair. "Why don’t you tell me all about it, then?"

Jim smiled, shook his head. "Smart, professor. Well, I can, you know. I can tell you everything that is going to happen on this day, Mr. Sandburg. I can tell you, because I keep re-living it over and over and over."

"Like Groundhog’s Day," said Blair.

Jim sighed and shook his head. "You know, Blair, I hate to say it, but sometimes you’re a little predictable."

Blair pursed his lips, watched Jim get up and put some coffee on at the in-room coffee maker.

"Not that that’s bad," Jim added magnanimously. "I know you’re just trying to help. You have really tried to be helpful these past few days. You look at me so fucking earnestly, and say, "Jim, I really can’t figure it out, man.""

"Jim, you’re scaring me a little bit here," said Blair, and the truth of that rang in his voice.

"I’m sorry," Jim said immediately and truthfully. He walked back over to Blair and handed Blair a cup of coffee, which Blair took gratefully. He really could use a beer, despite it being breakfast-time. "I’m not trying to scare you, Blair. I love you. You always try to help me, no matter what. It’s just that this time, you can’t."

"But give me a chance, man!" Blair said. This kind of talk was really unnerving him. What the hell was going on?

"There’s no point, even though you had some good ideas yesterday. Maybe the day before, too, even though my days are starting to run together a bit."

He’s babbling, Blair thought, his stomach twisting with worry. Jim Ellison never babbles. That’s my job around here.

Maybe it’s more than just repeating days, Blair thought crazily, maybe we’ve switched personalities, too.

"Jim, I believe you, man," said Blair, finding his voice. "I want to help you."

"I know you do," said Jim, his eye soft. "And it’s nothing about you, Sandburg, really. This is just too big league for either one of us."

"If only Incacha were here," Blair breathed, and Jim looked at him, tilted his head.

"Really, Sandburg?" he asked. "Yesterday when I suggested that, you really got bent out of shape."

"You suggested that?" Blair asked. He swallowed bitterly.

"Yeah, and you were offended, I could tell," said Jim. "I didn’t mean anything by it, Chief. It’s just that it’s obvious that neither one of us have run into anything like this before."

"You’re really not going to the seminar?" Blair asked.

"Huh-uh. But don’t let me stop you from going," said Jim. "I know you need the course for your police work."

"Jim, I can’t leave you here like this," said Blair. "I’m worried about you."

"I’ll be okay," said Jim. "I’m going to walk around a while. So far, my day has been pretty much the same each time, except that occasionally, people will say different things, so some things apparently can be changed. If this is true, maybe other things can be changed as well."

"Let me come with you," Blair said.

Jim thought about it for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure? Jim, you’re re-living the same day over and over." Blair was careful not to put the words "think you’re re-living" in there. "Are you kidding? I want to see that for myself, man."

Jim smiled and said, "Let me finish these doughnuts first.

Sometime later, Blair and Jim walked down the sidewalks of the pretty Northwestern town. The snow was falling heavily now, and it clung to the dark curls of Blair’s hair.

"So let me get this straight," Blair said. "For the past four days, you’ve woken up and re-lived the same day."

Jim nodded, jumped around a bit between the sidewalk and the low stone wall that ran alongside it.

"Be careful," said Blair. "It’s slick, you might fall."

"I’m not sure that matters," Jim said thoughtfully.

Blair gave him a hard look. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?"

"No," said Jim. "I’m not going to jump in front of a truck or anything like that."

"Good," said Blair, "because remember what happened last time you did that. I had to jump in, too."

Jim smiled, then he said, "Don’t you try anything stupid. I’m the one re-living the same day over and over again. You don’t seem to remember any of it."

"I know," said Blair, perplexed. "How can that be? I mean, you talked to me yesterday, right? I mean, in this same setting."

"Yep," said Jim. It seemed a bit sad to know that Blair didn’t remember any of that. "Yesterday, you said this might be some kind of physics anomaly. Some kind of space-time continuum problem or bubble or something."

"I did?" Blair asked, impressed. "Wow. I guess I was having a better day yesterday. What else did I say?"

"You were shocked and worried and thinking I was a bit crazy, I think," said Jim.

"I was shocked and worried about you this morning with that trooper," Blair said. "I didn’t know what in the hell was going on there."

"I probably should have tried to outrun him," Jim said. "After all, what could have happened?"

"He could have put us both in jail," said Blair.

"Right," said Jim. "Maybe I’ll try it without you along."

"You better not," Blair threatened.

"I can’t take a chance with you along," Jim said seriously. "I apparently have nine lives, but your whole part in this is undetermined at this point."

"And you don’t know that you have nine lives, either," Blair said pointedly. "You better promise me not to do anything foolish."

"Does eating at the diner count?" Jim asked. "C’mon, I’m ready for lunch."

At the diner, Blair sat and watched Jim eat two hamburgers, fries, salad, a chocolate shake, and a piece of pie.

"If you wake up tomorrow and still look the way you do, I’m going to be sick," said Blair.

"I’d settle for just waking up tomorrow," said Jim. "I don’t suppose you have a cigarette, do you?"

"Jim!"

"Kidding."

A woman was sitting on the other side of the diner in a booth. She was reading a book, but looked up at some point and gave Jim a slight smile. Jim returned it.

Blair saw the interaction and turned around to see at whom Jim was smiling. The woman had looked back down, but Blair got the general idea.

"Oh no" he said. "I know what’s coming next. I saw the movie, remember? Jim, don’t you make up some story just to get that woman into bed."

"Oh, look who’s talking," said Jim, reaching over and taking a piece of Blair’s grilled cheese sandwich.

"You can have it," said Blair. "Watching you eat has made me lose my appetite. And I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never lied to get a woman into bed."

"Never obfuscated?" Jim asked dryly.

"Not about what’s important," Blair said. "Like how I feel about her. Please tell me you’re not going to do that."

"Sandburg, I can’t believe you even said that. You know I don’t do things like that." Jim frowned. But when they left, Jim gave her another smile. She was very attractive, he thought. Late thirties, maybe, streaked brown hair, an outdoorsy look. Might be something to think about in his new endless life.

Outside, he said, "Go on to the class, Sandburg. Really, I’ll be fine. I’m not just going to come back here and pick up that woman," he added at Blair’s face.

"That’s your business, of course," said Blair, "but…."

Jim just shook his head.

"We could go to the video store and see if we could rent The Movie," Blair said lightly, and Jim said, "Chief, if I hear about that move one more time, I really will jump off a bridge."

"Just trying to help," Blair said. "It could have some answers, you know."

"No offense here, but it’s a Hollywood script."

"You say you can sometimes change things," Blair said after a while.

"Yeah. Like this. I didn’t have to go to the conference. Maybe if I could get out of this town I could even get back to Cascade."

"But the road’s blocked due to the snow," said Blair. In the gray light of the wintry day, his eyes blazed bright blue. Jim reached out, pulled a strand of hair out of the younger man’s face. He thought, tomorrow, Blair will never know that I ever did that.

"Maybe there’s some way to write things down," Blair said. "So I could read all of it tomorrow," as if he were reading Jim’s thoughts.

"Everything seems to start out at the same time everyday," said Jim, shaking his head. "C’mon," he said, "Let’s go to that seminar. You need to. I can do something else tomorrow, right?" And his tone was very dry. "By the way," he said, "let me tell you what’s going to happen next."

At the hotel, a skinny man with a wide beaming smile ran over to Jim.

"Jim Ellison!" he said. "It’s me!"

Blair stared over at Jim, eye wide. Jim shrugged. "What did I tell you?" he asked quietly.

"Scooter Friday!" the man said. "Do you remember me?" He beamed at both of them. "I went to school with you down in Cascade! You know, I heard you went into law enforcement! I hear you’re the real big shot down in those parts."

"I’m sorry," said Blair, following Jim as he started to walk off.

"What are you doing up here?" asked the man excitedly, following the pair. "Interesting seminar, huh? Oh, that criminal psychology stuff, gets me every time. Guess who I married? Remember Norma Ringley?"

"I’ll never forget her," Jim said truthfully.

"Yeah, I chased her until she caught me." The man gave a series of chuckles as Jim walked on away. "Me and this fella go way back," the grinning Scooter said to Blair. "We were practically best friends back in high school."

"Watch out for the pastry cart," Jim said, but Scooter didn’t hear him and fell right into it. Blair bent down to help the man pick up the fallen pastry as Jim just walked off.

"Thank you!" beamed Scooter, and Blair hurried off into the crowd.

"Jim, I’m so sorry," said Blair.

"It’s okay," said Jim. "There’s got to be a reason for it, right?"

"That’s right," said Blair, thinking about that. "Some kind of lesson to be learned. What do you think it could be?"

"You’re the shaman," Jim said mildly.

"Don’t remind me," said Blair, slumping down into his chair.

Jim slept during the seminar, and afterwards, they walked back to their bed and breakfast, stopping on the way to load up with greasy food for Jim.

"I’m just worried you’re going to have a heart attack," said Blair.

"Last night," said Jim, "I went to the bowling alley and had a few drinks with some other cops from the conference."

"Great," said Blair. "Where was I?’

"Here," said Jim "I walked out on you. Sorry about that."

"Why?" Blair asked.

"Why am I sorry?"

"No, why did you walk out?"

Jim shrugged. "You were a little frustrated that you couldn’t help me."

"Oh," said Blair, pursing his lips.

"Anyway, some of the fellas there were discussing what they would do if there were no tomorrow."

"And?" Blair asked, giving a half-grunt of laughter despite the situation.

"Well, they didn’t come up with anything terribly cerebral, unfortunately," said Jim dryly.

"How surprising."

"Did make me think, though," said Jim.

"I’ll bet," said Blair. He lay down on their bed. "What did you decide?"

Jim shrugged. "I don’t know. Couldn’t really think of anything."

"I just wonder why it was this day that was picked for you to repeat," said Blair. "Instead of any other."

"Well," said Jim. "There could have been lots worse ones." He glanced over at his best friend. He could think of one right off the top of his head.

"I hear that," said Blair, not knowing for sure what Jim meant, but knowing which one sure topped his list. Even though he had several in the top five, at least.

Funny how easy it’s been to talk to you the past few days, Jim thought, but he didn’t say it. It didn’t matter, right? Blair wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. Again, that thought made him a little sad.

"I’ve got to go to the bathroom," said Jim. "That moron Friday is getting ready to stop up the toilet, so if you have to go, go downstairs."

"Will I have to go?" Blair asked, a small smile on his face.

"I don’t know," said Jim, returning the smile. "I don’t remember you going, but not everything is set in stone, I don’t think." Only the important things, he thought. "Why don’t you go ahead and take your bath?" Jim suggested. "You always take yours first. Then I complain about you rinsing out the tub and you get all offended by that."

Blair was staring at him, fascinated. "Really? Every night."

"I think so," said Jim. "It varies a little bit."

"Well," said Blair. For some reason, he hated for the evening to end. It had been the strangest day of his life. "You know," he said, running the water in the huge tub, "the thing that gets me is that if all this is really going to happen again like you say, I won’t remember any of it."

"I know," said Jim thoughtfully.

Blair shot Jim a sheepish glance, and Jim realized the younger man wanted some privacy for his bath. It was a bit unusual, taking a bath out in the open like that. As he turned over obligingly, Jim wondered what he had done the other nights while Blair had taken a bath.

After a while, once he heard Blair get into the tub, Jim turned his head over and watched Blair’s bare back as he slid around in the tub. He turned his head back around before Blair noticed.

When Blair got out of the tub, Jim had dozed off. When Jim got out, Blair had, too, one arm curled protectively around his injured laptop.

"Shit, be careful, Chief," said Jim, but Blair jerked and the laptop slid right off into the floor.

"Damn," wailed the student.

"Well, it was already broken," Jim said practically, though not unkindly.

"You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?" Blair accused. "Why didn’t you stop it?"

Jim, too done in to even reply, just turned over and went to sleep.

Day 5

When the smoke alarm went off, Jim just sighed and lay there. He shut his eyes in anticipation of the sprinkler system.

"Shit!" said Blair, jumping out of bed. "Jim! The room’s on fire!"

"It’s just the heater," Jim said. Blair ran around like a banshee, whining broken-heartedly when he saw his laptop.

All the time we waste each day complaining about things we cannot change, Jim thought moodily. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and moved around unhurriedly.

"Jim, man, come on!" said Blair, pulling at his arm. "Isn’t the smoke bothering you? What’s wrong? Dial it up a bit, man, but just a bit. I don’t want you to get overwhelmed or anything."

Jim pretended to obediently comply. They picked up their stuff and walked downstairs as people flew around them in a dither.

With the utmost of sympathy, the hotel manager said, "I’m really sorry, but we don’t have another room for the two of you. We’re all booked up for the conference. I did, however, call across town and was able to find one at the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. I made a reservation for you there. We were lucky to find it," she added. "We’re supposed to have a foot of snow, and they’re already closing the main roads."

Jim said nothing as he and Blair walked across the already still clear parking lot to the truck.

"You okay?" Blair asked of his unusually quiet roommate.

Jim shrugged. Before he got into the truck, he got his wallet out of his pocket and lay it open on the seat between them.

"It’ll save time," he said, at Blair’s curious look.

In a moment, they heard the wail of a siren behind them.

"Now we’ll see," said Jim, stepping on the gas.

"Jim! What the hell are you doing?" Blair gasped. "There’s a cop behind you, man! I think he wants you to pull over!"

The needle rose to sixty-five miles per hour.

"Jim! Man, it’s starting to snow here. What are you trying to do?"

At Blair’s panicked face, Jim obediently slowed down and pulled over. After all, he didn’t want to hurt Blair. Tomorrow, he thought, I’m doing to do this without Blair along. We’ll see how fast this baby can go.

"Good morning," said the Trooper who approached. He was young and unsmiling.

Jim handed him his driver’s license and registration. "How fast was I going?" he asked.

"You were doing fifty-five in a thirty-five, sir," said the young man.

"Interesting," said Jim, nodding speculatively. "I could have sworn I was doing sixty-five."

"Jim!" Blair hissed from beside him. The trooper leaned in and gave him a curious look. "We’re in town for the criminal psychology seminar," the student said to him with hopeful smile. He knew he must look a sight in his wet tee-shirt and sweatpants. And boy, Jim was in a mood today.

"Cascade, huh?" asked the trooper, looking at his license. "May I ask what you’re doing up this way, Mr. Ellison?"

"I’m a serial killer," said Jim, "and this is my next victim, Blair Sandburg."

The trooper glanced back up at him and nodded. "I’m going to have to write you a ticket," he said.

"For speeding or being a serial killer?" Jim asked curiously. Blair was too amazed to say anything at this point.

"If you could just sign right here," said the trooper, handing him the pad.

Jim signed "Charles Manson" in big, bold letters. Fortunately, Blair missed that little incident.

The trooper took back the pad, gave Jim his copy of the ticket, and said, "Have a good day, sir."

Behind him, Jim just gripped the wheel and started laughing.

"What the hell is going on?" said Blair. "Did you just tell that trooper you were a serial killer?"

"Amazing what they let go on, isn’t it?" Jim asked, starting the car. He seemed quite relaxed and happy.

"Are you feeling okay?" Blair asked, as they pulled up at the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. "I mean, that was not really like you, man."

"That’s the thing, Sandburg," Jim said, as they walked in. "Right now I’m not really sure who I am these days."

"Well, I sure hope you’ve not decided to be a serial killer," Blair said dryly.

"Don’t worry about that," said Jim. "It would take up way too much part of the day. I’m Jim Ellison, and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg," he added to the lady at the desk. "We’re in number four? You thought Blair was a woman."

Blair’s mouth dropped open as he looked at Jim and tried to figure out the joke.

The lady at the front desk stared at the two men while another one came bustling up.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"Nope," said Jim. "Just picking up the key to number four. We come here all the time, you know. By the way, do you always serve cinnamon doughnuts, or do you ever have chocolate-filled?" He smiled at the perplexed lady behind the desk.

"I guess we could get some," she said, casting an unsure look at the real lady in charge. That woman corralled them firmly upstairs.

"That would be great," said Jim, over his shoulder. "Lots of them."

Blair followed his lunatic partner up the stairs. Man, what was Jim’s deal today? And how did he know what room they were in? Maybe Blair had missed something somewhere.

"Room Four," said the woman, opening the door. Blair looked in and then back at Jim. Room Four had pink and white striped wallpaper, and a high queen bed complete with a white ruffled canopy. Only one bed.

"Uh," said Blair, "we’ll need two rooms." And some Prozac for my partner.

"It’s okay," said Jim, stepping on inside. "Don’t even bother, Chief."

"We only have one," said the lady. "Every place in town is full."

Jim held his hand out for the bathroom key, which she put into his hand with a glance up at him.

"You’ll share a toilet and sink with rooms two and three. Make sure you lock it from the inside. You have your own bathtub," she added, and Blair’s head swiveled to see a large Jacuzzi sitting smack dab in the middle of the wall underneath a window.

"No shower," Jim said, before Blair could ask.

"We’re still serving breakfast downstairs," said the lady, "if you want to come on down."

Blair looked at Jim nervously, quickly spoke before the bigger man could. "Uh, maybe I’ll just run down and pick us up something. We’re going to be late for the criminal psychology convention."

"I really don’t like people eating in the rooms," said the lady. "Try not to get anything on the Laura Ashley sheets."

"Let me ask this," Jim said, turning to her with what looked like genuine curiosity. "What happens if we do get something on the Laura Ashley sheets?"

Their no-nonsense hostess almost looked surprised. "Depending on the damage, I would have to charge extra," she said.

"Oh, okay," said Jim, smiling. "Just asking."

"Jim," said Blair slowly, watching him as firmly shut the door. "Is something bothering you?"

"Why would you ask, Sandburg?" Jim said pleasantly.

"Well," said Blair scrambling on the bed. It was a really high bed, he almost had to use the little step stool that was provided. "Maybe I’m wrong here, but I think you’ve been acting just a little…stressed out today."

"Ah," said Jim, moving restlessly around the room. "Stressed out. You know, Sandburg, that might not be such a bad diagnosis after all. Maybe I am a little stressed out. Maybe I just need a little R and R. Like maybe…days and days of it." And he just started laughing again.

Blair gave a half-smile, perplexed at this strange new twist in Jim’s attitude and behavior.

"Go wash your hair," said Jim. "You look like a drowned rat, and you really actually do have pretty hair at times, Sandburg."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, I think," he said dryly.

"I’ll be eating when you get back. Do you want any doughnuts?"

"No thanks," said Blair. "Do you think they have anything healthy?"

"I don’t know," said Jim thoughtfully. "If they don’t have anything out, I’ll just go into the kitchen and see what they’ve got."

"Okay," said Blair doubtfully. "Jim…you’re sure you’re okay?"

"Actually, I’m fine," said Jim. "I think it’s just what you said, Sandburg. Just a little stress. Who knows? Some indeterminate amount of time spent in this little town might just do me a world of good." And he smiled brightly.

Blair thought about this strange behavior all the while he washed his hair in the small sink down the hall. Could it be a senses problem? Getting Jim to talk about such things was sometimes hard, and he wondered if maybe tonight after the seminar Jim would sit down and they could work on a few things. A serial killer? That was pretty bizarre, even though Jim did have a whack-o sense of humor at times. Despite himself, Blair laughed at the thought of saying that to a state trooper. Jim had some nerve, he’d give him that.

When Blair got back to the bedroom, Jim was humming and happily eating off some half-dozen plates filled with sugary pastries.

"Uh, did you get enough there, big man?" Blair asked, pausing.

"Look at this," said Jim. "Chocolate filled." He stood up and moved over to the canopy bed. Pulling back the pristine white covers, he smiled down at the floral Laura Ashley sheets. "Wonder what kind of mess I can make here?" he asked, and still smiling, he leaned down and rubbed the chocolate pastry right down the side of those sheets. An ugly brown streak followed in the wake of his deliberate movement.

Blair’s mouth fell open. "Jim!" he said in a very loud whisper. "What the hell?" He hurried over, tried to take the pastry from Jim’s hand. Jim let him. "What the hell are you doing, man? Those are like expensive sheets. Didn’t you hear her? We’ll have to pay for those. And that better have been your side of the bed, man."

"Take these sheets off and take them downstairs," Jim said, his lips still curved in a pleased smile.

"Hell, no. That’s your mess, man."

Jim just yanked off the sheet and put it into Sandburg’s arms. "Go," he said. "I want to see what the old battleaxe has to say."

Blair stared at him. Was this Jim Ellison?

"Go on," said Jim. "I’ll go tomorrow," he promised with a slight smile.

"You better not do this tomorrow," said Blair, grumbling as he stumbled out the door with his arm full of sheet. What the hell was going on? And what was he going to say about this sheet?

Curious, Jim followed Blair to the top of the stairs and watched him walk into the back of the house. Dialing his hearing up, the cop sat down on the top step and listened.

"Hi," said Blair, sounding very apologetic. "We sort of had an accident with one of the sheets."

From his perch on the stairs, Jim started laughing.

"My roommate accidentally dropped a doughnut on the sheet," said Blair, even though he knew there was no way in hell that stain was going to look like an accident.

The lady looked at Blair suspiciously. She knew damn well that was no accident, too, no, that had been rather way too coincidental after the bigger man had asked specifically about what would happen if such a thing occurred.

"I’m sorry," Blair, as he saw the knowledge in her face. "I’ll pay for the sheet."

Jim got up and made his way down the stairs. "You’ll do no such thing," he said loudly. The woman looked up at him; Blair just pursed his lips and waited in dread for what might come next. "This is a bed and breakfast, Chief," Jim said, joining them. "You have to expect that people are going to get things on the sheets. Is this the first time you’ve ever had a stained sheet?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrows. "Nobody's ever had sex here? I thought this was supposed to be romantic getaway type of place. How about blood? No one’s ever had their period here?"

"Jim!" hissed Blair, his face graying.

"My point is, Sandburg," Jim said, "that that kind of thing is going to happen at a place where people sleep. If you can’t afford to replace your Laura Ashley sheets, then maybe you should be shopping at K-Mart instead."

"I’ll get you another sheet," the woman said, her jaw tight. She wheeled away and stalked off.

With another long look at Jim, Blair walked off, too, right up the stairs.

"Hey," said Jim, hurrying up after him, "I was just making a point."

"And you did," Blair agreed, not looking back. "That was quite a point you made back there, Jim. The point being how big an asshole you are. What is with you today, man? I mean really, what was the deal with all of that?" He turned accusing eyes up to his best friend.

Jim shrugged. "She needed to hear that. That’s ridiculous, telling people not to get things on the sheets. Like we’re five-year-olds."

"Yeah? Well, I hate to break it to you, pal, but today you are acting like the five-year- old." Blair tried to pull himself together a bit as Jim sat down and thought about that seriously.

"You think that people regress when they do the same things over and over?" Jim mused.

"What?"

Jim shrugged again. "Nothing. Go on to the seminar, Chief. I’ll see you later."

Blair stared at him. "You’re not going," he said in partial disbelief.

"No, I don’t think so," said Jim. "I think you’re right. I think I am really stressed out and need some R and R. This little trip might just be the thing that I need to relax a bit."

"What about Simon?" Blair asked.

"You going to tell him?"

Blair hesitated. "No," he said.

"Well, then, what’s the problem?" Jim asked guilelessly.

"Are you feeling okay? Because if there’s a problem here, man, maybe I can help."

"I’m fine," Jim reassured him, pushing him gently to the door. "You’re right, Sandburg, I am just stressed. I might just take a nap here and then show up later, who knows? I’m sure this will be the best thing for me to do right now."

Blair looked unconvinced. "You’re sure?" he asked.

"Positive. But thanks for worrying. You’re such a little worry-wart," said Jim, and leaning over, he kissed Blair on the tip of the nose.

Blair’s eyes widened into saucers.

"See? Now we know I need some R and R. Get going," said Jim, and speechless, Blair did so.

Jim watched Blair out the window as the younger man started to walk back toward town. Then the detective took a long, hot soak in the Jacuzzi. When the knock came on the door, he said, "Come in!" and the worried lady from the front desk came in with a stack of clean linens.

"Hello," she said, looking nervously at the naked man in the hot tub.

"Need any help?" Jim inquired solicitously, as though he might rise like Poseidon and help with the bed duties.

"Oh, no," said the woman hastily, and Jim hid a smile as she finished her work and left.

Ellison, you are mean today.

Well, he thought, everyone needs one day to be mean, as long as they’re not too mean.

Always the cop.

After he bathed, Jim rinsed out the tub really good and put on his most fetching clothes. Humming, he headed to the diner. He was a bit early, so he waited, nibbling on whatever he felt like until the door opened and the woman with the streaked hair came in. She looked over his way, and he smiled appraisingly. If this was the wrong way to come across, he could always try again tomorrow.

Apparently, that was okay, because she returned the same sort of smile and settled down into her booth. Jim gave her a moment, then sauntered over.

"Hi," he said, "I’m Jim Ellison."

Blair really didn’t get much out of the seminar; his mind was back at the bed and breakfast on his partner. What was going on with Jim? At the afternoon break, he decided he would just head back and check on the obviously stressed out sentinel. He remembered the time Jim had tried to get away for some down time on his own. Was that what this was? Was Jim truly one of those people who had to re-charge by himself ever so often?

The student was still pondering this as he opened the door to their room at the bed and breakfast. Then there was a moment of absolute shock as he looked up to see Jim and some woman, both naked, locked together playfully in the rumbling hot tub.

"Uh," said Blair. Déjà vu, he thought. "Sorry," he said. "I’ll be…." He pointed out into the hall where he escaped, his heart pounding. What the...? He stood there for a moment, tried to decide what to do.

"Hey," said Jim, opening the door and sliding out into the hall. He only wore a towel around his middle and Blair glanced up and down the hall, frowning. "Sorry about that. I didn’t know you were planning on coming back early."

"Who is that?" Blair asked. He had never even seen that woman before.

"Someone I met at the diner," Jim shrugged.

"Someone you met at the diner," Blair repeated. "You mean you’ve never seen that woman before today?"

"Well, I wouldn’t say that, actually, but if you’re asking if I knew her before a few hours ago, no, I didn’t."

Blair looked totally perplexed at these words.

"I’m sorry," Jim said again. "The seminar’s still going on, right?"

"Yes, Jim," said Blair, sounding a bit hurt. "It is. You want me to be a good little boy and run back over there, right?"

Jim shifted a bit. Down the hall, a door opened, and a man walked down the hallway past them. He wore a nametag from the law enforcement convention and gave them a long, interested look.

Great, thought Blair. Me and some half-naked man talking in the corridor. "Hi," he said weakly. Jim didn’t pay any attention.

"I don’t know what the big deal is," Jim said. "I’d do the same for you."

"The hell you would. You nearly burst a blood vessel that night you walked in on me and Chris."

"Well, I thought-" The door behind them opened, and the woman, wearing her clothes now, shot them a curious look.

"Hey, baby," Jim said, leaning over to nuzzle her cheek briefly. "Just give me a sec here, huh? This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

"I’ve really got to go anyway," she said regretfully. "It was great, Jimmy. Call me later?"

"If not later, then tomorrow," said Jim, hating to say it but having to anyway.

"Bye," she said, and with a smile at Blair, she walked away as Jim watched her go.

"Have you been planning this the whole time?" Blair asked. "You know, you could have told me."

"I didn’t know," said Jim. "We just started talking at the diner, and here we are." He raised his hands in a hopeless gesture.

"You know, Jim, this is really not like you, picking up strange women."

"I don’t know if it is or not," Jim said reflectively. "And she wasn’t that strange when I got to know her." He smiled brightly.

"Well, I don’t know what is wrong with you today, but I’m going back to the conference," Blair said.

"Suit yourself," said Jim.

"What are you going to do?" Blair asked uneasily.

"I don’t know," said Jim, considering. "I’m sure I’ll find something to get into."

Back at the conference, Blair tired to get his mind off of Jim and his latest shenanigans. The shock of walking in and finding Jim naked in a hot tub with some strange woman. That was…was that a part of the old Jim Ellison? One he had never really known? Blair was starting to wonder if he really knew his partner as much as he thought he did.

When he returned to the bed and breakfast, Jim was gone. Sighing, Blair flung himself down on the bed and tried to study his notes. Then there was a knock on the door.

"Blair Sandburg?" asked the man. It was someone in a law enforcement uniform.

His heart automatically jumping, Blair said, "Yes?"

"Are you Jim Ellison’s partner?"

"Yes," said Blair, really scared now.

"We have him down at the courthouse in lock-up. Phones are down, so I couldn’t call. He said you could bail him out."

Blair’s mouth opened and shut like a guppy’s. "What’s he in for?" Blair asked, grabbing his things and hurrying after the man.

"Drunk and disorderly conduct, creating a public nuisance…." The man rattled off several similar charges.

"And this is James Ellison you have in there? Detective James Elision of the Cascade Police Force?"

"Hey, we have to arrest our own, too, sometimes," said the man dryly.

At the small holding cell, Blair could hear Jim before he could see him. The sentinel was banging his hands on the steel bars and singing loudly.

"Blair!" he said, when he saw his rescuer. "Hey, buddy!" He was smiling. "Look! I’m in jail."

"Apparently, he’s had quite a few," said the man, unlocking Jim’s cell.

"Jim, are you okay?" Blair asked, as the sentinel flung an arm around him and tried to walk normally. "I’m sorry," said Blair, to the deputy. "I’ve never seen him act like this."

The man smiled, obviously not believing him. "Sometimes that happens at these conventions," he said. "You ought to be here when the Shriners show up. The other guy’s not pressing charges," he added. "Looked like he might have started it, anyway."

"The other guy," Blair clarified.

"Yeah, it was a whole mess of them down at the bowling alley," the man replied.

"Great," said Blair. He had to help Jim all the way through town to the bed and breakfast, and once they arrived, he threw Jim down on the bed and stood there out of breath, hands on his hips. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he demanded, but it was too late.

Jim was out cold, sleeping it off.

Day 6

Blair Sandburg woke to a very loud sound. Jumping upright, he said, "Shit!" In the bed across the room from him lay his roommate, the gun in his hand still pointed at the smoke alarm on the ceiling.

"Gotcha," Jim said with a smile.

"What the hell?" Blair asked, his heart pounding. Had someone broken in? Then he noticed that the room was filling with smoke that seemed to be coming from the small heating unit near the window.

"I shot the smoke alarm," Jim said happily, putting his gun away as the sprinkler system kicked on.

"Jim, the room’s on fire," Blair said, not knowing what situation to deal with first.

"Yeah," said Jim. "No big deal. Your laptop’s ruined, though. Maybe I should shoot it, too." He looked like he considered this for a moment, then turned and walked out the door.

"Jim," said Blair, following with all his stuff, "are you okay?"

"I’m great," said Jim. "How are you?"

"Uh, well, our room is on fire, and my laptop is ruined. Plus my roommate just scared the bejesus out of me by shooting out the fire alarm in my room. Other than that…."

"Glad to hear it," said Jim, smiling over at him. "We’re getting ready to be put up at a bed and breakfast," he said. "Do you mind walking over?"

"What?"

The hotel manager finished her spiel, and Jim said, "It’s not that far, Sandburg. Just across town. You go ahead and walk and I’ll meet you there."

When Blair finally recovered from his confusion and ran across the parking lot, he could see the truck just pulling out. What the hell? He looked down at the directions the manager had pressed into his hand. Well, this was just fucking great.

In the truck, Jim turned the radio up full blast and waited until he saw the lights of the state trooper. Then chuckling in delight, he floored the gas pedal. Behind him, the trooper sped up, too.

"Oh yeah," Jim said happily. In a moment it was on, the Ford truck and the official car of the Washington State Patrol barreling down the two-lane road. "I always knew you had it in you," he said. "C’mon baby, you’ve gone faster than this in a car chase." The truck rocketed around a curve, but the road was too slick and Jim went careening right into the side of an old forgotten hay bail. Stopping with a hard thump, he just sat there and waited for the trooper to approach him gingerly.

"I’m afraid I’m going to have to take your license," the trooper eventually got to, and Jim said, "Fine. Here you go. On second thought, take my whole wallet."

"You’ll have to appear in front of a magistrate on this court date," the man said, handing Jim a piece of paper, "and since you don’t have a license to drive at this moment, your truck will be impounded."

"Great," said Jim, hopping out of the truck. He wriggled his limbs, felt fine. Not for the first time, he wondered what would happen if he wasn’t. But he had promised Sandburg he wouldn’t go there.

Even I have my limits, he thought.

When Jim finally got back to the bed and breakfast, Blair was sitting there in front of it with all their stuff, watching the road anxiously.

"Where’s the truck?" he asked, looking around.

"Hhmm…probably at the impound yard by now," said Jim, walking up to him.

"The impound yard."

"Yep. Had a little trouble with the local boys in blue."

"The police," Blair clarified.

"Seems like that. A little matter of speeding. And, I don’t know, reckless endangerment of a hay bale or something."

"Jim! You wrecked the truck? Are you kidding?"

"It’s not hurt," said Jim, walking up the front steps. "Trust me, Sandburg, tomorrow it will be as good as new."

Blair followed him, still in shock. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I’m fine," said Jim, leaning over and taking the student’s face in both his hands. "In fact, Chief, I am great." And leaning over, he kissed Blair hard, full on the mouth. "Carpe Diem," he said, and walked on inside, leaving an open-mouthed Blair to simply stand there, rooted to the spot.

By the time Blair caught up with Jim, the bigger man was headed upstairs with a key in his hand.

"Room four," Jim said. "You’ll love it. Great tub."

"How did you know?" And what the hell was that kiss about? What in the hell was going on here?

"I know everything, Sandburg. I’m a god."

"Really," Blair said.

"Yep. I am today, anyway, and trust me, Sandburg, today is the only day that matters." He opened the door and handed Blair a key. "The bathroom key," he said. "Go wash your hair. I’m getting something to eat."

Blair put his stuff down slowly, watched Jim go over to the bed and start stripping the outer covers off. "What are you doing?" Blair asked.

"Just going down for breakfast," said Jim, ripping off the top sheet. He held it up, looked at it. "Yep, this should do right nicely." He smiled at Blair and then walked out the door, sheet in hand. Stumped, Blair followed him to the landing of the stairs, watched as Jim went over to the breakfast bar, folded the sheet into a sack, and started raking the pastries off into it.

"Jim," said Blair, scrambling back to life and jumping down the rest of the stairs. He pulled at Jim’s hands while smiling at the woman who was standing there glaring at them. "I’m sorry," said Blair. "He’s not feeling well."

"That’s my sheet," she managed.

"Yep," said Jim, pulling away from Blair and continuing to push things off into it. Sometimes he just took the whole plate, silverware and all. "She doesn’t think sheets ever get stains on them," Jim said. He glanced up to see that man from the conference there, the same one he had seen glance at he and Blair the day before. "She doesn’t think people ever have sex here," he added.

Blair hissed, "Jim, please, man. C’mon."

"In a moment, baby," Jim said meanly, and Blair flushed, gave the others an anxious look.

"Jim, man, you are losing it here. Let’s go. I’m sorry," he said to the others. "He has a really high stress job. He’s been under a lot of pressure. C’mon, Jim," he said, louder, and this time, the smiling detective allowed himself and his sack to be pushed back upstairs.

"Goddammit," Blair said, when he had slammed the door behind them. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Jim just spread his sheet out on the floor and surveyed his selections. "Nothing," he said, starting with a strawberry filled-pastry. "I haven’t tried this one before."

"Jim! What...." Blair couldn’t even find the words, he was spluttering so hard. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nag, nag," said Jim. "Go on and wash your hair, will you? It looks ratty. Then go to your little conference."

Blair was a bit taken aback at this. "Well, okay. You’re not going to the seminar?"

"Nope."

"You’re not."

"I told you yesterday I wasn’t going," Jim said.

"No, you didn’t," said Blair.

"Yes, I did," said Jim clearly. "Go on," he said, his voice kinder. "You’re right, Sandburg, I have been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe I am losing it a bit. I think I’ll just stay right here and get some much needed R and R." Then he said, "I wonder if I could just tape that speech and play it back tomorrow."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Blair hesitated. "Jim, I really don’t like leaving you like this."

"Oh, go on, I’ll be fine."

"What are you going to do all day?" Blair asked uncertainly.

"Oh, I’m going to sit here a while and eat," said Jim, "then I’m going to go to the diner, pick up this good-looking woman, and then have sex for the rest of the day. By the way," he added, "don’t come back today, okay? Just stay at the damn seminar. I don’t want you walking in on me like you did yesterday."

"What in god’s name are you talking about?"

"I’m saying I need some privacy today, okay, Sandburg? Can you skedaddle for the rest of the day?"

"Okay," said Blair slowly. He picked up his toiletry kit and headed down the hall, heart pounding. What the hell was going on with Jim?

When he returned, Jim was lying on the floor and dropping bites of pastry into his mouth.

"Jim," said Blair.

"What?"

"You sure you’re okay? I could call a doctor or something."

"The lines are down," Jim said. "I’m fine. You know, Sandburg, you probably need to take some time off, too. I mean, not today, because I want the room, but someday. When was the last time you got laid?"

Blair didn’t quite know what to say to that.

"Laid?" he asked.

"Yep. You know," Jim said, leaning up on an elbow. "Sex. The funny thing about you, Sandburg, is that you’re always trying to come across as this free-wheeling kind of guy, but truthfully? You’re as "hung up" as anybody I know. You’re the one pitching a fit because I’m having a good time with a lady I just met."

"Jim, I never said anything-"

"Oh, come on. Sometimes, Sandburg, you can be the holiest of the holier than thou’s. Always have an answer for everything."

"That’s not true-"

"See, here you go, you can’t even let me finish what I’m saying. It’s not about listening to other people with you, is it, Sandburg? It’s always about getting your opinion in, your point across."

Stung, Blair said, "I’m sorry you feel that way, man. Maybe it’s a good idea for you to have some time alone today, because you know what? You are a real asshole today." And picking up his stuff, he slammed his way out of the room.

Behind him, Jim continued to eat his way across his Laura Ashley sheet.

Later, in the seminar, Blair sat quietly, trying not to think about the hurtful things Jim had flung at him before the student left. But it hurt anyway. At one point, he saw the man from the bed and breakfast shoot him a thoughtful glance. He hastily looked away.

Back at the room, Jim had just left the diner and brought his new friend in for an afternoon of fun.

"Nope," he said, "we don’t even have to use a condom. I’m totally clean, and…I’ve had a vasectomy."

"Well, I’m on the pill," she said, "and I’m clean, too."

Jim just smiled.

The seminar was on its last legs when Blair felt someone sit down in the empty chair beside him. It was Jim, and he was smiling. Despite himself, Blair’s heart jumped.

"I thought you were busy today," he couldn’t help but whisper.

"She had to go," Jim said. He looked over and saw the man from the bed and breakfast shoot him and Blair a speculative look. Smiling, Jim stretched and then laid his arm around the back of Blair’s chair. Blair glanced over at him. He and Jim had always done a lot of touching of each other, even in public, but he was still smarting from those little looks at breakfast.

In a moment, Blair felt Jim’s fingers tugging at his curls.

"Jim!" he whispered, shooting the older man a very dark look.

"What, baby?" Jim asked, chuckling evilly. Smiling at several other officers who were glancing their way, Jim pulled Blair a little closer to him.

Blair jerked away as smoothly as he could without causing a scene.

"What’s wrong?" Jim asked, entangling another curl with his thumb.

"Get off of me," said Blair.

Jim just laughed, and as the seminar was ending then, Blair leapt to his feet and glared at his best friend. Then he just turned and walked away.

"He’s so touchy sometimes," Jim said, to the people who had turned to stare at them. Outside, he found Blair hiding behind a brick wall, trying not to hyperventilate.

"Come on, Chief," Jim said easily, "I was just kidding."

"Yeah, well that was real funny, Jim."

"What’s the problem? You’ve never complained before when I touched you."

"You were making a scene in there, Jim, and don’t try to tell me you weren’t. That was…unbelievable, man. Next time you want to do something like that, leave me out of it." He started walking through the snow toward the Rosewood.

"God, chill out," Jim said. "I was just joking."

"Oh. At whose expense, huh? Not yours. Nobody’s going to mess with a macho bad-ass cop like you, Jim. But try being my size. I’ll have to watch my back for the next three days, man."

"No, you won’t," said Jim. "Trust me."

"Trust you," said Blair. "Right."

After a while, Jim said, "I’m sorry, Chief. I was just having some fun."

"Well, you know? Today you have had a really strange sense of fun, pal. What was the deal with that sheet this morning, huh? What were you trying to prove?"

"Nothing," said Jim. "I was just…seeing what I could get away with."

"What you could get away with," Blair said. "And you say I’m a hippie without any responsibility."

"I never said that, actually," Jim said.

"So what did you do all day?" Blair asked. "Fuck some strange woman?"

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "It was great. But, you know, there’s only so many things you can do in bed."

"Even one without sheets?" Blair couldn’t resist.

Jim laughed. "Especially that." Then he said, "I could see if she had a friend."

"No thanks," said Blair. "And what does that mean, that you’re going to see her tomorrow? Are you not going to attend any of the seminar? Not that I might go back, after that little stunt that you just pulled back there."

"Trust me, it won’t matter tomorrow. It will all be forgotten," Jim said dryly.

"Easy for you to say." Blair stopped. "You know, Jim, all day you have done stuff that wasn’t like you. Are you mad at me? Have I done something that you’re trying to get back at me for?"

"No," said Jim.

"Well, let’s see. You did say, what…that I was inhibited? No, hung-up, I believe. Holier than thou." The words stung again, and Blair hurried on off to the bed and breakfast.

"Well, sometimes you are," Jim said, as they made their way to their room. "Why not call a spade a spade here, Sandburg? I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m just saying that maybe you think you’re something that you’re not."

"I might not be the only one," Blair said pointedly.

"Okay," said Jim. "That’s fair. I’m starting to think maybe I am different than what I thought I’d be."

"You’re certainly acting it today," said Blair.

"See? There you are. You’re so judgmental, Sandburg. You just always have to have me in this straight little box, and if I’m not the Jim Ellison that you want to study, the one you’ve created with all your little books and papers, then you don’t want to know me."

"That is so not true," said Blair, flying around to face Jim.

"Yes, it is. If that Burton book said sentinels were supposed to have two heads, you’d worry me until I grew one. You don’t give a damn about me, Sandburg, you just want the man that Burton said that I should be. No, not the man, just the sentinel."

Blair was staring at him, blue eyes blinking in disbelief. Despite himself, Jim felt himself cringe at the pain he saw there.

"Right," Blair breathed. "Just the sentinel. That’s what I want, Jim. That’s why I gave up my fucking life for you, to protect Burton’s…estimated approximation of what a sentinel should be."

"I never asked you to give up your life for me, Chief, so don’t always be such a fucking martyr about it."

Blair sucked in another breath, felt the hurt slam into him.

"What?" Jim egged on, unable to stop now. "What do you want to say now, Professor Sandburg? Go ahead. Tell me how I ruined your life, how you were such a good little boy by telling all the world that you were a fake, well, Mr. Sandburg, I didn’t ask you to do one thing of that, not one fucking thing. That was your big gesture, getting up and doing the noble thing. It was your fault to begin with, if you hadn’t fucked up the paper by leaving my fucking name all over it, that was just about the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Somebody that stupid, well, if you ask me, Chief, they don’t even deserve to be a doctor to begin with!"

There was a terrible silence, and then Blair began to cry.

"Oh, shit," said Jim, turning away. "Figures."

"I’m not crying because of that," Blair said, trying to stop, wheeling around and blindly getting his things together.

"Oh, really? You’ve just got something in your eye?" But Jim’s heart was shrinking; it flooded with fear and dismay.

"No," said Blair, whirling around. "I’m leaving." He went for the laptop, and then remembered. What the hell, right? He just left everything but his coat, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Back at the bed, Jim put his hands in his hands. Oh, way to go, Ellison. Way to fucking go. Well, at least he won’t remember this tomorrow, he told himself. So? You will. After a moment, he grabbed his own coat and headed out the door.

Extending his senses to try to find the young man who had become such a big part of his life, Jim stumbled down the street to the park that they always passed on the way to the Rosewood. Yes, there was Blair, sitting on a park bench in the growing gloom, crying his heart out.

"Chief," said Jim, sitting down beside him. He tried to touch Blair, but the student pulled away. "I’m sorry," Jim whispered. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean those things." I didn’t mean to hurt you, Blair, he thought. I’d never mean that. But why was it always easier for the hurtful words to come out rather than the healing ones?

"I’m not crying for me," Blair managed in a low, broken voice. "I’m worried about you, man. Something’s wrong." And he looked up with red, distraught eyes.

And at that moment, something in Jim Ellison’s heart broke into a million pieces and then re-formed.

"About me," he said.

"Yes," said Blair fervently. "Something is wrong with you today, Jim, and I’m worried. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never seen you like this, and it’s scaring me, okay?"

"Chief, I’m not trying to scare you."

"You’re not scaring me," Blair tried to reiterate. "You’re scaring me for you. I don’t want anything to be wrong with you, man. You’re my best friend. I love you. "

And Jim felt like he was sliding down into the oblivion of Blair's blue eyes.

"Let me...." he said, reaching over, and this time Blair fell into his arms, grabbed him and held on tight.

"I love you," Blair repeated.

"It’s okay, Sandburg," Jim said, rubbing Blair’s hair. "I’m really fine," he said, and finally, Blair wiped his nose and pulled away.

"You’re sure," Blair said.

"Yes," said Jim. "Just a bad day, that’s all."

Blair took a deep breath, tried to compose himself.

Maybe I should tell him, Jim thought. He took it well the other times. But then he thought, why bother, right? It was almost night now. Blair would just forget it all tomorrow.

"Let’s go get a hamburger, okay?" Jim asked. "The diner’s just down the road."

"What if your girlfriend’s there?" Blair asked dryly. "Will I have to sleep outside?"

"Not tonight," said Jim, and they walked down the road together.

Later, Jim read while Blair shyly took a bath. Dinner had been fun. It had almost felt like old times, exchanging stories and jokes. On the way home, Blair had even laughed a bit about a few of the things Jim had done today, even though neither one said a thing about Jim’s little hurtful speech. Thank god Blair wouldn’t remember that, Jim thought fervently.

As Blair rose from the tub, wrapping himself quickly in a towel, Jim thought, I had sex in that very tub this afternoon. I know the body of a total stranger better than I do my roommate and best friend’s. There was something odd in that. Jim tried not to look, but in the soft lamplight of the room, Blair’s skin looked beautiful. Smooth, glowing…and then Jim felt something move through him that he didn’t usually experience with other men.

Desire.

Jim quickly looked back at his reading and thought about this. Thought about Blair crying because he was so worried over him. Thought about Blair giving up everything he loved for him. Thought of Blair standing in the wintry day, blue eyes serious against the gray. Thought of Blair in his arms, so trusting and loving.

Loving.

I love you, Blair had said. Twice. Of course, he meant like a friend, like a brother, like the strange, intimate, touchy-feely relationship they had, but still…for a moment, Jim pictured himself holding Blair inside that Jacuzzi instead of Kaye.

And it didn’t feel so bad.

As Jim took his own bath, he moved so he could watch Sandburg curl up on the bed, all clean and sleepy. He looked perfect, Jim thought, from the curve of that round ass to the top of that curly head. Blair was beautiful. Was Jim just noticing that?

Man, this day thing has really got you fouled up, if Blair is starting to look good.

But that was just the thing. Blair did look good, in so many ways.

I’m not scared of you, Blair had said. I’m scared for you. I don’t want to see you like this. I love you.

When had anybody, ever, said something like that to him?

After Jim pulled on fresh boxers and started to get into bed, he tried to move over and hold onto Blair’s laptop. But the student moved in his sleep, and the thing fell to the floor with a sickening crack.

"Oh, damn," said Blair, sounding very forlorn.

"It’s okay," said Jim. "We’ll get you a new one."

Tomorrow, he thought rather sadly.

Day 7

When Blair woke up the next day, there was a terrible smell, and the incessant buzz of something loud and annoying. Opening his eyes, he saw white smoke pouring into this hotel room.

"Shit!" he said, jumping upright. "Jim! The room’s on fire!"

Jim just sighed and sat up slowly as the sprinkler system came on. While Blair jumped around the room, gathering their stuff, Jim just shuffled around, seemed to wait on Blair to direct their actions.

When the manager told them they were being put up across town at a bed and breakfast, Jim just handed Blair the keys and got into the passenger side of the truck.

"You okay?" Blair asked.

"Yeah," said Jim.

Nobody bothered them on the road.

At the bed and breakfast, they were shown to room four. It had pink and white striped wallpaper, and a high queen bed complete with a white ruffled canopy. There was only one bed, but Jim didn’t seem to notice. He walked right in and sat down on it.

"Uh," said Blair, "we’ll need two rooms."

"We only have one," said the lady. "Every place in town is full." She gave him a key and said, "You’ll share a toilet and sink with rooms two and three. Make sure you lock it from the inside. You have your own bathtub," she added, and Blair’s head swiveled to see a large Jacuzzi sitting smack dab in the middle of the wall underneath a window.

"No shower?" Blair asked.

"No, room four has it’s own private Jacuzzi," said the lady. "We’re still serving breakfast downstairs," said the lady, "if you want to come on down."

Blair glanced at Jim, but the bigger man was just staring at the ceiling. "Uh, maybe I’ll just run down and pick us up something," the student said to her. "We’re going to be late for the criminal psychology convention."

"I really don’t like people eating in the rooms," said the lady. "Try not to get anything on the Laura Ashley sheets."

"Okay," said Blair. He shut the door and sat down next to Jim.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," said Jim. He sounded very down.

"What’s wrong?" Blair asked. "Sorry about this morning, the fire and all that."

"It’s not your fault."

"I know, but…"

"Believe me, Sandburg, it would have happened anyway."

There was a small silence, then Blair said, "I guess I’d better try to get clean somehow before I go to the seminar."

"Yeah," said Jim agreeably, so Blair went off the small bathroom, wondering what was bothering his partner.

When he returned, Jim was lying on the bed, staring at the white canopy above him.

"Great bed, huh?" Blair asked dryly.

"Yeah," said Jim.

Blair hesitated, then sat down beside Jim again. The bed was really high. He almost had to use the footstool.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I’m not going," Jim said.

"You’re not going," Blair repeated.

"No," Jim said, turning over and looking up at him. "Are you? Because if you would decide not to, we could do something else."

Surprised, Blair said, "What would we do? Simon’s expecting us to go, man." He gave a little nervous laugh. "You’re really playing hooky?"

"I’m not feeling well," said Jim, turning back over. "I might be over later. It’s nothing, Sandburg," he said, to forestall Blair’s protests. "Just something I ate, probably."

So reluctantly, Blair went off to the seminar while Jim just stared into nothingness.

That night, they walked down to the diner and ate. On the way back, they stopped in the park and admired the fresh snow. Jim sat down on a cold bench and said, "What would you do, Sandburg, if you only had one day to live?"

Blair turned to him sharply. "Why do you ask that?" he demanded suspiciously.

"There’s nothing wrong with me," Jim said, with a sigh. "At least, not how you’re thinking. But really, what would you do?"

"Well," said Blair, thinking about it, "I don’t know. I used to think I would spend my last few moments in bed with somebody." He laughed. "But now…I think I would just like to spend it with the people I care about. Like those would be mutually exclusive," he added dryly.

Jim looked at him, eyes inscrutable. "Yeah," he said. "That technically shouldn’t be different people, right?"

"Well, obviously there are some people in your life you love and might want to end your time with that you wouldn’t want to be in bed with," Blair said. "Your parents, or something like that."

"Or your best friends," Jim mused casually.

Blair shot him a quick glance. "Right," he said. "I mean, I love Taggart, but I don’t know that that’s the way I’d want to go. But then again," he smiled, trying for light-heartedness, "maybe I’m just selling him short."

Jim just smiled.

"What about you?" Blair asked. "How would you spend yours?"

"I don’t know," said Jim. "Ideally, with someone I loved, and who loved me." He thought about the sex he had had earlier with Kaye. It had been great, but she was not the person he would want to spend his last night on Earth with. He was beginning to suspect that might be the person sitting beside him now.

"Yeah," said Blair, looking over at him. Boy, he never knew which way Jim’s moods were going to swing. When was the last time the big guy had been this introspective?

Later, when Blair was in the bathtub, Jim said, "Need any help with your hair?"

Blair’s head swung around. "Uh, no thanks, I think I can get it," Blair said, obviously surprised. Jim tried to act like it was no big deal.

And it’s not, he told himself. Sure, you love Blair as a brother, but that way?

Afterwards, Blair’s laptop fell off the bed and crashed. Distraught, the younger man snuffled into his pillow. Jim just sat beside him and thought about a lot of things.

Day 8

The next morning, Jim went with Blair to the seminar. He sat beside the younger man and studied him almost the whole time. Blair seemed to really find the thing interesting. At one point, he turned to Jim like, isn’t this great? Jim smiled and patted him on the knee. But he was careful no one else saw.

Jim even helped Scooter Friday pick up around the doughnut cart, well, at least one or two of the pastries. Funny how those things didn’t look that appealing to him anymore.

That evening at the diner, Jim said, "What do you really want out of life, Chief?"

Blair looked pleased and surprised at that question. "I don’t know," he said. "I’d like to finish this degree, for one, so I wouldn’t have that hanging over my head."

"Do you wish you could go back and get that doctorate in anthropology?"

Blair flushed. "Maybe. But I guess that’s a pipe dream, at least right now."

"It might not always be," Jim said.

On the way back, Jim said, "Are you dating anybody now, Blair?"

"No," said Blair.

"Just haven’t found anybody you like?" It’s the man thing, Jim thought. Blair will never be interested in sex with a man. If I could just get him past that, then he would love me, and never leave me, and I would never have to spend this day alone again, ever. But I’d need to get past it earlier in the day.

That night, as Blair sat in the bathtub, Jim said, "Let me get your back, Chief."

Surprised, Blair said, "That’s okay. Thanks anyway, man."

Day 9

That night, as Blair sat in the bathtub, Jim said, "Have you ever thought about having sex with a man?"

Blair dropped the soap and opened his eyes very wide. "Uh, no, not really," he said. "Have you?"

"I don’t know," said Jim, shrugging nonchalantly.

"That was an unexpected question," said Blair. He put his shirt on while he was still sitting in the tub. That night, after his laptop crashed to the floor, he slept all the way on the other side of the bed.

Day 10

That night, as Blair sat in the bathtub, Jim said, "I think you look really hot, Chief. Have you ever thought about fucking me?"

Jim ended up sleeping on the floor that night.

Day 11

That night, as Blair sat in the bathtub, Jim came over and started rubbing his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Blair asked rather anxiously.

"I just wanted to touch you," Jim said.

"Okay," said Blair slowly. "No specific reason?"

"Because you’re beautiful."

"What?" asked Blair skeptically. "Not getting out enough lately, Jim?"

Jim sighed and sat back on his heels. He had spent the last three days trying to get Sandburg into the sack. He had been subtle, and he had been blunt. The thing was, he just could not get Blair Sandburg interested in having sex with a man in just one day. It could not be done. Jim had to face it. Blair was not going to get interested into getting into bed with him.

Day 12

The smoke alarm was going off, and Jim got up and started moving his stuff toward the door.

"Shit!" said Blair, scrambling out of bed. "Jim, the room’s on fire!"

"Everything’s okay," said Jim. "Listen, they’ll probably put us up at a bed and breakfast, so why don’t you take the truck and go on ahead? I’ll meet up with you later at the seminar, okay?"

"Okay," Blair said dumbly.

Jim walked through the falling snow, took a good look around. He had spent almost two weeks in this town now, but he really didn’t know that much about it. Stopping at the diner for breakfast, he watched the people outside try to prepare for the impending winter storm. At the counter, people talked about how the main roads were already closed down. A little girl, excited that the schools might close at some point, bounced up and down beside her mom in their booth. Jim smiled at her; she smiled back.

It’s not that bad here, he thought. If I have to spend eternity someplace, it might as well be here. It was hard thinking that he might never see his other friends again, or the brother and father he was just getting reacquainted with. Funny how things like that worked. The rest of the morning he spent browsing the small shops lining the old main street. He found all kinds of neat things in the hardware shop. Too bad he would never have any use for them.

In the library, he looked up a book the guy at the seminar recommended on criminal psychology. He actually sat there and read it.

At lunch, he ended up sitting down with Kaye Lindt. She owned horses, and was getting over a bad divorce. She and her husband had been childhood sweethearts, and she had thought they would never part. In all the time she and Jim had previously spent together in Jim’s hot tub, he had never known about that.

Exiting the diner, he ran into Scooter Friday, who looked absolutely radiant to see him. Jim started to move out of the way, then turned and said, "You know, Scooter, truthfully, I can’t remember how we met. Did we really go to school together?"

"Yeah!" said the man, happy that Jim was talking to him. "I was on the freshman basketball team the same time you were playing football. I didn’t get to play that much," he admitted.

"The important part is that you tried, I think," said Jim, patting him on the back, and Scooter nodded, smiling.

"Thanks, "he said.

"You’re welcome," said Jim, moving away, eyes lighter than they had been in a while.

That evening, Jim was waiting for Blair outside the seminar.

"Was it good, Chief?" he asked, delighting at how Blair’s eyes lit up when they saw him.

"Yeah, it was," Blair said. "Missed you there, though. Oh, man, you should see that room at the bed and breakfast. A canopy bed." Blair made a face like "you’re going to hate that, Jim." "And no shower, just this big tub. It is a Jacuzzi, though," he added.

"Sounds great," said Jim, patting Blair’s shoulder.

At the diner for supper, Jim said, "You know, this little town isn’t half-bad, Chief."

"So what did you do today?" Blair asked. "Go exploring?"

"A bit," Jim said. "There’s a neat hardware store on the corner, and I went to the library, too."

"You went to the library," Blair said.

"Yeah. Read up a bit on some books I heard were good…about criminal psychology."

"Cool," said Blair, looking surprised. "The guy at the seminar recommended some today."

"Did he?" Jim mused.

On the way back to the bed and breakfast, Jim said, "When I was a kid, Steven and I used to have this incredible snow battles, you know? With the neighborhood kids."

"Yeah," said Blair, smiling. "I always wished I had brothers or sisters to do that with. It always seemed so fun."

"You never did that?"

"Not as much as I wanted," said Blair.

"Well, Sandburg," said Jim, "now’s your chance. You take that side and I’ll take this one."

Laughing, Blair said, "Really?" as they divvied up the park and fell into action building snow forts and towers. "This is no fair," he said, "no using your sentinel abilities, okay?"

"I can’t promise anything," Jim deadpanned, and soon the bombs were flying, Blair’s snow fort quickly completely demolished under the aggressive attack of the bigger man. Blair held his own, though, and in the end, made a nice stand by dumping snow down the back of Jim’s jacket.

"You just wait," threatened Jim, pulling the wriggling student to him. And in the snowy night, he held Blair and tried to get his hand inside his collar. As Blair looked up at him, Jim thought, this isn’t about sex.

This is about love.

I don’t care if Sandburg never wants to sleep with me, he realized. I don’t care if he never loves me the way I love him. It’s enough that I have him in my life.

They were still laughing when they got back to the room, and in order to give Blair some privacy, Jim said, "I think I’ll run downstairs and get us some hot chocolate, Sandburg."

"Sounds good," said Blair. When Jim returned, Blair was in bed, dozing.

"Be careful with that laptop," Jim whispered, as the thing slid across and hit the floor with a bang.

"Oh, damn," said Blair.

"Blair," said Jim, "I think the water from this morning had probably already damaged it anyway. We’ll get it fixed, or get you a new one, okay?"

"They’re so expensive," Blair said sadly.

"You’re worth it," Jim said simply, and turned over on his side to go to sleep. He didn’t see Blair’s face and eyes as he lay there and looked at the back of the bigger man.

Day 13

When the smoke alarm went off, Jim said, "Blair! Get your laptop!"

"Shit!" said Blair, sliding out of bed, but he was disorientated, and by the time he found his computer, the sprinkler system had gone off.

"They’re going to put us up in a bed and breakfast," said Jim, trying to calm Blair down as they moved into the hallway. "I’m sure it will be really nice. Why don’t you take the truck and go on over, and I’ll meet you later at the seminar?"

"You’re not coming?"

"I have a few things to do first," Jim said.

"Here?" Blair asked.

"Yeah," said Jim. He reached a hand up and touched Blair on the face just for a second. "Go on. You’ll like the seminar."

Confused, Blair did as he was told, watching Jim walk off into the softly falling snow.

At the diner, Jim said to the little girl, "What’s your name?"

"Amelia," she said.

"That’s a big book you’re reading there. What’s the name of it?" Jim asked.

She told him, and when she left, scooting off the bench after her mother, Jim noticed that she was wearing a leg brace on one leg.

"Bye," she said, smiling brightly. She had a huge gap where two teeth obviously should be. Jim smiled.

"Bye," he said.

In the hardware store, he noticed the woman from the bed and breakfast. She was looking at plumbing supplies.

"Hi," he said. "I’m staying at your place. Number Four? I’m Jim Ellison."

"Oh, yes," she said, eyeing him without much expression.

"This plumbing stuff can be confusing, huh?" Jim asked, thinking of the problems she would have later in the day.

"Yes," she admitted. "My husband used to do all this. Before he passed away."

"I’m sorry to hear that," Jim said sincerely.

"Yes," she said. "We bought the bed and breakfast with our life savings. That had always been our dream, to own a big Victorian place like that."

"It’s very beautiful," Jim said. You idiot, he thought. You’ve spent almost two weeks in this place, and you never even thought of this woman as a person. And you’re supposed to be a detective. You’ve got your nose so far up your own butt that it’s a wonder you can decipher anything. "Do you need any help here?" he offered. "I’m not a plumber or anything, but I do know a little bit about it."

"You don’t mind?" she asked, surprised.

"Not at all," he said.

At lunch, he said, "Hello Scooter. Not eating by yourself, are you?"

Shocked, the man said, "Yes! Are you?"

God, this man is the most annoying creature alive, thought Jim, some time later. He had heard all about the prying Ringley in-laws and how they never thought he was good enough for their Norma.

"But she loves me," said Scooter, in a very satisfied tone, "and that’s all that matters."

"Yes, it is," said Jim firmly. "You’re a very lucky man, Scooter."

"You got a wife, Ellison? I don’t think you said."

"No, I don’t," Jim admitted.

"Too bad," said Scooter.

"Yeah," said Jim. "But glad you’ve got a good thing going, though."

"Yeah," said Scooter happily.

That afternoon, Jim slid into the seat beside Blair at the seminar and returned the warm smile he received.

"I thought you weren’t going to make it," Blair said, after the session was over.

"Yeah, I got a little sidetracked," Jim admitted. "Sorry about that."

"That’s okay," said Blair, looking surprised at the apology. "Where do you want to eat dinner?"

"Well, I heard there was a health food place around here somewhere," Jim said, and Blair said, "Really? You don’t mind?"

"I don’t guess it will kill me one night," said Jim.

"We could just get take-out," said Blair, trying to compromise.

"Whatever you want is fine," said Jim.

Blair opted for take-out, and they ate back at the hotel.

"So," Blair said, "What did you do today?"

"Just hung out, really," said Jim. "Went by the library, the hardware store."

"Oh," said Blair. "The library, really?"

"Yeah," said Jim.

Afterwards, they walked through the snowy park, talking the dark. They sat down on the bench, and Jim said, "Blair, I’m having the same day over and over again."

"What?"

Jim just smiled and shook his head. "I know you might not believe me, but I am. I’ve re-lived this day, this very one we’re having right now for…well, ages now."

Blair made a face, looked like he wanted to laugh.

"It’s okay, I know it sounds impossible to believe," Jim said.

"You mean, like the movie Groundhog's Day?"

Jim smiled. "Yeah," he said.

"Jim…what’s going on? I mean, why are you pulling my leg?"

"I’m not," Jim said. "This morning? When the fire alarm rang? It rings every morning, and then the sprinkler system goes off and ruins your laptop. There’s not any more rooms at the hotel, so they book us into a bed and breakfast called The Rosewood. We’re in room number four there, which only has one bed with a frilly white canopy because they thought Blair Sandburg was a female instead of a man and didn’t think we’d mind sharing. The woman who owns the place, she and her husband bought it with their life savings, and then he died. She takes us upstairs and gives us the bathroom key. Tells that we’re sharing a bath with two other rooms and tells us to make sure to lock the door from the inside. You usually ask if there’s a shower, and she says, no, just a big tub. Then she says they are still serving breakfast, and one of us says we’ll probably just pick up something and eat it up in our room. She says she doesn’t usually like for guests to do that, and for us not to get anything on the Laura Ashley sheets."

Blair was staring at him. "That’s exactly what she said today," he said, wrinkling his brow.

"I usually get a speeding ticket on the way over there," said Jim, "but I’ve not been driving for the past few days."

"Now that you mention it, there was a state trooper behind me this morning," said Blair slowly. "He followed me almost all the way to the bed and breakfast."

"Yeah, I think he only bothers us when I’m driving," Jim said.

"What else?" Blair asked, incredibly curious at this strange turn of events.

"You wash your hair in the sink, and then we go to the seminar. Well, sometimes I do. If I do, I run into this man named Scooter Friday, and then some of us usually run into the doughnut cart."

Blair’s face was flushed. "I stumbled into the doughnut cart this morning," he said. "I was trying to get out of the way of this little skinny man."

"With big ears?" Jim asked dryly, and Blair nodded. "Yep, that sounds like Scooter."

"My god," said Blair.

"About this time Scooter is stopping up the toilet," Jim said, "so if you have to go to the bathroom tonight, go to the one downstairs off the kitchen."

Blair was staring at him.

"It’s been pretty crazy," Jim finished, sitting on the bench and staring into the darkness.

"I don’t know what to say," Blair finally admitted.

"That’s okay," said Jim. "When it first started, I usually told you every day, but after that I realized that you’d never remember it again, so what was the use?"

"You told me every day," Blair breathed.

"Yeah," said Jim, looking over at his friend. "The great thing was, Sandburg, that you always believed me."

"Well, of course," said Blair. "I mean, sure, it sounds pretty far-fetched, but you would never lie to me, Jim. Not about something like this."

Jim smiled, looked back out at the street. For a moment, he almost felt like he would cry.

"So what happens next?" Blair asked, totally entranced at this turn of events.

Jim sighed. "Let’s see, you take a bath, and then I take a bath, and as I get into bed, your laptop falls to the floor and you say damn and then go to sleep."

"Oh," said Blair. "A bit anti-climactic, don’t you think?"

"I don’t know, you put on a good show about that laptop," Jim smiled. "And by the way, if we ever get out of this day, I’m going to buy you a new one, Sandburg."

"Those are expensive, Jim," Blair said.

"You’re worth it," Jim said firmly.

"Thanks," said Blair, touched.

"Sometimes I go down to the bowling alley," Jim said. "Smathers and some others are down there. One night I got into a fight and got arrested. You had to come and bail me out of jail."

"You’re joking!" said Blair.

"Nope. I’ve gotten to know the town pretty well. There’s a little girl named Amelia who eats breakfast at the diner. She is the cutest little thing, Chief. She has a brace on her leg, but I don’t know why. I wish you could meet her."

"Why don’t you take me there tomorrow?"

"Because it won’t matter," Jim said. "You won’t remember any of this tomorrow."

Their eyes met. "How could I forget this?" Blair asked. "I’m sharing it too, right?"

"I don’t know," said Jim. "One day you said it might be some kind of other universe or something. Maybe I’m stuck here to learn some kind of lesson."

"Yes, that might be it!" said Blair excitedly. "Like in that movie. What kind of lesson do you think it might be?"

"I was hoping you might know," said Jim, and immediately he saw Blair’s face cloud over. "Chief," he said, "this has nothing to do with you being a good shaman or a bad shaman, so don’t think that, please."

"I’ve thought it before, haven’t I?" Blair asked at Jim’s reaction.

"Yes," said Jim honestly, "and Blair, I really don’t think it’s about you. It’s about me." Because you’re the best shaman in the world, he thought, and the best friend.

"Have you tried staying up all night?" Blair asked.

"I always fall asleep," Jim admitted.

"C’mon," said Blair, getting to his feet. He offered his hand to Jim, and Jim took it, even though he didn’t know where they were going. "Let’s walk around town, shall we? You can introduce me to Smathers and company, show me the diner. Let me see all the places my sentinel has been spending his time without his guide." His voice was light. The situation was unbelievable, but incredibly exciting. What was happening here?

They hit the bowling alley first, and Jim introduced his cronies there even as they introduced themselves. Then he and Blair strolled past the diner, looking in the window past the Closed sign.

"Kay Lindt sits there," said Jim. "She’s divorced and she owns horses."

"You sound like you know her pretty well," Blair said.

"We had an affair," said Jim. "I’m not proud of it. I didn’t always handle my freedom all that well, Chief."

"An affair," said Blair.

"Yes. But I never made her promises, or did anything unfair to her, I swear, Chief. You made me promise not to."

"I did," said Blair.

"Yes," Jim said.

"What else did I do? I think I want to know."

"Nothing," said Jim. "You were always yourself, even when I was at my worst."

"I doubt you were all that bad," said Blair, putting a consoling hand on Jim’s arm.

"No, I was," said Jim. "I even shot the smoke alarm with my gun one morning."

"What?" Blair gave a half-laugh.

"I ruined the Laura Ashley sheets, too," said Jim, "and made you take them downstairs and turn them in."

"You didn’t."

"Oh, I did."

"Dare I ask how you ruined them?"

"A chocolate-filled doughnut."

"Oh, god," said Blair.

"Hey, Chief," Jim said, "it’s a video store. Shall we go in and see if they’ve got our movie?"

"Okay," said Blair, opening the door. To the young man behind the counter, he said, "Do you have the movie, "Groundhog's Day?"

"Uh, I think it’s checked out," said the guy. "Hold on and I’ll look. Yeah, it is," he said after a moment. "But it’s due in tomorrow. You want me to hold it for you?"

Blair and Jim exchanged rueful glances.

"Nah," said Jim. "Thanks anyway."

Outside, Blair said, "I can’t believe this, man, it is just too strange."

"Yeah," said Jim.

Blair said, "Now what?"

"Well, sometimes we sit in the park and talk, and sometimes we go back to the room and you take a bath."

"What do you do?"

"I usually turn over to give you some privacy, and then I take a bath."

"What do I do on the days that you don’t tell me?" Blair asked.

"Depending on how I’m acting, you either think I’m unhinged or that I’m way stressed out and need some R and R."

"And I can’t remember it," Blair said, as they walked back to the bed and breakfast. "That’s one of the worst parts of it, Jim, that I can’t remember any of it. And knowing that in a few hours, all of this part of my life will be gone. It’s almost like dying, you know?"

"Yeah," said Jim. "That is the worst part of it, Chief, that you’re not going through it with me."

"Tomorrow," said Blair, his hand on Jim’s arm. "Tell me immediately, will you?"

"Chief," Jim said, as they stood outside their door, "I’ll do anything you want me to."

Once inside, Blair said, "Well, do what you think’s best, of course. It’s your day, after all," and he sounded very sad.

Oh god, I love you, Jim thought. I love you so much, Sandburg.

"Go ahead and take your bath," Jim said. "I’ll go downstairs and get us some chocolate."

He’s giving me some privacy, Blair thought, as his heart expanded. Man, do I love him. Then he thought, I really love him.

When Jim got back, Blair was sitting straight up on his side of the bed, holding on to his laptop. Jim smiled and started pulling his clothes off for his own bath. Blair watched him out of the corner of his eye as the bigger man sank into the tub. Then he closed his eyes, smiling.

When Jim got out, Blair was dozing, and Jim said, "Chief?" very softly, reaching over for the laptop. It slid right out of Blair’s arms, however, and the student woke and said, "Damn!" Then his eyes met Jim’s.

"Sorry," Jim said quietly. "But I tell you, one day maybe you’ll have a new one."

"It’s okay," said Blair. "At least we’re still here, right? Together."

"Yeah," said Jim, lying down beside him.

They pulled the covers up over themselves and Blair said, "Jim, I don’t want to go to sleep."

"Talk to me, then," Jim said, his heart breaking. Give me a few more minutes, he thought. Just a few more with him beside me. With both of us connected like this.

"What do you want to talk about?" Blair asked, moving closer to him, and Jim couldn’t help it, he put his arm around Blair’s shoulder, and the sleepy student moved right into the crook of Jim’s arm. "I’m awake," Blair said, as if Jim had said he wasn’t.

"I know," said Jim, reaching over and tracing a light pattern on Blair’s slanted cheekbone. The student closed his eyes, and soon, they were both asleep.

Day 14

A loud noise went off and Jim Ellison’s eyes popped open. Jumping off the bed with incredible speed, he threw himself over Blair’s laptop and ran out into the hallway with it just as the sprinkler system came on.

"Yes!" he said.

"Shit!" said Blair. "Jim! The room’s on fire."

"It’s okay," said Jim. "Your laptop’s in the hallway, Chief, and they’re going to be moving us to another room. Are you ready?"

At the front desk, after the sympathetic manager made her little spiel, Jim said, "Thanks for all your trouble. We really appreciate it."

"Yes, we do," said Blair.

Jim drove cautiously down the road, but was pulled by a young, unsmiling state patrolman.

"You weren’t speeding," Blair said, as the man approached.

"Good morning," said Jim. "May I help you, Officer?"

"If I could just see your license and registration, please," said the man.

"Certainly," said Jim. He handed them over and smiled at Blair.

"Cascade, huh?" asked the trooper. "May I ask what you’re doing up this way, Mr. Ellison?"

"My partner and I were just in your fair town for the criminal psychology seminar."

"Hello," said Blair, looking over at the officer. He could only imagine what he looked like in his wet tee-shirt and sweatpants, unshaven with very mussed up hair.

The trooper gave Jim a look, too.

"Our hotel room caught on fire," said Blair, speaking over Jim. "We had to find other accommodations."

"Yes," said the trooper skeptically. "Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you a ticket, Mr. Ellison. This is a thirty-five mile per hour zone through here, and you were going fifty-five."

"I’m sorry," said Jim. "I’ll be more careful next time."

"The speed limit is a little tricky through here," said the man. "If you could just sign here."

Jim signed the paper and smiled at the trooper as the latter handed him his ticket.

"Have a nice day," the trooper said.

"You too, sir," said Jim.

Blair said, "Wow, you’re in a good mood today."

"No point in sweating the small stuff," said the calm and pleasant sentinel.

"Hello," said Jim, to the woman at the desk of the Rosewood Bed and Breakfast. "Elsie, right?" He looked at her name tag. "That is a beautiful name. Is that Swiss?"

"Why, I don’t know," said the lady, smiling and looking flustered.

"We’re Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg," Jim added, smiling, too.

"Oh, yes," said Elsie. "Let’s see, Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison, you’re in room…." The woman stared at the book, then looked back up at the two men and smiled faintly. "Four."

Another woman with smooth upswept hair came bustling in and said, "Is there a problem?"

"None whatsoever," said Jim. "You must be Mrs. Rosendorf." He shook her hand. "I’m Detective Jim Ellison, and this is my partner Blair Sandburg. We’re grateful you were able to put us up a this short notice."

"We were glad to help," said the owner firmly. "I’ll show you to your room."

Blair looked at Jim thoughtfully as they followed her upstairs. He sure was in a good mood today.

"Room Four," said the woman, opening the door, and Blair’s eyes widened. Room Four had pink and white striped wallpaper, and a high queen bed complete with a white ruffled canopy. And only one bed.

"Uh," said Blair. "We’ll need two rooms."

"We only have one," said the lady. "Every place in town is full."

"That’s okay, isn’t it, Chief?" Jim asked. "We just appreciate you having any space at all."

"Yes," Blair said hastily.

"You’ll share a toilet and sink with rooms two and three," Mrs. Rosendorf said, handing Jim a key. "Make sure you lock it from the inside. You have your own bathtub," she added, and Blair’s head swiveled to see a large Jacuzzi sitting smack dab in the middle of the wall underneath a window.

"Is there a shower?" Blair asked.

"Just a tub," the woman said firmly. "We don’t usually cater to the business crowd. My assistant downstairs assumed Blair Sandburg was a female."

"It’s a beautiful room," said Jim.

Blair looked at him suspiciously.

"We’re still serving breakfast downstairs," said the lady, "if you want to come on down."

"Sounds good, don’t you think, Chief?" Jim asked, and Blair said, "Sure."

"Wonderful," said their hostess. "I really don’t like people eating in the rooms. Laura Ashley sheets," she added.

"Wow," said Jim.

When the door closed behind them, Blair said, "Wow? Over Laura Ashley sheets? Did you fall and hit your head this morning?"

"No, it’s not my style, but I bet she put a lot of work into this place," said Jim, looking around. "Look at that trim. You don’t see wood like that in new houses."

Blair was still looking at the trim when Jim said, "Would you like to wash your hair or get ready? Not that it needs it, you look fine."

Blair made a surprised and pleased face. "Now I know you’ve lost your mind," he said lightly, running a hand through his beleaguered curls. "But if you don’t mind."

"I think we can make it," Jim said. "Go ahead if you want to, Sandburg."

When Blair returned, Jim, humming, said, "Shall we go downstairs?" He had unpacked their stuff and put it away. Blair’s laptop was sitting protected in one corner.

Downstairs, Jim greeted the hostess in a friendly manner and complimented her choice of pastries.

"Heaven for you, huh, Jim?" Blair asked. "Only taking two? What’s with you, man?"

Jim smiled and spoke to the other man in the room, who had glanced over at them. "Going to the convention?" Jim asked the man, and after the other man had said yes, the three of them were soon chatting like old friends.

"Would you like a lift to the seminar?" Jim asked. "If you don’t mind a stop or two along the way."

The man looked pleased to accept, and once they got to town, Jim said, "I’ll just be a minute," stopping the truck. Blair wondered where in the world Jim was going, but soon the detective was back and they headed for the convention.

"Jim Ellison!" said a man, running over his way.

Jim said, "If it isn’t Scooter Friday! Freshman basketball player, right?"

Blair stood and smiled numbly as Scooter ran into the doughnut wagon and they all helped to pick the doughnuts up.

"I’m sorry about that," Jim said, "Let me pay for those."

"No, no," the woman insisted. "It’s on the hotel. Accidents happen."

"Scooter, this is my good friend and partner, Blair Sandburg," Jim said, introducing him, and Blair shook the other man’s hand.

"Good to meet you," he said.

"Any friend of Jim’s is a friend of mine," said the other man excitedly.

During the seminar, Jim listened raptly, he and Blair sharing several intimate smiles as the cases cited paralleled several incidents they had shared.

At lunch, Blair said, "Want to check out the diner?"

"Sure," said Jim. "There’s Scooter. Shall we ask him to join him?"

"Hhm," said Blair. "How about tomorrow? I was wondering what you thought of the seminar."

"I thought it was well-done," Jim admitted, and they talked about that for a while.

On the way back to the meeting, Blair said, "You know, Jim, you are like really in a good mood today. For a moment, I was wondering if I should be afraid. You know, like this is the Stepford town or something."

Jim smiled. "I’m just having a good day," he said. "I’m afraid they probably all won’t be this way."

"It’s okay," said Blair. "I like you no matter what kind of day you’re having," and he gave a pleased little smile.

"I like you, too," said Jim. "All the time, Sandburg," and then they were both pleased, walking across the street very close together.

In the afternoon session, when the speaker asked several particularly tough questions, Jim whispered the answers to Blair, who said them aloud. Grinning at Jim, the student said, "How did you know those?"

"I’m not all looks, you know."

"No, you’ve got it all," Blair said sincerely, and Jim smiled at him as they exchanged another intimate look.

After the final session, Jim said, "Get your coat, Chief, I’m taking you out."

"Really? Where? It’s like really snowing out, man."

"There’s a health food place down the street, and I hear it’s supposed to be really good. You game?"

"A health food place? Like, really?"

"Just this once," Jim said, and Blair hurried along beside him happily.

Once there, Jim said, "Now, you need to tell me what’s good here, Chief."

"I’m afraid you might not like most of it, Jim."

"You order it, and I’ll eat it, Sandburg." It takes so little to make him happy, Jim thought. What have I been doing with my life?

While they waited on their food, a woman walked over and said, "Mr. Ellison? You might not remember me, but I’m Amelia’s mother. The little girl in the diner? I just wanted to thank you for that book. She adores it."

"You’re certainly welcome," said Jim, smiling up at her with that irresistible Ellison charm. "I was glad to do it."

"That was such a sweet gesture," she said. "And you being a stranger and all."

"Well, I hesitated," Jim said truthfully. "I didn’t want to do something you would frown upon, but I heard her reading from the other one, and I thought she’d like the sequel. She’s a smart kid."

"Thanks," said the grateful mother. "She’s had some medical problems, and that takes up a lot of expenses, but she’s more than worth it."

"Yes," said Jim, glancing over at Blair. "The people who mean a lot to you, that’s all that matters." And he briefly caught Blair’s eye.

"What was that about?" Blair asked after the woman left, very curious. He felt all warm inside from that last look.

"Nothing," said Jim.

Their food came and Jim made a big deal of asking what everything was and doing some good-natured griping before he admitted it was really good. He and Blair ate off each other’s plates, and once Blair held his spoon up to Jim’s mouth and fed him something that made Jim quite definitely wrinkle up his nose.

"That was great," said Blair, as they walked back into the cold.

"Come here, Charlie Brown," Jim said, picking up the end of Blair’s scarf and wrapping it around the student’s neck. "I don’t want you sick on me."

"That wasn’t too bad, was it?" Blair asked.

"No, it was surprisingly good," said the sentinel. "You have good taste, Sandburg."

"And I taste good, too," Blair returned very lightly, just so Jim wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

"I’m sure you do," said Jim truthfully, and Blair glanced over at him as the bigger man rubbed his gloved hands together and said, "Can we run back to the Rosewood for a moment? Restroom," he added.

They dashed back, and as they made their way up the stairs, Mrs. Rosendorf was making her way along the hall with a plunger in hand and a sour expression on her face.

"Something wrong?" Jim inquired solicitously.

"The toilet," she said. "I’m afraid this one’s out of order."

"Do you mind if I take a look at it?" Jim asked. "I do okay with stuff like that.

"Oh, but I couldn’t ask you-"

"It’s no trouble," said Jim, and Blair wandered back down to the room. He was not interested in fixing a stopped up toilet, no thank you.

After Jim cleaned up, he said, "Now, Sandburg, I’m going to kick your butt in a game of bowling."

"What?" Blair asked.

Jim marched him down to the lanes, and soon he and Blair, Smathers, and Dills, were having a rousing game.

"I haven’t done this is years," said Smathers.

"I can tell," said Dills sourly. "And of course you’re on my team."

Afterwards, Jim and Blair walked home slowly, kidding around, nudging each other with elbows and hands as they dodged snowdrifts and covered ditches. At the park, Jim said, "This is my area, Sandburg. Better get out of my turf."

Blair began preparing a huge snow fort, but soon Jim was demolishing it. Blair, however, got some unexpected help in the form of two young boys who appeared out of the house next door and started pelting the unprotected sentinel with huge flying snowballs.

Blair and his team trampled Jim’s fortress, and then the boys had to go, leaving Blair and Jim lying in the snow, heads touching.

"We’ve got to go in," said Jim. "You’ll be freezing soon, Chief."

"Uh-huh," said Blair, "not just yet." He lay there motionless in the snow, and blew his breath into the night air. "Ever make snow angels, Jim?" The student began widening his arms in ever bigger waves. Jim did the same, but since they were lying so close together, their arms soon overlapped.

"I guess these snow angels are attached," Jim said, as they made their one wing together.

"Like us, huh?" Blair asked, and Jim, very touched, said, "Yeah, Sandburg, like us."

After a moment, Blair got up, and he reached down and took Jim’s hand, pulling him up. When they stood, Blair kept the hand for a minute, and squeezed it.

"I’ve had a great time today," he said.

"Me, too, Chief."

Their eyes held for a second, then Blair gave a tiny nod and they walked into their bed and breakfast.

"Jacuzzi time," said Blair, rubbing his cold hands together. He turned on the hot jets and said, "Did you bring swimming trunks or anything? I mean, if you wanted to, we could hot tub together."

"I’m afraid all I have are boxers," said Jim.

"Me, too," said Blair regretfully. Then, "Well, those would dry, right? Why not?"

"Sure," said Jim.

Blair turned the lights out in the room and opened the curtains to let in the dim light of a winter’s night. Shivering, he stepped half-naked into the churning water. Jim did the same.

"Wow, this feels great," said Blair. "I can live with this." He stretched his legs out beside Jim’s and closed his eyes. "This was such a good idea, to come up here," he said.

"Yes," Jim agreed, heart-felt, "it was." And he really meant it, no matter what.

"I’ve had such a great time today," Blair said again.

"Me, too, Sandburg," said Jim. "It has been the best day I’ve ever had." There was no reply from his partner, so he went on to say, "You know, Chief, there’s a lot of things I need to say to you that I never have. One of them is to tell you how grateful I am for you to be here in my life. I never knew what I was missing until I found you." He paused, lowered his voice. "I know I fuss all the time, I’ve done terrible things to you, threw you out…doubted your trust and your loyalty. I know I can never give back to you a lot of the things I have taken. But I just wanted you to know that no matter what it seemed, underneath it all, I really care about you. I love you, Chief. I always will. I don’t know what the rest of my life is going to be like, particularly lately," he added dryly, "but I can tell you from the bottom of my heart that I will spend every moment of it being grateful that you are in my life. I am the luckiest of men, Chief. The luckiest." He looked over at his partner, whose mouth had dropped open as he started to snore.

Jim smiled. After a while he said gently, "C’mon Chief, come on." Turning off the jets, Jim moved over softly and tried to wake Blair up without startling him.

"Huh?" Blair asked, wiping a piece of drool off the corner of his mouth. Then he realized his hand was wet, too.

"You fell asleep in the hot tub," Jim said, holding Blair lightly so he wouldn’t slip.

"Oh," he said. "I’m sorry."

"It’s okay," Jim smiled. "C’mon. Let’s get you in bed."

Blair got to his feet, letting Jim help him, and then as Blair wrapped himself up in towels, Jim had an idea. Getting an extra pillow, he put it on the floor beside the bed.

Blair changed into dry bed clothes and slid into the bed. When Jim turned around, also finished dressing in dry clothes, he saw that Blair was curled around the laptop.

"Chief," he said experimentally, and the laptop slid right off the bed…and onto the fluffy pillow Jim had placed on the floor.

"Damn, that was lucky," said Blair, reaching down to retrieve the disobedient laptop. He got up and put it away, then slid back into bed beside Jim. "Sorry I flaked out on you," he said. "Guess that bowling did me in, huh?"

"Yeah," said Jim.

Their faces were pretty close on their pillows, and Blair said, "Good night, Jim," and reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

"Good night, Sandburg," Jim said, returning the squeeze, and then he left his arm there. Blair had left his up, too, and there was a look in his eyes that indicated that was fine with him.

"Thanks again for everything," said Blair, moving closer, and soon he was in Jim’s arms, warm and firm, hugging the bigger man.

"Any time," said Jim, pulling Blair against him in the circle of his arms, and in a moment, Blair was asleep, his curly head mashed against Jim’s shoulder.

Day 15

Jim woke up and there was something in his nose. It was fine and soft, and making him want to sneeze.

Then his eyes flew open.

He was lying in a frilly Victorian room with a canopy over his head. Blair Sandburg was in his arms.

"Oh my god," he whispered, his heart jerking at all of it.

"What?" Blair murmured sleepily. Then he realized he was half-sprawled over Jim, his head on the massive chest. "Oh, man, I’m sorry," he said, starting to pull away, but Jim didn’t let him.

"No," Jim said, "it’s not you. I’m glad you’re here."

Blair, feeling a bit embarrassed now, lay his head back down, his own pulse racing. Had he gone to sleep like this? Tangled all over Jim? And what had Jim said? That he was glad? "Everything okay?" Blair asked, almost afraid to.

"Everything is wonderful," said Jim, wrapping his arms around his partner and squeezing tightly.

"Whoa, man," said Blair, laughing, "you’re gonna break my ribs, pal."

"Sorry," said Jim, loosening up a bit, but definitely not letting go. "We’re in this room!" Jim said. "We’re at the bed and breakfast!"

"Yeah," said Blair slowly, turning his head to look up at him. "We got here yesterday, Jim, remember? We had a fire in our hotel room."

"Yeah," said Jim happily. "I remember." Boy, do I ever. He felt like getting up and dancing. Only he didn’t want to let Blair go.

"Everything okay, Jim?" Blair asked again doubtfully.

"It is now," Jim said, looking down at him, and the warmth of that look absolutely flooded Blair all over.

"Okay," he said shyly.

"Do you want to get up?" Jim asked solemnly. He sure didn’t want Blair here against his will.

"Well, I-"

"Cause I wish you’d stay," Jim admitted, reaching out and caressing Blair’s curls.

"Okay," said Blair again. Was Jim meaning what he thought he was?

"Good," said Jim softly. "I want you to stay forever, Sandburg. But only if you want to."

"I…." Blair could feel his body temperature begin to skyrocket. Jim seemed to be waiting on something.

"No pressure," said Jim, starting to move away, but Blair grabbed onto him.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he asked, and Jim smiled that Ellison special that had charmed the hearts of women everywhere. And at least one man. This one.

"Wherever you say I am, Chief," he replied.

"Well, you’re staying right here," said Blair.

"What a coincidence," Jim said, "because that’s just where I want to be."

And as Blair looked up at him with blue eyes shimmering in the early morning light, Jim said, "I love you, Sandburg."

"I love you, too," Blair whispered, amazed and happy at this turn of events, and then that blue gaze shifted to Jim’s mouth.

Pulling Blair closer up to him, Jim kissed his full lips softly.

"Uhm," said Blair, his heart thumping. "This is turning out to be a great trip."

"You said it," Jim agreed. They kissed again, and Blair wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck, holding him closer.

"Are we going to be late for the seminar?" Blair murmured.

"I hope so," said Jim fervently. He felt Blair’s mouth open against his, and gently, he flicked his tongue over the edge of Blair’s upper lip. Then he was at last tasting the sweet warm wetness that was his best friend and most beloved companion. As they shifted closer together, Jim could feel Blair’s hard erection pushing against his thigh. It sent a shock wave of desire down into his own.

"Chief, we have a problem," said Jim, and automatically Blair was pulling away, afraid he had gone too far. "No," said Jim, hanging onto the breathless student with a firm wrist. "Not you." He kissed the tempting column of Blair’s neck before pulling him back into his arms. "That could never be a problem," Jim said, pushing intentionally against Blair’s hard cock.

"Ah," Blair managed. "What’s the problem then? I love you, Jim. I want to be with you forever, man."

"Glad to hear it," said Jim, smiling. "Ditto for me. But you’re still missing the point. Didn’t you remember? The Laura Ashley sheets, Chief. How could we mess up such a sacred part of the Rosewood Inn?"

Blair started smiling underneath Jim’s insistent mouth. "I don’t know," he said, almost giggling. "I guess we’ll have to be creative."

"I can do creative," said Jim, working his way down Blair’s body with a nipping tongue. "I can do real creative," and soon he was nuzzling Blair’s hard cock through his cotton sweat pants.

"Yeah," said Blair, closing his eyes as his whole body tingled. "Only I’m afraid that’s going to be real messy, Jim, and maybe very soon."

"That’s okay," said Jim, moving the pants down off of Blair’s lower body. His hands skimmed Blair’s backside, caressing the firm rear end as Jim moved his mouth to Blair’s crotch. "Too fast?" he asked. "Because courting is just fine, too. We can take it as slow as you want, Chief."

"Uhm, maybe not fast enough," said Blair, jerking, and just for purely humanitarian reasons, Jim settled down to business and began giving Blair a real hands-on kind of blowjob.

Struggling and bucking, the squirming student gasped, and soon afterwards Blair said, "I’m coming, Jim, oh god, I’m coming," and a very happy Jim settled in for a long sip of Sandburg.

"Yeah," he said, smacking his lips afterwards and gently tonguing up any liquid that had dared try to escape. "How about that?" he asked, moving back up on Blair. "Now everybody’s happy. You, me, and Mrs. Rosendorf."

"That’s what I love about you," Blair breathed. "You’re such a thoughtful type of guy."

"I love everything about you," Jim said, getting serious. "And if I am going too fast, you just tell me, Sandburg."

"No," Blair said, moving a hand up to stroke the planes of Jim’s face. "I’ve wanted this for some time now, Jim. I thought it would never happen. It was like I was living this one long day that would never end. I thought this would never finally come around. Do you know what I mean?"

"Sandburg," said Jim, kissing him soundly on the mouth. "I know exactly what you mean."

And then Blair proceeded to do his bit for the Laura Ashley sheets, too.

The End